Best Wisped Poems

When the sun kisses each drop of rain,
spirited colors warm the heart...
like a wind wisped feather,
landing lightly on the soul.

Romance calls,
from a fresh faint whisper
mingled cleverly among the fallen.

A daydream smiles,
in a seductive voice.

Conjured  memories evolve,
from indifference to fact,
plunging deep into fantasy,
erotically eager,
intoxicatingly anxious.

All...

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The path was long and arduous
And night began to veer
O’er trees, and lanes and rusted gates
Its' shadows breeding fear

Unbridled Wind wisped ‘round
Tombstone crosses where
Hissing its’ frustration
Loudly in despair

It sought to nourish fears
The shadows did create
Searching everywhere to find
It’s soul-less night-time mate.

Moonbeam light kissed the Night
Claiming...

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He was her dance in the dark
that never got past the stroke of midnight,
both shared moon's light
yet, never did he leave
the empty corridors
in her mind

grief of days swept into years
which she could never seem to shake
heart's lonely ache
as they twirled round and round
when she closed...

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On gossamer lips
Wisped coppery tendrils
Showering sparks
Riding evening breezes
That radiate off my
Eyelashes in papery
Wet slivers
Sticking only when
Your song of ill-boding
Is breathed over me
Its primitive amity
Contused and crusted
On baneful syllables
In sweet consummation
Where at last I see the
Crumbling bouquet
That’s falls
Onto your pages...

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head in  pillow stuffing blocking a noise,
sheets soaked of fallen tears, hand tied in fists, blood seeping through the fingers.
his hand on he back pressing her to the mattress, whispering words of false comfort, small threats and enjoyment at her vulnerability.

her feet kicking against...

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On the edge of metropolitan midnight
he lays in a breathless silence
rasping the evanescing yesterdays to his windows
both open and locked,
while the unknowing below in stale smoke barrooms,
wait to sear his wounds and retell his life
in putrefied requiem.

Abashed metropolis
echoing of muted voices once adorning the streets
in...

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Your Beauty Makes Me Nervous
by M. Griswold
04122020

Your beauty makes me nervous in a very special way.
Speech grows deadly silent for forgetting what to say.
When your eyes meet mine my breath is wisped away.
Your charm holds me captive in dumbfounded display.

Your beauty make me shy in...

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flushed swells at sunset
inflamed by pink skirted clouds…
-waves-
emote crimson whorls   

rainbow wisped currents
preen and crest as daylight wanes …
-waves-
fan their peacock tails...

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Trails 
of night
bring rays
one  by  one; 
sparkling air -
breaths quieting 
calm and  fragrant…
stars  glisten hours as
blown  prayers lift sighs
that,  mildly wisped,
 doubt is undone.
Joy   restores
spirit tired
cuddling
gently

Night.

----

Night

gently
cuddling
tired spirit
restores joy.
Undone is doubt,
wisped mildly, that,
sights lift prayers blown
as hours glisten...

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It was time...

Past eventide, he crawls in. 

Playing with my hair, the whistling breeze was, 

Teasing me. 

Like fireflies, the distant city lights grinned, 

Vexing me. 

Sighing in fragrant air, wisped the meek blossoms 

Pestering me. 

And sat I embraced, in my window 

Whining.... and...

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The rush the energy that flowed within. 
It came through me like a sin. 
The wind wisped a quiet tone. 
Even though it had hardly blown. 
Once again my friend. 
All alone. 
But, are we true to it? 
Have you had enough of it? 
Heart...

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Weather looked upon not contemplating
Shores forgot, wisped away to beaches anew
This place that place, sea of blue
Set close not too far
voices in the wind here we are
Rods set tall and straight here it is 
we will wait
Lines tightened, rods a bent
fresh bait with old scent
Slicks...

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What seemed like an ordinary day, turned special in a most peculiar way. My friend 
Polly and I set out to see the "House of Butterflies" , eagerly anticipating to see the 
elegant, graceful, glorious creatures. When we stepped inside , scores of other 
people...

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had
then didn't. Wisped
somehow... or gossiped...
or distracted to Utopia's version
of cockroached virgins stained
glassy through
windows tight enough
for
what?...

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There’s a mate of mine in trouble so I had to help him out.
We were a pair of silly buggers, well known without a doubt.
You see we thought that smoking pot would be just a bit of fun,
and it was for a little while but...

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