Best Suckled Poems
Children placed in foster homes are
swiftly shuffled from heart to heart.
Breaking links in a chain of love;
goodbye; precedes every new start.
Wary eyes scan every fresh face,
trying to catch a glimpse of hope.
But intolerance and half-truths;
aggravates their plight, so they cope.
Love sounds like an empty promise;
delivered by a silver tongue.
For it's either misunderstood,
or disbelieved in hearts so young.
They've been suckled on hope and fear,
feelings felt from an early age.
And on realizing their fate,
they oft succumb to inner rage.
They remain undesirable
right up to their eighteenth birthday.
Upon which; labeled a burden,
they are abruptly sent away.
Be proud of your scars
oh daughter mine
now a mother of children dear
Remember the time
they suckled your breast
gorging on the food of love
Worried lines on your face
anxious frown on your brow
a love story you cannot erase.
Oh daughter mine be proud of your scars.
Pendulos breasts wear with pride
your babies now full-grown and wise.
Stretch marks remain to tell
that you carried your babies well.
Oh daughter mine be proud of your scars.
A badge of honor
that's what they are.
Thickened waist and cellulite disgust many
yet tell a story so sweet so true.
Oh daughter mine be proud of your scars.
Uptilted breasts shapely hips
elegant thighs tell a story of their own
but you gave your babies all you had
with love and tenderness.
When they're grown and gone away
you will remember them still
by the scars you bear today.
Oh daughter mine be proud
Be proud of your scars.
BEQUEATHED BONNIE SQUARE
a lacy handkerchief
embroidered with a hummingbird,
a nectar-sweet trellis, to sponge
the waterworks - the trickle
of misty eyes,
the honey-suckled creek
that runs over wrinkled
logs and leafy plum-cheeks.
delicate hands lift
the dapper doily —
pat-a-pat dabbing.
a tattered smile forms
at the base of the cliffs.
6/30/2019
When I sit my horse on hilltops, I find,
I cannot see the buffalo no more.
As whites have come and made the plains unkind.
Soiled all wondrous things I saw before.
For many winter's, warrior's sustained.
Freed our people to seek warmer winds,
And moved as clouds before coming rain.
To share Mother Earth with our naked skins.
Clouds dark, grow higher than eagle's wings,
As we feel the coming depth of sorrow.
Each moon we see dark smoke and what it brings,
Cries and death songs will echo tomorrow.
We join in ghost dance with its paint of black,
And seek visions from warrior ghosts of old.
We hear the iron horse on its metal track,
And know its fiery heart is burning cold.
Whites who come take each mountain they climb
While bones from buffalo and elk grow deep
Warrior's blood will know the end of time.
Mothers who suckled us with milk, shall weep.
Her face was the oasis i needed to see
the sands of time draining
when i went to drink
She was gone
mirages of love filled me till i came upon the final dune
on the horizon i found abundant seas of water
turned foul with the sins of man
yet i drank nevertheless
filling me with the illusion of fulfillment
only to be depleted
tearing away pieces of my mind
yet i drank nevertheless
visions of an Angel graced me as i slept
She was all too familiar
and yet foreign
the day brought pain
wishing to see my angel
so i drank nevertheless
stumbling about the shoreline
i drank
it never filled my thirst
always fleeting
meaningless gulps graced my throat
smoke billowing from my lungs
i drank nevertheless
the Angel returned in moments of passing
time tortured me with temptations
of Her love in the night
i drank nevertheless
sins corrupting my body
as logs bearing mites
corroding, fragile segments fell away in my trails
i could see her coming
the Angel
She fled as our eyes met
leading me from the water
i tried to follow
i tried to chase
nevertheless all for waste
i drank from the water
telling myself i didn’t need Her
Her beauty welded to my eyes
i couldn't leave the shore
as my feet were stuck in shallow sands of sinking
with no rope to reach for
no help coming
nevertheless
i extended my cupped hand to the now red sea of tempt
and drank
She stopped visiting in my dreams
the songs of Her voice abandoned my ears
alone in despair
i drank nevertheless
the water like a drug
i was now dependent
Life was not the same without this nectar of satan
it ripped out my insides
nevertheless with no stomach to bare it i drank
gulps so large the sea depleted feet at a time
out of reach the water receded
only kissing the tips of my finger with the presence of a full moon
so i suckled my fingers as a babe
nevertheless
till my days fled like the sea
abandoned by the pleasure of sin
all my mind came to was the Angel
and nevertheless She was gone.
I stand naked wrapped only in the truth
you vile, loathsome reptile.
My contempt of you is limitless
as I have been force-fed your hypocrisy.
Your postulations are lost on me
as my insight into your repulsive nature
is exceeded only by the palpable stench of your aura.
Eyes opened to their widest apex,
ridiculously lends support to your “jokerish”
smile overly exaggerated in a…
Carol Channing kind of muse.
It seems your purse a revolving door
to his wants, has an ideally broken clasp…
Your shoulder, a never ending
tissue to his every sorrow should be waterlogged.
