Long Honeyed Poems
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Gotta Love Alliteration 5-21-24
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Gracious Grace
Endless effervescence of grace,
In riots of radiance, infected by innocence,
Seeks out the heart harassed by humiliation –
Wrapped in sleepless shrouds of incensed worry –
When alliterations of angst plunder soiled spirits with pandemonium
Grace, the eternal romantic, lavishes love.
Purity, born of playful purity,
Tames tempests of melancholy mistrals
As midnight murmurs into dawn’s jubilant joy
As dusky dews flow from fountains of forgiveness
With eternal elixirs from the everlasting
For the pensive plea of the penitent pilgrim.
Grace sings the ageless anthem of sweetest sanctuary
In honeyed breaths for the hobbled heart to inhale
Ever abiding loveliness, always in ascent,
Tingling with tenderness, opening soldered seas of sin,
Miracle made manifest in majestic melody
With promises penned in poems of peacefulness.
Bubba the Big Bear sat down at his favorite plaid chair
to eat his honeyed-toast, smelling oranges in the air
wafting in was music, Gypsy Tramps and Thieves by Cher
was life ever this fair? Bubba wiggled toes bare.
someone rang his phone, it was Henry the Hare.
he wanted to know if Bubba wanted to dare….
come down to the hollow and do a honey share.
when he said “no thank you”, that hare did swear.
that hare is crazy, Bubba said to the warm air.
there was a tiny bit of giggling, it was from the chair.
Cher was still singing, was life ever this fair?
Bubba sat back down and enjoyed his toast, without a care.
always ...
"always", you confessed me ...
"until the stars themselves grow cold ... "
"and far, far beyond their spin."
my heart was young ...
it was as dew of the dawning -
fresh, sparkling with fascination,
ready to soak the brightness from day.
foolish lad ... callow and foolish ...
so hungry for the fruits of life and love,
that words were served up as the bloom of the banquet,
dripping in the guises that time and reality would come to scald.
oh, wisdom is the blade that cuts the chaff,
that severs all those once-heartfelt sprouts of romance and fire
from their green and ripe fastenings ...
aye, I still taste the sweet of those honeyed phrases,
the ones I placed all matter and intent within ...
the words that wound the threads of our hearts to a rope, secure,
and I wonder, with all wonder and awe,
how, if they were so genuine - so sacred -
can they be so frayed and fallow now?
naught but ashes to the cold wind ...
embers gutted to the dark ...
of Heaven.
~ 3rd Place ~ in the "Strand Choice G, Any Form, Any Theme" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.
LOVE ME NOT, LOVE ME MORE
Love me not, love me more
Love me now until forevermore...
Gaze meet, nothing much to miss
Hot nerves shoot in happy bliss
Clouds above grin in delight
so with sunshine golden light.
Love me not, love me more
Love me now until forevermore...
You hold my hand to yours
clasping it tight, not letting go
Through all tears and all joys
let affection a river overflow...
Love me not, love me more..
Love me now 'til forevermore...
Partners, we sing... sing along
uncaring who can hear the song
Irrigating our veins with a wish of love
peacefully settled like a rock dove
Love me not, Love me more
Love me now 'til forevermore...
Yes! that's we both want to hear
from honeyed lips of someone dear.
Touch my face, stroke my hair
speak sweet, tell only my name.
Love me not, love me more
Love me now 'til forevermore..
Until all the mountains reach the skies
or the moon kiss the starlight shine
Should all the rosebud hurry blush
or the painter's brush draw in rush..
Love me not love me more
Love me now 'til forevermore...
_____________________________________
11:21pm, August 29, 2014
You ask me if I love you
I can only answer this
the world vanishes when you are near
as I wander in the music of your soul
and inhale your beauty as I do the air I breathe
I'll dance in your eyes
like a butterfly hovering
in the fragrant petals of a blooming flower
with honeyed words dripping when spoken
to quiet our trembling heart
blooming in the fields of our yearning desire
where the sun rises on our face
beckoning love to fill our soul
with tender bonds of emotional realms
should I say more
or fall into your arms
and tenderly embrace the grace of love
inviting the fantasies of our dreams
calling into the wilderness of tomorrow
with whispered breath and hearts pulsating
with the melody of love
when our eyes close before each kiss
and I say...I love you
A windswept meadow neath an ambling Apollo lone journey,
Witnessed the efforts of a crowd studded web of twinkling wished upon stars,
Lose its envious magic that they had cast upon the eyes of star-crossed lovers,
To an army of Cupid's charioteers who pulled its blanched Master Moon,
Whilst guided by the genteel gallops of endless Cherubs whom together,
Unleashed a hailstorm of heart seeking arrow tips that were dipped,
In honeyed filled molasses of numbingly sweet treasured quietude of,
Desirous lust that burst upon contact and release its alchemy concoction,
Affecting even the strongest of resistors into a fathomless mirth of ecstacy,
Swimming in divinational depths whose relentless currents unite the noumenon,
Beyond their measure for its extension enwraps the partnered heart to be as,
The eternal one, inseparable, until twilight trips into the arms of dawn,
For be it a day, until the fall of dusk the story perpetuates a new page it be,
Blank as before as a pen and a windswept meadow waits for lovers tryst.
Date: 06/06/2019
Whispers of Autumn
Whispers of Autumn
Autumn wakes to an umber jubilee
In the splendor of scarlet reveries ~
When she shakes free these her golden tresses.
Now Autumn whispers an amber sonnet
In summered fields, for fading bluebonnets ~
Love poems float above forest undress.
Summer's ephemeral breath turns cold
In the oncoming blush of autumn gold ~
Frosty zephyrs pass with a silk caress.
Honeyed harvest of falling crimson leaves
Fill winding paths like golden handkerchiefs ~
Rhythms and rhymes of silver sighs that bless.
Sung sonnet gathers notes from spinning leaves
Portrait of spring in autumnal reprieve.
Listen to my words and desire me my sun-ripened lady
For I will be as magniloquent and indiscreet
as a biblical poet
The sculpting of your Siamese contour
pours into my empty cup like apricot brandy
I filled the night's chalice with knots of desire
and it satisfied me deeper than mere friction
Aphrodite has kissed your firm twins
As a cluster from the vineyards of Glen-Eden
on a sun-drenched September afternoon
Secretory perfumes from your pubic stubble
And gardenia from your thick locks
so fragrant I see their scent
I take them in them with every sense engorged
SELAH
When I make you moan and frown
you stare vertically through closed eyes
Then drunkenly mutter, “I cum”
When I breach your lips, north and south in unison
we give birth to the child of incandescence
She has your raven eyes.
I look into them and I see the light of Aioue
Her aura is primal, fleeting, and beyond intoxication
We become one flesh in the eyes of the cosmos
I see you my love, my friend!
These words are meant for one who is brooding for loves
They who walk with heaven beneath their feet
live under the shade of authenticity
Walk with me under the cloak of shadows
CHAIYYA
At this moment your honeyed cream remains on my palate
When I showed you how we French kiss
yes those are the moments!
Bedeviled nectars are not devilish, but imbibed in the shade
Nay, they are turned rancid only by the manufactured light
that casts the shadow from our cloak
Therefore, no one shall judge our chamberings
When we are not together I wax
For me the duplicity is hard
but I cannot live without pleasures!
I savor the darkness as per the design of the ancients
who learned to love and to invent pleasures
They are familial ghosts from a region in my belly
and we commune
SELAH
The inclinations I have toward paramours
has been buried so deeply
that I cannot locate from whence they come
In the balance between propriety and abandon
I have chosen what is in front of me
I will be reminded of my choices
when we walk again
I don’t know if I love you
because I hate that word
Maybe someday I’ll invent a better one
My beautiful little doxy
I cannot nor would not sponge away
the scent of your existence from my mind
nor the music of your moans from my ears
There's mischief in the air, and in the sky
Rises fair, sublime, and rare - Blue Moon.
Son of Venus, hidden, now lets fly
An arrow to a chaste fair maid who soon
Shall spy a youthful eager boy and sigh
As through the dance hall wafts a wistful tune.
For she, with goddess body silken-clad,
And rosebud cheeks and locks the color wheat,
Turns - the first she sees - a simple lad.
She's drawn to him - this boy that she must meet.
He sees her too; his countenance turns glad,
For she approaches with a smile so sweet!
Her face feels flushed; her blood now courses fire
beneath the spot where Cupid's dart was thrust.
With lingered gaze she speaks her soul's desire.
A feathered touch. To have him now she must.
Her honeyed voice and breath. He can't respire.
Her scent; the darkened room! He feels the lust.
He takes her by the waist of her soft dress.
They slowly move along the corner floor.
His fingers wrap around her back and press.
She leans into his body, wanting more.
Her fingers tread his neck; then they caress.
And next he leads her to the exit door.
She follows, not protesting, to his place,
Where, on the floor, their clothing soon is flung.
They fall onto his bed in an embrace.
With pleasured aching, soon they're lost among
the tangled sheets as bodies interlace.
He touches where her silken gown once clung. . .
Winged scamp with cherub's face and ready bow,
You laugh at each new fool that you waylay.
For love of reckless passion born, you know,
can't last. She wakes, and you've since traipsed away.
She gasps and shakes. The lad is dealt a blow,
His face once loved - now loathed by light of day.
I speak in velvet tones,
but my silence cuts cleaner than blades.
They mistake my gentleness
for surrender.
My softness
for something they can press fingerprints into
and leave.
They have never met
the girl who survives quietly.
I do not raise my voice.
I raise my standards.
I do not beg.
I observe.
And when I leave
I do it like winter.
No warning.
Just absence.
My love is warm, yes.
Honeyed. Slow. Devoted.
But my detachment?
Glacial.
You will search for me
in rooms I once lit up,
and find only echoes
that refuse to answer back.
I was never fragile.
I was controlled.
There is a difference.
I learned long ago
that the loudest power
is restraint.
So I let them underestimate me.
Let them think softness means safe.
Until they realize
too late
Velvet can still suffocate.