Within me was raw matter, and not cold suet,
Another’s fat denies my juicing muscles neat;
Hormones - chemistry kissing crude physiology,
With cells bursting in sociology’s colour - biology.
Never harming the idempotent individual as god,
Nature veers and steers, within, away from tod;
Yet claiming rugged, sheer beauty, by piercing air,
Exquisite scenes of eloquence give glimpse fair.
Primal mover’s first move appropriates the span,
Whilst questioning the prerogative by his face tan,
Freedom twice reminds the kin of liberty’s quest,
Enveloping the partaker, guest, in free will, blest.
Truth never fetishes, fondles, or offsets in grief,
But is there, existing in differentiation in belief -
Never superseding its personable chief of portrait,
It sculpts the panorama reckoned in true straight.
I never thought I would do so well with an older man
He understands me better than any young man can
He's done with lies and toying with a woman's mind
He's looking for love from a lady of a certain kind
Its a privilege to know that I'm someone he likes
That im someone with whom he wants to spend his life
He fondles my thoughts and heart because he's very expressive
When he shares his words of experience it's very impressive
He listens to my words with his heart and not with his ears
He's not afraid to open up and tell me what he fears
He takes nothing for granted and he appreciates me
Helping me grow into the woman that I would like to be
He treats me like a gem and gives me protection
Hes very gentle with me and shows me affection
He does these things in a way that I never experienced before
When I experienced him romantically he touched me to the core
He has a way with me that takes my breath away
He sends my pulses running in every single way
He's has captured my heart because he's different from the rest
He's much older, true, but his love is the best
If I had it my way I would choose him all over again
I'm amazed I'm so compatible with this older man.
securely sheltering it in her shell
nurturing while within
heeding to each gentle whisper
to each tap from tiny feet
in time She curls it in her embrace
caresses it in her hug
fondles it with boundless care
cuddles it with sweetish love-
when fully fledged, sailing the high sea
will it care for the cowry shell, its first home!
With a nod to Dylan Thomas...
I go gentle into the night
Those when moonlight fondles the sea
And those when its pallid in flight,
barely glowing through clouds at me
I go gentle into the night
without need to rage against life
nor the urge to purge from my sight
drummers who overflow with rife
I go gentle into the night
as every day comes to its end
waking before a glimpse of sunlight
mingles with dawn's blush as they blend
The soft melancholia of frost calls
As eyes poignant carry much reverie,
. I track my sighs, my tears from dim light
When longing fondles my threadbare sky --
Mama, Dad, and siblings appear as light
This precious grace blazing on Christmas time ;
While remaining kin whispers
Of past bliss __ pecan pies baked to thrill,
Gifts hidden from Dad's red sack __
The hope of winter's tender embrace
endures remnants from angst's prowl ...
yet kindly released through candles lit
For each beloved one 'neath our old tree.
.
Somehow, new stars roam to unfold
the treasure of calm and joyful musings-
Strengthened by sweet glory of
their light filtering through...a Yule ever warm.
Tassels of beads light my garment
as tropical air fondles my skin
content in the ripened grace
of my arms and round, orange fruitage,
shading men from rainfall and sun.
I nestle on the ground, hair basking
in May's glint...my guava pulp exploding
from Asian roots born of clay, and I,
in copper- like pose, become maiden
of woods, ever- rich... and evergreen.
Summer’s End
The sun begins to set a little earlier now—
a gentle breeze brushes past my suntanned face and
I walk briskly on the sand which feels cool beneath my feet.
My pace quickens, like the prance of a Cat on the prowl.
Once home, the trees which line the street on which I live
stand majestically tall. No longer still, they begin to
sway to the music of the gentle breeze which softly touches
and fondles the leaves with a caress that only the breeze can give.
The air envelopes me, telling me it’s cooler than before—
and I run to the place that I call home,
Glad to be sheltered from something I feel in the air—
from a sky whose sun, today, will shine no more.
I pause in the house whose windows openly beckon the freshness of the crisp breeze as it quietly enters, gently pushing aside the ruffled curtains, and as it filters through the rooms—
I suddenly realize, it’s Summer’s End!
There is a monster in my bed and I let him in. I supplied the pillow to rest. His quiet wickedness I don't address. As he fondles my body while I lay still undressed. I don’t reciprocate his love or affection and he won’t allow me to stop it or reject it. That must be his thrill. Just begging for me to pet it. Like a dog. I like dogs. They don’t force me to love them. They just are. He has a darkness beneath the face, beyond the freckles and scars. He stays inside until he thinks you bought the bit that he is a chivalrous guy, but he has secrets to hide. As sweet and willing as he seems he is holding two sharp blades to your carotid artery. In plain sight but you choose not to see. You let the darkness in because a part of you believes you too are a dark fruit fallen from the forbidden tree. Another lying message you allowed your brain to receive. You are more than an object of affection, you are deserving. Sometimes we have to burn it all down to start anew. A cleansing of the medial prefrontal cortex erasing desires previously initiated for a few as I currently have a monster in my bed and I am the one who invited him in.
An echo is felt, touched, recalled,
it drums against our hearts,
strikes softly upon the ringing
shell of being.
An echo hammers upon an open door,
it is unconcerned with any closeted desires,
it is not ours to interpret.
Echo's image comes to us
wrapped within a blossoming,
an ever-opening vowel of vocalic enticement.
Lily-padding slippers tread lightly
yet step loudly upon the mind.
I welcome all dark flowers,
their language is throb and vibration.
I am awakened by the sensual stem,
pulled up into an erotic drumming,
resounding echo's don, the flesh of myself.
Echo is the face of memory,
it is the naming of names,
Echo returns our call
whether spoken or not.
For a moment we tremble like a leaf
that the wind impartially fondles.
© 33 mins ago
Somedays I'm a pale apple wishing to be a tangerine.
Fantasy focused fulfillment fondles favored dreams.
Enthrall me free amid emerald enthused energy
while softly snuggle wrapped in sensual satin sheets.
Let gleaming gilt threads golden gloss this glorious bed.
May lyrical lilacs air link to lift and softly dance while
harmony twists and polished peace dips to dazzle me.
I shiver, smile and sigh sensing supreme sheen in sky
and see a grand ground gushing a generous grassy green.
Somedays I'm a pale apple wishing to be a tangerine.
Happiness is the whirl of lyrical runes,
voicing of raging monstrous stories in loons.
Happiness is the rough silence of the heart,
that cries in loneliness of love torn apart
Happiness is a prodigal daughter that,
swims in the rainbow of her abductor's cart
Happiness is like sleeping in milk sea foam,
intoxicating deep embrace in risk loam.
Happiness is a fear tickle that brings cheers,
a belly full banked in the depths of our ears.
Happiness burns pure like the sax of cigars,
a remembrance for how we soar in the stars.
Happiness is the screeching of our lost soul,
a ride that fondles a tender name in whole.
Happiness is harmony clocks of sour wines,
serenaded in Sunset play, Red Tide Whines.
Happiness is the smile of a sealed deadline,
that strokes our creative sane, ego hairline.
Happiness screams, a colliding in your name,
a chasing of moon and stars, a racing game.
The me that is me is often mislaid,
perhaps by intention to shelter my fear
For what if my mirror reflected my soul,
would the world still want me
The science of hiding perfects within time
Its nature is such that a new me is born
It’s easy to zipper the old one away
and go about life with a safer veneer
But what are the chances forever in life
Disguises discovered are rarely excused
No matter the reasons or cause of dismay
For love of a lifetime, honesty wins
Yet where is the courage to offer the truth
What touches the surface still fondles my heart
And now there is you to gamble my feelings
Oh, when and just how will I know
Though view of my favor can somewhat be real
Selected acceptable elements hold
If what you had wanted to see, disappeared
could you justify what remains
I ask of you now, facades put aside
This metaphor dangling in dangerous hope
If I were another and you didn’t know it,
would you love me still, if I wasn’t a poet
a white dove above their soul
a languid breath left~
painful sobs of numbing grief
life curtain slowly closes
memories slowly transform ~
fades in and fades out
wind drifts and fondles
quaking curtain unveiling~
their true essence never leaves
12/15/2022
7-5-7 7-7-5 5-7-7
Triple New Charlieku Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Charles Messina
Warm runs of runners,
Uphold my banner to God-
Liness with a hue.
The dream of blackest summers comes like rain,
It fondles my breaststroke through the waters high,
My shepherd closes in on my red pain,
And like a sheep I fall beside his cry.
I pace back and forth to the music’s sound,
I punish wrongs without my whip to spare,
I rule the world with iron as if my bound,
From feet that curve the world as if my stair.
I take on newness until I must fly,
In colors of the rainbow and brown dirt,
I put on sheets when I go out to buy,
The cloth a knight would wear when heart is hurt.
I dreamt of evil things in darkest night,
But reddened warriors come give heart light.
I'm left to an island
With no other inhabitant.
While solitude is complete
And the only combatant.
The cost paid is quiet,
Though its volume is loud.
Where freedom is infinite,
Well away from the crowd.
With no dispute to remedy,
Only calm remains.
As it caresses and fondles,
Any sensation to sustain.
Being left to imaginings,
The selection is vast.
Though no place is safe,
From that diverse past.
If choice has no boundary
Among all the fantasy . . .
Then preference finds a companion,
In the ultimate hypocrisy.
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