Best Tousles Poems
September meets with warm embrace,
quickening the harvest pace,
though looming autumn can't efface
what's left of summer's arid grace.
The linen hanging on the line
dances with the gust and shine,
while maypops heavy on the vine,
with honeysuckle, twist and twine.
The cool grass tickles naked feet
while weaned lambs in the distance bleat,
and find some shelter from the heat
'neath leafy canopy retreat.
The gentle wind so jaunt'ly plays
and tousles copper hair ablaze
like furious dancing autumn rays
from Mabon's fiery upraise.
Through rustling leaves the sunbeams glint,
I catch the balm of sage and mint,
and every herb and floral scent
blown to me by the wind's dissent.
Breathing deep olfactory prose
until the old red rooster crows
waking me from my repose
and from beneath the tree, I rose.
When as I rose, a red leaf fell,
wisping down its last farewell;
a changing season to foretell;
the coming bounty doth compel.
Cicadas loudly buzz along
and sing their end of summer song,
o'er by the thorny brambles throng;
unto the prairie they belong.
By and by, I turned my mind
back to the farm and daily grind,
collecting eggs where I can find;
inside the henhouse, else behind.
The hens put up a bitter fuss
with feathers flying from the truss,
so I let out an angry cuss.
Still, they obliged; allowed me thus.
Upon it all, I took my leave,
finished with my blast and thieve
much to the angry birds' aggrieve;
giving them a day's reprieve.
Outside the coop, behind the fence,
my greedy boar approached me whence,
grunting for his recompense,
and so two eggs I offered thence.
Then on, as careful as I might
into the farmhouse kitchen white,
delivered up the shelled delight
to feed the morrow's appetite.
Upon the ending of this chore,
I happened back outside once more,
to watch the day fade into lore,
and Luna make her grand encore.
-----------------------------------------------
~ As early nightfall tousles my hair prism light,
the alchemy of a ceremonial parade begins
in this panel of a forest like a mystic scene
~ fondling my skin…jutting from nowhere,
a relay of tigers and flamingos swivel
on glowing shafts in the pale dark ... I freeze.
Some quick time frames away, the jungle rises
with raw stirrings of wildlife; an explosion
~ from a world curving a zebra's flowing movement
of unrehearsed art, of twilight spontaneity
~ oh so blind to human, mental gazes;
they slide away from such calculated moments as
.~ my body enters their changing symmetry
collapsing in mindless trance that nothing
from my eyes is ever hidden, not even the low
gushing in my breath… I shut my lids to memorize
the anatomy of their kind faces, those rising limbs
simply estranged from rehearsed gaiety.
And I seize their impressions defying the seeming
~ cramps of man’s robotic strides;
yet, i cannot hold them inside this head’s waves
~ of memory , consumed with the grace displayed
by creatures’ unbridled rites to its gods…
I become the humble slave of divine beasts.
`~ ~ ~ ~``
*from my journal about a night safari in Singapore
for Debbie Guzzi's Etcetera by nette onclaud
Turning sideways, once more I lay crouched in bed,
Not compelled to wake up and run round the clock.
The family, gone on a four-day adventurous trip.
Left to myself, may I devour this calm with none to block.
Listening to the hiss of falling rain, here I lie.
The breeze that steals in through the window ajar,
Tousles my hair and briskly passes.
I hear a Bulbul warbling from a tree afar.
Snuggling beneath my woolly blanket,
With deadlines none, I feel so light.
Lazily watching the sun beams filtering down,
I lie quiet, my mind, like a bird in flight.
This brief respite is truly a delight,
At a time when life is going out of gear,
With so much of work and very many errands,
Task on task and each day’s toil and care.
Now the house is empty with my own space,
To pursue things of my preferential choice,
To feast on the flowers in dawn’s early light,
And to lose myself in the company of the Muse.
To indolently watch the time slipping by,
To indulge in all fanciful things that gladden,
To skip a meal and close the kitchen down,
To hum and sing in gay abandon.
Loneliness, at times I warmly embrace,
When exhausted with life’s ceaseless mess.
Of late I have begun to realize,
It sure has its shimmering gloss.
* * *
After a cool night’s blissful sleep and rest,
I woke up a little late, feeling full of zest.
Today, like a nomad, free to roam in places I love,
And venture out on a day’s audacious quest!