Which stands to reason why your legs
stretched open as wide as the earth’s axis,
“she-doggedly-in-heat” sniffs attention from him
and remains open like an all night 7-11 just to
provide “respite” in the name of “friendship”.
You find joy in slinking and scurrying through
the misfortunes and/or gains in our life,
all the while professing your love to him
and masticating on a stolen covenant
you have orchestrated in destroying.
There is no sector of my day
allowing me peace and escape from your
treachery and continued debauchery.
Your hair once a mousy shade of brown
now waxes blond in your further attempt
to assure he remains suckled at your breast
knowing his lust for blond haired, blue eyed
women that are six shades lighter than my ebony hues.
There is though, an appellative to my anguish,
which recoils from my tongue at
any attempt to voice this rage.
Escalating anger marinates and broils within
my breast as your ubiquitous presence
in my life has finally left me little strength
and no shelter from the uncloaked
vicious pain searing me to the core
in this deep abyss I have found myself in…
Unleashed fury beckons me, reaching back beyond now
when day was night and night was only imagined
barely controlling this hate and
the exigency to extract myself
from this nefarious, cheap, vaudevillian
show, which no longer can be ratiocinated
through your insipid lies before I...
Can’t imagine your expending this much
energy with your own household or husband because
you’re always living and breathing in mine!
Contempt has a name…and its malodor is…Linda.
Give me all the stones, give me all the roses
I'm the golden honey you suckled from the poison
My ostentatious way you'll never bear
I'm forever the thorns sewn in your despair;
I'm digging in deeper savouring the anger
My roses and magnolias frolic with your tears
Darling let me wrap my wrath around you
My pleasure drips sweet vanilla just for you
Let's dance tonight, Waltz and Jazz our ecstasy
Look in my eyes I'm your agony and remedy
The crimson moon bathes us in his light
No need to have a grip, you're already underneath my skin
Take a sip from my lovelorn fountain
What a glorious cure to your ardent needs
But later thou shall be bended and broken
So breathe into me your insanity, rage and animosity
For I am your prudence and carnal beast
Tamas
I began in my mother's womb where darkness clothed me
still carrying taste of death upon my tongue I suckled and kicked free
there were dancing lights and tears in the Universe gathering me to life
it didn't take long I did forget, I pierced the veil and wailed like a knife
Rajas:
I drank the nectar of the wild flower consumed the salinity of my goods
entered into karma like a Gita in a wave of passion, no longer was I wood
pulsing into life I sipped the juices of my passion and enjoyed the rays
with third eye open I was guided through my living numbered days
Sattva:
Like a pear tree laden with heavy fruit, life began to take its toll
like Saraswati I let go, then held on to a mala and a palm leaf scroll
swept away by a joy so pure, I found the core of love's own goal
there was nothing else I needed so I climbed the lotus of extol
All lies melted away in the face of truth and revelation ,
I lost myself in worship, became a sweet oblation.
Date: April 17, 2021
Sponsor: Unseeking Seeker
Contest Name: Where are we headed
I'm torn across axis yet to exist,
Or had once been, since been replaced,
By a sense of self and lack thereof,
When we, by they encased.
Cleavage adorned in modest terms,
Abreast as if more than one.
Still less than two, duplicitous you,
Less I divide by hegemon.
Senses shook, a daily wage,
Of war: be both me and we?
An ancient oath neither new nor folk,
Balanced in breath and breathe.
But neath the solemn sour safety,
Of comfort feigning folly's fiction.
Forces fractured by focused fascists,
Portent predative predilection.
Between divides by you and I,
A smaller font you'll find.
Who's letters miss the passerby,
But slip into the mind.
Conquered race and gender lines,
Further feathered along behaviors;
Soaked in Sun Tsu solar signs,
Matrimony meets our savior.
Boots worn by oceans born,
Mediterranean leather-flavor;
Curing gold from suckled horn,
Mammalian mouths may never savor.
Viral loads in swarming codes,
Placental detriment,
Tossed up population nodes,
Waning wax and excrement.
I walked into the door,
Shut it hind before the shore;
Horus hocus pocus drawer,
Before I knew internal roar.
Bring the fried ackee well dressed
In fresh herbs and spiced
Blend in codfish, like a breast
Flamed suckled, sufficed
My tongue to taste this
Dream of bliss.
Joy!
if only i could ... see
the wind as it soars flawlessly,
echoing off the forgotten faces
smiles and frowns,
people long past and beyond.
if only i could ... feel
the unbridled serenity
of times of peace, not despair ... not so,
... I am afraid, for we
have been seduced into passivity, of non-joy,
our new .... of man, a descent into an abyss
where man walks tall into death
and despair on the wings of endless surfaces on our hands and knees.
if only i could ... taste
the sweetness of unbridled elation
as a bird in passioned flight …
with the sun on my back ... a heated
breeze in my face ... of no more
if only i could, if
only i could, if only
i could - i would ... but alas, my time has passed.
the summer of my youth fades with the ticking clock
of memories and soon to be forgotten - trees, flowers, birds galore
no more.
i am in the fall of my times - pensive in thought - but actioned still
passionately in joy. finally i am myself within myself
a smile ...
i am with her, the sweet scent of honey suckled dearness
in my front – still.
