Long Pear shaped Poems
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Santa Clauses were to be molten and reshaped into Holy Cross bunnies
on a mega 3D printer but then the app somehow went wrong
Chocolate trickled and trifled and mixed with fake season’s greetings
King Kong and Godzilla leaped off the assembly line with
Witches on lolly pop brooms and then the whole show went viral
Mephistopheles aliens with marshmallow ears danced merrily
Suddenly truffle snakes in seductive icing sugar bikinis tested tempted
cotton sugar candy apples as big as paradise vowed and allowed
They all swirled swished and tumbled to cacophonous tunes that had
to be labelled as retro and neo-modern-classical rap-sorties
At the exit of malfunctioning malls the Easter display went a tad pear-shaped
as soon as the rabbits slipped out of their hats and mounted the chickens
The mistress and master of ceremonial clangour had at problem at hand
and some egg on their faces thus they squirted and squinted
They pondered and squandered with no solution untouched for the task
how to make more profits and be politically correct just the same
‘Megalomania’ and ‘Mega-High-Money’ the respective CEO’s of ‘Turn water into
wine’ and the start-up ‘Chocolate Merry Go Round for the Soul’
Could not fail in this venture as not to have their heathen bonuses
dissolved into cocoa mousse splash
After meetings and brain storms pilot studies and polls they decided to craft
a whole new religion (the Independent Unseasonal Reformed Epiphanists)
Fortunately the United Philistines of Consumption were too busy to notice that
the newly created faithful were simply rehashing an old dogma of money
What a shame that those lovely chocolate coins have gone out of fashion and
That Buddhists would not want their spiritual model to melt under the fig tree
09th April 2018 Written for the contest Easter 2018
Oh my dear warmly womb, You are my lovely home, where I have grown before I was born,
My home is an oasis. where I can escape from life's rigors Like an oasis
you are a peaceful abode
in my every day lives
No cry, no worry, no sound,
Are you a harmonious place?
My urine makes fluid. and fills the hollow pear shaped womb
where I take rest
and develop. I sleep all the days
but I sense my mom's voice, touch and rub,
I can feel her. heat, cold and pressure too. And react to taste and smell
while in the oasis. Like an oasis. you give good shelter
and long protection. to the babies like me .
BANG
BANG
BANG
A repeated rapping on my door..
Weary eyed and drowsy,
I lost my balance and met the floor.
BOOM
BOOM
BOOM
"Open up you lazy bum, open your door!!"
I gather myself after the fall,
stumbling into the wall.
It took me a while, but I reached my goal.
"About time"
my friend said ..
He wanted to hit the strip club.
Depressed from lost love.
Hungry,
with the sex munchies,
reluctantly,
I gave in.
I get dressed like a female
so it took some time.
I had to grease my braids,
cover with a plastic cap,
to shower..
Shave my face...
What to wear?
as I stand naked and stare.
I chose a white long sleeved under shirt
Ralph Lauren jeans.
A red pullover vest,
strapped silver around my neck,
With high top Jordan's on my feet.
Red,
To match my attire.
Tie my Durag tight,
white,
covered by my NY cap,
red.
which I had bought the day before.
I am big on my appearance.
We started the night of right,
put something funky in air.
Alcoholic mixed drinks,
This is how we prepare.
Glossy eyed and tipsy,
pear shaped booties everywhere.
Short mini skirts,
spaghetti straps,
and stiletto's.
Chances to flirt,
inspired and relaxed,
my confidence grows!!
another one night stand,
perhaps....
I dance!!!!
Jared Pickett
1/23/2010
Asavvy1
COMPANION POEM TO :
ODE TO MYRRH TREE
So Myrrh stood in centre of desert
wild winds through branches delivering untruths plaited with sorrow
dust particles choking cacti
scatterings of sparse rain made
no patter ~
silence w a i t i n g
white became her trunk scrubbed with
daunting sunrays through sluggish day
undulating endless sand dunes …
panted
time miracle-less, no veils shielded
raw core, passive ~
lizards l o u n g e d
odourless her branches lost seduction
no oily lubricants for pear-shaped flesh
brittle bark snapped in lost loneliness
beauty a faded glory buried
d e e p
beetles spent by breeding atop
harsh grit of ancient desert f o s s i l i s e d
mystical myrrh magic was no more
her stump dissipating into fragments
sore
breathless desert discerned, exhausted
camels, lashes threadbare, kneeled surrender
tongues brittle papyrus into electrons
lips parched ~
lines of m e l a n c h o l y
Tree of kings, empresses and prophets !
where have colourful canvassed tents in
sandstorms gone with patterned serpents curling to tunes of alluring pipes,
smoke honey eyes, when limbs twined warm ~
sensual t o g e t h e r
the All-Embracing laments
languid
across desert’s fierce micro flames
sweat dripping ~ His amber inlays
melting into black beads
disappearing
soundless screams ache
starving l o n g i n g
ages of loveless waiting
what is beauty but terror flipped ?
wrinkles speak of struggle and beasts
time tightening grip across
opEN
s p a c e
scent slipping ashen dregs
as desert creatures cackled an end
stars dripping crystalline sorrow
myrrh momentarily disappeared …
___________________________
Published: Edge of Humanity Magazine:
June 26
Placed : 5th Premier Contest
Sponsor : Brian Strand
April 26
Whispering wings ~ feathers afloat,
Molting and marvelous, magnanimous
Wonders, alighting in familiar places.
