Best Tingly Poems
United In The Depths Of Love's Ravenously Sweet Ardor
I
do not
cry,
this pain
soul deep stings the weeping heart
burns so very
intensely
the memories
the perished and
heartfelt sweetness
of Love's cherished
truths,'
the precious moments
the cool breeze,
the heights of adore
the feverish touch
of your lips
our nights of lovemaking
and sweetest morns
of my waking
with you,
your tangled blonde
hair and sultry lips
and that dawn's
ravishing smiles
upon our dynamic
new love, upon
our dynamite kisses
and our just being
we two.....
the truth
the passion,
heated waves
in our ocean where passion
burns so
very brightly
and its heart beats
for us, in tune with life
singing
to our two hearts
wedded, asking
only
each other
and begging
for more
days
and nights
welded
together
as
united souls
with
appetites
for love
and hungry
forever
for each
other
darling
you and I
stand
against the pains
of this dark
and bleak world
with nights
of sweet ardor
and days
of purest delights
wedded
hearts, spirits and
sensual minds
together,
you and I......
Robert J. Lindley, Verse
romantic and true\
sensual and tingly
for of hope
and raging love!
How ironic? Has God ever fallen in love?
I am sure the supreme power does have a clue about love.
Then why are many struggling with questions that have no answers.
If certain sensations are not meant to be then why does one have to go through it?
Or is it a good way to put a check list on Karmic activities.
One’s feeling doesn’t seem to make any sense and the restless notion only brings discomfort.
Even though some things seem so right and pulls one toward a make believe world,
Attempts and efforts don’t seem to fade away.
It is with the tornado of genuine feelings that keep the tingly feeling of love alive.
So does God understand this?
Even though modernization has struck onto the minds of many,
The devotion and willingness to surrender to that person develops a passionate and overpowering desire.
The sweet and sour, or bitter and sweet emotion creates fear or questions fate again and again.
Once the brave feeling has been awakened and humble efforts have been tried upon,
One cannot fight destiny, but can hopefully open a new change to Karmic policies.
As time goes by, one notices that it is no more days, weeks, months, but years that has shaken the foundation of a belief that finally love will conquer over the negativity,
Love is the feeling that has no answers but only a precious sensation is felt.
Again no answers, but more questions and experiences are shown and learnt in every way.
There must be something better stored for everyone that is why one walks through a chain of tests.
Happy living and sustain that positive attitude.
Muffins, Doritos and Cheetos, Oh My! (A Bulimic’s Tale)
There is a hole in her core she must sate.
So, she drives to the grocery store before it’s too late.
She steers the cart in search of junk food.
She spots a case of cupcakes that can ease her mood.
Powdered donuts on a shelf she can reach.
Next, she chooses Bottled sodas, she packs up five each.
Muffins, Doritos, Cheetos, Funyuns and Snickers she will par-take.
She must not forget about the Little Debbie snack cakes.
Once the cashier starts scanning her vittles,
She starts to feel a tingly rush form in her middle.
She pays her fee then rushes to her vehicle parked afar
Then unloads the groceries on the passenger seat of the car.
As she sits behind her steering wheel.
She appraises her edible saviors, then makes her appeal
She starts with the Snickers shoving them down her throat,
The empty void inside her fills as she lets out a choke.
The Funyuns and muffins are next on her seat.
She devours them in seconds, puffing up her cheeks.
Doritos, Cheetos and snack cakes are inhaled like oxygen,
She is slightly starting to feel whole again.
The cupcakes are the last morsels of her stock
She washes them down with the soda she bought.
When the food is gone she observes the food wrappers in her space.
She glances in the rear view mirror but fails to recognize her face.
Powdered sugar and Cheeto dust crusting around her lips,
A sob escapes her chest as sanity begins to slip.
There is one more mission she must forgo
Opening her car door, she shoves a finger down her throat.
Vomit is released from her belly’s lair.
Stomach acid and bile sting the night air.
She appraises the regurgitation splattered on the concrete.
Then senses the empty void is gone, her task is complete.
Ghastly
Ghostly
Chilly
Tingly
Pale and wan the ghastly, ghostly be
Made a scared and chilly, tingly me.
11.3.17
After reading The Busker by Roy Pett I was inspired to have a go at a Tyburn myself.
He walked slowly by my house,
His face unshaven, expression cold,
It sent chills up my spine to look at him,
And then he turned and gazed at me with eyes so bold.
I wanted to run but I was frozen in place,
My fingers were tingly, my head spinning,
He came slowly up the walk, mouth grinning,
His face looked like a skull as he held up a case.
I could only stand and stare at him,
Wondering what would happen next,
Slowly he came up the steps, holding out his hand,
In those long fingers was a perfect, white rose-I thought I was hexed.
Then he spoke and I thought I would faint,
His voice was like music-melodic and sweet,
"I wanted you to have this was all that he said",
I never knew his name for he was back on the street.
I often wondered if I had seen an angel unaware.
Or if he had come in answer to a prayer,
One thing I know and this is for sure,
The rose that he gave me is still sitting here.
Bottle me in a fragrance
Use me up to the last drop
rubbed me all over your body
than I hope that the flesh rots
cause the way left me
sitting here wondering
while you were out with her
i'm a bottle type of gal
I guess that's what you thought
that if you put me on a shelf
i'd still be there
to use when the
nite was done
But you couldn't bottle me
not for any amount of money
you couldn't keep me here
I refuse to be the other woman
I am not trapped in this
situation
I am not reusable
I am not just a tingly sensation
I am not your gift
you don't deserve me
I am not some cheap
fragrance
A play thing
before she returns
I am not your bottle
I am not your refreshment
before the meal
call your wife for that
you can't bottle me
and all my pride
I am the best damn thing
tell her to return the ring
If you need a fling
just know it won't be me
Wild Leafs flutter in a hue-laden town,
windows creak open, spritely faces gleam,
cheerful air burgeoning, no need to frown,
sweet fragrant coffee dock, a gust of hot steam,
just rejoice as the heavens don their gown
Bus stop close at hand, joyous high alert,
laughter billows skyward without panic,
rainbow veneered archway, daylight concert,
broadcast on the pavement, sound of manic,
street painter chalk marks granite slab, dull gray berth
It’s autumn and those colours bound to show,
bright clad walkway, budding Rembrandt canvass,
red hot sun trail blaze, smoldering, aglow,
ice cool fall in situ, magic atlas,
urban setting nod to season wide flow
Power lines a home for migrant songbirds,
they chirp at streetwise citizens in train,
who brave the latent chill in eager herds,
huff and puff swarm enduring tingly rain,
rapture in a plot for winter blizzards
They are like two beam lights that claim the stage
on a hot summer eve in the middle of a makeshift
floor parkette made of wood, varnish, and lights that aim
They are more than two American dollies dressed
in French lace and boudoir lipsticks
They are idols of the theater talking through
cables and conductive material.
The imagination of the viewers soar as they lose themselves
in the dark curtained stage, where reality has gone dormant
The only sound they hear is the tingly sounds
of unfolding fans made of feather and paper,
by the old vintage theater Madammes who cluck and gossip
in hushed tones when the first dolly gives the other dolly,
a soft kiss.
The End.
Tingly skies full of surprise- oh how I love when with surmise,
the little rascal aims his dart as if it were, poetic art.
Like magic, when he pulls his bow,
two hearts then tether in love's glow.
His arrow binds them then as one
to spin beneath the lover's sun
as special feelings grow and flow.
This happened when I was eighteen.
It started with a friendship scene,
yet soon dear Cupid's arrow struck!
Now sixty-seven years of luck
still makes our love together gleam.
When cupid's arrow aims for you, there isn't much that you can do !
my kids voices
their warm joyful smiles
a mothers blessing
to watch them grow
lights my life and world
I am so happy
the power of poetry
I get all tingly inside
fullfilling hearts
happiness will survive
dreams do come true
FOR LINDA MARIE
HARVEST OF HAPPINESS CONTEST
Robin Thicke's bedroom voice reminds me of you
And I realize there were good times
When you spoke to me in low tones
Deep low tones
And I must admit
that every time
I hear Robin Thicke...
I smile and get tingly all over
You were a good lover.
People tell me that I don't know
because I have only had one
taste of freedom
But do I have to drink castor oil to know that ice cream sundaes
are good under the sun on Florida Sundays?
Do I have to wake up mourning
to know that I have a reason to be thankful in the morning?
Do I have to have a piece of pain
to know that I feel good when I am at peace.
Maybe their problem is that it took them twenty men
to arrive there
and I only needed once.
Thank you for that moment
that has satisfied me for a life time.
Warm ,tingly, vibrate and calm
yet astonishing, amazing
Simply pure
Calm, nurturing, beautiful
Oh so rare
Instantly capturing
Delightful, graceful, and subconsciously aware
but plainly distinct
Moments notice
Second chances, forgiveness, and divine
Overwhelming light
Blazing, alluring
Golden Glare
Breathe Of Light
has been set forth for me
Through my personal tragedies
Cancer, auto accidents, personal issues
Death couldn't declare
Heartache, broken relationships
loss of loved ones to bear
Darkness, coldness
images of hell at a stare
Breathe of Life
has been set forth for me
White doves, rainbows
Angels in the realm
demons, shadows
following me
Oh so grim
Victory, Praise
Hallelujah I scream
Breath Of Life for me
has been set forth
For it's not a dream
It's my reality!
The Past, Our Ancestors Gifted Us As Our Future
There are no words we know, fragrant and green,
Wherewith to show how welcome you have been.
You solaced us with many a song-caress,
O' marvelous was your music's loveliness.
You have called back from the unknown
Lost hours our hearts would fain have held our own.
In your souls life's echoes rang as sweet
As silver bowls dream-children gently beat.
Laughter of harvest lighting and the glee
Of tingly frosty nights ran joyously.
Among our shadowed memories, when you
Revealed the gladness we are born unto.
There are no words swiftly luminous
As those white birds your joy released to us.
Such gifts you bought and freely bade us share
As kings have sought and found not anywhere.
No day will end, all of your days that be
Some far off friend will not have memory.
How you guide us from a dreary road
Into a wide and wonderful abode.
No close will come to any bitter night
But someone will live again delight.
Roused at golden touch of gracious hands
That weave in swallow-flight their myriad strands.
Praiseworthiness our children shall attain
May be no less the fruit of some rich strain.
That once was yours and gladly lingered on,
As love endures, long after you were gone.
So dear ones, fare you well, and nobly well
Beyond the rare things silence has to tell.
12-24-2015
Poem written about this past year and my thoughts as to
what my children ,grandchildren and great-grandchildren will
remember of me. As I remember that of my grandparents and
my ancestors.
Love of my family and my ancestry has made me glad to be alive.
For in all the world riches and times, I would choose no other!
Said the scuba diver to the grouper, "My, you're quite a dish!
How about you and me 'hooking' up is my most fervent wish!"
"You have the cutest freckles on your face and, oh, those lips!
Won't you nibble on my ears and give me some tingly nips?"
Said the grouper to the scuba diver, "Avast, ye land lubber!
I've heard that line before and I don't want to hear your blubber!"
"Don't give me that old fish eye! I'm not taken in by your guile!
And besides, matey, I'm a jewfish and 'tis obvious you're a gentile!"
Placed No. 1 in Carolyn Devonshire's "Attack!" Contest - June 2011
I have not ceased—
I have not.
The things of the past
Do not rot, do not decay,
But I have not ceased—
I have not.
Once the pitchfork's prongs
Did so deafeningly twang,
I shriveled and cowered,
And found myself prancing
With the headless chickens.
Beneath the naysayer's feet
Are six cockroaches:
One for good luck,
One to ward spirits,
One to find holy favor,
One to initiate a curse,
One for venting,
One for simple disgust;
And the massacre was denied.
I stopped,
Trapped in translation,
A transparent body in an opaque cage;
Bleeding profusely on a sterilized table,
Compromising the hygiene of this place
And questioning my helpless wounds.
Please, where is the salt?
The bitterness to cleanse me?
Pain before numbness before death?
He blinded me with a sound,
With the violent beat of drums
The size of islands,
Jarring my excitable pupils
Forever.
Who is she?
Then came a day of mourning:
On the morning of a day
Of mourning
Of a day,
Lost.
Belief is philosophy.
An idea was conceived,
Was found to be nonsensical,
And standardization transformed
Into an inert totalitarianism,
But who are we to rebelliously be
The pompous leaders of nonconformity?
We write poems
That influence books
That influence manifestos
That influence wars
That influence consciences
That influence bodies
That influence wars
That influence wars
And wars
And wars
And dullness
And brokenness.
Why do we detest exhibitionism
But complain about kept secrets?
When the first snowflake fell,
She was a star of beauty,
And lauded by many,
For she was unique and unmatchable.
The Satan cursed his creation
For being whiter than the pure,
And she melted, never to return.
And then she said,
"Hell spoke to me to say,
"'My little girl, come hither,'
"And I went and was felt
"For insecurities,
"And they were removed from me.
"I was like the waterfalls
"And tingly with bees beneath my skin."