Ingrained Poems

ingrained

etched …

into flesh …
into the warm muscle of my being
your colors … stained me …
each a story
each a passionate moment of unusual depth
from the reds of your hot blood,
coursing me
the warm ochers - your joyous spirit
cool sapphires, your eerie ire
sadness and hurt, the slates and grays
envious emeralds, (brief)
dazzled white brilliance, your smile
and the utter inky black of your quiet rage
a color that devoured all others -
that devoured me
choking
gasping for your grace
(always granted) …
you are the ink
and I am your integument
you have written your sins and supplications
upon me …
the stories they tell,
indelible and intransigent …
a bit of pain and bleeding with
each glyph and letter
wiped smooth by the sweet, soft
soothing of your spirit …
I am your carnal canvas -
your searing brand
immutable and love-deep
I am your …

tattoo.








Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden, July 13, 2024

now memory

a small cloud passed white

against a dark blue sky

curved, for eyes like mine,

remembering eyes like yours.

a small cloud igniting 

another heart

to burn along its way

that was my yesterday.

Beast of our character ingrained

When we read inspirational words, 

inspirational story,

right inside of that moment, 

we feel we are transformed.

And our mind takes the oath 

to be just like that.

But we forget, how hard in fact,

the minute we step outside the door, 

to suddenly oust and reject

the beast of our character ingrained.

(11.09.2023)

Ingrained In the Moments - the Poem

~

here, within the heart’s dreams,
passion gently tugs the strings
between heaven and earth

destined quivers collect
at the corners of reality
when flesh is kissed lightly
and moonbeams through parted sheers 
illumine azure eyes pleading

day becomes night
as promises wished for
satisfy in the grasp of your hand
softly caressing senses, 
wallowing in the seductive scent

where warmth on a cold autumn eve
neath woolen sheets
and down feather whispers
melts upon longing lips

as wandering fingertips trace 
moistened folds, chenille glistened curves,
silhouettes of desire
amidst silken sighs echoing

and eternity is more than
measured time,
but ingrained in the moments
spent as one
in the arms of love

~

Ingrained In the Moments

Ingrained Reality, Or My Sleeping Beauty Never Wakes

Ingrained is my reality?
I lose it all the time
There's someone here who's not quite me
My heart ain't worth a dime

My fear is not of consequence
It never really stayed
This vivid heart is on the fence
So many times, betrayed

Am I content with all I lose--
When I just play it cool?
I live a Life I should not choose
For that, I am a fool

I do so much imagining
Yet, where do I return?
Just what does this intention bring...
...When I cannot discern?

So quickly, I had sold my heart
My patience practiced me
Is what I'm writing truly art
Or, all which I can't see?

My Sleeping Beauty never wakes
And soon, I will recall:
I know this much, we both are fakes
We never feel at all...

'ingrained'

Trees are ingrained
  they withstand tough conditions 
    to provide cover

Though we don’t always nurture them 
   they just keep on toiling
     because God saw it fit
        to add them to the realm 

Imagine if we were the trees 
  the way we react to situations, 
     adverse times and things

Would we be able to stand and toil? 
  Like those embedded trees?


©230820121420