At times sprouted,
Opened up
Pomegranates,
Reminded me
Of bosomed breasts.
Trying their way out of the shirt.
Like a caterpillar out of the cocoon.
This feels too much like deja vu,
the days and nights of a biblioklept.
It’s what the book-bosomed must do,
taking in every chapter as you slept.
Being such an omnilegent person
it’s hard to run across something fresh.
Reading’s such pure introverted fun,
with each word I want gooseflesh.
I wander to each town bouquiniste
on the lookout for a page turner.
I’m hungry for a clever plot twist,
that story that’s an acid burner.
There is no place I would rather be
then inhaling the scent of this paper.
Serene and content in a lectory
escaping into a wild fictional caper.
I love to go running through my head
inside a space where I have no phobia.
While in reality I am filled with dread
suffering from debilitating abibliophobia.
The selfsame page echoes wordlessly like barren lord
To write in characters of light, Oh! bucket headed bard
Understand, art-like slumber must set-the soul free
Beyond time's fabric walls, in boundless circles waterski
Across the black besmeared realms of dreary night
Where passion cleaves darkness with fanged light.
Tread forth into the beauteous lustre of things
And hark, how sweet the drunken nightingale sings
Cheering languid Cynthia and the slow bursting bud
Oh! come empty bosomed lad
Let the primeval tongue of deft nature teach
You how to fold forms into voluptuous speech.
The sun through verdure fields has unrolled
His sweet placid beam of burning gold
And how gaily whispers the roaming scented wind
Blowing voluptuous strains pleasant than sevenfold lutes combined
Revealing to the dancing emerald leaves galore
Divine secrets hoarded in mediaeval days devoid of law.
When the throbbing heart of nature tunes the soul
Grand refined wisdom is your to attain
Which nor cognitive lore nor pedantic clouds of scroll
Can ever shower upon the mortal train.
They set up tents by their big ol' cadillacs
Up the road a-piece from our little house
In a vacant lot where nothing but weeds grew.
Momma said, "Don't you go up there and stare
At them. They might steal you away." And so,
I stayed a good distance, but I went up.
They looked like normal rich folks to me
Except they dressed real strange,
Big-bosomed women wearing flowered skirts
With ruffled blouses in summer's heat
Men in wide-brimmed hats and bright-colored shirts
Going about tending the blazing campfires.
That night Papa said, "Be sure to lock up
The shed. They might steal everything we got."
And we did, locked it up, but far as I know
Nothing was missing the next morning.
I went up again because my curiosity
Was stoked, and I got a little closer to see
Better. They were loading up their trailers
Moving on to some more lucrative place.
FIFTH PLACE WINNER
"2021 Most Significant Poem" Poetry Contest
January 25, 2022
grandma bare bosomed and barely covered by frayed crocheted pants
looked like a mixture of parakeet and paragon in a fairy tale’s garment
under cover of darkness she would bare her wickedness and emotions
a mocking bird with a beak full of gold and a never ending feathered quill
fire in her heart and a pen crafted from charcoal and indelible passion
tea leaves suspended in a crystal ball swayed by pendulums of words
stepladder to wisdom swinging from a roped pinnacle at the threshold
from reality to psychedelic hunter and gatherer of mushrooms and magic
candles crafted from Arabian lamps exuded Alhambra charms and Alladin
whose cave was her fortress in the woods of past future times and pastiche
desk like a lamp post overshadowing contours and scripted penumbra
it was never too late to have a happy childhood with a wick as companion
no hermit but prophesy personified she send messages out into the world
parchment of wisdom tied to acorns belladonna berries and butterfly wings
required no answers because questions held stronger without instant replies
the old scribe never died because an oak tree grew unperturbed in my soul
27th June 2020
Down in Louisiana,
down in da bayou deep
Where sweaty bodies hear da swamp sounds
in da hot, steamy heat
Local people know Mamadou Sekkou
Medicine woman
born on da banks of da bayou
300 lbs
of dark, dark skin
charcoal black
Big bosomed woman
with black and silver wavy waterfalls
flowing down her back
Mamadou Sekkou
sez she got a potion for you
Make your weak man strong,
make him love you all night long
Make him be yours from a man-child
til he be old in da bones
Make him be yours all his lifelong
Just don’t do Mamadou Sekkou wrong,
or a curse is gon rise from da swamp
Do da big Cajun woman right,
and a blessing gets added to your life
Mamadou Sekkou sez she a woman of God,
had da healing potion oracles passed down ...
