Long Dampness Poems

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The Abcs of Being Human

A is for alertness so you know what's going on.
B is for the brain freeze you get before the dawn.

C is cardiopathy so you can keep the beat.
D is for dampness when your trying to beat the heat.

E is for the exema you try to wash away.
F is when you fail at it and it causes you dismay.

G is always good enough to get you through the day.
H is for happiness when it finally comes your way.

I is for intelligence that you accrued with interest.
J is jubilation if and when you do your best.

K is certainly kindness towards your fellow man.
L is for the living and doing what you can.

M is for the mood your in that seems to ebb and flow.
N is for your neighbor, I wonder if you know.

O is for the one and only that everyone should have.
P is for the peaceful people who soothe us like a salve.

Q is the quick temper that rips apart your soul.
R is the relentlessness that keeps you in the hole.

S is sleeping soundly like a little baby.
T is for trusting, and I don't mean maybe.

U is usually the ultimate goal that we are striving for.
V is for victory, well you know, when we all finally score.

W is wishing for things that we don't get.
X is for xanadu, a land we've not known yet.

Y is for the yesterdays you hope are still to come.
Z is when you zip your lip and everything is mum.

Well what more can a person say to help you understand?
The stage is set, take three steps and come and join the band.

For Cyndi Macmillan's ABC Couplet Contest
Form: Couplet


Guinevere To Arthur Being Coy

Oh, my darling Arthur, this euphoric feeling what is it? 
Is it something from sensual pleasure? 
Or something in my dreams? 
Is it perspiration glistening on a manly chest? 
Or when I have rivulets of perspiration running between my breasts? 
Is it lying on a beach somewhere when bodies meet as one? 
With waves crashing rhythmically a thrust with every one? 
Is it when one runs a hand up and down my body with such a careful touch? 
Hardly touching my skin at all, but it still seems to burn so much. 
The glistening of thigh beneath a gown, that catches my dream just briefly. 
Or the décolleté so smooth and soft when lips caress so sweetly?
 
Oh, my darling Arthur, this euphoric feeling what is it? 
Is it something from sensual pleasure? 
Or something in my dreams? 
Lying with you on the riverside regaining control of gasping breath, 
the ripples down the spine, the dampness I feel on your back. 
The tenderness and trembling, as I can feel the weight of you,
but you’re not heavy you are my lover so true. 
I welcome the feel of skin, the muscular stomach so smooth and tanned 
the cupping of my breast in your large hands. The sweet caress
that sets me on fire the look in your eyes strong with desire. The waking,
but I want to feel more, when will it be my turn? You are the man i adore.

26/6/2020
Entered into Silent One’s
Sensuality poetry contest.

Premium Member Comatose

In an irrevocable warp speed instant, 
my head collided into the likeness of drying tar, 
absorbing each horrid layer of concrete. 
That pitch-black, tacky substance covered my body, 
so that I was trapped, sightless, into immobility. 

With pounding pain, like a full force baseball bat swing 
to the skull, like a head cold amplified myriad times, 
my brain screamed for release 
inside walls of perpetual pressure, 
with nerve spasms massively extending 
beyond the central blow. 

The stench of blood-covered latex gloves 
and hand sanitizer attempting to halt disease, 
had me guessing that I was in a medical facility. 
I could taste metal, as if I was becoming part machine, 
conforming to constant monitor beeps. 

Morphine drips slipped me into hallucinations, 
or maybe just distressing dreams. 

My opaque mind tingled for air, breath gasping 
like an incessant snore, mouth slightly ajar. 
I imagined drools somewhere, but felt no dampness. 

Numbness soon overcame most pain, 
setting me into a panic of possible lost limbs, 
lost neck, lost head. 

Dread of the unknown 
cast me into a guarded sensation of
always falling, anticipating the jarring end. 

Unable to scratch intermittent itches 
or ask for assistance, I twitched inwardly, 
trapped in a corridor of horrors, 
with siren flashes passing through the darkness, 
running for a door or window to open, 
or if locked, to kick vigorously 
through this mind prison. 

