Best Wax Poems
Staying near to light my way
now that there is no more day
You're needed to so brightly burn
before to black ashes you return
Flames dance high upon your wick
and fall across the well-worn brick
Like those flames once in the hearth
when you go out there is no rebirth
My mind alight with persistent thought
beaming from an inspiration caught
In ink my quill takes another dip
my eyes watch your melting wax drip
Furiously now my script does flow
to finish the lines before out you go
I can do no more, there is no time
my slowing pen can no longer rhyme
The ink still wet, not even dry
as your glow continues to die
Words on the page begin to fade
while creeping darkness starts to shade
Wax and ink overtaken by night
and devours all your candle's light.
In the nighttime hours
As the world deftly creeps by
I summon my powers
Spread my wings and fly
Past cotton clouds,
Snow-capped mountains, white
I am lost and I am found
I am beauty and blight
Past the midnight chimes
A soul searching for home
Tangling myself in rhymes
So as to not feel alone
Catch the updraft of hope
Friendship sun on my face
My place in this world in scope
Loathing, with love replace
A wretched, willful man was I--
So smugly proud of things I'd done.
Reckless me, I flew too high--
Like Icarus, too near the sun.
I placed my trust in my own hands--
These weak and mortal, trembling things.
In arrogance, I sought to fly,
But, only wax secured my wings.
Then, at the zenith of my flight
I reached my orbit’s apogee.
My feeble, wax wings fell away,
And, in flames, I crashed into the sea.
No longer do I trust my strength
My way, no longer is my goal
I humbly place my confidence
In the mighty Keeper of my soul.
My once passionate life,
Charming crayola broads.
Came to a halt,
When she was sent from God.
But heartbreak burned,
As I dripped to the floor.
I cried waxy tears,
Like never before.
She still crosses my mind,
Though a little bit darker.
She ran off with him,
A crayola green marker.
Now tears of red,
So frequently stream.
As the pain of my heart,
Is so easily seen.
These ardent veins,
That gushed passionate red.
Have no reason to flow,
Since my burgundy fled.
Shades of maroon outline,
This broken carmine heart.
These crimson thoughts,
Want love to embark.
But my burgundy dreams,
Will never comeback.
For all of my happiness,
Has melted to wax.
WAX & WISDOM
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I carved feathers sharp and white,
This brittle world is mine to mend,
I thought, and leapt beyond the bend
of reason. Sunlit roads unfurled
beneath the wings I built to change the world.
Oh, the height! The thinning air
that tasted like Icarus’ own dare!
Below, the patchwork fields grew small—
The ocean shrank to tarnished tin.
This, I breathed, is how I win.
But wax remembers it is wax;
the first plume slipped—a golden drip—
then molten shame began to strip
my borrowed glory, bit by bit,
the indifferent sun burning my pride.
With shattered quills and cooling wax,
I fell. Not toward forgiving seas,
but onto city streets I’d deemed too low,
where broken things forgotten go.
Hubris? Yes. But deeper still:
the lie that I could bend
the river, star, or human will
with my cleverness alone.
The sun’s fierce kiss
taught me a different kind of bliss:
Now, I mend with quieter hands.
No skyward leap, no bold demands.
I change the vessel, not the tide—
the wax within, not wings outside.
The Wax Vigil
I'm born from a thousand wax faces pressed close in silence,
each forehead an age that burns out in one drop of honey,
their blind eyes carrying stone tears down in the darkness,
the world's insomnia leaking through veins like hearth-smoke, unhurried.
I'm awake in the depths of a sleep with no border at all,
and I sleep in the light that burns on foreheads pale and bitter,
through the cracks in my mind a faint music comes slipping,
a silver song poured down from the moon, foolish and stretched thin.
Colors run violet over thoughts made of shattered glass,
and time coils around like a smoke-serpent tracing a map,
each second a face that is born and dies in the same breath,
a game played between shadow and an angel its sky forgot.
I search through the sea of faces for proof I'm still who I was,
but every gaze is a doorway that opens on some other shelter,
and longing, a small candle lit in the box of my bones,
drips its wax on my soul, quiet and tender and slow.
Maybe we're only dreams dreamed by some eye set high above us,
plaster saints standing still, waiting for a tired god to set,
and this night we live in is endless, one eyelash half-open —
an insomnia without any edges, where nothing will ever freeze.
The candle light flickers and dances.