straight from da root of da African bush
that don’t burn
Mamadou Sekkou
sez she curse dem dat don’t never learn
Dem dat keep to da bad ways,
dem dat wear da gator gaze
Curse dem to da swamp dey go,
let da glowing eyes drag dey souls down below
Mamadou Sekkou
give dem da swamp Cajun curse ...
but she always try to turn dem right first
~~~~~~~~~~ *-* ~~~~~~~~~~
Vague murky nights bosomed with bane
Annihilating ev'ry smile
Plummeting pollens so insane
Ample powder - quietus file
Effulgence emerged just awhile
Lustre fetching thousand glee
Electrifying - halt to rile
In realms of outrage - nice to flee.
~~~~~~~~~~ *-* ~~~~~~~~~~
=============================
*-* jun-jun villanueva
*-* " HUTAIN THIS ONE " Contest
The midday dazzle lays off by the maiden daytime
A solstice ray parades over my eventide jollity
The solitary hour bosomed by the bambini’s elfish prime
An ecstatic hour greeted my heartfelt puerility
The infrasonic twittery of birds melded by the sundown cosmic time
A gentle breeze solemnly pass by my stargaze eternity.
The daylight soulfully sonneted by the sunset bliss
An allayed euphony coupled my awaited sapidity
The blessed souls savored by the moonlit soul kiss
A wishful rhyme pulsed my heart with chastity
The shadow of fantasm abided by the solely muss
A blended mind’s eye captured my evening salsa verity.
------------------------------x-------------------------------
The sun and I we rose from the bed of night
And walked abroad the damp grass and trees
Stretching with each step the line of delight
To edge the liquid tongue of murmuring seas.
A nightingale nuanced the day's orison to tell
My heart, the life in it reclaimed a songs worth
Scattering joy like wind rain of dew on the dell
Morning comes cackling the hens on damp earth
Away beyond the petal wight of skies, the first grief
Gliding on the stage my eyes applaud for desire
Ruby bosomed clouds arousing the russet leaf
Above me, heaven's passion set the world afire
The perfumes she wears, violets of mountains here
Palpable to my senses, it rains and rains desire
The sun and I are abroad walking the world's hair
Flung wet upon my skin, diluting his probing fire.
In increments un founding maze
my eye once twinkling, now in haze
not seeing, only feeling's phase
that knows some emptiness, not craze!
As when the pain, exaction, plays
upon my faith, to altar's scare,
the small ideal, all lessons raise
does still abound it's focused stays!
That picking voice, no sound's exchange
but endless prattle, toward its ways
so hearing nothing, nothing lays
within my path, but not relay!
Creations living, bosomed soul
this then, the else of time's replay
that speaks and sings, within's abode
as sameness striving's . . . not obey!
I have borrowed the first line of this piece from the"unknown scribe" , which I
read many years ago.... The rest is for ALL the great mothers who are SOUPER.
Who took me from my cosy cot
And sat me on an ice cold pot .
To make me pee ,when I could not.......... My mother
Who fed me from the very start
With bosomed milk , straight from the heart
Then burped me, 'till I'd belch and fart...... My mother
Who warmed me from the Winter breeze
Dried the blood from my skinned knees
But told me "fibs" 'bout birds'n bees..........My mother
Who healed me when I had a chill
And nursery rhymed me Jack and Jill
But lied to Dad , about being on the pill...... My mother
Who coaxed me past the school day bell
Smiled and said .. all would be well
But then went home and cried like Hell.......My mother
Who was protector from life's curse
Was doctor , dentist , priest and nurse
Friendly Bank ,with open purse...................My mother
Who lies beneath this cold grey stone
In peace ,at last , and all alone
The first true love that I had known.................. Mam
x
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