Flushes Poems | Examples

music : verse

     music

wordless expression 

I refresh mind  ~



inexpressible is sound

Spirit speaks ________

                    goosebumps 


wavy air // HOT FLUSHES  :::;;;,OoooMmmmm,,,,,,::::::::.:::::::::  *
                                              I
                                              ^^

Tune Of Pain

Inspired by Prince Roger Nelson's song : When Doves Cry


Grey clouds hover over my wasteland, 
the desert languishes in the heat of craving, 
deprived of the tuneful rain, 
until you arrive with drizzling breeze.
In your pulsating embrace
my heart’s oasis resounds 
with the symphony of desire.

As the pristine patina of radiant roses 
flushes your crimson cheeks,
rhapsody of longing wraps 
the mesmerized meadow of my mind.
The cadence of your intimate heart 
pulsates within mine, 
I float in the ether of euphoria.

I fly with open wings in your sky,
a storm from nowhere tears me down.
You don’t care for the injured bird,
I hide my pain within me,  
clasping the broken heart
within the collapsed wings 
I desperately curl with mournful sigh.

My tear drops roll unseen for you 
on the trail of melancholy,
where I hear the enchanting echo 
of the songs we sang together once.
The tune now resonates like
when doves cry.

Red

Diamond dew embroiders the rhapsodic roses,
scarlet sun flushes them with satin splendor,
blazing with the cold flame of my blooming desire,
wrap your luscious lips with my yearning hue.
the ruby patina of my love colors your heart.

Pregnant

For the first time mums you all said this .you know who you are.

A fumble in the dark is all it took to open the pages of someone’s life book.

Morning sickness I must be ill I can’t be pregnant I’m on the pill
Me pregnant you must be raving bloody hell now I’m craving.

Belly growing clothes are tight hot flushes and can’t sleep at night.

The months past so very fast the big day has come at last
I’m so afraid I want to run it’s to late now the pain has begun.

In the delivery room in so much pain I swear I’m not getting pregnant again.

It’s all over now and my is baby’s crying I am laughing and I’m 
No longer dying.

I am given my baby to hold in my arms all my worries gone no more 
False Alarms 

All through the labour I screamed no more I’m never having another but that soon forgotten now I’m a mother.

A Frenchman's Hunt

In France, where a creek gently flows,
A hunter ventures to a place he knows.
With his wife ahead, beating the brush,
She making the hidden pheasant flush.

With muzzle raised, he's poised for flight,
As she flushes a pheasant into the sky.
He fires his twelve-gauge into the sky,
Knocking the bird before it soars too high.

Back at home, a fire warmly glows,
The scent of herbs and roasting pheasant grows.
With wine in hand, they toast to the night,
To the thrill of the hunt, and the shared delight.

Your Heart Is Mine

"I carry your heart with me (I carry it in my heart) 
I am never without it..."  E.E. Cummings


The sparkling dawn veneers my heart’s horizon with color,
spreads the sunburst tinges of my timeless yearning,
paints a golden garden blooming with luster of my love,	
unfurls the facsimile of your astral floral face I adore. 

The patina of radiant rose flushes your cherubic cheeks,
glitters with the grandeur of resplendent pearls of dew,
rhapsody ripples in the mesmeric meadow of my mind,
your heart becomes mine, in the ether of euphoria I float.

In vivacious vale of mind contoured by your charisma,
as I carve an ardent conduit of longing to reach you,
the fervent cloud of my craving melts in a torrent,
makes my love for you a cascading stream I swim. 

Flowing with the current of your charismatic allure, 
my possessed passion sails to the moonlit bay of bliss,	
where your love weaves the lattice of stars in my sky, 
in my heart the shine of enchanting sequins I preserve.

Late Bloomer

I'm starting at the finish line,
Head spins, blood flushes through
Adrenaline bolting than sound.
Am I late blooming?

Dried Leaves seem young.
Ecstasies dance off my guts.
As I dine to the feel of butterflies
While being swept off my feet

My heart now leads my brain.
The suspense of romance persists.
Obvious mistakes embed to the core.
I guess I'm losing control.

Entanglement of emotions,
The fear to hurt is now the compass.
As the globe shrinks so small
I guess I'm a late bloomer.

The Pigs

A humid day,
mosquito clouds swarm along
a red dirt road to the farm.
There are grimy rows of pig pens,
hazed dark by humming hordes
of black fly.

Bob (an old friend), chuckles.
“Man, you picked the wrong time of year
to come visit.”
The hogs grunt and squeal.
He waves,
“be with you soon.”

It’s slop-time - the air is turgid
with the many notes of a stale miasma,
everywhere there is the splatter 
of slime and muck.

He carries smeared green buckets;
a deleterious, partly consumed gunk
that reeks of that semi-solid swill
hogs grow fat upon.

On the low walls
there are slick stains, layers of grime;
a smeared feculence
corrugated into noxious layers.

Even behind the stalls
there are a heaps
of sludge and slurry.
Bob flushes surfaces down
with his long hosepipe.

He bends to his tasks whistling happily
while I explain to my new wife
that he used to work for the C.I.A.
I can see she’s surprised,
maybe impressed.

Long pause…
watching Bob wade knee deep
into his labor of love.

“Yea”, I sighed,
“he got real tired of all that."



```````````````

an edit

I Wandered Lonely As a Life

"I wandered lonely as a cloud" -- William Wordsworth


I wandered lonely as a life
bereft of joy by reason’s cloud
to sling invective like a scythe
from perched on high, lofty and proud.
Naught from my lips but bile and scorn,
delight extinguished, long since shorn.

Imprisoned by my intellect,
I held my neighbor in disdain,
the simpletons who genuflect,
lift voice in praise to gods inane.
Devoid of purpose, meaningless,
inflicting pain, I caused distress.

Ensconced in fog, truth thus eludes,
for nothing blinds like one’s own will,
prolongs the moral turpitude,
bolstering self yet further still.
The darkness bears an evil grin,
a putrid corpse, lest dawn breaks in.

But worlds come crashing down, of course.
A penetrating shaft of light
that sears at first, causes remorse,
illumines one’s desperate plight.
A warmth then flushes on the face
by blood reborn, restored by grace.

----------

for the I Wandered Lonely as --- Challenge Poetry Contest
sponsored by Natasha L Scragg
written on 09/18/2022

Fire Candy

A piece of fire candy I savor the spice, 
potent in your mouth prickling your skin; 
Every sweet taste is a roll of the dice; 

Inhaled by a swallow would never suffice,
you neglect the luscious center within; 
A piece of fire candy I savor the spice; 

Risky to keep going with this heavy price,
wild prospect throws me into a tailspin; 
Every sweet taste is a roll of the dice; 

Heat that flushes you once or twice 
addictive bite you snatch again and again; 
A piece of fire candy I savor the spice; 

Exploring the unknown is good advice 
wearing eyes that hold an adventurous grin; 
Every sweet taste is a roll of the dice; 

Unexpectedly leading you to paradise, 
following gut instinct is never a sin; 
A piece of fire candy I savor the spice, 
every sweet taste is a roll of the dice.

Miss Sparks Betta Wiggles

Maria hums to the tune of “Taps” as she scoops out the betta
One red, one blue, Wiggles got ick, now it’s just Padma blue
Doorbell rings, ding dong, Maria rushes to answer, Ahh, Greek feta
The delivery guy left as the maid pounded on the screen, birds flew

This is cheddar, Miss Sparks will be upset, hmmm. It’s okay!
Swooshing sounds from the toilet bowl, as Maria flushes 
Tosses the salad, grabs her clanking keys, and drives away
Down the hill, exhales haa, then inhales huh, blood rushes

Nick The Greek’s, an order of the Greek feta salad, to go please
Exits Nicks, enters Finney’s Fish Store.  I’ll take that one, that fish
As she points to the red betta splashing, wiggling, stops, in a freeze
Dear Maria, I’m home, bring my salad and a glass of iced tea swish

So, tell me, how was your day, clops off her shoes by her chair
Leaning, back crackling, with Wiggles her red betta nearby
Miss Sparks waits for her maid, then notices Padma’s stare
Maria, why is Padma staring at Wiggles with a glint in her eye?

Bay of Bliss

The patina of enticing flowers
flushes your luring lips,
glows in the garden of my flashing face.
In the ivory valley between the mounds,
carved in the lilting landscape 
of concealed craving,
cascades the torrent of desire, 
melting from the frozen lust,
I float in the river of fervor, 
flowing to the bay of bliss.

_________

June 15, 2022
For A Brian Strand Premiere Choice Contest
July 10, 2022
For 2022 Marathon Poetry  Mile 7 Contest
Sponsored by Mark Toney

Sentimentality

… is a drunkard
Swilling vintage regret,
Tears falling for undared dreams, 
Anger spewing over unrequited love.

… is endless replays of yesterdays
With circular insightful wisdom 
As likely to reverse life’s ills
As scrubbing dirt off hills.

… is stolen joy in the gloom
Of memory’s moldy greenhouse
Where fancied success blooms, hiding
Mocking hyenas and nightmare roaches.

… is a pustulated soul 
Hunkering in a mental bunker
Sniveling nose dripping a green past,
Dreaming victory will roar as thunder.

… is Salvador Dali droop
From the fringes of reality
Or a joy until truth 
Flushes it to a cesspool.

First Day of Spring

Sunlight penetrates the chill 
And flushes across my face
The wind attempts to steal from Me 
what the day has promised
But without a cloud to cast a shade
The fabric on my shoulder warms
A warmth, it seems,  gone too long 
Brings beads of sweat upon my brow
my fleece grows obsolete
And the time for shearing has come
Prometheus gift is given
And felt with earths slightest tilt
The calendar can only guess
At when the gods decide 
That we had suffered enough
In that first moment of salvation
Reborn, and in balance
Through marriage of earth and sky
And the suns embrace

Heavenly Flushes

Heavenly Flushes
It makes one wonder if the angels blush
When heavenly loos need a stately flush
When it pees with rain do they feel exposed
Are toilets in heaven made from fine gold.

There’s another thing that I’d wish to know
To where o where do heaven’s flushes flow
Is pee angel rain, is earth heaven’s drain
Is that what helps grow a floral domain.

I got an answer that came in a dream
Heaven has a purifying machine
Angels pee is scent with magic content
Made from the master’s creative intent.

So do not be afraid to drink water
Every sister, brother, son or daughter 
Streams, rivers and sea are pure as can be
Thank the angels for their gift of sweet pee.
7th October 2021

The Throne in Heaven Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Jack Webster

• Short Flushes Poems
• Famous Flushes Poems
• Best Flushes Poems
• Read Flushes Poems
• Long Flushes Poems
• Flushes Quotes