I sometimes wonder
whether you are wearing
a mask, that your alluring
crimson blush and perfume
is a subterfuge
made up to enamor me -
not crafted by a desire
to deceive but by a need
to conceal, that beneath
your beauty lies a truer self
you do not want
to reveal.
Perhaps you fear
that if seen under
the scrutiny of a clearer light,
your mask may fall apart
and expose
a deeper truth,
an essence of the sublime
which, in this world,
could overwhelm and blind,
thus choosing
to adorn yourself
with fragrant petals
and a thorn.
Greet me--Spring sprite,
fresh, docile smile,
whose whispers woo
with hymns of lover's tune.
Enamor me with fizzy phrases;
As doting night enthralls,
with stars,
the bashful moon.
Cove me within
thy bossom's veil
of plusing neverending
blazing charm.
Congenial hover, as clouds do
to pacify and gently soothe
the brassy, heated,
brazen flaming sun.
Dreach my dreams
with valiant gales
of furor baron's
kisses gained.
Like Nature's gift of life,
revive the plains' drought
with cloudburst of
Heaven's inundating rain.
You pulled a lecherous lever,
hid behind the word forever;
Told me to never say never;
Misbehavior, misbehavior;
You did not expect me to win
but I knew just how to begin;
Enamor you as the lynchpin,
gotta check-in, gotta check-in.
Then an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified.
—Luke 2:9 CSB
Little cherub with wee little wings.
Strawberries, crushed, enamor your cheeks
in Victorian fashion. Oft naked,
floating on chapel ceilings,
near the mother and babe.
Little cherub, not scary at all.
Magnanimous glory you do not seek.
You’d be squashed
if you weren’t so squeaky clean.
Like fleas on the shoulder,
the angelic and the devilish,
depending on mood
will be flicked away.
Little lambs cut a hole in their ghost costumes,
out comes their head,
then they don
a halo - oh, the little angel.
God puts up with such things
as sticky wings -
irreparably weak.
Heaven they don’t seek.
In a tattered street of no Clemency
A very big cock laid a egg
Whales of the sea got Drained into the harvestation of Gunslinger
Oh! Ye the Antecedent of a Soft Raw Land
Where hath had you looked unto.. ?
When the Heavenly Colored Bodied fly in Mirrors to Enamor our beloved Land.
The Assiduous of our Aborigine has been the foundation of the Heavenly Colored Bodied Fortunes that engross Privileged Aborigine to the upper echelon of the Heavenly Colored Bodied.
Red Ink was the only Presentable and Lovable Panacea to the Assiduous Aborigines Hope....
In a tattered street of no Clemency
A very big cock laid a egg
Whales of the sea got Drained into the harvestation of Gunslinger
Oh! Ye the Antecedent of a Soft Raw Land
Where hath had you looked unto.. ?
When the Heavenly Colored Bodied fly in Mirrors to Enamor our beloved Land.
The Assiduous of our Aborigine has been the foundation of the Heavenly Colored Bodied Fortunes that engross Privileged Aborigine to the upper echelon of the Heavenly Colored Bodied.
Red Ink was the only Presentable and Lovable Panacea to the Assiduous Aborigines Hope....
Home
Rajorshi Patranabis
Carefully beautified
A home
A mad desire
For a happy living
Locked securely,
One and two
And every nook and corner
Decorated with care
Dreams slumber
Hither thither
Lonely in recline
Thoughts cross
Sandcastles of dreams
Have devoured so much time
So much of love and care eloped!
Life smiles impish
Teeth rocks on itself
Nimbles of walking ahead,
This side and that
Will love sided on the wall
With flowered enamor
Sit on the living room?
Tracing the mirage of happiness
Deserts of sandy life
Searches of sand castles
Life ends
Feel every moment
If life would've been like home
Decorate with love
With care and happiness!
STARING DEATH IN HIS CORNER
I'm not the best pound for pound
boxer trading blow for blow
This bout won't end in this 36th round,
battling from the cradle from the set go
when my eyes refuses to behold life's wound,
uninterested in deciphering life's code show,
from when my wailing became a sound,
this boy baby became life's Eskimo
And you death, stare a brother in the face.
Despite the scar from the Diviner's torment,
He who bare in hand the enamor of grace,
The Father of all and the master of your fate,
you came for The son all to number his days.
But this in-ring soldier is born to fight & be great.
Pain you bring is sweetener enroute my eternal place.
IF I FEEL PAIN, I AM ALIVE
surviving like the edge of a knife.
IF I AM ALIVE, I CAN FIGHT,
triumphing over thee day & night.
IF I CAN FIGHT, I CAN WIN
(while trumpet of my victory keeps blowin')
because that's what Victor's do.
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Form: Chandler Sonnet
Copyright© April, 2021.
Women drunk with their own glamour
Are blind to the hallows of men
Simple women with enamor
Excite attention
Capture and preserve
The moment to the smallest detail
12/27/2019
Poetry Contest: She Inspires Series Kh
Sponsored by: Maureen McGreavy
"Plain women know more about men than beautiful ones do."
