Long Collarbone Poems
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This is a dangerous man. Seduction‘s tendrils lace
thumbs at collarbone, his digits wind round behind.
Manicured, long, clean…fingers, made for face tracery,
pulling back shoulders and raising crest-capped peaks.
Thumbs at collarbone, his digits wind round behind.
Soft, full, Latin lips nibble the pulse racing at neck,
pulling back shoulders and raising crest capped peaks,
manicured long clean…fingers made for tracery.
Soft, full, Latin lips nibble the pulse racing at neck.
The kiss repeats with nips and pulls to bottom lip.
Manicured long clean…fingers made for tracery,
the return voyage of his mouth brushes half closed lids.
The kiss repeats with nips and pulls to bottom lip.
Stasis without, riling within, rose-crests scratch across cloth.
The return voyage of his mouth brushes half-closed lids.
Enough, relent, leave off, the fainting feeling, so intense.
Stasis without, riling within, rose-crests scratch across cloth.
Push, push, his barrel chest, the salt and pepper curls.
Enough, relent, leave off, the fainting feeling, so intense.
Bodies have not met, yet, this momentary bliss is not without regret.
Push, push, his barrel chest, the salt and pepper curls.
Blood like rainwater drains to nether regions of pain.
Ours bodies have not met, yet, momentary bliss without regret.
Like chocolate ice cream with chocolate chips and sauce,
A whipped cream delight of potential deadly sorrow,
Manicured long clean…..fingers made for face tracery,
God!….exited my lips, as they left his.
This is a dangerous man. Seduction‘s tendrils lace.
It began when a woman by a pool,
suddenly became fearful seeing water
causing her stomach to churn.
Just from looking at the water—
not when it touched her skin.
The wise sage pointed to a spot
beneath her eye,
an acupuncture tapping point,
connected to the stomach meridian.
Tap there, he said. Just for two minutes.
The dread eased, and with it,
the fear or water faded
The sage then showed other places
on a map of the body, to tap to relive pain
and to ease anxious thoughts.
Side of the hand – eases resistance and self-doubt.
Top of head – clears mental fog.
Eyebrow (near nose) – calms fear, stress, and trauma.
Side of the eye – softens anger, frustration, indecision.
Under the eye – soothes anxiety and vulnerability.
Under the nose – releases shame and hidden guilt.
Chin point (below lower lip) – heals unworthiness and hesitation.
Collarbone (just below) – settles worry and fears of the unknown.
Under the arm – helps with insecurity and feeling exposed.
chin lightly nested atop
loosely peopled interlaced fingers
supported via multi purpose table
bent arms displayed elbows cocked
(approximately gabled
at ninety degree angle),
which pose frequently assumed
when pondering what to write,
an idea spawned when clothed left fingered limb
inadvertently roiled the so called "funny bone"
named because of funny feeling generated
when Ulnar nerve compression
triggers pseudo shock sensation
coursing one direction or another
traveling from neck down into hand
constricted in several places along the way
such as beneath collarbone
or at wrist
most common place for compression
(hands down)
behind inside part of elbow
medical terminology tagged
"cubital tunnel syndrome."
interestingly enough, this scribe attests
more frequent occurrences along
liberal democratic side
no matter I claim dominant right handedness
and reckon eyes that human body electric
eel silly not perfectly symmetric
also chiming in that such vulnerability
a very minor design flaw
extant within the amazing
*****Sapiens anatomy.
Missing: Pieces of Me
SPLINTERED HEART
like a leg severed, ripped loose:
the phantom limb throbs and aches
knowing yet unwilling, unable to accept
that it's only a ghost playing evil pranks
sitting frozen and paralytic
from the weight, the frightful weight
dragging, forcing down the head
welding chin to collarbone...
heavy, crushing feeling on the chest
punishing pressure on the heart
a heart at the point of imploding...
alarm clock crying, screaming:
time warp between sleep and awake
when not yet aware of where one is
not yet aware of what or who one is
a split-second reprieve until----
(oh, it really did happen
oh, I don’t have a leg now
oh, you have been torn loose
taking pieces of me with you)
it has been proven medically:
people with life threatening seizures
can eventually function normally
with half of their brains removed
not so with a splintered heart
not so with half a heart...
~ How can I forget a gently bold spirit that is Tim
whose poetry brims with verve,
contemporary images, wit, and emotional depth?
While exchanging comments on our posts,
I found out that he stayed in my country during
the war. His anecdotes sparked the beginnings of
a dear friendship that allowed us to connect through
email and facebook. Tim was an erudite poet as
seen through this winning piece in a contest.
~Knowing his health was becoming frail, he would slip
in and out of the site, yet quickly responded to most
of us on social media.
When Tim passed on, I was shocked; his demise ...sudden.
I am grateful to have known him up close and personal,
a man of integrity who wanted to revisit our country with
his daughter a year before he finally rested in peace. Salute, Tim!
Anthony Biaasoc's The Uncontest Contest
6/22/2020
A belle, ethereal and calm,
Was cursed with eternal tears.
Her grace was destined to decay,
were that which caused her tears revealed.
Her face, a sparkling mess of dew,
Disguises all the pain within
With rosy cheeks and crystal tears
That crash upon the collarbone.
"They're tears of joy," she would pronounce
Lest all her charm should turn to stone,
"Enjoyed by all except myself,"
Inside her heart she would bemoan.
A muse of grief had she become,
Provoking poets, painters, too,
To make art out of tragedy;
Pianos to articulate
clandestine melancholic tones.
Concealed must all her pain remain
So Art Utopia sustains.
Trois Par Huit
AAB BB CCC
3,6,9,12,12,9,6,3
Prince of bliss
has risen with the kiss,
you have planted on my collarbone.
Thoughts of things to come whip around like a cyclone
in my mind. No longer alone, our love has grown..
Lets not postpone, I yearn to be yours,
yearn to bathe on your shores,
to explore!!!
Jared Pickett
5/21/2010
Asavvy1
Form:
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Cedar fragrance floats softly in the air
like old ghosts awakening after sleep.
Inside, yellowed envelopes carry
the silent burden of hands
that never delivered their confessions.
A brittle map traces borders
that dissolved with the century's breath.
In the probing moonlight,
tarnished brass hinges moan.
Beneath folded sweaters,
apologies fossilize,
and grief settles like dust
on unworn wedding lace.
A sapphire brooch recalls
the heartbeat under a collarbone
where it pinned courage tight
until surrendering.
Trapped light holds
what daylight wouldn't understand.
Within attic walls
the lid groans echoing
how memory bends
under its own weight.
Secrets don't suffocate here~
they become the wood's grain.
There are parts of my life
I forgot I put you in
Like the little flower
That sits a top my mirror
It was right before a show
And you ran after me
In your costume
Holding a single
White
Flower
There are other parts too
Parts that became so ordinary
That I forgot they were once
New
my wallpaper
Pictures of you
Or your name in my phone
With an extra sparkle
Or the way I drive to school
Going straight on man o war
One hand always
Holding yours
Always
And i know we said “for now”
But how much of you do I remove
For a for now
I like the flower a top my mirror
And the necklace a top my breasts
That necklace that once felt like a collar
I hadn’t realized how much I held it during the day
Any ounce of uncertainty
My hand wandered to my collarbone
A moment to think
My hands wandered to my neck
A smile
My hands clung to the charm
I hadn’t realized
You stopped me
pulling at my eyelashes
Or picking my skin
Because I always had one hand on the necklace
And the other in yours
There are little parts of my life
I forgot you showed me
I shake when I become overwhelmed with emotion
And i can’t ever find a place to put my hands
Until you gently fold them
In yours
I shook a lot with you
Tears
Laughter
Fear
Lust
Heartache
I forgot you showed me
How strong I could still feel
When I thought I lost that ability
How much of that do I loose in this “for now”
The only problem with us was that I felt
Far too much
That the shaking became uncontrollable
And it wasn’t because of laughter anymore
I forgot how you fit into my view of myself
Every outfit and appearance subtly lined with
“I hope I look pretty enough”
A part of my life I thought I had put
In the past
But I guess that was just a good bye for now as well
And there are still parts of my life
I forgot I put you in
I can’t recall the last time
I slept without your hoodie
But I recall taking it off this morning
And feeling hollow in way
That would not be filled for a long time
For now I will continue finding parts of my life
That serve as a reminder of us
And I will continue to be frozen in indecision
On what to do with them
Because I can’t hold on to them
But I can’t let them go
Perhaps I will find a bag
Place everything inside
And write “for now” on it
Passionately we kiss.
True romance,
I scroll,
softly kiss the collarbone.
Grab my lance!
lets dance,
on sheets of satin,
moan for me in Latin.
We both knew this would happen.
I feel you yearning,
body churning.
I'm learning,
your hot spots.
Burning,
feverish,
my swager
tied in love knots.
Palms a little sweaty,
bug-eyed by
your back-shot..
For months we have been ducking each other,
friendly exchanges, flirtatious winks,
and booty slapping
in passing.
Masking,
our true feelings,
lasting impressions, left silent
in our daily dealings.
Evolved finally into
sexual healing..
Dripping,
sweat soaked,
provoked,
under my yoke,
I stroke.....
Jared Pickett
1/19/2010
Asavvy1
Swept by waves of nostalgia
Afloat on longing tides
I assessed this oyster compound
where my heart could not abide.
Aphrodisiac pulls of Neptune
were as lava cooled to stone
What use were pearls of luster
when one had no collarbone?
Heralded by sea trumpets
kelp banners flying high
Sentinels of sea urchins
with pink coral by their sides
Calamity, with determined madness
shoved sponges from his path
Provoked by clam injustice
Spurred by mollusk wrath.
I searched for an escape exit
from that cruel, moronic clam
This myriad ideology,
naught but an oyster sham.
When a seahorse bobbing aimlessly
moved closer to my side
I unhinged my oyster carapace
and grasped its roughened hide.
I was jolted and I was jostled
as I settled on its back
Calamity watched in amazement
standing frozen in his track
When an agitated octopus
released an ink black kite,
a galaxy of starfish
sank into the brackish night.
I focused my attention
on my lost and nervous steed
We were climbing ever upward
at a most alarming speed
Breaking through the surface
I swallowed back a scream
Afraid of finding Calamity
I found it all had been...a dream.