Seeing your body in short glances.
How do you describe perfection?
Waiting so long to show my affection.
Passion burns like a raging fire.
A hearts deepest wants and desire.
Touching the most delicate, softest skin.
Connecting eyes, locked forever therein.
A kiss so sensual, as to satisfy all needs.
A moment that every expectation exceeds.
Savoring every second, no need for haste.
Then you wrap your legs around my waist.
All I can do is deeply breathe in the air.
At one time, two becomes joined as a pair.
Beads of sweat drip down her chest.
As her love for me is shouted and professed.
The candles drip all night long, their hot wax.
For our love could never know a climax.
As the sun came up and began to peek through,
it lit your face, nothing in life compares to this view.
***For Frank Herrera's contest, "Erotica"***
Note: According to the Trenton NJ newspaper, NJ Considered Ban on Bare-it-
all “Brazilian” Wax due to complications suffered by some.
I know it's not about a foot that's bare
Butt where you wear your underwear
Though I was warned, "You can't go there"
I have this poem I have to share
New Jersey is drawing the line when it comes to bikini waxing
It seems the Brazilian “bare-it-all” wax has gotten a bit - - - well - - taxing
You see this Brazilian “bare-it-all” wax
Is intended for fronts and those a bit lax
To rid the old body of anything curly
And let yourself look a bit younger and girly
But women have gotten unhealthy infections
And are forced to take pills or costly injections
To counter the trauma they had to endure
Insuring their lines were clean and secure
But you see by law, that’s not even allowed
There are parts of the body that should be left proud
And if someone is waxing you back to your youth
It’s a little unseemly – a little uncouth
It is better to leave some parts unattended
Then to get Mother Nature upset and offended
So New Jersey will seal this Brazilian Wax fate
After all they are known as The Garden State
Contest: Barefoot
I've been collecting ear wax
Since the belly button lint dust fire went bad
I lost all my dignity in that fiasco
So ear wax is all that I have left
Believe you me, it's not easy
Coming up with another scheme
After burning the whole town down to the ground
To get a single soul to look or even listen to me
But that fateful day that I dug deep
And pulled a replica of the Eiffel Tower out of my ear
I knew that fame and fortune lay before me
My time had arrived, my time was here
Who should I call first over my artful discovery
The Post? The Enquirer? The Times?
No I would call The Museum Of Modern Art in NYC
For the Art World would soon be mine
I knew I had to ratchet it up a notch
One piece of ear wax art might be a fluke
So I got out my brush...the Q-tip
And removed a portrait of John Wayne AKA The Duke
Since I live in a hippie commune in the woods
Little furry creatures would always stop by
To gaze upon the artful process
Squirrels can be the best of critics...no lie!
Which gave me the idea with all the left over ear wax
I sculptured a mini-amusement park with mini-arcades
And charged the woodland creatures nuts and berries
Which helped feed the hippies with whom I stay
It wasn't long after that I received the letter
Stating that art had a need for me
I've become known as The Andy Warhol of The Art World
With abstract ear wax being my specialty
Now I go to all the major "Who Does"
Where everybody knows my name
As I create masterpieces right before their eyes
Just don't hold it to close to the flame
Who would have ever thought that ear wax
Would be the perfect medium
To jet propel this Simpleton
To Art World stardom and beyond
This is a scent that never loses its smell its elements the rooms soothness and massage your mind she is called Candle Wax she lites the wax scentful. She lites up me desireable inspirational of her sexually tropical endless smell of erotic exposure that deorderize my sex drive completely to the highest exploration with a smell that lives the mood so graciously as the smell lingers the ozone of the rooms atomsphere that wax may massage mind of desire and body language that she expresses with a scent that boldges together as she clings to the smell that is so irresitable to let go and seizs it off with a vaginic smell of dice pineapples that tastes so delightful and delicates oh so magnificently to disquished as the two body combines to a smell of candle wax that holds such volume of turnt up flavorable scents and blossoms such rise of resistant smell that plunder me an my sex drive so uncontrollabley as i awaken my cinnamon apple of spice that mood me in a direction of her scentful passion fruit smell. In her endlessly smell that sails in a discription lawless strong scents that never leaves foul ordor but always have a odor that may lenghthens a smell that addicts eveyway in a one way position never fades to no unsure expriences that shows the logic way of ordor that resuface not jus past tense smell that may overcome negative meanings thats never hard to explain so simply like Candle Wax that climax and soar an story that flights everytime that allowed to enter a room that spray her flawless that nevertheless unfortunity to make so possible to smell and to connect within all smells that capture me directly like a direction thats one way in way thats freeway me allover again.
