Best Wickedly Poems
Winds caressing fringes of
her deep chocolate tresses
as tree nymphs nimbly hid
midst fallen maple leaves
happily prancing round toes,
whilst a crescendo of chimes
played off in near distances,
warm apple pie aroma wafting
upon a zephyr tickling her nose,
unfastened her reddish cloak
for her e'er plunging neckline
exposed an ample décolletage
voluptuously heaving in broad
daylight waiting to seduce a crafty
wolf in sheep's clothing she had afore
encountered on the way to grannies,
called ahead to make reservations
for her & handsome knighted chef
hiding amidst the dark forest with
his trusty sharpened butcher knife,
had acquired Wolfgang Puck's
wickedly-satisfying secret recipe
for savory pack-of-wolves stew
Li'l Reddish Revenge is a dish best served cold-blooded with liberal
scads of punitive napkins and a bottle of vindictively chilled Chianti
Come with us Halloweening.
We’ll frolic in the streets.
We’ll race from house to house to house
Spouting “Trick-or-Treats.”
And eagerly we’ll each collect
Confections in a bag.
Fellow ghouls, we’ll abandon you
If you even start to lag!
No slackers in OUR party
As we dash from door to door.
Unlit locations far removed
Instinctively we ignore.
Our goal: to get all we can hold
This wickedly winsome night,
This “Hallowed Eve” of children’s dreams
For fancy and delight.
A time that kids’ imaginings
Collectively take flight
In form of costumes of all kinds-
Of whimsy and of fright.
For Dale and I, that’s part of the fun,
But even better yet
Is what we’ve counted the days off FOR-
The bounty we’re going to get!
And through the dark we onward dart.
Watch as we trespass
People’s lawns, but yards with dogs
We cleverly bypass.
And when we need to go back home
To get more paper sacks,
We drop off treats we’ve got so far,
Then quickly double back. . .
Until we’ve covered every block
Of every foreknown spot
That we had ever frequented
And some that we had not!
Then good and late we homeward speed
With just a little dread,
For darkened windows greet us
And most folks have gone to bed.
We throw our candies on the floor,
So much there is to eat!
We count each chewy chocolate bar,
Each popcorn ball and sweet.
We toss out raisins, apples,
Tiny suckers, silly fruit,
Or give them to our siblings
Who received too little loot.
Then off to bed, our day complete,
We dream of how we’ll feast
Each day with glee, while savoring
Our treasury of treats.
For the Halloween Night Poetry Contest of Nayda Ivette Negron
Where do I begin
To ask the question
And do I divulge my sin
Reveal obsession
Please I need your wise advice
I’m walking on thin ice
What if I pay the price
Will I regret this choice
Do I roll the dice
Trust my inner voice
Play this lottery
blank uncertainty
Of possibility
Drowning in the sea
My heart is beating faster
Do I just take the leap
Like ripping off a plaster
Unveiled my destiny
Will that evoke disaster
Will I be sorry after
Should I leave it to the master
It’s time to cease this game
Roulettes the devils work
On me I lay the blame
I’m overwhelmed with fear
Overcome with shame
I feel my pulsing veins
Ready set take aim
I take it in my hand
You see me trembling
What if I find it’s bland
This is my reckoning
And as I begin to bite
My heart fills with delight
Someone’s listened to my plight
It was a coffee one
And not a toffee one
Delicious bliss
Chocolatey kiss
Slowly oozing
So wickedly soothing
What a close call
I thank you all
MISDEMEANOR
A soft lisp runs through blonde summer grasses,
shoving at kites or the hems of long skirts.
Umbrellas and hats stir as it passes,
jumbling at picnics, it teases and flirts.
It picks up speed while playing with Marty,
and takes his land legs as he tries to walk.
The unseen source can raid a yacht party,
by strewing boats that are moored to the dock.
Laughing in whispers or screaming in storms,
a mythical being, felt but not seen.
Its guests are blind to the brail it performs,
it can be gentle, or just as well, mean.
Wickedly hurling a house in the air,
or docile enough to tousle our hair.