© Charles H Keys, 2012. All Rights Reserved
from parents' great love
Blizz was born with warmest heart
conquers cold and dark
he wasn’t suckled
he loved iced pacifier
no baby’s bottle
ice vies.. throbs his grips…
numbs, writhes…never out of breath
strengths spewed…crowned “Ice King."
July 22,2013 1.16pm
Note:
After eating an ice cream from my fridge, I took an "ice cube" and had it melted on my palm. The coldness bit; but, as I gripped, I’d reverie. ;)). The output now is expressed in my poem.
I’ve never tried an epic poem before because it’s quite difficult for me; but, I’m trying. I hope I’ve understood and followed the instruction which is haiku count (or is it form?). I hope you’ll enjoy my experimental poem. Thank you sooo much! Have a great day!
First Place
Contest: Ice King (in epic, only in less than 10 lines for adventure one)
Judged: 8/19/2013
Sponsor: Poet Skat
Whispers...
Don't wake her,
Let her rest.
Whispers....
Don't tell her,
She's not ready.
Whispers awakened her
From a drug induced
Slumber.
She listens
For a voice
So familiar
It could have been her own.
A voice
Cooing at a child,
Smiling in it's vibrations
Making promises
It will keep,
Making promises
It can never keep.
This voice was not there
Among the whispers,
And yet she yearned
To hear this voice.
The slumber was thick
And yet she swam
To the surface
Using all she could summon
To break the surface
To break the slumber.
As her eyelids fluttered
A strong hand
Grasped her hand,
Pulling her through
To the real world.
He sat at her bedside,
A face as familiar
As her own.
And with her eyes
She asked the question
He was afraid to answer.
"She was beautiful."
It was the word
Was
That plunged her back
Into the abyss of dreams
And unrealized wishes,
Leaving her there
For a day,
Or was it two.
When she woke,
Those words roused her.
When she slept,
Those words were her lullaby.
No child
Rested in her arms,
Once nestled in her womb.
No child
Suckled at her bosom,
Now heavy with sustenance.
No child
To cry out
For her mother.
Time waits for no one,
And days pass,
Then weeks and months
And soon a year
Had come and gone.
Soon another child
Filled her womb
And this child was born,
And then another,
And then another.
Three children
Had rested in her arms,
Suckled at her bosom
And cried out to her,
Their mother.
And when asked
About the fourth
She would say,
"She was beautiful."
My poor vocabulary babies
are gon missing
Tell me kind sir, have you seen them?
Us etymological mothers to
lingual children of lost former meaning,
we are milk carton crying
Many hotline tips
that the academia search party
have been receiving,
unfortunately, has borne no adjective fruit
of root cause discovery
And my poor alphabet unprotected babies
are still missing
Some concerned voices
anonymously said, they saw a couple of
little colloquial diaper tykes
being censored kidnaped late last night
And when dem’ dim synonym scoundrels were spotlighted ,
they fascistically warned them:
Steer clear of this word dirty business, y’hear
Then they rattled their
mouth-muzzling, zip-lip sidearms, menacingly —
They said my innocent children
were gonna grow-up
and cause much sheer mental fear
My infant’s harmless homonym eyes
were New Tact censured hijacked,
Shanghaied as a matter of consonant fact
Somebody please bring those amber pure children
of innocent nomenclature origin back
I, Octavia
do motherly beg,
asking with august favor most acacia
For the cross-cultural media
to free-speech help me
find my lost idiom babies, please!
So that I, and other etymologist mothers
can stop feeling this unabridged pain ...
such emotional scarlet ink heart stain
A bridge of crimson tears over troubled,
choppy, wordy waters —
overflowing with maternal fears
This milk carton crying
for my precious vowels, verbiage dressed babies,
who are now missing ...
Has so bereaved my quill-pricked soul
with perpetual sorrow
Deep Orwellian sadness for these snatched,
suckled lost former meanings
has adverbial sent me
empty intellectual bassinet sighing
And barren cradled
bosom ananym thoughts a-dying
In an unkept place beyond anyone's watchful care lay vessels which carried the powerful blood of a forgotten people.
So strong and powerful, their very presence brought fear and panic to an entire race of people who believe dominance is theirs.
Underneath the 'ole' shade tree lay weather beaten slats of wood proof of a cultures existence.
A dark skinned people whose lives were valued less than that old hunting dog licking his colored masters wounds.
No names, memories, or accomplishments nothing at all except dated brittle epitaphs marking their era of life.
Dusty black Hebrew Israelite feet and cracked aged hands lay in those hallowed tombs-their names mattered to no one.
Shoeless black feet trod and stood in places I have never known and will never see yet, their strength is who I am.
Their proof of toiling in cotton fields beneath the scorching sun washing white folks cloths hanging them on the line to dry.
Same precious hands held offspring not their image that suckled the rich milk from the breast of the woman in the unkept dark place.
Let's not forget the shoulders which rocked the weight of misses churin' to sleep as if they were her own.
The unkept places off the beaten path lay the blood of the forgotten dark people.