-Katherine Hepburn
G golden motifs enamor a brown tapestry
I in galore of grace, a head is held high.
R resplendent glory of the tallest creation
A ascending in attitude, seeks a heavenly sky
F feeding on forage of leaves beyond reach
F farsighted big eyes, browse twigs on trees.
E emotions all silent, with no sound to screech.
S stature so lofty, elongated slender neck
T towering long legs, gallop free and wild
A ambling Savanna plains, predates of lions
N nose and tongue, both in length reconciled
D down to extinction, their numbers on decrease
S strong but enchanting, they are symbols of peace.
T tangerine patterns, in unique genes installed
A 'African Gentle Giant' that's how Giraffe is called
L lanky but charming, an evolution of hybrid soul
L Leopard spotted coat, perhaps a tall Camel stole!
20th July 2019
Sponsor James Edward Lee Sr.
Contest ACROSTICALLY I STAND TALL
Poems of poetic glamour,
Writers awe the rules of grammar,
Words that are so sympathetic
and other very magnetic.
Poet, conductor, and planner.
Poetry, nostalgia crammer,
Multitude of dreams and Amor,
Own literary aesthetic.
Poems of poetic glamour.
If, silent thought of a stammer;
The author's goal of enamor
Most flawless style and eidetic
Clear images and artistic
Poems of poetic glamour.
7/19/2019
8 syllable each line
rhyme pattern aabba, aab R, aabba R
Poetry Contest: Rondeau
Sponsored by: Charles Messina
RUIN OF LISA
He cannot will himself to look away,
Though she is as small as a rose,
And pretty with thorns and all.
Having many suitors that stare.
Her smile shines so fair.
And her eyes dart back and forth,
Like the dust devil that follows him.
Her terracotta colors enamor all,
but he desires to steal her away,
to place her above his open flame,
so he might bore into her like the sun,
and have none that touch her behind
the reflective glass. Of wine he sips
her sweet sensational subtle lips.
As the seasons change his lovely Lisa
becomes whatever he fantasizes, artsy
with scarves and sunglasses, at the fall
and rise of the procurator’s temperature.
6/28/2017
Romanticism
Dazzling breeze all set, set high to ablaze
Dry and dusty, Wrinkling leaves seeking a drop of healthy relief
The sun's flare is extremely? intensifying the heat, the perspiring skin seeking soothe stances rather meeting so much grievances
The horror of hotness set all to harshness
Wait wait wait, I missed the sticky part
The friendly auora of sea, the hustling era of babble and lots of travel
A picnic, full of gathered thoughts, sounds of togetherness all around, we holding hope to set the sun down from the dusk to the dawn
The story is now set to elate, stimulate the rejoice so beneath- The pacific minds Be aware!
Under the hearty covering of the Mango tree, sitting we in a glee
Hands in hands with chirping songs out, mixing with the cuckoo's touch enhancing the flavour much
The sun seems dim, the clouds engulfing the lift
The drops hustling to feel the earth, enamor the grasses, flying? endlessly under the air
We there, with cheer, the gleaming surrounds
Petrichor everywhere!
Oh hearken the struggle, life's gossamer threads,
The delicate sway of hope ...
Framed by churning white of Lord Neptune's might,
Faith dangles a slender rope.
Wan maiden, her savior, and a scarlet shawl,
Battered by surf and gale ...
Yet our faceless hero and his capable arms,
As sure as the damsel, frail.
Mostly monochromatic, all its tones of gray,
Save for the kerchief, red ...
While turbulent struggles around them rage on,
We center that shawl instead.
We see not the others who attend the line,
But imagine them nonetheless ...
The artist connects them with the lanyard, strong,
And so intimates their distress.
The distinctive edges and leaf-like waves
Are peculiar to Winslow's style ...
As are the rare stories his paintings tell,
That enamor us, and beguile.
While he traveled afar and painted it all,
And was a celebrated roamer ...
He loved my home state of Maine the best,
And so truly was a HOMER.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Celebration of Art Poetry Contest", Kim Rodrigues, Judge & Sponsor.
Where yet forbear spider hides, fairy chides
Shall dare taunt and tiptoe on spider's web
Silvery string hang and swing amides guides
Slack-lining steps along until the ebb
From fairest creatures’ spirit free clamor
Mice perch on grass blades cheer excited squeals
Tear drops of lilies stoke scent enamor
Butterflies wings flitting springtime wind reels
Sunlight shining hedgerows rainbow shades
Contained by spring blooming emerald grass,
Dragonfly's gossamer wings weave and fades
Fairy Queen’s daisies blend when beetles pass
Bloom clusters flourish tremble in the breeze
Of amber, wild cherry, wine, daylilies
Bluebell, buttercup bring bees to their knees
Far-off silent buzzes and hums sillies
Where yet forbear spider hides, fairy chides
From fairest creature’s spirit weave cobweb
Sunlight shining hedgerows rainbow shades
Fluttering wings hover on silver web
9/19/2016
Poetry Contest: Strand Select 5 Any Form,Any Theme
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
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