Long Intimately Poems
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Setting: a cafe, chamonix, in hand a tea.
Across- a woman, seated, not seeing me.
Embarrassed I am,
that I, a questionable I,
like a lamb: 97 and 1 kilogram,
am engulfed by her,
like Noah by heavanly mer.
Can I help it?- No!
That this Helen
this doe
or maybe Annabel of Poe
has transfixed me so
No!
For she, unbeknowest to anyone but me,
has -- like a jockey to horse--
narrowed my vision, my every decision.
My goals, my independent roles,
are all now but foes
Dürers'crows
to that of this woman,
to that of this Syren;
A homeric vision calling my name,
my thoughts [set completely in frame].
For she is Femme French,
whose lip, whose tongue, whose
unequaled gaze,
melts hearts, muffles minds, and
spirits sets a daze;
She is a picture Romaine-
a poetic refrain-
a Cloud Loraine-
Tout l'univers(se), turning perverse-
all those once sane.
And when you, pardon- she
speaks; «please, more tea»
she, unknowingly, speaks to me,
wow, she trully speaks to me.
Votre langue francais,
what can I say.
We in the west, at our best
butcher and hack at our speach,
yet you- lyrically spue- a harmonious
coo,
a ventricular breech....
Our « (c)(h)(o)(c)(o)(l)(a)(t)(e), »
americanized, anglasized,
Is not as sweet as your---
« chocolat »--- taste that
mmmm-hmmm
tis better, the way you pronounce every letter
as in decrouver, or illuminer.
To think, that this, your verbal kiss,
turns me so amiss.
But lets ((focus))- back to the Now,
sitting in chair, starring at her hair-
tied back, pulled back, let's get abstract:
lips parted, bangs parted.
Her cheeks lifted- my heart uplifted.
Facial confusion!
Her eyes whisper, « mister, »
maybe sinister?
Who knows, maybeee... the nose!
Striking a pose-
Running, twitching, creating true woes-
in a heart that weeps, reeps, but rarely sows.
Now you can see what she does to me.
my mind is adrift, but who cares- What a Gift!
To be lost in her presence- a humble
peasant- in the present is a present.
So- I'm sitting in a chair,
staring, glaring, intimately at her,
seeking, searching, for our eyes to
meet, to greet, in lustful heat,
for her to return my gaze
and to be lost in that haze till the
end of my days....
But wait.... What is this.
Something is amiss.
A realization, a *****?
OH GOD....
I have a *****...
****. I'm just another creepy loner.
Form:
Joyce K
There is this Lady I know, I thought I knew.
Could I have been so wrong, from my point of view ?
She perceives herself, a cardboard silhouette of a soul,
a papier mache doll, an image we all should know.
A shallow pond residing in the middle of this human ocean
is how she sees herself to be – a very strange notion
for me to comprehend as I look into the depths of her mind
and reflect upon all I know, that has shown her to be so kind,
deep, thoughtful, caring - giving her all throughout
her living a life of advocacy, concern and no doubt,
much, much more than I know or of my word
- in this attempt at poetry – that she might have heard.
This Lady with such a fine mind – a model for man kind –
who looks back in time, within, and cannot seem to find
one moment in a long ( seventy eight years ) life time
to recall, remember, feel her humanness in a flake of love,
a speck of joy, a line of happiness, a pool of blissfulness from above,
a stream of contentment, satisfaction for and from all the good
she has done for this world of troubled mankind, where he stood
the self. the self-satisfied, the self-destructive, and the lost.
I want to believe she has known a flake, a speck. a line tossed,
a pool, a stream and that these have been a part of her experience.
Are known, if not in the conscious, in the subconscious existence.
Is she to be, not but – as we look upon and within – veneer ?
A mosaic overlay on cardboard papier mache, she wants us to hear.
Not a mighty Oak, Maple, Mahogany, Teak, Burl just a paper doll.
Is this the carefully contrived image she believes ?, is this her fall
from grace ?, she thinks herself to be ?, - not the beauty of soul, of acts,
of the face I know, - but a mask to hide what?/, what are the facts ?