~
Each feather remembers the warmth,
The pear-shaped cradle ere birth.
The quietude-nest, the guardian enfolds.
~
Even in rapid flight, into ebony night,
Wings, like a butterfly’s, though they sing,
trumpet no sound, unless one’s in tune
~
With God, unless the Spirit is just right,
Unless the Father is prepared to save
Or take away or just delight - just because…
~
Molting and marvelous, plucked from memories,
The magnanimous calls to the perceiver —
The flight, the whisper, the hesperus-hour,
~
Tingle of senses, the angelic featherbed
Releases an echo of space and time
To loved ones left behind…a single dove.
~
Even the blind, deaf and dumb recover
their senses, grab hold of the felicitous flight
…somehow, one’s guardian angel delivers this gift.
~
Godspeed, feather-light, wings that glow
whiter than snow. The Holy Spirit prepared
to disentangle truth from fiction in one’s frightful season.
~
Guardian-wing’d, miracle snow-drift, lights up
those dust-filled dendrites, attempts to clear
the cobwebs — spread of peace and light.
~
Next to her, smiling wide, exact replica
of an angel - Mom. Next to her frame —
a feather-gift treasured by my father.
1/12/2022
Life is a bastard son, prodding the fertile horizon
poking into places tender, tearing the expanse of dawn
he taunts, rude and bellicose, so full of himself
spewing into the weakest streams, a wet dream.
With platitudes he prances, son of a fearsome father
promising eternity, singing a lover's song of praise.
Light bearer, holder of the golden scalpel, night cutter
leaving glare where softness once held sway.
May the abyss, the gentle dark, the yin forgive you..son.
From the pear-shaped loins of sister Eve, you have burst
washed in the waters of she, a caul of white adorned,
pray, stay your hand, do not bludgeon your better half.
Existence, endless, fleeting, meld and join this randy pair
for universes swing between this bastard and his dreams.
Dedicated to my muse Brenda Atry
please read her "Black Diamond Night"
Oh,my dear pear shaped mother's womb, Where unborn baby develops and grows well, Like a fruit that grows on a plant's blume, And it has a consciousness of its own like a cell.
Oh, my dear lovely secured locker, Which acts as a guard against external threats, Such as light, sound and shock acting as a blocker, And it saves future generations as valuable assets.
Oh ,my dear beautiful muscle container, Which floats the unborn child in the odourless fluid, And it supplies all safeguards to the new gainer, Who doesn't breathe air in the safe womb kit.
Oh my dear fantastic flexible protector, Which makes the foetus to sleep twelve hours every day, Its slightly yellowish fluid used as a sweet nectar, And pediatricians are astonished by its role play.
Oh,my dear first class room of the unborn baby, Which provides parental learning for the new born , Where foundations of traits are established greatly , Nothing is equal to mother's womb like the dawn.
A clenching of our hands,
A clinging of our bands.
The sweet aroma of your strawberry-coated strands,
Allow my capability to disarm your fragility.
Pent-up anticipation will meet expectation,
You adorn your shield-maiden attire,
Encouragement to set your onyx rose on fire.
Peeling, petal by petal, stitch by stitch,
Disarming that body metal.
Steel-clad discarded,
Billowing towards her pear-shaped derriere.
Lifting you off your feet,
Give me the sweet treasures I wish to taste—
The nectar of vanilla.
Lay back as I extract
Bridled years of frustration.
Call me your salvation,
Made anew,
Basking in the afterglow of you.
I stand here beneath a beautiful fig tree, all filled with it's tiny flower blooms. I am looking for it's luscious fruit, the delicious pear-shaped fruit upon her branches. Ready to pick makes my mouth water, I cannot wait to eat. I love her figs cooked with meat, jam on warm toast is just a treat. Fig honey, is truly heavenly. Now for it's large leaves with three to five lobes, I want to make a fig dress for me to wear.
Date Written:3/28/2022
I glance at my favorite ring.
The one I wear every day now.
The large pear shaped blue topaz is gone.
The opal band looks bereft without it.
I think of all the groceries I have sacked in the last four hours.
Wishing I had not cleaned the storeroom too now.
Want me to help you look? My manager asks.
I am a check-out girl who also had to clean a freezer today.
It could be in six dozen places, all of them in this store.
Or at home, under a couch, or swept up in a vacuum bag.
This is the day the cleaning lady comes and she only vacuums.
I blink back tears. It could have gone home with a customer.
My beautiful blue topaz will be thrown away by someone
Who might not even see it. Maybe it is in a paper bag crease.
Believe it or not someone has found it and brings it back to the store.
Here it is now, safe and sound, at the jewelers, getting new prongs.
People are basically not only good, but sometimes great.