It was like a golden aurora,
around the halo of his eyes
or beneath my feet, drowned in his tears,
that burned the wings of my free flight
What did that man know
of the sparkling crystal pendants from my eyes,
when he stitched them with dreams fallen beyond reality?
The eyes were mine,
but the destination of my gaze was yours
Suspended...
my left hand on the headboard,
the other, on you
Yet no reflection of my body
was in the mirror
Every part of me is lost somewhere
one in your nocturnal circus,
where you threw my heart,
one in your clenched fists
that captured my emotions,
and my lost body, lifeless,
you left in my own house
Oh, you took the colors
and gave the grays to my world
I would have become your doll
if you had given me life,
but you took all of mine
as ransom.
I lie down in my four-poster bed,
facing the pale yellow wall.
The same that I see above,
behind my headboard,
opposite me.
I drown in the sickly pale.
I dare not turn around
to face the wall again.
Little do I notice
the little window behind -
rays of sun streaming through
little glass panels -
Gentle apricity grazing its
little window sill.
As a child,
I loved to watch Grandpa build.
His basement workshop,
was filled with tools.
Tools hanging on every wall,
wood neatly stacked in a pile.
Grandpa worked for hours each day,
filling his many orders.
He built my lovely bed,
pretty flowers carved into the headboard.
One Christmas,
Grandpa built my fun dollhouse.
Today I asked for a small table,
one to fit beside my bed.
Grandpa started working,
he gave me a "Three Legged Table" with a rose carved on top.
"Heart heals with time, but it never forgets the memories you've made or how it felt when you embraced and loved those we lost." Quote by poet
Heartbroken.
I sit, my back against my headboard.
Sun sears out in a haze of throbbing pain.
Out the window, I vacantly stare,
oblivious to the fleeting of the world.
My thoughts off in a dream,
as clouds move along a flyway with the bird's migration.
By your side and sedated my soul longs to be.
Innocent. Bathing in the scent strawberries and warm cream.
Observing the leaves and shadows pirouette under the trees.
Etched still caresses as once we embraced.
A heartbroken stillness I grasp.
Cursing the ambience of our room;
you will never be coming back,
but you live on in my heart.
Mahogany pillars
Lace mosaic,
Velvet on silk
Champagne taste,
Heartbeats rush
Smooth on rough
Muscular, petite
Tongues encourage
Elevated pulse,
Lovers blush
Insatiable thirst
Skin upon flesh,
Begging, obeying
Sweet nothings, yes
Loose headboard, hush
Satin sheets ruffled,
Pillows lost
Mirrored ceiling
Nails sink deep,
Softness, plush
Rhythm adjusts
Gods name in vain,
Animal released
Triumphant,
Life waters, gush
Timeless innate
A side effect,
Something’s late
Unexpected gift,
Breathe, push
By David Kavanagh
The Absent Apparition
Weeping at the window panes, screaming through the locks
Banging upon the ship’s hull, scratching on the docks
Pounding on the headboard, rapping on the glass
Sneaking up to scare the girls, as they run to class
Noone sees his image, as he’s quick to hide away
Leaving to your imagination, what you’re gonna say
Teacher’s they don’t fear him, children stay a fright
If you just ignore him, he’ll come to you at night
Run ye little child hide beneath the bed, don’t make a sound or you’ll be found
Then he’ll have your head
10/12/2021
Written for Something Spooky 8 to 16 Lines Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Tania Kitchin
My auntie’s a consummate flirt
and always wears a mini skirt
Uncle sees her toned thighs
and quickly gets a rise
It’s early to bed says old Bert
He deftly removes her silk stocking
And quickly their headboard is knocking
Much to their neighbours chagrin
The party wall’s very thin
Their bedroom antics he finds shocking
Dear Auntie Eth’s ninety years young
(And Uncle Bert’s very well hung)
They’re old, but not wrecks
They adore having sex
Both glad their mattress is well sprung
07/31/21
Cat
looks to you for a steady feed
the occasional scratch
vague companionship
nothing more-nothing less.
You're not his friend, you're his pet.
The times you're at your pinnacle
are the times he's somewhat less...
When you're deep into your blueness,
he becomes quite oblivious.
Cat
marks territory on your cherry wood headboard
leaves masterpieces in the litter box
doesn't care about your plush carpet
or that he's busted your heart
Cat
holds grudges because of:
the castration
the declawing
the confinement
the prisoner's mash...
Out in the hard world of the vagabond
you've made cat
the heavy
underdog
Immortalized in acrylic before you evaporated
as quickly as the paint dried in the autumn sunset,
you stuck yourself in a frame in my mind’s museum.