Is she this hollow, empty cardboard papier-mache doll ?, devoid
of feelings, of love, just walking through life, living it, must avoid.
I think not, nor can I – not even in my wildest of dreams believe
or perceive of such possibilities - but then, who am I to conceive,
to question the perception of the one who should truly know
herself, intimately better than anyone else on this planet could show.
So all these assumptions I have put out there, I should retrieve.
B. J. “A” 2
May 14th 2005
Love of Literature
Upon the nightstand rests my favorite book,
I beckon her to bed to have a look.
Anxious anticipation flutters in my chest,
As the day's worries and woes, are laid to rest.
Tenderly, I take her in my hands,
Caressing her cover, she knows my plans.
Lightly yielding as we take our place,
Willing and submissive, with gentle grace.
She's a beauty, in her soft subtle veil,
Gently, my fingers trace her textures, an ardent braille.
I know her body—every peak, every valley, a touch sublime,
Tracing her contours, along the edge, then down her spine.
Pulse quickening, eager mind,
Awaiting the adventure that lies inside.
With delicate fingers, I find my bookmark,
With heightened anticipation,
I spread her pages apart.
An intoxicating aroma fills the night air,
A sweet, savory bouquet, found in classic books so rare.
From the outer page, my finger glides,
All the way across, till I'm just inside.
With a soft, tender touch, I navigate the crease,
Gently pushing outward, tensions released.
With attentive focus, all the way down to the end,
Traversing to the other side, to start again.
Her soft, thin pages, a silky, delicate skin,
A gripping story, further drawing me in.
With the flick of my tongue, I wet my fingertip,
And turn the page with a single finger flip.
Chapter 3, it's just her and me.
Enchanted by her sultry love story,
Hopelessly entangled in her romantic glory.
Page after page, we're intimately engaged,
With kinks and cramps, our positions changed.
Playful paragraphs in passionate positions—
Quite the literary expedition.
Steamy, sensual sentences scintillate the senses,
Trembled? Or trembling? Lost all track of tenses.
Her sensual story, passionate and deep,
Inviting me in further, tonight we do not sleep.
Captivated by every line, savoring every word, I take my time.
Two souls entwined, one rhythm and one rhyme.
Dawn's rays through the window gently creep,
With a sigh, I slowly close the book, softly she weeps.
"Rest assured, my darling, you'll be alright,
For I'll see you again, another rendezvous tonight."
Of all my cherished tomes, she'll always be first,
My love of literature, an unquenchable thirst.
Scarlet dreams burn through my thoughts
Whispering soft sensations of compassion
Soothing my heart with feelings of hope
Coloring my ideas with hues of inspiration
Belief in the moments filled with gentle
Appreciation for all that God has given me
Azure breathes of truth that promises to
Sigh through my memories to complete
Prayers that I’ve been praying throughout
History, intimately, intently, endlessly
With a sense of assurance that all will be
Blessed by the One who is eternally with me
Emerald seas purify my heart’s embrace,
Caressing me with pledges of sure faith
Vowing to bring me wisdom and strength
Securing the genuine aspiration that lives
And flows from my veins, bleeding heartfelt
Reveries of lasting feelings that feed grace
Amber sunsets brighten the dusk skies
Capturing melancholy on winds of insight
Shading the moon with flavors of life’s joy
Imagining devotions that will always provide
A sense of purpose and fidelity to the heart
Wise sparks that fire gratitude’s warmth
Lilac laces its way through the stars and moon
Quivering with delight, precious charms inside
Which move through the naked skin to entice
Gentle pleasures within, waves of confidence
Flowing through the layers of silky vibrations
Entwined with a dance of praise to the Deity
Gold gladdens the weary heart with music
Notes imprisoned in the breath of nightfall
Living on the edge of tomorrow and misting
The mountain ridges with sweetest pleasures
Silence beckoning throughout the murmuring
Sound of a melody satisfying the hungry spirit
Silvery threads of brilliant light blushing with
Clouds of mystery which intends to plead innocent
To the charges of worry that have gripped the soul
With endless pain and sorrow, misguided doubts
That leave the mind looking for the answers
Praying for the second chances God grants us
Clear, flawless rumors of angels watching over
The one who fears or regrets the past mistakes
Keeping the gospel within reach of the one who
Knows the answers are there in the prayers that
Speak to the Creator with worship and praise
Adoration that honors the One who formed us, the clay!