The worship of light,
Scented prayers resonate:
Mass of lit candles.
GentleMan
I remain blind to the world but you.
The Lily among Thorns
and the perfect work of a craftsman's hand.
Giving usefulness to my Banquet Hall
and injecting Life into my green Vineyard.
Lady
Oh dear! My darling Gentle Lion.
Radiant and ruddy, unique as a Gazelle.
A mound of Wheat encircled by Lilies.
More attracting than Rods of Gold set with Chrysolite.
Yet, proven to be the Noblest of all Men
and still glued to me like two halves of a Pomegranate.
GentleMan
My Precious among Maidens,
your royal tapesty, which its tresses,
hold Kings in captivity.
Even the Towers of Damascus filled with Pillars of Marble
are not as prestigious as the comfort of our bed
which pours out the freshness and purity of the countryside
and always placing the Banner of Love over me.
Lady
You are my much needed raisin when I am weak,
My satisfaction and my Pride, like the house of cedars
and like Polished Ivory decorated with Sapphires.
More glorified than the woods of Lebanon,
perfumed with myrrh and incense.
Where more would my Heart go?
When it is locked in the Cage of Your Love.
GentleMan
My Angel!
Please don't speak of the fragrance of a perfume
because not even the Saffron nor the Calamus,
nor the Cinnamon or other incense Trees,
together can match the Lattice nature of your breath.
Lady
My Heart beat!
Is it the Aloes and mandrakes?
Or the finest spices from Asia?
Is it sweet Herbs from the Merchant of the East?
Together when combined to the sparkles of your Robe
are like little foxes standing near a Tiger.
Gentleman
Your beauty adds quality to earrings of Diamond.
It is washed in Milk and Mounted like Jewels,
spreads like columns of Smoke
and like a rounded Goblet that never lacks blended wine.
What more am I searching for?
When your Lips have the taste of every delicacy
renewing our bond like cool-chilling Soda
keeping us steadfast in an unshakable Anchor
because My Love for you will never Wax cold.
THE WAX-BOULDER
I made you an empress of my heart's castle
The towers on which doves of trust nestle
The curtain wall has your name enshrined
With gushing river of my love the moat occupied
Your gracious smile each stone in the high wall admired
Flowers of committment on the ramparts bloomed
Draw-bridge on its bosom received your foot-steps
Great hall in your welcome threw royal banquets
Your image in intricate weaves, set at the high- table
My prayers for you, echo from the holy chapel
Emanates the scent of my love, care and affection,
For you the potpourri of my respect, sacrifice and devotion
Savouries of my feelings cook at the hearth in the kitchen
Castle yet defenseless!!painted with unconditional love
With stark acceptance for the way you are my love
But your rejection of my love, like gun-powder ripped
through this fortress
Bleeding stones and my weeping soul stand the witness !
©Manoj Kumar and Anulaxmi Nayak collaboration,2015
For contest: Partner Up
Sponsor: Shadow Hamilton
Date: 27th August 2015
melting wax , burn my hand ,
flowing down , like a droplet,
white in color , round as a band ,
melting wax , burn my hand .
killing me , burning me ,
ruining me , destroying me ,
doing something , nothing good ,
same as a piece of burning wood .
giving me light , during night ,
badder than a bulb , better than nothing ,
help me , or do something ,
melting wax , burn my hand .
curtains on fire ,
running , I'm tired !
not on time , I'm fired
melting wax , burn my hand !!!
coins ring laughter born of war babies buy bombs
liquor in a dying bum’s throat chocking on tears heaven
is a wink and a dollar-bill rabbits in the dark sex in the park
chessmen move in minds of shadows dressed in suits with gin
in hand the mice run cheese severed tales of another rabid blessing
the worm-hole moves through your eyes a ghost runs fingers through
your hair dangles in the still mid-night wind exploding generations of
soldiers painted green with philosophy plastic guns painted children modern
mother earth awakens visions drum smoke into the storm of stares glancing
choruses cracking churches changing shattering showers of sun slipping acid
-tears tear rain music hears ears gasping deaf white winter birds flap red death
-bed angels leading hands crying glory with glowing lips sealed the wax wanes