-Edlynn Nau
© May 21, 2018
The concerned politician was running for re-election
But a very cool, steamy sex scandal he struggled to hide
He used his thick, bald head to provide some harmful protection
By taking a scholarly, dim-witted babe to be his bride
By hiding appearances this loser won the seat he sought
But the love/hate relationship with his former mate went on
Under cover, above reproach the governorship he bought
The wickedly good scheme went awry, the lover suddenly gone
In the shadows of limelight his true love would no longer stay
The powerless governor didn’t want his private life public
And his charming, boring wife soon suspected there’d been foul play
Lying alone in her separate room made her healthy heart sick
A sleazy, reputable reporter showed her photographs
Of her husband and his lover in a platonic embrace
When confronted, the governor made a fortuitous gaff
Laughing contritely, he told his wife their love he’d not debase
But well-intentioned cons have a way of gleaming through darkness
For the long-lost mate found his way to the governor’s mansion
Startled resignation on his wife’s face so expressionless
To explain he was gay led to consolidated expansion
The news was revealed, the governor was forced into hiding
For he was no longer viewed as a truthful politician
He’d not been upfront, but back down in a closet confining
And he’d risen to downfall with a concealed revelation
*For Kristin’s “Oxymoronic” contest
Prince of this world,
you've meddled in the affairs of mankind
since the beginning
From the time of the Egyptian pharaohs,
whose gigantic pyramidal tombs
had been built primarily by slave labor
A living testament to man's ingenuity and cruelty
Then you were behind the Assyrian reign,
carnage was the calling card hallmark
these fierce kings signed whenever they came
But the Babylonian kingdom you really liked a lot,
ancient free market traders and slavers
Their god was commerce;
they bought and sold any and everything,
they trafficked in any and every whatnot
Then came those warring factions of Persians and Medes,
pure lovers of aristocratic indulgences of greed
They would fight you to the death,
until the Greeks came along
and became the gold standard, the best
They loved to preach democracy,
they loved to practice idolatry
For every god you said you had,
those Greeks said they had three
The Greeks fell to the next kingdom,
not so much by war, more through debauchery
But the prince of this world
came out of the shadows,
and was moved to want to rule when the Romans came
They had them lying cats named Caesar,
and crucifixion was their favorite capital punishment game
The Romans learned a lot from their fellow Greeks;
give the conquered their councils,
give them a voice with a vote
Then let them exercise it wickedly,
declaring the innocent Jesus Christ guilty
Oh, the prince of this world
was as ecstatic as a mad despot can be
The Romans were the best kind of servants ---
they were cruel, they were hard
They killed you dead with no regard
But alas, even their mighty kingdom came to an end
Since then, all of his wicked servants
and their feudal kingdoms have served him well
But alas, it was the Roman kingdom
he brooded over the most when it came to an end
And it's been a long time, since the prince of this world
had a Caesar he could call friend
In the list I saw a new contest, entitled "A Poem Please."
At first glance I thought, "Is this for real or just a tease?"
The theme for this contest was just periods-punctuation.
I'd have moved on except for contests I've an infatuation.
A string of five dots, seemingly a period after a period.
Hmm...Should I write in sonnet form, or an epic Iliad?
The challenge in this one is that I wasn't given a direction
of what to write about. It's in the hands of my discretion.
I know I've jumped off the deep end of the poetry pool
but if I turn back now, I'm sure I'll look like a silly fool.
I'm left wondering how to salvage such a pathetic start
of what could have been a poem about a broken heart.
Nah, I've written that scenario a time or maybe twelve.
Into that nether region I should no longer try to delve.
No awesome pissa will this ditty win for the likes of me.
But this PERIOD piece might make you laugh-wickedly.
NOTE: Prizes for this contest include the title of Awesome and a Wicked Pissa.
April 29th, 2016
Acquiesced amongst gypsy stardust,
dance of aroused blissfulness
knees went weak mid a zealously flirtatious
sunset, as skies intensity was enraptured
mid fierce moonbeam's caressing zeal,
fulfilling a wickedly wild aching surrender
within ardor's aroused captivation,
enthralling enchantingly obscure sunrise
sensations of endmost satiated fervency,
shorelines met heavens verve
breathless in exhalations' celestial passion,
chanted to the gods 'tween fiery escapism
risen above darkly inclined constellations,
'til consummated resplendence of night
burst forth in explosive exaltation
dreamt of ink's splendiferous poetry
When All Hope And Relief Seems Gone
( Loss of Hope) (Part One)
Today my sad spirit rides long dark rails
as massive storms lash and churn great blue seas
Lost in deepest of blues, Hope's sweet hand fails
as I crash on broken and jagged trees.
Far beneath a once great and mighty perch
as Achille's fate approaches my life
I recall divine words from father's church
"seek thee, love in our dear Lord, during strife"!
I crawl in forests dark, wickedly deep
smell of evil, death and destruction burns
I cry for safety and warm place to sleep
relief from broken heart's many returns.
Where hides Light's most beautiful saving rays
Dusk comes, no help for man that falls and prays!
Robert J. Lindley, 5-05-2017
Sonnet
Syllables Per Line: 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10
Total # Syllables: 140
Total # Words: 110
Part One of- Hope and its greatest treasures,,,,,
I have two sisters whom I love and adore
We are poets who can write of blood and gore.
Evil, Wicked, and Demented are our nicknames
Being fun and shocking is a few of our games.
Evil, for that, is I
Has had enough people lie
And tell me of their fearful woes
To only find they were only foes.
Evil has an "evil" mind
That can deliciously find
What may not be normal to some
To me can be quite exquisite fun.
Wicked is learning to find
Her very own peace of mind.
That man with a black soul
Her heart he had done stole.
Wicked's mind is so "wickedly" twisted
That her vengeance can't be listed.
But make no idiotic mistake
She can strike you just like a snake.
Demented is the one who knows
How to reel in all the beaus.
She can smile so delightfully sweet
And men seem to just fall at her feet.
Her mind is the most bizarre
She can be the evilest by far.
On her face, you will see a beautiful smile
While inside "demented" schemes most vile.
