Best Sylph Poems
The widow among roses,
though a scent so sweet
she smells to near smile,
how red the vibrance of life
and soft the petals caress
her lonely cheek,
she remembers her love lost
(her left eye a tombstone glass)
and seizes not to yearn it back ---
The Blacklady among crimson;
her desert rains evermore night and day,
and still the dunes of her heart soak not with love,
the arrid wind still shoots the sand
through her wasteland unbetrothed,
where the sun never rises,
nor never beautifully it sets
through her tombstone eye
She walks the night dressed in white,
her wedding gown a sight for ghosts
and phantoms do fright;
they cannot haunt ---
this foot-in-the-grave-soul,
glowing white-red howling at the moon
To true midnite her feet carries her so,
where the river rushes reflecting
forever moon glow
Where the nymph and sylph and dryad never go,
whispering and wondering ---
gazing to this lady alone,
this poor begotten thing ---
this shadow unto death,
who filled with eternal tears
(seated in some unknown place)
her nose in roses, and her mind always in the past
(grieving life)
and mourning some faceless man
*** Inspired from a friend's mother, who at the age
of 40 --- all but gave up on life at the death of her
husband, which deeply saddened me ***
The powder of white sand holds her flesh
close to his musk pelvis
as she gasps with the murmured waves
trembling on the coast
of a fragrant mouth against a manly tongue,
and they lay on hidden grass
in an old Ipanema cove
where rippling strokes fondle
the east and north of her sylph-like
curves: amidst the liquid Brazilian dusk,
her flowing hair sinks from the lapping
of crest in rhythmic grinds;
tanned fingers exploring
a soft canal of a nymph's heightened pleasure…
by the sea- bend, he pulls her creamy thighs
like a driftwood sailing
afloat upon each quivered abandon
while they melt under balmy trees…
without the need to speak.
...........................
100 in a ROW contest -- 11
LOVE STORY
The breeze is in my hair.
The moon is gleaming behind me.
The love I feel is everlasting.
Cadence of my soul.
Show me your happiness
Share, my love.
Laugh with me
Our destiny is mixed with pleasure.
Our essence treasured.
Come walk with me in the garden.
Alive - Let's reach our ultimate…high.
Smile, darling smile
Kiss me with your eyes.
Forever we are.
Champagne we drink
To toss our uniting.
You feel my sylph
A fulfilled spirit.
This journey succumbs me.
I am free for you to love.
Embrace your ideas
Let the breeze come in.
Dance to the ecstasy.
Release all your fears.
Capture this time
As our minds, intertwine.
Laugh with me
Inflection of my soul.
Show me your happiness.
Share, my love.
A majestic dynasty
Our empire
In time
Now!
Here we stand
You and I forever.
No obstacles have formed.
You are my one and only.
Woman, smile
Kiss me with your eyes.
Forever we are.
Thrive - Let's reach our ultimate…highs.
This is our life...
Together
This is our existence...
Forever
Ardor love
Justified by God
Come walk with me in the garden
As we write our love story.
MY PHILOSOPHY
Man is man. His skin is what makes difference. His upbringing differentiates.
This is, he states, “God's way.” DARK SUNSHINE - VSW
_________________________________________|
PENNED ON AUGUST 03, 2014!
My springtime blood did flow a river’s rush
in stream bed’s cradle anchored to the land
as dreams rode jet streams to the cirrus strand.
I grew beneath the nimbus, thunder-lush
but autumn’s dry-leaf-drought did bring a hush…
though soul, a snowy owl, not stuck in sand,
as slowly stilled my river came to stand —
my thirst now nursed by rapture of the thrush.
I muse about this skin and skins worn past,
rebirth perhaps… a dolphin of the seas.
This river turned a ripple wanes tonight
surrender of what’s mortal… not the last.
My sigh the sylph that finds the Pleiades —
this breath I shed, a winter’s wisp of white.
With such feminine flamboyancy
this maiden sways in breathtaking movements
flashing, flitting, flaming a sweet minuet--
beneath a mural of moonlight’s alchemy,
her flared gown fair as sequined feathers
that midway, in birdsong's sultry melody,
her flight of fancy floats on my garden- floor
and like a magical sylph in tints of magenta,
she mingles with blooms on lawn's mainstage—
oh this femme fatale; a Mayflower,
mantling the pageant of summer's first festival!