There are no doors. There are no windows. 

Only echoed pounding of 
familiar voices floating 
surrounded me. 

I could smell my wife's Tea Rose perfume 
upon approach, accompanied by 
my three mostly grown daughters 
with their authentic scent of home. 

Some named friends and acquaintances 
came at arbitrary times. 
Some offered slurred words in somber tones. 
Some were simply saturated in silence. 
All were drenched with unspeakable grief. 

Each loved one's screaming drop of saline 
made me cry inside, but I doubt it seeped outwardly. 
I longed to reach out to wipe away their liquid sorrow, 
but my muscles were limp, each limb 
like a redwood tree branch in stagnant air.
Form: Prose

The Desolate Mansion of Marked Malice

The dilapidated Victorian
mansion stood as a monolith
of terror amidst the suffocating,
spectral fog.
A tall, skeletal silhouette 
materialized from the swirling
mist, his hollow eyes burning
with madness. 
In his trembling, cadaverous 
arms, he bore the lifeless, 
porcelain body of his unfaithful 
spouse. 
The ancient floorboards 
groaned with a sickening,
rhythmic creaking under his 
heavy, deliberate footsteps.
Billowing curtains of gray
spiderwebs brushed against 
his pallid face like the fingers
of ghosts.
Swarms of chittering, 
chitinous bugs erupted from 
the decaying wallpaper,
feeding on the stagnant 
atmosphere.
A sudden, agonizing shrill
screaming echoed through 
the rafters, through no living
throat had opened.
He carried his grisly burden
past shattered mirrors that
fractured their twisted, 
macabre reflections.
The heavy front door
shrieked on rusted hinges,
exhaling a cold plume of 
graveyard dampness.
Outside, the tangled,
overgrown garden was 
completely swallowed by a 
thick, undulating blanket of
mist.
He marched toward a
desolate, forgotten corner
where the earth choked on
briars and thorns.
With a rusted spade, he 
violently ruptured the soil,
preparing a nameless,
unmarked grave.
The damp earth gasped as
he flung her treacherous 
form into the dark, yawning chasm. 
He whispered a final,
venomous malediction into
the open pit before 
shoveling the dirt back.
The restless phantom of the
woman suddenly materialized,
her spectral jaws unhinging in 
silent fury.
Clouds of nocturnal insects
swarmed the mound, 
sealing the unholy site with a
writhing carpet.
The towering man smiled a 
wicked, jagged smile,
believing the secrets were 
finally buried deep. 
Yet, the mansion's windows 
tattered violently as the house
itself absorbed her vengeful,
trapped spirit.
The oppressive fog 
thickened, trapping the 
murderer inside his own 
self- made, claustrophobic 
purgatory.
Now, the endless creaking 
of the floorboards carries
the eternal weight of his
undone crime.

Premium Member Forsythia

A few yellow blossoms opened
The strong forsythia survives
Fog has slowly dissipated
But damp on the magnolia thrives

There was no way of knowing how
Rains would pour from dark cloudy skies
Then a blast of cold would assault
Gold blooms brought to a quick demise 

Overnight stormy skies poured rain
Those pink buds on star magnolia
Spread forth to sing a soft refrain
But now's time for dampness like Noah's 

A threat of tornadoes announced 
The harshest of storms passed us by
Other threat now linger in the air
Will worldly goods take to the sky~ fly?

Only God knows the future 
What will happen today is unknown
One thing I know is He loves us
He wants your heart for His home

Finis'
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member Then

.

Mawkishly I stand staring out the open door
     Listening to the falling fall rain
            Feeling the dampness penetrate
                Surround my old feeble body
                    Then
 
     The vision of the fall scene draws my eyes
            To the fallen leaves, curled, brown, wet
                  Lying upon the tan grass
                      Suffering from twenty days drought
                         Then

       I see the Ginkgo with its green leaves turning slightly 
             Yellow-tinged, so beautiful 
                 Soon they will be gold
                    Then fall to the ground and it will be
                              Winter
Form: Other

Premium Member Imagery

Liquid pools, clear and calm
Wipe away my worst worry
Fill my mind with gentle promises
Erasing fear, flowing rapids
Dark, cool waters of sensations
Dancing in whispers of a melody

Moist leaves bend on the trees
Stroked by dampness, rain and dew
Wetting the veins that bleed beneath
Emerald hopes, gentle and fresh
Like inspiration caressing the soul
Laughing images reflecting God’s grace

Fluid feelings pour out their faith
On the silence surrounding the stream
Where only gushing waters murmur
Flushing earth with sighs of dreams
Who breathe joy into the kind waters
As she embraces the spirit so meek



Matthew 5:5
“Blessed are the meek: for they shall inherit the earth.”

King James Version (KJV)


''I'' Contest New or Old Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France 
Date Entered: September 9, 2021
Form: Imagism

Premium Member Yearn

Written: April 15, 2024, For Constance La France Y words Contest

Rumi Quote:  "Longing is the core of mystery. Longing itself brings the cure. The only rule is, suffer the pain. Your desires must be disciplined And what you want to happen in time, sacrificed".
                      ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

How I yearn to reveal my veins river of blood,
Awakening my heart, percolating forces flood. 
Your dominion makes my spirit yearn to leave,
Achy for rest; my love beats, trying to heave.

Akin to a jasmine-scented zephyr breeze,
Transmits emotions through trees. 
May every shard fall with a tender embrace,
Silks are slightly scented with grace.

Whenever we are in immediate access, 
Earth quivers below our mellow caress.
A glimpse in her stare warns a tale of life,
Aura's allure rituals involve fleeting rife.

Sympathetic presence is ethereal and near,
A luscious air scent embraces her with tears.
In ephemeral warmth of her soft grasp,
Sustaining my bareness with a tender clasp.

Gentle zephyrs, muttering simpatico yearning,
Dreaming to feel her love; to evert spurning.
Brushing her smooth surface, conquering height,
A towering crest, soothing cravings in sight.

A blissful haze, embracing us in bliss,
Ecstasy; fervently linking; yielding to a kiss.
Our wishes, engaging in warmth and devotion,
Quenched embers; smooth velvety emotion.

Memories of her slow rise shiver in my body,
Baby-smooth skin and a tight nip side embody.
Grasping, I feel dampness through my vessel,
Of love; requests to dance with me, in special.
© Sotto Poet  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member White Cotton Bolls

Cool dampness covers like surround
Sound coming from modern
Stereo, even rooster's voices
Float steady at every turn

In the planter on the porch rail
Blue Bachelor Buttons 
Finally bloom, not knowing
If live just one season

The sun comes on up gold clear light
Like the famous lightbulb
Soon the dampness will dissipate
Day will warm , birds eat grubs

On the road white tail deer appear
Panic flash their white up
Run like the mischief into woods
Full of fear they breakup

One goes to the left and one right
Drop their tails disappear
Safe in the woods surrounded now
Mom seeks fawn_ perseveres

Now see fields of cotton ripening
Opening their white bolls
Years ago that would be first pickin'
Money for a few school clothes
 

Click on "About This Poem"
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Splash of Evil

Faint the sense of others tingle the hairs on your skin
Fade the blur of shadows of those who have been
Blue the mist of dampness in the air
Chills embrace the room full of fear.

See the glimpse of souls braced thin
Whispers of warnings you hear within
Tricks the mind plays is things disappear
Objects seem to move with no one there.

Shrieks of screaming only you hear
Are you alone or is something there
Whisk of emotions leave you cold
A splash of evil you bestowed.

Walls bleed but feel dry
Eyes see but believe they lie
Open the door and turn the key
Doubt your senses don't believe.

Walking down the stairway feeling faint
Above floating specter or saint?
Stumbling down you hit the floor
Echos of laughter as you run out the door.
Form: Rhyme

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