The answer is woven
into silence – why speak?
It is already said
the air too thick to further
breathe speeches' necessity --
one has spent the words,
the best of them and the
worst, and now must live
what aspiration inked --
--------------------------------------
Sometimes I wait...not really
a poem has its own necessity
therein
Some leap, others crawl into
activity
in common they will not stop
Love and poetry are conjoined
as the would-be poet is soon
to learn
One must fondle even his hates
Attended words so unlike those
circumscribed prose….
You are a piece of moon
Strangely living between humans
I can not believe you stand there
Not washed away by the noise
You emit secret light
Not everyone can see
And that is good
I have no competition
I touch you
I fondle you
I play with you
Oh I see
You are there
Real
Oh look
I am touching you.
Haunted by your gasps come eventide
the shimmer of vour shirt climbs
and rugged flesh of your torso
Traces those hips
as I fondle the crease from your spine
... to fine mold Brach's melody,
its mellow refrains accompanying
spatter of viscous honey ;
In a voice of sizzling quiet
that makes your arms part my sea ,
I inhabit wedded bliss in the mists of your eyes
and night's starglow melts before me:
This fragrance of total surrender
leads me to one , undefined moment
while I blossom delicately---
until we tremble as one
my nectar overflowing.
It's time to play, your chance to tease,
massage my mind and gently squeeze.
Seductively, you'll dance for me,
attentively, you're all I'll see.
Your tempered touch will fuel my dreams,
invade my world, ******* my screams.
My blood will rush, my body yearn
to taste your heat, sizzle and burn.
Your whispered words will scream and shout,
your tongue will probe, your lips will pout.
You'll fondle flesh and slowly strip,
your fingers will splay, stroke and dip.
You'll take my passion deep inside,
unleash your hunger, own the ride.
We'll fight fatigue's ferocious kiss,
all guns blazing... We'll die of bliss.
Boy my writing is pale stale tonight
Despite this still it gives me delight
What is it about selecting a phrase
That keeps me preoccupied for days
Is it the hope to craft and create
Something new despite old ways
To fondle fuchsia ideas into new
Tasteful thoughts of teal and blue
In a writer's block you’ll find
A new idea in the darkest mind
A blank canvas like an empty page
Will soon bloom with creative space
Misted drizzles bring me back
not to the past but present rhythm
done and sung : I fondle
raindrops tapping on giant trees
while my wounded limbs gather
to kneel upon the ground
that stamps this mad man's
need to reclaim love's sweet pour.
Let It Rain Contest of Nette Onclaud
Each day he came with a full smile and can-do attitude.
I knew he was homeless, but his other truths alluded me.
Each task I asked of him, whether involved or quick, was
another job he consistently gave his all. His education
was evident, his manners, perfect. Each payment I gave,
saw my money well spent.
One day in mid-fall, while raking leaves side by side,
a perfect moment of shared ease freed my questions.
With no hesitation, my curiosity sought its feed. I
learned he had no steadfast address, no clock or regrets
from any circumstance, but a fire to rise higher towards
bliss. He felt society not only easy, but necessary, to resist.
Smiling, he nodded towards my worn ring of heavy keys.
He shared that in his travels he had acquired three.
The first unlocked freedom designed to find key two
and three; a key to inner peace and the other to spiritual
increase. He spoke with resolute belief, “I know it’s hard
to conceive that any man owns intangible keys, much less
three, but just as your keys open possessions, mine align
by design to unlock bliss.”
Overwhelmed by his beliefs, all I did was mutely fondle my keys
(I had severe endometriosis that led to infertility. Through years of treatment and after a laser surgery, (not common in India at my time, so got it done in the U.S.) my condition improved and had two sons born to me after 12 years. But endometriosis came back with greater vengeance and at the age of 39, got my uterus and ovaries removed)
Ever since I became a 'woman', suffered from acute pelvic pain
After marriage, waited for years with rising anxiety, to fondle a baby
The boon and blessing of every mother, but for me, a bane.
With every menstrual cycle, I saw hopes withering away.
Running from clinic to clinic, doctors found endometriosis, my swain.
With laser surgery, the condition was more or less rectified
And two fledglings were born into our nest- two adorable sons.
Still the villain had his onslaught. In me, he continued to bide.
At 39, terminated the culprit that gave me constant aches.
Now with two organs missing, through life’s current, I peacefully glide.
sponsor : Constance La France
29.9.25
Placed : 3rd Standard Contest
_____________________
“Love is the Supreme Artist Unseen” Poet
with a silent kiss does sperm enter egg
butterfly fondle pollen in morning dew
starling swallow caterpillar askew
with silent kiss does sunbeam caress window sill
spoon dips shallot soup with gentle will
waves ripple shelly shoreline in thrill ~
with a silent kiss does newborn lick nipple
cloud embraces cloud, fluff huffed ripple
bud petal unfurls to air in dare
wrinkled stranded beggar’s knobby hand
smooch offered seeded loaf, prime brand
hands warm curl steering wheel, feel genteel
anchor lands on jewelled ocean floor
with silent kiss does sewing needle pierce
linen white, knife smear butter delight
dolphin fin rouse whale tail, ship returns lipping
the silent kiss but Love in polar need
destined to meet in embosom’s clasp
receiver with giver unmasked grasp
~~~~~
In silhouette of fervor hovering
That meanders vivid upon the night
The hum of music from so long ago
Romances the air... a twirl, a lyric
While tunes of mist stir of rhapsody
Along the harbor to fling and gently play,
A rhythm of craving beats, as lips intone
love's silent quiver, still as secret whisper;
From this earnest heart deepened by time
When dulcet songs of wind now fondle
Breaths' charmed trails gushing on- and on--
And words become an impassioned call
Deepening my hymnal interludes;
As our mellow kiss jangles like chime of bells
Slithering like a windblown mantra
....Luring my beloved at sea to come home.
once vague metaphor
now pin pricks with emoji,
with door left ajar~
a notice slips in unnamed,
with ash on breath, match unlit.
fangs lurk in the mouth,
breath pockets the broken glass,
turns mist into sky~
a small rope sways between cliffs,
moored by threads too thin to see.
shadow in step's wake,
plank between the thing and hurt,
it strums without strings~
lips fondle a vague shape
till its fate becomes the wind.
The curved fondle of an embrace
within the moistened kindle
of an evening's oiled lamp...
the splendor of your lubricious mouth
waking all that can be desired
knowing now this potion whiffs alchemy:
Dare I blink bewitched by
a caress of such pleasure
drip by drip , my being drawn
to relish that glide
of a nape pulsing through starlit glow
waxed by sweet grease of our shadows--
that in twilight's enchantment
- your ardor releases what's tame.
Come, loved one... stay sunlit grand
Let birdsongs from those lips croon to me,
Of radiant morns holding your blooms
And leaves aglow winging carefree ,
These lustrous scenes...gifts of revelry.
Lady, Lay...endow air with languid tunes
These hands brimming with flowers
While charmed presence speak of magic ...
Your enchantment flaming my hours
Till cloudscape fondle us with late showers.
All through seasons, dance me tenderly
Dare not vanish, trail off, or depart;
These springtime dreams are nestled
All through weaves of my mesmerized heart,
Awaiting your bridal nod ...from the start.
Then when life's greyish clouds billow
Tousling remnants of our younger days--
Will you caress and shake off my tears ?
I'll race us into old twilight's grace
If only to meet our lasting embrace.
Written: May 25, 2025, for Contest: Sponsored by: Constance La France
Quote: "There is a place where voices sing your beauty, A place where every breath carves your image in my soul. Words are a pretext. It is the inner bond that draws" By Rumi
***********************
Night's silky scarf adorns a lunar necklace sign,
Wanting her a ruby silk veil in a tuxedo design?
Translucent limbs disseminate flowers sublime.
I fondle her soft skin at the golden hour's time.
Swept by every idle breeze, as if there to soar,
Borrowing an unending sigh of time, dark core.
A revered but wild kiss, a glazed ember sways,
We will unite and break, dulcet love, swift ways.
Slightly higher down the breathless, winding path
Continue to inhale despite the windy day's wrath.
An aromatic ambrosia moistens deep, secret caves,
As I unzip my soul and bones below dark waves.
To quietly remember her fading, love-struck gaze,
Pouring dew on a beguiling night's enchanted maze.
I've come to amuse you
to make sure you're not blue
to attempt to make you smile
for even just a litttle while
I don't mind acting the clown
if I can wipe away your frown
your tears I cannot tolerate
I understand why you're irate
I'll sing you serenades
I'll even play your dumb charades
I'll bring out my guitar
praise you like the star you are
I'll shower you with flowers
and fondle you for hours
never will I miss a cue
to guard you and protect you
AP: 3rd place 2025
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