Jan. 2023
~ Placed First~
Pick- a- Title, Vol.34. Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Edward Ibeh
The sweet smell of a budding rose
Gently kissed by the morning dew
Waits to spread her velvet petals
Until the suns love is in view
Peeking out from her ivory shell
The bairn robin tousles her wings
Waiting only for father time
And the gift of flight that he brings
A flower that is picked too soon
Is denied its floral apogee
The anxious robin that tests time
Will not fulfill its destiny
Patience, the key to survival
Just as every breath sustains life
We can not rush or veer off course
Regardless of pleasure or strife
So as to matters of the heart
I find myself standing at bay
Hiding all that I feel inside
As not to frighten love away
Time will tell if its meant to be
All enduring, ardent and true
A love that can withstand times test
And so my love, I’ll wait for you
With speedy, gutsy ease
her Irish father rolls up the front room rug
Gaelic music lathers the air in merriment
Nelligen at 8, composed
snags our attention
in hard shoe clicking
her rapid, intricate footwork
its drumming effect, a heart pulsating
Nell's rigid torso
that trails upward to white-blond hair
bouncing,
catching light like weightless feathers
Small feet in black hard shoes
tapping
from toes to heels
Image fixed in place like her pale rose-bud skin
Up against the wall, I mimic her movements
My feet a tangled jigsaw
She laughs, kisses my cheek, tousles my hair
like tufts of grass
At 9, I want to go to her, to cradle her state of grace
for however long we are children
The suddenness of age frames our winter
A peer backwards through a series of lenses
to stitched moments that slide in memory
foot taps through our rooms
I know full well that I am responsible for my own mis-steps
for sitting out her dances
for never solving most puzzles
even when I pull back
from now
Poem composed: June 13, 2021
Turning sideways, once more I lay crouched in bed,
Not compelled to wake up and run round the clock.
The family, gone on a four-day adventurous trip.
Left to myself, may I devour this calm with none to block.
Listening to the hiss of falling rain, here I lie.
The breeze that steals in through the window ajar,
Tousles my hair and briskly passes,
I hear a Bulbul warbling from a tree afar.
Snuggling beneath my woolly blanket,
With deadlines none, I feel so light.
Lazily watching the sun beams filtering down,
I lie quiet, my mind, like a bird in flight.
Now the house is empty with my own space,
To indulge in all fanciful things that gladden,
To indolently watch the time slipping by,
To hum and sing in gay abandon.
Loneliness, at times I warmly embrace,
When exhausted with life’s ceaseless mess.
At times I crave for dolce far niente
It sure can revamp lives with occasional recess.
You Are Not Cute
Are you cute
Dare anyone should say
To label you so frilly sweetly
And make of you more akin
To a Disney Panda of a Tinkerbell fairy
Cute
Does not belong between your breasts
Nor define the shape of your neck
Neither does it strip in the tousles of your hair
Or lay bare against your thigh
At midnight
It cannot trace the lines of sweat
As panting soft throws back your head
Or ride to the subtle whip of your eyes
No, it cannot define the soft bitten lip
Or echo those moans that leave you wet
Dripping in the hunger for my woman
Cute
Is not predisposed to handle such feminine wiles
That turn my head and heart to mush and mess
When raw and naked lust sources my fingertips
And I am lost in shuddering trembling curves
When I am drinking in everything feminine
As your body arches
Nor can it hold you in a moment
And simply etch your beauty through my blood
With the sway of your hips as you walk
Or play with that sweet tongue sexual
As we talk
Neither can it flutter on your eyelids
Or even perchance linger on a wisp caught at the corner of your mouth
It will never hold me in the throws of loves worship
When your form describes a female so perfect
From the tip of your nose to the end of your toes
As you thrill and seduce
A stripper still clothed
Boiling in my cauldron of want
Cute
No my love, you are not cute
How could a ravishing radiant vision of womanhood
Be ever defined
As such
The ocean, eternal, spreads wide
Reflecting slate, somber storm clouds
While beachgoers, eight stories down,
Gather towels and scurry fast
From a squall shedding white lightning,
Dull, delayed drumbeat of thunder
Touching my ears as your fingers
Cover my hand on the railing;
Surf line we watch fade, grow obscured
In a curtain of pallid rain
Encroaching the pale, vacant sand
As single-file palms bob green heads
When an updraft, cool and sudden,
Tousles your soft and silken hair
And balloons your light cotton shift—
Bare beauty nearly shared—
We retreat, sliding glass door to,
Sequestering the world away
Save your bold, yearning expression,
Gentle kisses to hungry lips,
Cotton slipping, slacking, falling,
Then persistent, gusting patter
Of rain like long-pent love.
I see you in the clouds
and feel you in the wind that tousles my hair.
Each passing post
springs anew in the beckoning horizon.
Miles before me,
road noise soothes my churning mind
and the white lines fidelity
holds my wheels true.
On,
to distant mountains of faint promise
that wait in a veil of mist
I'd once seen in the blue of your eyes.
Miles with me.
Neither judging nor condemning,
my wheels kick the dust from yesterday
and eagerly caress the virgin tarmac.
Tomorrow fills my windscreen,
as yesterday
diminishes in the rear view mirror.
I ride the black snake’s back,
sidewinding to new horizons.
Miles before me.
A menacing moon, a cold draft in my room,
small wonder why I feel impending doom;
scufflings at midnight from inside my door,
shadows of somethings are crossing the floor.
I'm rigid with fear as to what they might be,
these evil demons are coming for me;
I tighten my grip on a poker I found,
trembling in terror I don't make a sound.
They're edging closer as I back away,
they're looking for dinner and I'm the entree!
