Long Honeymoons Poems
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Like seasons passing,
It starts off spring.
Butterflies in the stomach,
soft, gentle, cool.
Hinting at something
Lingering in the air.
A brush of hands,
still shy
as it forms.
Come summer,
Hot, bright, fiery.
Excitement gone
with the hot red thrill
taking over the gentle.
Heated kisses,
constant touching,
always present,
no space between,
even if they dare.
In comes fall,
Light wind, soft touches.
The sky lights
with new discoveries
as uncertainty simmers
honeymoons gone,
as the spark flies.
Winter brings the end,
Cold, angry, iced out.
Distance grows,
uncertainty gone,
dissatisfaction taking control.
This is not what we want...
It's not what we deserve...
This isn't what we're worth.
It ends in winter
unhappy
and long overdue.
Goodbyes pass
as they outgrow,
and everything once admirable,
becomes the source of irritation.
The final goodbye
that rolls the credits.
Cascading water that never seems to end
Going over the falls ever single day
The roaring of the water crashing down
A torrent that no one can stay
It draws a crowd of people far and wide
Who come to see its awesome view
Some have even tempted fate in ways
That one should really not attempt to do
A few have won a battle with the falls
Gaining fame and fortune from the duel
Many others have come because
The wish to celebrate a life with two
From honeymoons to wars daredevils to disasters
This place where heaven and earth seem to meet
Has captivated both one and all I'd say
Someday I hope to see this place so sweet
*Image of Hourglass by Pixabay.
AUDIO: Tip; Right-click on volume then click on Loop of the drop-down menu for continuous play.
Flipped Hourglass
Count, onward we go, pivoting seized dunes,
Tempestuous pilgrimage outstretched phase,
Tick - tock, flops, 'tis a dog's day afternoon's,
O'er perpetual movements like scarred toons,
Lunar ... solar, yond the masque, nowadays,
Count, onward we go, pivoting seized dunes,
Small sand on big sand, tea time, macaroons,
Some glass menagerie extreme breadthways,
Tick - tock, flops, 'tis a dog's day afternoon's,
Fitting bits of earth, pour drain, honeymoons,
Time swings on, crystals encased pair relays,
Count, onward we go, pivoting seized dunes,
Scheherazade misses a night, whole moon's,
Bear flight you hefty load, back in someways,
Tick - tock, flops, 'tis a dog's day afternoon's,
A wonderment, gadget, like boom-box tunes,
Shifts drift collared in this time capsule gaze,
Count, onward we go, pivoting seized dunes,
Tick - tock, flops, 'tis a dog's day afternoon's.
2022 January 28
*1st Place*
Pick-A-Title, Vol 28
~~Edward Ibeh: Judged 2022 February 13
Terrorism had shown its ugly face again.
On joyous tourists poured the fire of pain.
Though with the latest guns, they looked innocent.
Amidst human cries, their smiles seemed imminent.
Who belonged to what faith, they wanted to know.
Could one separate the whiteness from the snow?
Do Hindus and Muslims have different blood?
Does any pot know who formed them from what mud?
Near the corpses of their dear husbands, wives wept.
On laps of peacelessness, sleepy children slept.
Honeymoons of the newlyweds became hells.
Bells of temples and churches turned into knells.
(Militants near Pahalgam in the Indian-administered Jammu and Kashmir, killed 26 tourists on 22 April 2025.)
The soul is right
The soul is good
It gets no credit
Perhaps it should
Deserves respect
Demands acclaim
We give it up
In someone’s name
Maybe a god
Maybe a king
A pleasant voice
That truly rings --
A handsome face
Virile and stout
Yells when to throw
The garbage out
We like our kings
We cheer our gods
They claim that we
Defy the odds
And exert sway
Over our paths
I think a heard
Some god just laugh --
No I am sure
One of our kings
Went to his bank
Glibly skipping
Walking on streams
As kings are wont
Best seats in every
Restaurant
While you and I
Just have to wait
And drool upon
Our meager plate
My how they lead
And how we swoon
We get all hot
On honeymoons
And throw our lot
With gods and kings
Who bind our beaks
And smash our wings
Then stuff us with
Their bullish lies
And pluck our young
Before our eyes
I hope you toast
Your god or king
Before your meal
This Thanksgiving
I hope you’re stuffed
When you are done
I hope your team
It will have won
Two minutes left
Til sudden death
When you’re that full,
Hard to take breaths
Or take a knee
In solemn sight
Of every head
Itching to fight
There, in the stands
You’re circumscribed
By gods and kings
Who write your lives
November, 2020