Best Suppleness Poems
The most social thing on earth
Social than the Social Networking Sites
Tall with straight uniform trunk
Unbranched trunk topped with a
Tuft fanlike or featherlike leaves.
Cresting with a plume of long feathery fronds
Making a graceful silhouette of unique beauty
With spiral arrangement of its wood fibers
Which makes it a tree of unusual suppleness and strength
Large evergreen leaves
With bundles of vascular tissue
Scattered throughout the trunks.
Abundant throughout the tropics
And thrive in almost every inhabitat therein
The quintessential image of relaxed and elegant lifestyle
A good friend in need,
A good friend indeed
Because of its versatility,
Many people cannot do without it.
Having as many uses as the year has days.
And noted for productivity in the bible
Imagine the way it comes to its full bearing
After ten to fifteen years on earth.
And still continue to bear for nearly a hundred years.
Of great economic importance,
Providing food, fibre, wine and oil
Widely used in landscaping for its exotic appearance
A useful ornamental tree
This social palm tree
Will you be loving me ‘til time is naught?
Your fingers only know of suppleness,
will they not flinch to touch skin wrinkle-fraught?
My beauty withers, cup reached emptiness…
Your love has set my heart aglow, renewed
‘tis ev’rytime your words lave over me...
Like soothing rain on desert sand subdued,
I soak it in, drunk for eternity
Do forgive me, for ever doubting you,
this pain has ravaged me, yet you’re still here.
‘Tis I you love, this I now know so true,
please stay with me, for death creeps in so near
Let saccharine lips meet for one last time
The windows close now, yet leave love sublime
00612162011
'Tempus fugit' we cannot deny
for suppleness dwindles and mirrors can't lie.
As wrinkles start spreading and children depart
the truth of this saying hits home like a dart.
14.02.22
Latin lessons poetry contest
Sponsor - Margarita Lillico
Sometimes the dry desert wind
Strips slowly the sandless skin
Of the soul
Gentle balm of the wide Spirit
Settling upon the surface
Singing a song of suppleness
Message of the mindful reflection
From the internal mirror
Of the heart
Home to the fruitful Spirit
Residence of the restoring, loving kindness
Of the refreshing riverside
Where solace comes, pacifying
With the sounds trickling and dancing
Over cool stones of thought
Today one more page is shorn off from the book of my life.
On this day of humble rejoicing, my heart brims with gratitude,
For I am granted one more year and the priceless gift of life,
When many young ones are destined to drop off from life unexpected.
Under the shroud of darkness while many falter and flounder,
God has been guiding me all along, never letting me down with,
Hardships I can’t tide over or challenges I can’t confront.
Besides, the love of my family and dear ones keeps me in good stead.
God has been my strength and my guide through all these years.
Though grown older now, He fills me with the fuel to move on
He keeps my cup full with his grace that I enjoy a serene peace
And each new morning to me is a fresh awakening.
I have lost the sheen of my eyes and the suppleness of my limbs.
My brittle bones ache, I can’t move as brisk as before.
But beneath the shell of my withering body and wrinkling skin
I still have a heart that sings, young as ever, not yet shrivelled.
With my sweet family and children around and the lovely people,
With whom I share my life, immensely blessed is how I feel.
I wish to move on in life sharing the gifts of my heart and mind,
Making myself convinced that I haven’t lived my life in vain.
Seasons in Love – Winter
Canned and conserved memories are the only sustenance
Left to feed on with a blank stare and a stern countenance
Branches intertwined in life shall remain so in death
Suppleness, vitality gone, life`s reduced to taking breath
The oxygen now feeds the flames of merciful destruction
Dry branches impatiently long for the final deconstruction
But stubborn roots grow as deep as the tree is high
Detachment, like growth, will happen gradually, by and by
Living skeletons testify to loss and the inevitable end
They stand sinister but graceful and a final message they send:
Life and love are endowed with meaning by virtue of death
Hold dear and treasure these gifts considering the final breath
Two-ply in roses of yellow and pink
rolls and sings to the touch
of fingers on its faintly-scented folds,
giving miles of pleasure to soft seats
on hard covers all in the name of
modern convenience which is a change
from old catalog sheets housed in
quarter-moon outhouses
behind homesteads.
Two-ply greets us in grocery stores,
all the pretty ones sit on the front row,
purring at our squeeze test,
begging to be brought home,
heaven forbid if you buy the plain,
all-white, skinny two-ply which sits on the
bottom shelf looking forlorn because of
Its unscented homeliness.
Two-ply dies a million deaths each day,
lost in the vortex of flushed toilets,
killing its suppleness and sweet fragrance,
headed to the deep, dark sewers waiting
to be processed in the jaws of the
sewage treatment plants which do not
discriminate against the bland,
anorexic and hard-to-the-touch.
MY NATURAL BEAUTY
O bizarre beauty,
O eclipse of a perfectly contrived creature.
O rustful bonny frame cladded with muck,
Made fleshy with its suppleness as lime soot.
O dark glinting hair like fleece interwoven, that soon
Would turn grey sky in Northern Arid Savannah
O Artiste physique, well endowed-
Like Benin feminine bronze sculpture;
An obsolete craft, to wane into gloomy oblivion.
O brilliant ebony skin with the wafting allure
Of ambergris to suffuse the whiff of odorous incence.
O passing beauty –
By Circadian or Accidental dissipation.
How best can I appreciate you, my beauty?
Except to behold you,
As a precious mound of carcass
Bedecked of sands and worms and air!
When I behold you as such, and still my heart is lured
With an irresistible longing to
Rouse this masculine flesh into verveful concupiscence
From this raw natural state,
This be a perfect beauty, a perpetual love.
And so will my soul drink content,
A brimming measure of this natural lee of love
And thirst no more to find beauty!
Two reeds at water's edge, siblings
in size and suppleness, fend in wind their
all but invisible life, as miraculous as yours,
or my own: their 'Watcher in the Rye"? No!--
but surely the Watcher in the Sky, who
made their delicate life, and ours. Shall take
a knife from within its sheath, cordon,
and fashion a festive braid for a funeral wreath
while wind sings for all us careless things
of accidental beauty, resigned to the eye-
less blind that do not see us?
Vulpine woven soft nest
Velvet silky lamb's ear
Velvety smooth to touch
Velveteen feel to squab
Volumes of suppleness line
Vaguely feels like duck down
Very soon ventures start
Vulpine-usually refers to fox/foxes who are crafty, cunning
Lamb's ear- the plant
Squab- baby doves/pigeons
I am talking about the dove's nest lining
My rampant feet crush the sand.
Feeling the suppleness of the land.
Throwing light on the ocean of desert
Looking for help; hoping to revert.
My voice returns finding no one in the distance
A bird, an insect and not even a shred of existence
Just then the moon shows it glow
Flitting between the clouds; calm and slow.
A firefly comes soaring and watches my shadow, sob and cry.
The darkness of my being makes no sense to the lighted creature with no credence.
It makes fun of me and tramples my confidence
Overcome by self-pity I aim for penance.
Just as I feel the angel of death reaching my heart
I see a swarm of fireflies glittering in the north.
Gathering all I could of the feeble remains,
I rumbled along to the place of heavens.
When I reached that place as an impatient brute.
All I could smell was a stench so crude.
Three men lie on their backs,
Flesh and blood ready as snacks.
Why should there be hope for a man like me?
Why should the desert feel sad and pity?
Yet I throw the light on the ocean of desert
Looking for help; hoping to revert.
I remember fitfully,
Those verdant fields their
Yellow brushed cotton tips,
Gyrating, swirled to beauty,
sighing, undulating minute blades
infintesable allure wafted
on those white wattle nights,
even drained of sustenance
it still motioned to flower
as I am drawn to nigh.
Jaundiced paddocks replace
the suppleness of earth, where,
once green strands laid
like laurels on the dawn
Rich red particles of death
now pepper the ether,
unwonted limbs litter lanes
original ground now fallow
Trans morphed unholy Gaia
sits cackling next to Azimuth,
sons of the fathers, follow
the false prophets online
As their hands are filled
with knowledge of the world,
their heads are lackluster
gazing today after tomorrow
Good intentions are twisted
in a government mainframe,
planet earth screams succour
and only God is left to hear
but I'll ever remember,
viridescent pastures
millions of miles long,
breathlessly beautiful
before the tech triumph
life's last gasp of gorgeous
She stared up, intently, watching the Peruvian skies pass composedly above. She was dazed and disorganised about the steps leading her hither. Her eyes descended upon her hands, hands that were dry and sallow from the days of climbing. She clutched her fists searchingly, hoping that her two index fingers were still graced by her grandmother's heirloom. She surveyed the uncouth distance with its eerie remoteness and summoned all the remaining strength left in her limp body and continued the long expedition. She passed imposing mountainous regions and extended arid areas of desert. She felt the tepid wind with its suppleness play with her legs and she heard it sing echoed incantations as it passed on into the twilight. She stopped but for a moment, and wandered how, at this point of time, life had forged itself in its current form, in its current melody. She continued her long, galling walk - every step felt consigned to oblivion; every effort allayed the previous one. She felt the echoes of her long-lost love permeate like some record saddled in skip. She fixed her eyes on her shadow. 'How did you manifest? ' she would ask, speculatively, occasionally trying to shirk and weave her opaque reflection. She couldn't avert her mind from a particularly fond memory in which, on a very placid English afternoon, she would sit by the nearby river with her childhood friend, Ruby. She always had a penchant for memories of Ruby when she found herself addled and aggrieved by some hardship. But Ruby was not here, she was absent like her maudlin love - forsaken and remiss. The mirage enticed her, coerced her and terrorized. Tears began to fall like fragmented moments of yesteryear. The mistral gales howled hauntingly and the sun continued to blanch and braise. A bird, cowled and suspect, perched itself on a nearby tree and watched the lady clamber through the brazen sands, and asked itself: 'but, why? '
Tell me friend
How best to paint a woman
Brilliantly colourful and extremely fastidious
Who is an African princess
Blending aggression with femininity
And radiates grace, charm and suppleness
The marks of womanhood
A woman who bathes in array of candlelight
With an usual candour for candle-la-bra
Chatty, cheery, and pardonably cheeky
Materialistic, Modern, and Maiden
Exuberant, Extrovert
Rosy and Rounded
Opinionated and Opportunistic
Meticulous and
Annoyingly Anorak
A woman who is gorgeously trendy
A wonderful volunteer, a touching friend
With big searching eyes
Talk about the lady also known as
MEROMA.
My heart will gladly express gratitude for yielding.
The day's fulfilments grasp an epilogue wielding.
At the point when my eyesight would rest placidly.
Distress is being waged elsewhere so abjectly.
Through the ambiguity, a sparkle of spirits is seen.
A tangle of a precious and scarce moment in sheen,
Dreams utterly become a strain whirl as they came.
Provide yourself the bestowal to snag first to blame!
At the staggering giddiness sequestered edge.
Guilt is the comeliness created in camouflage.
In a restrained tone, virtually similar to a mumbled way.
Who is still on the earth? On the suppleness quay.
He is cloaked in its utterly obvious vividness.
In other words, a resentful yearning to assess.
A regret outline abides an odd incredible sight.
Shards of ambiguous stone turn over the blight,
On a slender, silky thread, stashed above.
A spider spots out for a cursory meal to serve.
They mete their lives as not grasping one another.
Brief of jolting ascendancy in a peculiar picture,
Floating in lushness, short of cutouts, or broker insight.
As all worry fades, to propel and fulfill my gist plight.
In the loneliness of my spirit, I hunt the looming dawn.
All worldliness has been transcended, so it has drawn.
First place contest winner
Written: January 06, 2022
This or That, Vol 9 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
A Strand (1065) Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand