she had only asked him to come in for a cup of hot strong coffee
an innocent gesture in her mind maybe an interesting exchange
of thoughts on philosophical matters like love death and existence
yet once they had smoked a first cigarette the smoke clouds parted
like sea waters of Yam Suph in the form of spiritual enlightenment
candles flickered and incense filled the room with sandalwood and musk
serenity and pheromones diffused hardship fear loneliness and inhibition
passionate silence of words merged with quivering lips in fervorous action
and the pulse of their hearts raced in crescendo surely missing a few beats
velvet skin like cinnamon bark feverishly exposed unlimited desire
an immaculate conception of wisdom arose from instantaneous Karma
and twenty years later they still need no picture guide on how to make love
"the clouds parted like the pursed lips of desire" and that meant the world
Resting in pieces,
A being releases,
Peace into each's,
Field of resistance.
Bringing the assistance,
Needed in Its existence.
Closing the distance,
Between fear and love,
Words coming from above,
Loving who you are.
You were never far,
From where you're meant to be,
A Creator with a reality.
A reflection of me,
Part of the Source,
A guide on the course,
Keeping you safe,
While you push with force,
Of course you have free will,
Some actions make you ill,
And some help climb the hill,
Into Loves arms,
You lucky charms,
Little pieces of energy,
Meant to live peacefully,
Resting your hearts in divinity.
Resting in pieces,
A being releases,
Peace into each's,
Field of resistance.
Bringing the assistance,
Needed in Its existence.
Closing the distance,
Between fear and love,
Words coming from above,
Loving who you are.
You were never far,
From where you're meant to be,
A Creator with a reality.
A reflection of me,
Part of the Source,
The guide on the course,
Keeping you safe,
While you push with force,
Of course you have free will,
Some actions make you ill,
And some help climb the hill,
Into Loves arms,
You lucky charms,
Little pieces of energy,
Meant to live peacefully,
Resting Their hearts in divinity.
All we, like sheep, have strayed
From the good and righteous way
Choosing a shepherd to lead the flock
Is the difference between pasture or rocks
One will feed and nurture the sheep fold
The other waits over the edge, below
Follow the Black sheep to the brink
Or the false shepherd, distracted with drink
Go your own way with little light
All will bring you to a disastrous plight
The Good Shepherd leads with rod and staff
To protect, and guide on a true and safe path
In refulgence of the heavens above, where you are,
Amidst blissful angels, O, you are my northern star,
As I ruminate of selfless love, fond memories impart,
Emanating from treasured affections in my heart.
You are my hero, my holy guide, on this journey of life,
My endearing smile, soothing sufferings of strife,
Blossoming my dreams in your embrace sublime
With grace enamored, through tribulations of time.
Your teachings of morality, as earnestly I revere,
In your righteous footsteps, I endeavor to steer,
Feeling your presence, when every win, you still cheer,
Seeing me rejoice, O, you too shed a happy tear!
When I am gripped in grief, my mother, I hear you cry,
With every breath of my anguish, how you too sigh;
And when I am feeling lost, you are the guiding light,
Guarding me from harm, you are my gallant knight.
.
Pages of albums now bequeath, the venerable you,
Honoring gift of your love quite inimitable and true,
Reminiscing in elation, keepsake memoirs renew,
As embers of your benevolence reignite spirits anew.
The chill in my bones is familiar
Like the icicles grasping my skin
I learned I was cold blooded at five
When the universe told me my sin
The first thing to gather is paint
To aurify your skin with each stroke
When gilded they'll think you're just metal
So they won't be surprised when you're cold
The second task is the boiling pot
Learn to cook yourself over the flame
(If you boil the chill our of your soul
Are you sure it is you that remains?)
When that doesn't work you need to scream
Loud enough to get Their attention
When They all tell you there is no curse
Consider your ice with clear tension
Your permafrost sealed your inner chill
Yet hardened against all sharp objects
I'm sorry you boiled bruised battered bones
But definement rallies through progress
May we be blessed to acknowledge all the wonders in our life
that have, for us, thus far accrued…
and to begin each day with a word of thanks…
and thoughts of gratitude.
Today I’m thankful for love letters…for the feeling that ignites them…
and to philosopher Jean-Jacques Rousseau
for an easy guide on how to write them…
(My apologies to Mr. Rousseau who I’m paraphrasing here)
He said:
to write the perfect love letter
one that will forever endear…
You begin by knowing exactly what you want to write…
How, with love you are truly smitten…
but you finish that perfect love letter…
without knowing what you’ve written.
You're so pale and your walk stutters
with all the loads you carry on your shoulders.
Don't be so shy to let it show,
'cause I just want you to know:
When the whole world seems to grapple you down,
and your feet could hardly hold their ground,
I'll be right there, waiting on your doorsteps,
to help you set the track of your footsteps.