We are each who we are
All a particular shining star
Separately a Libra, Capricorn, and Leo
Collectively, we are The Haunted Trio.
Songs Of Power
(Lost As Blackness Invades)
Where the agony invades life seems in blurs,
And the long nights eat the fruited trees,
And later, night dreams stalk barking curs
Where blue-red tides overcome futile pleas.
Across infinite space--thoughts dreaded
And blood-lust seeking new infesting homes,
Deeper into darkness the Soul is headed
against its will- the mind wickedly roams.
Bright roses once bloomed in this castle dark,
Violets arose to soon die in vanished splendor
Where shadow raced to eat resting meadowlark,
Bound and chained heart goes with its sender.
Sorrow alights- in its ebony spreading cloak,
as storms slash across the turbulent seas,
Speared in the chest and rotting shaft broke
cried for and nothing found to appease.
No relief! Falling stars batter forsaken mind,
fiery reds cover vanishing jungles greens
Life in its mysteries, finds room to be unkind
as purple hearts- grace such melancholy scenes!
Death of innocence, once dark strain all too real
jungles evergreen, turn to exploding red,
Where death invades, soldiers always ready to kill,
war and its eternal darkness, await the dead.
While man thus cursed, seeks illusionary gains!
Darkness cast forth from Souls feeling no pains!
11-08-2015
For contest- Songs Of Power
Song chosen-
Paint It Black - Rolling Stones:
Rendezvous
Folly or fact
Wondering, Waiting…
Whispering winds foretell
Thunder soon will follow--
Pulses electric sing through my belly
Joy Wasp-Darts
tzzz
Escapes via fingertips
tzzz
Expectant Ears
Pitch pipe tuned to his melody--
Whispering winds foretell
Thunder soon will follow—
Waiting, Wondering
Footfalls and folly
Oh…
Marvel of grace
Lazy rivulets of words--
Shimmer thru his lips
Sizzle and pound twixt ions
Wind wickedly round my thirsty heart
Flood-startle the drought of yearning
Splash my Nile delta to color
Kissing the sated sun--
Marvel of grace
Ah…
©V. Anderson-Throop 2015
A gentleman’s intentions of amour applied with great finesse
A lesser dame would waver and surely acquiesce
Love designs in the air as ancient as Romeo
In the Battle of the Sexes just who is friend or foe?
Carnal schemes of gallavanting the town were a-brew
Pressing his intended flame for an impassioned rendezvous
Meet here or there, anywhere, some seedy local haunt
Twas getting hard for Lady Fair to keep it nonchalant
An age old story so typical, certainly not unique
Of guys and dolls who can say or sagaciously critique?
Fair Lady’s position was dangerously precarious
Pursued by forces sinister and wickedly nefarious
Our Lady escaped the grasp of one as suspicious as Sade de Marquis
Alas the cad was rebuffed aside … he found no ecstasy!
(May 6, 2018)
The Story Of The Cruel And Dark Queen That Feeds On Souls
She that exists to eat innocent souls and this world's vast wealth
A dark goddess, splaying her straggly long hair with wilted roses
Pretty, brazen, wickedly heartless and damn to hell soulless
Even far more beautiful, glowingly fair than is Lamia
Artists and poets seek words to describe her deep darkness
Souls of artists, painters and reprobates toiling for her glee
Thousands enslaved in the mirage of her horrible essence
She that holds me locked into her enticing horrid imagery
As I toil like Hercules to break these impregnable chains
Such that morning holds no beauty, sky is devoid of its blue
These many months pass and pass, O' my spirit is wilting
I seek the gold moon at night but find only darken shadows
And absolutely no human pleasures ever do I know or feel
I that exist in this raging true hellish world of deep evil pains
Pray for dearest release that I may one day die a free man
And if gifted our God's sweet mercy, shall enter the Pearly Gates.
Robert J. Lindley, Verse
APRIL 11TH 1971
Old Note: Age 17, this is one of my early dark poems, no rhyming.
I rarely ever do just plain verse....
New Note: Well, I still rarely ever do just verse. May have have written 15 or 20 poems that were just verse.
In Whispering Mists, Dying Gods There Grieve
Within Shadows casting forth in blackened glow,
secret havens hide in heaps of aged dust,
there beastly beasts born and wickedly grow
far beneath a granite hardened evil crust.
Within corridors in ancient temples Time waits
for the golden winds of Loves renewed trust
sealed up fast and tight, their heavy gates,
holding back those deaths found to be unjust.
In whispering mists, dying Gods there grieve
there time now sadly wasted and ill spent
sifting Love's gems through golden sieves,
they see far too late, what human Life truly meant.
What of legendary Gods, did such beings ever exist
oft descending to earth to wreck havoc there
or in Hades pits cast all, their divine powers did resist,
the glories of faithful worship they deemed fair.
Within Shadows casting forth in blackened glow,
secret havens hide in heaps of aged dust,
there beastly beasts born and wickedly grow
far beneath a granite hardened evil crust.
Robert J. Lindley, 8-08-2018
Rhyme, ( Of Dead Gods, Evil beasts And Man's Folly)
Note: