Long Enticing Poems
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So many ask me to follow them
through rusty gates and broken doors
Where will I be led
whom shall I follow
Are their directions better than my own?
Will I lead myself down the garden path?
confusion
Perplexed by messages
What will satisfy?
Is there meaning to life?
Blind guides speak loudly
painting pretty pictures on my mind
Enticing me with their magic
They speak like they know
They want me to see what they think they see
It is so close
just over the next horizon
Purpose, serenity
Being at one with the universe
Peace, love, understanding
I pick up a book
It warns me
there is but one way
Directed to the only Son
A gift from the Father
The creator of all things
Earthly wisdom to be ignored
become as a little child
The opposite of all that I had known
A single narrow path
I am slowly guided along
no longer alone
I know who I will follow
I am on the road to home
As a springtime fancy turns into love
And from a dandelion sprouts a rose
Her eyes so enticing, her smile so inviting
With every raindrop our love grows
In the meadow where we first made love
On your blanket out in a field
Temptation took hold, and our once unknowns
To each the other revealed
Now the smell of the honeysuckle
Adrift on the breeze late in May
Seems to rewind to that place in time
Where my cares of this word fade away
While the troubles of life can seem so big
And the chances of us seemed so small
In you I found forever
It was the prequel to the fall
The prequel to the fall
When I first fell in love with you
Even though I'm a man, I still sometimes crawl
As I wrap my head round the truth
If luck were my diamond you'd surely shine
Much brighter than all of the rest
If the truth be told, I want you to know
You're the secret to my happiness
Time like a thief just keeps stealing
What still remains precious to me
And though our youth fades, and our hair turns gray
Our initials stay carved in that tree
So lets go wherever life takes us
It's as if our souls got the call
To remain with one another
It was the prequel to the fall
The prequel to the fall
When I first fell in love with you
We've since had our cake, and shared some champagne
Now our gift is a love that is true
The prequel to the fall
When I first fell in love with you
Your soul is my blessing, my heart's still obsessing
About the prequel to our fall
Breezing purple vibes of nocturnal delight
Eventide’s afterglow blushes sanguine night
As leaves chromatic swirl, waltzing to alight
Bestowing gilded motifs on dreamy sight
Sprinkling ebullience on meadows aglow
Exuberant in celebration of celestial show;
Where crescent moon adorns opaline skies
Staging dancing stars for enchanted eyes
As constellations choreograph stellar art
Enthralling intimations of enamored heart
Embracing invitation of amorous dreams
Enticing sweethearts’ passionate themes.
Farther in distance, ocean ebbs and flows
Strumming rhythms cresting-tides compose
As together we rejoice gift of nature’s glee
On a leisurely walk, meandering carefree,
Tranquil in tease of zephyrs flirting along
Indulgent in euphony of nightingale’s song.
Hosting quietude we amble miles and miles
Adorning happiness glinting vigor of smiles
Engaging revelry, shedding travails of day,
Lauding harmony gracing nature’s pathway,
Purposefully musing in wonderment of time
Thrilling glamor of beauteous night sublime.
November 16, 2022
Poem of the day on November 18, 2022
Placed1st: Beauty of Night Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Sotto Poet
The smoky dust screen blows away far into the halcyon horizon,
the flotilla of cotton cloud sails in the concave depth of cobalt.
Bowed down slender blades of cinnamon grass sway
in the crisp air on the lap of meadow that has turned fawn.
Lining the sun-burnt cinnabar garden path paved anew,
the dry trunks of the tawny trees stand on the sepia ground.
The setting sun ignites spectral inferno in seamless satin sky,
makes surreal collage of vermillion embers blazing bright.
In scarlet sunset my heart is swathed by twilight’s tinsel drizzle,
suffused by its sparkle I see the stars sprout in pellucid autumn night.
For the freezing times of gloom in the winter of discontent I retain
the endearing warmth of the embrace of autumn’s remnant afterglow.
I see then the argentine aura of the mesmeric moon envelope you,
where I float on the waves of stardust surge of your charisma.
My vision is enmeshed with the lilting lattice of dreams,
weaved by the enticing strands of your hued longing.
The diadem of the diamond dew bejewels your dulcet dawn,
the blades of malachite grass adorn your emerald meadow,
where my yearning saunters sanguine to reach you,
following the new turquoise trail you trace only for me.
The true essence of love I then perceive enthralled,
configured with the glint of your sequins streaming within me.
The enchanting luster of your alluring shine I absorb
in my heart’s horizon to radiate forever as your afterglow.
Emotional sequestration perseverates
across thine time warped
weft wise wold,
sans interpersonal stagnation
flourishes as oft twice told
tale a boat amidst derelict hollowed
moldering scull - sacrificed stranglehold
did potential..., now bankrupt acquaintanceships/
friendships get out sold
agonizingly excruciatingly
jujitsu physically writhing
front row seat occupied -
whereat direct view of scaffold
penurious adolescent Anorexia Nervosa
plagued decades prior fraught
psychological, neurological and illogical
repercussions steam rolled
natural heterosexual propensity
stifling, stinting, and stymying this old
morosely jinxed kerfuffle inciting,
hermetically heat sealed,
tightly bound stinging
straitened yellow jacketed
bee devilish mold
hogtied hold, pig in the poke,
xenophobic-ally
fastened, galvanic hold
wrenching vice grippe
fiercely extolled sterile lackluster
human existence devoid cold
hence, imperative ambition
to act forthright and bold
before advanced age
finds this wordsmith additionally auld.
This solitary reader quests doth newt plead
per outreach need
without supplicating, lionizing, boot mead
dee eight ting, enticing Nietzscheism lead
me by thine pug nose,
nor doth this passive heretic - heed
ding perseverance
without selfishness nor greed
aye only seek to be freed,
where ambivalence to enjoy life exceed
sharing soulful travails yes in deed
foster repartee with persons no matter creed
faith, intelligence, nationality breed
united by state worthy charisma agreed?
“And so it is, that both the Devil and the angelic Spirit present us with objects of desire to awaken our power of choice. There is an invisible strength within us; when it recognizes two opposing objects of desire, it grows stronger” ~~ Rumi~~
Though I will not bow to temptation
Will I vow to stay strong ?
Can I resist the devil’s vexation.
For ever so long?
Such niceties on offer I see.
Can I now resist?
These titillating tidbits please me.
How can I desist?
Is there goodness within my soul ?
Do I see the ere of my ways?
Will I keep God’s commandments whole,
And reject Satan’s displays?
Does the fight betwixt these two,
Make me stronger to defeat evil’s winning,
And so to reject all sinning?
I feel the surge of power as I feel my need.
To resist the demon enticing me.
The devil is pulling me and must be stymied.
Following God’s word, it is true purity.
Inside there is a burning fire.
I have the strength to accept or reject it all at will.
I now can pull back from desire.
Even stronger I have become and will be still.
Personal preference enters into every poetry contest
Outstandingly subjective
Enticing to one is repulsive to two others
Tricky to judge poems unless there are blatant errors
Ridiculous with a capital R to compare a poem against another
You can try though. Snicker. Snicker.
Comparing one poem to another is like comparing a flea to mirror.
Awesome to you is too dull for me to finish reading.
Notoriously wonderful to me is something you do not like a whit.
Normal people do not even read poetry, and yet, here we are….
Often contests shut down new poets who do not realize the numbers game.
Takes guts to put feelings to paper, and you may have to enter ten to win one.
Beautiful poetry to me is a waste of ink to you.
Enthusiasm captures my eyes, but only when written in my preferred styles.
Creativity sashays in a variety of ballets and watusi.
Outstandingly subjective. I cannot stress this enough!
Metaphoric writes intrigue me, yet I do not do them myself.
Poetry is pronouncedly purposefully a preferred personal preference.
A win means the judge liked it at this second at this minute of her day.
Reality is that you, as a poet, have to write like a painter has to paint.
Especially remember when reviewing and critiquing your own poetry,
Despite everyone else’s opinion, do you like it yourself? That is the key.
The creation of an ace artisan
Porcelain silky delicate finish
Embellishing curvaceous ornate design
I shine with enticing glamour.
Mystically alluring hollow inside
I’m just a lone show piece of art
Yearning to belong and be placed
Beside you in a special space.
When your caressing hands
Adorn me with a posy of flower
In ardent touch my heart pulsates
As you fill me with your charm.
When in silvery night the gentle breeze
Soaked in stardust enters your room
The flowers dance to the music of ecstasy
In your dreamy eyes you see me glow.
(Ode to a flower vase)
November 9, 2019
Contest : Metaphor of Love
Sponsor : Bobby May
December 25, 2019
Contest : Strand Special 9, Any Form, Any Theme
Sponsor : Brian Strand
Track One, Side Two
by Odin Roark
It was time.
He knew it.
Like the cuts on so many of his albums,
As he passed through the “got your attention” of side one,
He’d often considered the “time to acknowledge some chancier-experiments” of side two.
Yeah…
Back then, even though he was only thirteen,
His father had been prophetic.
After all, how many fathers would think to give some philosophy
As a birthday gift.
But that was long ago,
And now it was time he finally rejected society’s pre-ordained lifetime marketing blitz on how to live
And allow the oft times sleeper-ideas to maybe awaken discovery.
Just like his career of producing long-playing albums
Creating the safer decisions for side one was only rewarding
When there was risk mixed in, usually on side two.
Today…
He was going to welcome the task of searching,
Go beyond the choices he had been living,
Gamble on the unexpected,
Travel down the multitier-senses
Where less familiar ideas
Might muster appreciation for more of a being’s tempo,
Rhythm,
And harmony.
When he thought about it…
How enticing that flip side of the so-called normal existence must be
Finding out what one’s unknown appreciations are all about
That discovery of a finger-snapping epiphany
Ready to produce surprises for the future.
Lest he forget
Passing time was becoming more precarious
Making life’s tomorrow a hit
Would require risk of another kind.
He recalled his father’s birthday message at thirteen,
“Embrace the unexpected,
Indulge the inordinate,
Find the willingness to try track one, side two of your days,
It’s waiting.”
What can a loving community bring?
Hope, like a blossoming flower in spring.
Gentle winds that green trees will swing.
The melody of a beautiful bird’s chirp and sing.
Sunlight rises, bringing rays of a golden sky.
Children wake up excited, while the parents sigh.
The family prepares for this wonderful day.
Holding a basket of food, they drove away.
Arriving at the park, they greeted loved ones and friends.
As children run and scream with joy, that never ends.
Cut green grass plays deliciously on bare feet.
Picnics for families and lovers ready to feast.
In the afternoon, a playful wind invites kites to fly.
Children gleefully run, enticing them to the sky.
Crowds of the loving community gather at dusk.
Swapping tender stories of families as children fussed.
A star-studded night gives way to the fireworks display.
The crowd parts with hugs and smiles, going their way.
To their home of incredible love and happiness.
They bed their children with dreams that are blessed.
Good night, dear community. We’ll see you again.
Praying for another day of love and happiness that never ends.