Rendered motionless by the inherent
motionlessness
of color on canvas,
your feet propped precariously on
our velvet footstool, you toss glances
from your painted eyes, like roses
from our balcony.
You occupy the headspace above
the headboard, the frame’s edge almost skimming
the ceiling, the hem of your evening gown just missing
the floor.
In this endless expanse of time,
stretching out like a cornfield after a harvest,
I must wait for the autumn sunset.
I sit on my canvas, drying like a corn husk
left in the heat, the water of my life vanishing
into the motionless silence.
I thought it might all be in my head. The buzzing at night. The incessant buzzing sound. It was as if bees had settled in my headboard. Was it between my ears. No one talks of such things until one did and then I found out many, many people were hearing the sound. A neighbor posted and asked. Many said they have heard it for years. Plausible explanations - the wind, transformers, aliens, drones, trucks on the highway, angel’s waxing trumpets. Some say they have heard it in other states too. My eyes finally close every night after they blink and check. No monsters under the bed, scratching at the window pane, only a sound that you're afraid, when it is yours alone, that your insane. If I am, then so are they. Answer me, have you ever heard this sound as you settle in for the night and wondered like me. What did you think?!
1/9/2021
A Little Girl Ouch
We were jumping on the bed real high ~ Laughing, my big sister and I, being together, having fun. She would sometimes land on her bottom ~ but I was only three and that was too scary to me Then instead of coming back up, she grabbed my legs ~ down I went ~ right onto the headboard. Oh! Ouch! I hit my head ~ there was blood everywhere. My sister started crying so I did too. Mama came running. When she saw me she turned white then scooped me up…off to the hospital. I don’t remember the doctor or getting the stitches. Mama said I was a brave. I have a scar going through by left eyebrow as a reminder not to jump on beds.
sometimes it would be
fun to do something daring
without getting hurt
Man builds pyramids and gilded cities.
Sends starry ships to haunt the moon.
My tabby frequents back-alley parties
In two pairs of orange striped boots.
Man has concocted earth-bending bombs.
Magical pills to keep us happy and beating.
My tabby just prefers a star-studded romp.
Then a long vigorous scratch and a feeding.
Man twists his mind with his purpose in life.
Tiptoes along the cliffs of a nuclear blitz.
My tabby stalks and paws at a tiny red light
Cares little about the meaning of his 9 lives.
Though quite smelly-aloof and indifferent.
He cares nothing about race, gold, or politics.
He scratched my cherry headboard to shreds.
His soul is very pure and without prejudice.
Year-round he plays a trickster saint Nick.
Leaves homemade mice upon my porch
At times he barfs up Picasso-looking things
Still, I tend to his bowl and carry his torch.
He flashes his furry bum in front of company.
His litter box is quite the opposite of sweet.
But I'd rather hang out with my orange tabby.
Than any sneaky two-faced human being.
“We want a story that starts out with an earthquake
and works it way up to a climax” Samuel Goldwyn
SUBMISSIVE SILK SHEETS Sexyku
steady knocking of
headboard conjuring up a
merciless flashpoint
11/6/2019
Sexyku Poetry Contest
Sponsor -Richard Lamoureux
To taste you is teasing
yet satisfaction i give
As your lips taste me
my soul cries to live
Your kiss sparks one fire
as you open up a river
From just your very touch
has my whole body aquiver
Oh your soft warm lips
make my heart beat faster
I am under your control
Love slave your the master
Headboard held so tight
white are my knuckles
Soon after my knees shake
then they begin to buckle
Bring out in me all of the
gasps, the moans, the cries
Only to be followed by
my soft breathless sighs
Leaving me within warm
arms holding me tight
How could I ever think
these feelings I'd fight
The steel-sheets,
us underneath,
laid bare —
betwixt our minds
no one else exists.
like magnets
click to
each other —
our kiss
syllabus,
~ ooh la la ~
the spring speaks, headboard
ebbs and flows then it pounds.
learned,
our love lessons, well.
8/1/2019
Yalto Verse invented by Edward Ibeh
Line 01: 3 syllables
Line 02: 4 syllables
Line 03: 2 syllables
Line 04: 4 syllables
Line 05: 5 syllables
Line 06: 3 syllables
Line 07: 2 syllables
Line 08: 3 syllables
Line 09: 2 syllables
Line 10: 3 syllables
Line 11: 3 syllables
Line 12: 5 syllables
Line 13: 6 syllables
Line 14: 1 syllable
Line 15: 5 syllables
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