Long Alluringly Poems
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Darling, your little lamb dressed naughtily in lace
lies here languishing endlessly on satin sheets,
with loosened locks spread upon a silken pillow case.
I sail into a day-dream land where I think of what I miss:
the ripple of your gentle laughter, the scintilla of your smile,
which send me to a lavender and lilac scented place of soulful bliss.
I imgaine your soft eyes, alluringly light blue,
your lashes that lightly brush my blushing face,
And your dulcet voice calling, “Let me make sweet love to you.”
Mesmermized by magic, I’m revolving with delight,
maddeningly loving you, I’m lilting. You’re my moon.
In your illumination, I am floating in your light.
Dreaming of your smooth lips moving marvelously on mine.
Like licking the meringue on lemon pie, so succulent.
My wine, my mint julip, the elixir I imbibe – you are sublime.
Here I am , your little lamb, yet dressed so naughtily.
Hurry, Darling, let me fall upon you and love you lusciously.
March 30, 2018
Now for PD's 'Alliteration 004 (I prefer old poems)' Contest
The exigent mountain in the tough terrain of life
needs to be climbed as the summit alluringly calls,
follow the undefined trail in surging storm of strife.
Cross with piety the divine gateways God installs,
in His designed ordain repose your steadfast trust,
faith will show the path in dark nights of squalls.
The turbulent ocean of rough life in tempestuous gust,
needs to be sailed serene, the last anchorage found,
get guided by His benign beacon with dedication just.
The tormenting alley of agony in darkness profound,
needs to be lighted, shreds of soul salvaged from abyss,
in the glow of divine essence God’s grace will abound.
The journey on the rhythm of prayer hymn is never amiss,
it takes life through the stillness of soul to the bay of bliss.
_________________
July 21, 2022
Contest : Five Stanza Terza Rima
Sponsored by : L Milton Hankins
Angels are the flash during blasphemy gather,
below the shadows, the murky skies, and haze.
Angels are in the center of trials and tribulations.
The evil forces are quiet among God’s messengers
when the wind hesitate, begins later transits firmly-
below the shadows, the murky skies, and haze—
They are heavenly trumpets vocalizing alluringly
above the sky, of the surface of thunderbolt
when the wind hesitate, begins later transits firmly
within our bronchi, beyond our spirits, squeezing
our air-pipes. Our souls are expressing in the nightfall
above the sky, of the surface of thunderbolt
that brighten flashes. In the severe
proposals we restrain, there are no concepts for
our air-pipes. Our souls are expressing in the nightfall
of everything we will not speak, can’t overlook.
Angels are the flash during blasphemy gather,
proposals we restrain, there are no concepts for
Angels are in the center of trials and tribulations.
My hibernating heart,
frozen in arctic horizon,
wakes up enlivened
in dazzling dawn,
the yearning brush soaks
the sunburst colors,
paints a Monet garden
of blooming lavender love,
unfurls the facsimile
of your floral face,
adroitly appealing.
The luring luster
of lilac rose petals
lines your luscious lips,
quivering with the cadence
of the dancing dew,
turning to pearls
for you.
Rhapsodic ripples
in my mesmerized heart’s
pictorial dunes
trail in dormant dream
the mirage moments,
migrating in deserted time,
shimmering in euphoria,
endlessly enchanting.
In the velvet vale
of satin desire,
my fascinated mind
fashioned by fervor,
carves a charming channel
of longing to reach you.
The climbing cloud
of my craving
comes down in a torrent,
makes my melodic love
a meandering river,
etching an exciting template,
the enticing design
earnestly enthralling.
In my pensive pasture
the panorama appears
alluringly contrived,
apparently alive
in recess of sanguinity,
where I wait
to take you
to the valley of flowers,
entrance you
with my animated absence,
eternally eluding.
descended a celestial dawn of ultramarine canvas,
cerulean with a touch of crimson in the east,
frolicking flowers sent delightful messages to wake me up.
my senses are alluringly drowned in cobalt dreams,
saffron imagination emerges on my musing dreamy eyes,
a desirous heart is filled with turquoise yearning,
sprinkling swirling colours from the sapphire horizon.
wondrous marvels of life mystifies my journey,
awestruck I feel… fantasy a mythical magical garden,
gently enveloping with harmonious tranquility my existence.
where a chartreuse waterfalls falls softly on coral rocks,
reminding supreme ethereal power with sublime reverence
When azure sky stoops seductively to meet the turquoise ocean,
The entire universe blends into utter blueness one.
November 11, 2021
Inspired by "U" Poetry Contest (Theme: Ultramarine)
Sponsor: Constance La France
In the secluded seashore of an isolated island,
I build the castle of desire with sands of dream,
protect the fragile precincts with fervent care
from the beleaguering waves breaking on them.
The surge of strife washes away the forlorn abode,
grief gets hidden in my insular heart lonesome.
In despondency I make my life a desolate desert,
the charm of oasis desiccates in discontent dunes,
blazed by the flare of the scorched mind
the foliage of ardent passion burns, doesn’t rustle
with the tune of impassive melody of my heart,
for I am denounced as a derelict wooden person.
That’s when I’m gripped by metamorphosis trance,
that transmutes me into a mighty mountain,
rooted in life, yet free to hold the stilled essence high.
The daunting mountain makes me formidable
in the undulating rough landscape of life,
but I find the aspiring people climb me as ordained.
When the solemn summit alluringly calls,
they follow the undefined tough trail on me
through the surging storm of tribulation.
I carve for them the course to climb with devotion
along the designed pathway God has made in me.
On His benevolent unstinted graciousness
I let them repose their resolute and devout trust.
Firm faith will show the right path to the summit,
in dark nights for them the dreary squall I endure.
I.
Walking upon a river side upon concret
--Oh how beautiful was that night
i saw a caricature running alongside
my heart
Made of crayola it ran across the way
i'd not drank beer nor lemonade
but the cafe was noisy so i ventured.
Lindens smell good on fine June nights.
Sometimes the air is so sweet that you close your eyes;
The wind brings sounds—the town is near—
And carries scents of vineyards and beer...
II.
—There, framed by a branch
You can see a little patch of dark blue
Stung by a sinister star that fades
With faint quiverings, so small and white...
June nights! Seventeen!—Drink it in.
Sap is champagne, it goes to your head...
The mind wanders, you feel a kiss
On your lips, quivering like a living thing...
III.
The wild heart Crusoes through a thousand novels
—And when a young girl walks alluringly
Through a streetlamp's pale light, beneath the ominous shadow
Of her father's starched collar...
Because as she passes by, boot heels tapping,
She turns on a dime, eyes wide,
Finding you too sweet to resist...
—And cavatinas die on your lips.
IV.
You're in love. Off the market till August.
You're in love. —Your sonnets make Her laugh.
Your friends are gone, you're bad news.
—Then, one night, your beloved, writes...!
That night... you return to the blinding cafés;
You order beer or lemonade...
—No one's serious at seventeen
When lindens line the promenade.
:: 02.13.2024 ::
The daunting mountain formidable
in the undulating rough landscape of life,
needs to be climbed as destined.
When the solemn summit alluringly calls,
I follow the undefined tough trail
through the surging storm of tribulation.
I saunter with steadfast devotion
the designed tortuous pathway God makes,
and as in His ordained unstinted blessing
I repose my resolute and devout trust,
unwavering faith shows me the right path
in the dark night of dreary squall.
The turbulent ocean of tempestuous life,
tossing fervidly in the grueling gust,
needs to be sailed serene to the ultimate shore
where the last anchorage waits to be found.
I get guided by His omnipresent beacon,
that I follow with unfaltering dedication.
The dark alleys of dire distress,
seized by the anguished silence profound,
need to be lighted with divine candle.
In the debris of the broken heart within abyss,
God’s elegant grace will abound
with the radiance of heavenly essence.
Flushed by the final flash of the twilight tinge,
I am walking the last mile,
enthralled by the melody of prayer hymn.
I traverse through the stillness of the soul
to the bay of bliss at the edge of eternity,
toward infinity I take the inward journey.
Diminished by age, a weathered existence limps
Crutching dimmed vision and impaired limbs,
Much wiser that before, it speaks wisdom words
Entertaining grandkids in stories that enlighten,
Wishing the time to destiny would stop rushing
Reminiscing adoringly in yesteryears’ springs
As exuberance of yore in travails of life recedes,
Recalling seasons pristine, ravishing, blossoming
When youth ruled meadows of blazing revelry,
Reckoning lately though, how summer parches lilies
And winter freezes perishing autumnal leaves,
Unsure whether sunlit-dawn tomorrow brings,
If life’s graying themes can still invoke dreams~
As blunt reality confronts passions embellished.
Yet, life emulates pride of battered old oak tree
Mangled and broken, withering in gusty winds
But, standing steadfastly aiming for centuries
Rejoicing birds frolicking, concert of hatchlings,
And it too sways merrily ignoring bleak warnings
Beckoning alluringly reluctant, fading feelings
To tango in ballroom of life for yet one more spin,
Conjuring ancient images of renaissance in Italy~
The Colosseum, statues, galleries full of paintings
Pulsating forever, beyond bounds of mortality
Weathered, yet standing, as battered old oak tree
And aged-existence that defiantly keeps ticking.
November 24, 2021
Placed 2nd: “W” New Poems Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
Theme: Weathered
March winds hasten days of Spring,
while April rains refresh the earth,
reviving it from Winter's pall,
awakening to Spring's rebirth.
Dormant fields come to life,
with greenest grass and floral hues;
trees are clothed in verdant frocks,
beneath clear skies of bluest blues.
Heavenly perfume from floral blooms,
wafts alluringly through fresh Spring air;
butterflies, bees with antennae alert,
by nectar's sweet essence are duly drawn there.
And what can compare to the chorus of nature,
the warbling, tweeting and trilling of birds?
Add in the chirping, buzzing of crickets and bees;
most beautiful music the ear ever heard.
3/16/17
for Alexis Y's "Spring Time" contest