STRAND COMPLETELY NEW (24) ,any form,any theme Poetry Contest
Sponsor is Brian Strand
August 18, 2020
You’re my everything, my LORD AND my GOD.
Meanwhile, I claim no new answer
since I have learned, and am knowing WHO YOU ARE intimately
by my personal relationship with YOU through Scriptures’ assertions.
Indeed, YOU are the:
Alpha and Omega upholding me throughout eternity
Bread of life, blessing me with gracious bounty…
Christ Who’s the chief cornerstone of the church I belong
Deliverer and defender, enabling me to be strong…
Emmanuel Whose presence beautifies my essence
Faith-Author letting my trust-story glow with sublime iridescence…
Guardian, protecting my soul around regeneration seal
Holy One, imparting to me divine nature I can’t conceal…
Instructor, constantly exhorting me to obey commandments
Judge, always forgiving toward righteous engagements…
King Who deserves my service to the utmost
Lover so faithful beyond my fidelity’s cost…
Mediator I cling to for His spiritual advocate-role
Nourisher of my being, nurtured for heavenly goal…
Omnipotent, omniscient, omnipresent Sovereign
Peace Source enriching me with reconciliation serenity-gain…
Quickening me toward born-again genuine revival
Redeemer ensuring my resurrection-upheaval…
Saviour Whose Shepherd-satisfaction suffices me verily
Teacher guiding my steps along His truth certainly…
Ultimate reason of my meaningful existence-zest
Victory causing every triumphant best, so blest…
Wonderful Counselor I seek against angst and doubt
Xenial in dealing with me around fellowship route
Yokefellow Who bears my load in discipleship-partnership…
Zealous leader I yield myself to in jubilant worship.
Indeed, You’re my everything, my LORD AND my GOD.
Without You, I am nothing. Thank You very much for loving me.
I love You, too. By Your grace, I live for You*
while ministering to others in Your name.
Galatians 2:20 I am crucified with Christ: nevertheless I live; yet not I, but Christ liveth in me: and the life which I now live in the flesh I live by the faith of the Son of God, who loved me, and gave himself for me.
May 2, 2021
Abecedarian in couplet form
6th place, "Tell Me, Who Do You Say That I Am" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Mystic Rose Rose; judged on 5/5/2021.
Natural Sacraments
Emerge from what sacred center,
committed to integrity's potential
become more resilient,
and not fragile
More nature-soul evolving
Earth's deepest
widest
longest
roundest
mountainous
dark valleyed sacraments
of light and power.
Gandhi regenerated
humane love lives on
and
inhumane hate
abuse
bigotry
patriarchal colonization
do not.
Even lesser losses
tend to shadow fade
across therapeutic rememorizing space
and laws of positive passion
Bodhisattva ruling
warm wombed pregnant co-attachment
becoming unconditional win/win
peak messianic experience
of panentheistic spacious time,
wonder of democratic light
awe of deep dark economic power.
"It gives me ineffable joy
to go on
trying to prove that"
love lives on
where hate cannot.
Gandhi,
affirming integrity's sacred meaning
cooperates with therapeutic bloom,
and not hate's Loser doom
Win/Lose uncivil wars
and internal traumas
and Othering 0-sum competitive history
of disintegrating ecopolitical hostility
cannot destroy
our NonZero root chakra Soul
Curiously
constantly
resiliently
resonantly inviting EarthJustice
Peace within
as without
only one orthodox way to live
yet a legion of ways to die,
biologically
ecologically
politically
economically
spiritually
naturally
unnaturally
unspiritually
ZeroSum Capitalistically
yet
pregnant NonZero Soulfully
Sacred Round Integrity
embracing Secular Civil Equity
as universal passion
invites unitarian pleasure
as beloved
as bilateral breathing
love-life rivered
shivered
shimmering...
summoning warm empathic regard
This personal, intimate project
of becoming fully humane
holonically reflects Earth's divine project
into panentheistic Spirit's nature:
integral EarthTribe transcendence
From what pantheistic soul
does inter-religious commitment
become more therapeutic,
and less traumatic?