For Brian Strand : Alliteration Contest
“Rewind Forward”
Memory mirror
supple sylph yields
and naked
walks through liquid glass
towards your dark eyes
to float in black
legs wrapped
rapture drawn deep
unclothed into your arms
bathed bare
you climb my mountains
pull me in
your fingers coiled
tight and unforgiving
around my silken hair
mouth drawn to bare
omni amor libido
opalescent skin glistens
slow dance
silence listens
caught in time
elementals float in the aether
no walls no stairs no roads
bodies in rhythm rhyme -
in your dark mirrors
are all my blue skies -
dream duelling flames
tongues do not speak
they torch a burning blaze
there are no nights
there are no days
two flaming souls
deep dive
erotic waves
they read no maps
trysting in their lovely trap
Pantoums
each the other world
Phantom
opium kissed lips
repeat repetition
Ships lost at sea
in our ghost myst
a fierce longing
a holy confederacy
Kisses long and languid
Luscious long neck licks
Drink my life
Your need is met
my mead is sweet
and want is whet
Honey swallowed
lost in the love
love in the lost
trapped in the net
an open cave
doorway
where lush moss
waits wet
treasure found
treasure kept
sensual salty
her sea is met
pounds to your
foreign uncharted shore
two rare pearls
are free yet
bound and kept
on the other side
awake forever
with the never slept
hearts open
wounds bleeding
turn the key
Mirror Memory
(LadyLabyrinth/2018)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OqEZ_RQ4Cm8
"Flashbacks", Emika
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wF6v7yCthd4
"Flashbacks (reversed)", Emika
“We did not touch each other. We were both leaning over the abyss.”
Anaïs Nin
“Our love would be death. The embrace of imaginings.”
Anaïs Nin
“Secrets. Need to disguise. The novel was born of this.”
Anaïs Nin
"But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted
Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover!
A savage place! as holy and enchanted
As e’er beneath a waning moon was haunted
By woman wailing for her demon-lover..."
Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Kubla Khan
The seas softly speak with voices that talismanically tweak,
Magical maids in their mystique porpoises of their physique…
Ambient aqua-marine waving seductresses of their craving,
A splashing sylph spraying through wandering waters braving…
Goddesses of the dousing deep show finesse as they leap,
Enchanting when they weep collecting desires for their keep…
Landing on our sandy shore all eyes on the deceptive décor,
Mystic Mermaids to adore Lorelei longing from the Ocean floor…
A siren seducer submersing a temptress of the water traversing,
Below lavender skies nursing her delinquent desires dispersing…
Mesmerizing mermaids silently sailing with their mermen tailing,
A sorceress in their scaling intoxicated by their Venus unveiling.
Sept.23.2019
MERMAIDS Poetry
Sponsored by: Line Gauthier
Placed 4'th...Thank You
Nightly, I wander in shadows of a recurring dream
and find myself wading through a shallow stream.
The Ancient of Oaks calls from beyond the thickets,
its gentle whispers mingling with chirping crickets.
I cannot guide my steps in the direction of choice,
for if I disobey, his leaves rustle in grumbling voice,
"Enter the forest, child, without fear of what I ask.
Moon and I will guide you with each virtuous task."
In the forest of my dreams, my path alters each night.
Sometimes I run to follow a nightingale in lofty flight.
There are times when I must free myself from a maze,
or suckle from mother fox, a kit waiting for her praise.
One starless night, I stumbled on a gnarled tree root
whose existence moments before, I dare not dispute,
for the Ancient One is very aware of every step I take.
Forest fauna watch over me 'til first light of daybreak.
I am puzzled why a forest sylph, I was chosen to be.
Ancient One said I would understand all the mystery
when after the last of my journeys comes to an end,
and I'd comprehend that my dreams were a Godsend.
So I do not question when his branches point me East
to right a wrong committed, turning famine into feast.
Or travel North and South, tending a nation that bleeds,
with a message to forests to provide for hunger's needs.
Each morning I awake with the memory of my dream,
my feet wet from wading through a shallow stream.
Some day soon, I hope to learn the reason for my quest.
Tonight I'll be in the forest when the sun sets in the West.
April 17, 2021
In the Forest of My Dreams Contest
Sponsored by Mystic Rose Rose
Tower, buzz and scurry
Oh great resilient city
Ahoy!
Alive. Scramble bustle earth's
ethnicities
On lurid quests--
A pendulum of tantric turmoil and
Blessed harmony
Quixotic city--brash,
Sangfroid merotomized and
Chrematistic--metro nonpareil.
See a myriad melange of
Tortured splenetic
Souls and great spirits
Noble and soothfast
Great city, your hecatombs
Of underground trains
Roar scream in
Hodge-podge graffiti attire
Fat fuming brattling buses
Grunt their huffpuffs,
And nervous cars scissorcut
Impatiently betwixt tarred and
Cemented streets
August and capacious
Ferruminated grey glass and steel
Towers--Aeeries in obeisance to the
Heavens, erupt in anabasis at the azure
Pearly welkin,
Humming diapasons of marvelous
Melismatic tunes
A gallimaufry of cacaphony and
Sweet sounds--the
Great Metropolis persistently
Thrives.
Streets adorned with sylph fashion
Models, conute churls, street
recrement--dazed and forgotten men,
Enticing shuck and jive
Blandishing street vendors,
Natty brujo business gentry
With their helotry on a
Ferris wheel of daily
Triumphs and defeats and
Cheeky mendicants
Shuffle along allegro vivace
Howling chorus songs amidst a
Torrent of raining dollars and
Coins floating in the skies over
The brazen metropolis.
Snuffling restaurants like hives
Humbuzz the grandiloquence,
Pithy slang and sententious
Persiflage of the day.
A truly syncratic parley
Of passions sentient
Of crimes basilic
Of arts sacerdotal and gratuitous
Of fashions arabesque and outre
Of plays frivolous and profound
Of music sericeous and truculent
Of money pursuits solonic
Of loves ascendant and descentdant
Of rejections mournful and joyous
An e'er persisting cha-cha-cha and
Boogie-woogie of the fierce
Bustling bubbling bold city,
Pendulumming pandaemoniums and
Resolutions, day
Upon pertinatious day.
David John Hart 2003 USA
On a limb was this lyric etched
By leprechaun in rune & sketch.'
T'was not bawdy;But sober in tone
From this wistful soul Who lived alone
To good Saint Patrick he made a plea
From the trap of treasure deliver me,
In crock & jar I have full trove
Yet never am I to leave this grove.'
For the wicked witch left me much in gold
Upon her death, from a maudlin cold
Now I'm being held by the love of greed
And could not be pulled free; by the greatest steed.'
Yet I've read that God has made a plan
That I see regards a woman & man
But Leprechauns are a different breed
That trace descent from the shamrock seed
I'm aware your day is soon to dawn
So I plea your help on the coming morn
I need a loving sylph in green
To lead me in love, to the modern scene.'
I repent of my former punk rock days
When I followed many a fad & craze
Yet I have this idea you can make a case
With God above who is full of grace
I beseech in hope, I need more faith.'
Yet if its not to be, my will I'll brace
Let me not languish, though; so folorn...
Just an old 'punk-crocker' tired & worn.!
My veins now spill forth scarlet waters,
Rent by serrated silver teeth.
Like Her breast sinewed all life,
Fervoured my wrist, when She jilted me...
Repleted by once Her love;
Now became Death, a nocturnal drapery...
"My Goddess What didst Thou to me,
Lust priapic to Thine ardent ****?''
A sylph bewinged like an Angel,
That withered love infected me...
A morbid plume falling from grace,
The celestial eye ebonied.
"My Love; Doth thou not want me?
Hath I becometh a Daemon?"
...
No...
this blooded brine, mortal wine,
this etch on my pale canvas.
is nothing more but a single sign,
To pain's anathema,
-yet you my love...
Will nascent from my blood,
and be robed in ether cardinal...
My suicide, although it's sin
Will leave you happy with akin.
My body was a tumour around my soul,
but waning life, will take control...
******This poem had special appeal to me in that a friend had brought up that I had a talent for poetry and he encouraged me to write more. I was very proud of this piece, which was written at one of my 'hideaways' where I find inspiration; nature poetry or what some call 'nature erotica'. This poem was anthologized, which makes me feel rather fortunate, since a publisher requested it among many other poets and great poems. I think I finally 'saw' what my friend had after it was officially published*****
Amid the sylvan shade,
the footpaths teem with wooded laugh,
the sylph she giggles atop aerie slumber,
tickled in soft-slender breeze;
the nectar dews,
meady-moss and carpet-leaves,
juniper and berry-sweet breath
She sings amid the sylvan shade
nothing to do but sigh and dream
her wanton-wistful way
The glade whispers wishes (weening)
tempered hush,
echoed odes of faerie-tongue forgotten rhyme,
But for the meadow and vale,
aerie eagle cries,
none has come but I;
to sit and ponder, and listen -----
homage,
amid the sylvan shade
heart in a bottle
captive sylph of current's past
freed by Cupid’s dart
July 21,2014 11. 10pm
Fourth Place
Contest: One Solo Epic/Senryu-In A Bottle
Judged: 8/20/14
Sponsor: Poetess Linda/PD
THE GIFT OF LOVE
I know that life is agleam.
Incandescent is the word used.
You are from the time of little people.
You empower to keep the peace.
No one can define the world quite like you.
You are a universal guru.
Consequently, I want to contribute to your happiness.
Subsequently, I will give poetry.
This is the gift of love.
May be small but real
Not just something boxed to give.
This is a comforter when you down and out.
You asked me for something unique
Therefore, I will give meaningfulness.
Bringing in the New Year, a smile is worth seeing.
The roaring of joviality is a blessing to hear.
You had your confrontations and you resolved conflicts.
Today spirit is fulfilled.
Oh, merry bonhomie
A feeling so blistering - so intense
Your heart is full of joy friend.
As a result, your happiness must continue.
This is the year humongous
Pop the cava and let’s party.
Perpetuating things to come
Accordingly, exhilaration
Oh, merry sylph
This is going to be a life worth living.
|_____________________________|
Penned on November 28, 2014!
Her name was Chamomile.....
she filled my heart ablaze,
one lazy-October day,
batting those eyes ---
such guile!
A poor, romantic little thing,
hopeless to begging love,
sick with gorgeous news ---
her hero (would he flew)
'ere her aching heart,
explode a thousand pleas
for her sensuous sylph-self
The men were dogs for her,
back in the day;
her hair smelled of Chamomile....
her eyes teased with Chamomile....
her lips, red and wanting,
her crimson-spiced kiss....
But she be only mine,
as she oozed down my throat....