I'm your guardian angel, I'll always be around.
I'll be the grip of your feet on the ground.
I'll be your guide on a winding, devious way.
I'll be the safe place where you can stay.
March 12, 2023
You Say Poetry Contest
Sponsored By: Brian Strand
Wouldn't you love to know,
The love I failed to show;
Because I failed to see,
All the love in me.
Doubt that was branded,
By those heavy handed;
Who only commanded,
In the first degree.
They spawned indecision,
And lacked the precision;
To guide on my mission,
Out of gross misery.
The flames of desire,
Was meant to inspire.
To lift youself higher,
And set yourself free.
So rhythmic is the tune we dance everyday
Some call it song, some specify as a dirge
While to majority, its neither poem nor prose
But in concordance, we must sway, bray and lay
Our feet busy and entangled on the vast stage
The tunes are confusing, some claim to know them
Some sing after them, while majority just sway to look busy
Crowned is the virtuoso who plays the melody that
Carries and sends the myriad in carousel and nonstop pirouette
Keep swaying and in bloom merriment
For when your time to exit comes, be gracious to usher a new dancer
Unlike you without clue, be generous to guide on the right tunes to listen
The right moves to employ and the right partner to double up
We ‘all on the list for a compulsory dance, we must dance!
In restless dreams I sail the night on celestial seas,
starlight serving as my guide on uncharted course.
I explore constellations with consummate expertise,
shared as a secret, but I'll never reveal my source.
My mentor is an impressive sage, a tour de force.
Some nights I fly around the moon with canvas wings,
landing on her surface for a brief respite in the night,
then journey, searching for love, around Saturn's rings
for a handsome dreamer, a gallant captain or a knight
to soar through galaxies with me when we take flight.
I've yet to find a seraphic to ignite my stellar flare.
My dreams may become a scrapbook of sad souvenirs
unless I find an elixir that will lead me to love's lair.
Until then I'll drink bitter wine, infused with my tears.
Where must my search continue, for how many years?
I shall savor the flavor of starlight while I am dreaming.
Thirst quenched in the waters during the moon's eclipse.
I hope to find a lover at my side, his sultry eyes gleaming,
whispering sensuous words before I surrender my lips.
I long to be seduced and caressed by his warm fingertips.
March 8, 2022
Quintain (English) Contest
Sponsored by Emile Pinet
We never used an ATM
In Stockholm, on our trip.
The guide on our free walking tour
Took dollars for a tip.
For every other purchase
We used charge cards like the Swedes,
Since coins and bills, it seems, are things
Today nobody needs.
A sign in a museum
Made the point with quite a splash:
"We accept just who you are but we
Are not accepting cash."
How strange to visit someplace
With no currency in hand.
Perhaps someday all cash will be
Considered contraband.
I've never lost a friend worth keeping.
Only the ones who share their indulgently fake smiles.
They refused to reveal their true form; or was their depth the identical parallel of their surface all-the-while?
The kinks in my armor I exposed, 'twas "honor" they withheld.
Locking me in a detention center within myself a personal heaven and hell.
I purchased an expensive "hope" putting away the tattered guide on that I've carried for years while they fooled me into believing that they cared how I'd feel. Like a toothy grin-one a wolf offers an easy meal.
Nothing was real, well, except the disdain.
No matter the dance my eyes will never rain.
I can only attempt to remove the bookmark refusing to read that chapter again and renounce becoming "hatred's slave" betrayed.
Always appears with right picture
Helps prepare for better future
Books should be used for studying
So that schooling ends with meaning
Hopes and dreams become really true
Because those books give learning clue
They guide on what we need to know
We get knowledge that wind can’t blow
Every time I see Billy Mays
My brain goes into a dark, dark haze.
I dream of ways to "dispatch him",
Chances of me meeting this jerk
So nigh impossible, yet they lurk
Inside my usually useless mind
This would be my one chance
To make a life worth the work,
Like using "super-putty"
To cling 4 pounds of C-4
On his back
And watch him soar
Into the stratosphere,
To annoy us no more...
Or stick "Hercule's Hooks"
in his thighs,
And throw sharp darts,
At his eyes
Or make him drink
A cocktail made with "Kaboom"
And watch him, chuckling,
While in the room he did zoom
Or dunk him in his miracle tarnish remover,
See if he reactes all the sooner
As layers of Bullsh_t are stripped away,
I wonder , then, what he'd have to say!
He screams at me, late at night,
To buy his crap, 'cause it is just right
To solve problems I don't have
And just pay "Shipping ans Handling"
And he'll double my salve
Where has dignity gone?
Surely Billy Mays does not host
As a tour-guide on either coast
And if aliens did abduct him.
Who could blame them
for doing us in?
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