I bundle the covers up over my head
and just like a possum, stay small, and play dead.
I peek, and I'm horrified... talons, green eyes!
and slavering jaws to effect my demise,
but I'll go down fighting, I'll give of my best
when Mom tousles my hair, "Hey! it's time to get dressed!"
A fire burns orange and bright
in stark contrast against
the black Bohemian sky,
crackling hard over sounds
of a furious pen scratching
coffee stained parchment,
pausing to stoke flames,
reflect inward, and slurp
crudely a harsh, smoky brew.
Breathing in deep the
bitter, caffeinated aroma,
choking, expelling forth;
returning its essence
in a visceral act
of vulgar gratitude.
With a deep groan
his broken body relaxes
while a gust of salty air
tousles the long, black hair
free beneath a headscarf
of deep reds and blacks
mirroring the gritty color
palette so salient
in his art and aura.
Annoyance sits heavy
on his weathered face,
knotted like the cut wood
burning hot and fierce
in destructive release
of the flaring ire within.
What secrets lie bare
in that leather
bound journal?
What surly words
spill forth from
fountain ink and fury?
Is he looking for a way out?
Or, by his own words,
does he seek the way in?
I shall but ignore* the parching sun
And race with tousles of duskfall's groove,
this free-fall surrender* to unknown escapades...
Then weightless like a carefree rhythm
Of a tide ebbing its murmured sigh--
This final brilliance quiets my indulgence,
A riot of pirouttes swinging
without logic or explanation. I am unperturbed,
Ending a night’s frolic through a beamed trance.
~
For Dear Heart's Contest
Thesaurus - Abandon or Abandoned
*wantonness, ignore, surrender--abandon* 6/17/2020
I smelled Autumn today, on the leaves that swiftly blew away.
On this partly-cloudy sunny day.
On this blooming wild flower day.
On the rain-moist dirt roads, on cloud-reflecting puddles.
On the ripening crop fields and the plump summer fed deer.
On the snakes coiled and quiet on the sun-warmed road.
On the storms rolling in.
On this chill feeling wind.
On the shushing trees full of leaf-touched winds, carrying the honking sound of flying geese and the throaty wild turkey clucks.
On the purple alfalfa.
On the sun, muted yellow.
On the whitetail buck with his snorts and his bellow.
On the smells of sweet berries, wild apples and warm horses.
On the air whirling and blowing,
from dark tree-lined footpaths,
through golden sun-warmed wild grasses,
along moist and wooded river banks
and dancing along forest deer-trail passes.
On the fragrant breeze that gently tousles my hair.
I smell Autumn everywhere.
It makes me smile.
Joy of the Lord
Joy refuses to hide or wear a disguise
Bouncing brightness – bliss on springs;
Dances on tiny toes of fiery flamencos
No colorless embraces –knows the steps;
No shadows of grey in its cloak
Only shades of clearest light;
Incandescent transcendence of perpetual motion
Never slumbers – never needs a nap;
Always nascent nativity
Breaths renewal Son powered battery;
Inventor of jubilation - Hallelujah ecstasy –
Gloria elation -Praise euphoria;
Benediction of merry mirth
Speaks beatitudes of delicious delight;
Glee on wheels – rocking and rolling
Merriment like twilight candle light;
Clowns around with hilarity
Pals around with happiness of the moment;
Radical hospitality not a fleeing ghost
Permanent wave – permanent eternal smile;
Never absent – resonating generosity
A little craziness of an upside down emoji;
Stares down petulant, whining faces
Welcome mat always out;
Enthusiasm invades invasion of jocularity
Happiness revolution resolution;
Pirouettes in peaceful promises
Precious plentiful pearls of shining wonder;
Taps on windowpanes with eternal enrapture
Always available to dance;
Unrestrained tail wagging exuberance
Springing up with blinking lights – can’t wait to bless;
Bright eyes tickle the deepest marrow
Strength tousles somber cores with joy:
Joy inhales moments of transparent gladness -
Exhales a sparkling galaxy of glimmering satisfaction!
Contest: Joy of the Lord
9-8-20
Sponsor: Regina McIntosh
It was so long ago a lifetime it seems.
I had no idea I was happy back then.
In the cool spring morning the light
is lilac drenched the trellis hanging
In its fragrant abundance.
Reaching for the coffee pot
We sit on the porch for a moment
of marital tranquility
Our children
Still sleeping the youngest as new
as the springtime.
I looked at you then, I remember
not as my wife or mother
of our children but as the woman
I could never get enough of when
We first met.
The fragrant breeze tousles your long hair
I think how sweet it would feel
Against my bare chest in our bed.
If only I could capture the purple
fragrance of the lilacs
and trap it in jar together
with this feeling of love I had for you.
To open again and again
through the years.
If you were to ask me now
Were you happy back then my love?
There in the mystical glow
of a lilac carpet
in a distant spring morning
I would have said
Yes my love
Very Happy
So Very Happy