Healing intimately transcendent potential,
Sacred Integrity's naturally spiritual,
Earth conservationally liberal
universal life--unitarian love
healthy multisensory
peak experience
merging resilient
Bodhisattva synergy
transubstantiating EarthTribe sacraments
of healthy light peak
and power valley night
re/de generation.
Those of us
who have had guilty pleasures
of owning valuable real property,
like a car
and rental property
and office equipment
Office buildings,
solar inverters,
and nuclear holocaust delivery systems
but not privately owned MBA degrees
or merely intellectual property
or more intimately owned emotional properties,
Those of us
who know the mixed blessings
of owning organic and technocratic fragments
of climate pathologized,
yet still breathing, planet Earth,
especially if taxable property,
have heard about depreciation of values
over their natural/mechanical life/utility
health/power time.
We might recall
depreciation of property value
decelerates more gradually as time marches forward,
barring any unfortunate head-on accidents,
flying and melting and fragmenting damage,
accelerating astronomical crises
eliminating long-term realistic health-wealth values.
Depreciated suddenly to total loss of asset value,
now a global junk-dealer liability.
Anyway,
just as depreciation decelerates over time,
appreciation accelerates empowering resilience
with time's enduring health/wealth cooperative life-experience,
Organic systems accelerate
robust cooperative integrity
over a deep learning nutritious multiculturing life-time
of Win/Win climax learning
deeply curving synergetic ego/eco-relationships,
Growing in good-humored co-investment priorities
for story telling and listening
to resonant fulfillment co-opportunities
Rather than continuing historic depreciated taking
and Win/Lose epic slow-losing ego/economic depressions,
Anti-systemic pathologies,
realistic predictions of global chaos.
Retributive injustice depreciations
slowly fade toward entropic disorganization,
just the suffering and loss opposite
of exponentially appreciative Win/Win compassion
Explicitly conscious
of living interdependently between and within
autonomously natural depreciative law
and appreciative open-systemic/spiritual
yang/yin multicultural
left/right psychological
self/other empowering
appreciative
spiraling
deep listening and wide learning order
re-mixing depreciating curses
into old-aged exponentially appreciating blessings
of co-opportune climaxing climates.
Each poem I birth
Is a child of my heart
Flesh of my flesh
Bone of my bone
Word of my soul
Conveyor of my emotions
Each one is unique
Different….
One is always happy
And sees the bright side of life
The eternal optimist
With not a care in the world
With a song on her lips
She traipses about and everywhere she goes
Flowers bloom
And the sun peeks out
To welcome her
The other is intimately acquainted
With her mother’s world
Of suffocating despair
She sees the tear behind the smile
The insecurity behind the laugh
Her loneliness
This child of my is consumed by worry
That Mama may go through with it this time
And no longer be there to love her
She quietly watches
Her daily fight for survival
For escape
From the demons that haunt her life
And so…she bears her sorrow
Trying to be strong for MAMA
Her tears she hides as she cries in the closet
Knowing its Mama’s tears in her eyes
And Mama’s pain in her heart
I love this child of mine, for she sees what no one else sees
One of my children was conceived in frenzied passion
And she is its embodiment
She devours life
Her passion relishes
Life
Love
Nature
Friends
She is intense to the point of insanity
Those who know her are electrified by her presence
For she is….
Always endearing
Always charming
Always in love
Always flirting...teasing...pleasing
Always passionate….to the point of losing herself
In the moment
My little one….ah, my little one is a romantic dreamer
Her eyes never focus on the here and now
She perches on the windowsill
Seeing her castle in the distance
Waiting for her knight in shining army
To sweep her away on his gallant steed
With flowing mane
And thundering hoofs
Matching the thundering beat of her heart
She waits to be whisked to
A forever land of dreams
Of flowers and sunshine
Of birds chirping by streams
And love better than in the world she’s seen
Oh, but my eldest
How my heart bleeds
For my child of wrath
Born of my affair with Zeus
Sending out thunderbolts
Livid by injustice
Seething with anger
At all that is inhumane
Welding his sword
Eager for revenge
For retribution
I fear for this my child
Who often is about to draw blood
In mortal combat with the enemy
Ever at the point of death...
