Pink the sunset which filtered through the leaves
to burnish your skin on one afternoon,
when fireflies glittered like radiant weaves,
Vanishing in the grass. We knew that soon
those ebony clouds gathering would force
us to flee the glade through a birdsong’s tune:
Enticed then to stay, stay madly on course,
dare the oncoming rainfall ...and a smile
enlivened your face with such insolent force.
Till lightning crackled as we wait a while,
you gasped, and oh we fondled everywhere;
while a conniving star reeled to beguile.
A wildcat rushed out and paused low to stare,
While we huddled tightly ... too close to care!
First Place
In the folds of night, as a wave, you came
Charioted in a filmy dream
All night you were with me
In love’s uncharted land, we roamed
You sang to me sweet rhymes of love
Echoing the lore of romantic lovers
Your voice choked and moist with passion
Overwhelming me with an ecstasy so rare
You fondled me with infinite tenderness
Opening in me all inlets of pleasure
Our hearts with divine furore filled
And we knew love’s sweet benediction
In the seclusion of that silvery night
Looking into the corners of your love lit eyes
I saw an ocean of rising and receding tides
And took a dip in the whirlpool of love
All night I inhaled your scent
Knew the warmth of your breath
Siphoned the sweetness of your lips
Alas! With dawn, you faded away like dew
Curses! You woke my Simon Bar Sinister!
Cuz, you fondled Miss Sweet Polly's Purebred!
I'm not gonna tolerate this Riff Raff no more!
Now, you'll deal with the Mighty Underdog's lead!
So, no Shoeshine Boy today little boy!
Go on and call your Cad Lackey, he's cranky!
You're just one more of those Little Rascals!
You're all gonna get a spanking from Spanky!
As I fondled my plunder
A wind from down under
Got caught on the breeze
It wafted and floated
But still I felt bloated
And dropped to my knees
As it tore me asunder
I recalled days of thunder
What'd help to appease
My stomach just rumbled
In agony mumbled
Some TUMS if you please
Took more than two rolls
Prayers read from dead scrolls
To cure this disease
But then belly now loaded
The wind then exploded...
And blew bark off the trees
hushed at dusk and dawn
I long to hear the pond's song,
a lullaby melody
hummed on the ripples
that lilts, quivers of shimmers,
across my wet fondled skin
Afterglow...Burnt Candles
Dissolve Embers,
Fondled Groans Heave
Into Joyful Kindling...
Lush Moon's Nightscape Offers
Pleasure-- Quiet Ripples Sighing, Trickling
Under Velvet Whispers...
X-axis Yielding Zones.
People don't ever think for themselves
There's this book I read on cultural evolution
That says group think is an adaptation
If someone says snake
And you take the time to look for yourself
You're dead
Natural selection favors the man who runs
My son has flashbacks
Seven years old, crying out of nowhere
Because someone made him think of the sheep:
A phallic toy, half ram head and half sheep
Fondled by my oldest one night on Skype
Before I knew what it was
He played it off, cuz he's not supposed to cry
Cuz it's worse when he does
Said he loved the sheep
Wanted it
Made me look up sheep toys on Amazon for his birthday
His father is the goddamned shepherd
I say, "Look!" and he screams, "Snake!"
Drives all the wondering sheep
Right back to the pen
And they line up to sodomize my child
A violin is like a lover--
A beautiful work of Art--
Precious, delicate, fragile.
It has to be handled with care,
Caressed, fondled, touched,
Hugged--but not too tight,
Or break it might
And hurt you in its breaking.
Hold the violin by its neck
The way you would hold your lover--
Firm but with the right pressure.
Look at it at arm’s length,
Admire its waist,
Lay your chin on its rest,
Close your eyes and feel
Your lover’s chest.
Press its strings as if you were
Pressing your lover’s skin,
With fingertips tripping over
Like the dainty feet of a dancer.
And the violin’s scroll--
Isn’t it a pretty sight?
Like a lover’s head bowed
When you were still both shy.
May 1, 2024
Lower Fairview, Baguio City
It was not truly blank
For it bore the unseen burden of promise
For it held the texture
Of a calloused hand
The tone of tinted toil
The excellence
Of a gifted craftsman
Inscribe on a blank canvas.
It would tempt
The artist
Gift him
Faint flaws
Tease her
With threaded dalliance
Soft shadows
Cast the tint
Of imperfection’s challenge
The artist
Studied every angle
Fondled with his eyes
Every subtle twist
Of light
Of texture
Of tenor
Seized the promise
Of the blank canvas
Slowly mixed the paints
Caressed the canvas
Fulfilling its promise
With swirling brushes.
I fell in love with a Drunken Poet
When with light My Grail He fills
Lyrical Creativity intercourse with pen and paper spill
With Rhymes and reasons salutations
Filled so full, Colorful My imagination
Drunken poetry obliteration
He drinks sooo much, his touch Intoxicating
Slurry words with breath of sweet Rum
Penetrating and Pouring light until I succumb
He woos with words and stirs Me up
I have gotten addicted to his Liqueur syrup
Transporting my mind to Celestial Bliss
Overflowing with every Drunken Kiss
Drunk in Love, my heart Enshrined
Top shelf Libation pours, He wants me to Shine
He slurred" let go baby, I'm yours, You're mine"
I got sooo drunk, couldn't hold My liquor
Fondled My Pen, vomit on paper
He slurred, " Go on baby, it's best for your liver"
Now my speech is liquored sweet ingredients to my potion
Drunken poetry creative recreation.
Shout out to Elliott Bowe>>>creator of drunken poetry.
('I' refers to God.)
In dolour, he descried the leafless pine
And under its shade of dearth lay supine,
Cerebrating how not e'en grains of sand
Pay heed to him nor his woe understand.
I thus deigned to limn Myself on his sky
To consume its vacuity strewn so high
That I painted a canopy of stars
And shaded him from the plots of scheming Mars.
I then, in all literality, blanketed him
In the fabric of the welkin, and seraphim
Watered his lifeless pine with lullabies
And read him tales and cosmic alibis.
And ere scarcely closed his eyne and sleep's kiss,
I restored the sky; on it drew a marvel of bliss.
Then after the cosmos fondled his heart to peace and reverie,
I turned it all into a dream and dissolved it in his memory.
As I watch the waves crash against the rocks and sand,
and fondled my bare feet;
My mind wonders with the refracting color of the mist.
Cleansing the air reigning in azure buttermilk sky.
A playground of sea gulls against the sonorous breathing waves.
Purge memories come, yearning thirst of your love to have once more.
To trace your face to my sea of memories of where our life began
A sweet surrender in your arms with you forever.
To capture your heart in serene rapture, and run.
Upon the rainbow and feel the wind blow against our form.
To love you like there is not another morrow in my soul.
Even in heaven, a new life with God’s blessings.
Who says stop? Road signs, yes. But those who don’t like what is happening. The abused, the neglected, the rejected. Often ladies who don’t want to be fondled by the men they’ve accepted as dates or trysts. There are those that say stop when the drink is being filled and others who express their prohibitive word – STOP – when they’ve finally heard all the bellowing they can take for one round between them and a spouse, a sibling or a child. Stop can mean that a road, whether paved, dirt or vindictive, has finally come to an end and this is where the rubber meets the pavement, where the dog-eared finish meets the truth, where the lifetime meets with its fate and even, possibly, when the heart meets its beat and together, two are merged as another sign, pointing one way. STOP means wait, forget it, pause for just a bit. But, mostly STOP means to bar the way so that no one can say you came to a rolling stop because you know, without a doubt, you absolutely stopped before continuing on your way, discovering the direction of your destiny, your fate.
Just a sign to stop
Unsupervised it is not
Sojourn from the start
Never advisable to be naked!
Unfolding ability to assume changes
Depict funeral mesh opaque
Wobbled iron lock conjure
Wakens particular persona to inhabit
Wardrobe wonder honours
Peter Pan collar innocence
Embellished bow breasts for bombshell
Rhinestone on satin stimulant
Deceptively deep, spacious
Dark wood doors swing away to exhibit
Dresses with waves vivacious
Forest of newfound favourites
Frocks rustle, slide, beg to be fondled
Fascinator lavender fragrance
Mysterious occult conspirators
Ultimately select pretty arrangements
Musty garment rots ambiguous
19th January
Happy Birthday Keri ( Mum )
- see, I fashioned my life
to suit me!
The judge told the man, “You’re accused
By all of those that you abused.
You’re too touchy feely,
You touch and feel freely
And all of them feel they’ve been used.”
The man cleared his throat, then he spoke
But all that came out was a croak
He coughed and he spluttered
But nothing got muttered
It sounded as though he might choke
The judge said, “Are there mitigations
For your regular deviations
For touching two teachers
And one or two preachers
And, with my wife, having relations?”
The man cleared his throat once again
His voice cackled like an old hen
He just couldn’t speak
It could take a week
His lawyer requested a pen
The judge said, “It only gets worse,
You fondled a man in a hearse
It’s really quite shoddy
To grope a dead body
To decency you are a curse.”
The man tried to write a quick note
He coughed and he wheezed as he wrote
He struggled for breath
Like he was near death
Or had a bullfrog in his throat
The judge said, “Speak up at the double
You sound like you’ve gargled with rubble
As a means to an end
Suck a Fisherman’s Friend.”
The man said,,, “I’M IN ENOUGH TROUBLE!”
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