(End of Part I)
Eileen Manassian Ghali
Ashamed of all the tears, the pain,
Pouring from her heart, like rain…
Feelings shattered but who could she blame?
Hearts are broken and lives – sometimes changed.
Lives, sometimes remain, never spoken,
In darkness, haunted by the shadows that reign,
Silhouettes of a heart who can’t, can’t – can’t
Let go of the past, the fears, the tears, all the years,
Bleeding sorrow and regret,
Losses that remember what if is to feel rejected,
By the very one who held you – helped you to forget,
The sting of a yesterday filled with grief,
Aching like the fresh tingle of a gash,
Melancholy flowing black,
Denial, dread, denouncing the past,
Hesitating to remember where love might last,
Beyond the fading of a tear who falls, quietly,
Surrounded by memories, yesterdays,
When life wasn’t blurred by the sensations,
Impressing on the heart, deepest expressions
Rebuffing the creativity,
Colors of light, glowing intimately,
Remembering why there is glory in grace,
Soothing in the stories that abide,
Sharing the past, where there once decided
Hope was the hour just before dawn,
When life moved in stardust glistening,
Glorifying the One who knows when to wake the sun,
As the beauty of a heart is worn, born…
In tears, like dew clinging to the petals of an herb,
Risking every weather, every storm,
So that, with hope, the song is soon born,
A song of faith, promising His truest grace,
Rising like the Son, who never comes undone,
The One who abides in the heart He’s won,
The One who the spirit praises, with a heart who is sure,
Whatever is to come, whatever is revealed,
In the silence of the dawn,
There lives a soul felt harmony,
The joy that comes from believing in One
Who is light, love, life…
One who knows the spirit’s truth,
Even in the past, even in youth, there is a measure,
Of intense pleasure – that comes to those who see,
Yes, that was then – this is now,
But nothing is greater than knowing the peace,
That comes to those who simply believe,
Just believe and you will see…
Beyond the past, into the love that will last,
The One who heals hearts, restores souls,
Abides in the spirit who truly knows…
What it really means when love makes you see.
Seconds of a glance, hours of speech, days of embrace, months of thoughts, years of
binding to be. The sky above dazzles with influences of the sun"s light of warm inspiration.
Souls mingle, bodies collide intimately, and breaths of passion are exchanged. A smile
reflects the mood in a day, a kiss seals the deal.
Trees dance and bushes wiggle, the grass sways with the wind like the thoughts of the
previous day of the sun"s influence. A sniff of perfume left upon satin sheets as wind through
an open window on a windy day skimmers across the bed. A thought reflects the memories
as hope peeks at the future.
Piddle paddle is the language spoken as rain speaks to the windows it falls upon. The same
rain which speaks words of growth and slight despair, yet washes away despair with three
drops that are repeated a million times over. Tiny speckles of motion that admit to passion
as well as contrite. A hand on a stomach, a face seen within a puddle reflects the coming.
Further into the season of life a cold white blanket covers existence, the bodies of the in-
organic and the mood of the organic. Men are made from this same white blanket to laugh
with children. Yes, the children who enjoy the priveledge of earth"s winter blanket. So a hug
reflects the warmth of two that will soon become three.
A time of pain for the benefit, the benefit of pain for a time as the siblings hail and sleet play
a little rough on all in its path. A pressure that must be endured, a pain that opens the path
for blessing. A tear as the reflection of the pain and happiness to come and go, to be and be
no more.
Slightly water again spills from the heavens as a means to drizzle away that which has been
endured for the sake of it all. Abducted by a breeze carrying the smell of inspiration,and the
light touch of satisfaction. A well deserved rest reflects the passion of strain and an awaiting
becomes the begining.
The rest is recovered from, the strain is achieved and completed. Eight motions of life and
atmosphere have been seen through by grace. All along allowing a ninth motion that brings
forth a rainbow... A rainbow of life... A child is born... A gift has been given!
Form: