Long Sighting Poems
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Camping on the sandy shore of the beach
Getting bored by the waves and their screech
Sitting around the camp after cooking out
It was so much fun just talking at our hangout
Soon, we noticed a couple who were fighting
Across the beach in a house we were sighting
They were making trip after trip up the stairs
We all knew this battle wasn’t one of our affairs
Still we watched from our place in our lawn chairs
Not much caring that it was darkening their tears
We watched for hours and heard their angry shouts
When we finally hit the sack it was midnight or thereabouts
While we laughed and hooted at the wife’s victory
That husband was bellowing that this was contradictory
Never would we forget that vacation with its entertainment
During our monotony on the beach this was our sustainment
Favorite Vacation Contest
Sponsored by: L MILTON HANKINS
February 3, 2022
I got together with a friend
I haven’t seen in ages.
We met in Central Park, a spot
That certainly engages.
The flowers were in gorgeous bloom,
The gardens lush and tended
And everyone wore masks,
As Dr. Fauci recommended.
We strolled the grounds while catching up
Then found a bench for sitting
While birds and bees flew by
And even butterflies were flitting.
Yet there were also chipmunks
And some squirrels all a’scurry.
I even saw a mouse or two
Which didn’t make me worry.
Until from underneath a hedge
A big fat rat did scuttle,
To which my “Ew!” reaction
Wasn’t what you might call subtle.
It’s really most unfortunate
That this unpleasant sighting
Removed some pleasure from a day
In which I was delighting.
Even when our spirits are pure and SECURE;
And our bodies feel warm, sure, and MATURE;
There are seasons of freezing COLD in the SOUL.
Sometimes, we need poise and a calming TONE.
There are occasions when they appear as your very OWN.
I experienced such treasured moments designed to be MINE.
I lay there silently in bed as picturesque words began to flood my MIND.
There was a sense of purpose and direction; no feel or force of CHOAS.
Absolutes and truth filled the atmosphere; no grey; no fake or FALSE.
It had the sound of whispering winds blowing across the darkened NIGHT,
Echoing melodious and soothing sounds without the slightest of FRIGHT.
The air was clean and pure; neither smog nor toxicity; no need for MASKS.
Upon first sighting it, "Could this be the doorway to heaven?", I ASKED.
I quickly answered, "No", because there is not a trace of darkness THERE.
Alone, but fearless. Alone, but stillness. Alone, and I continued to STARE.
The more I stared, the fresher the air, as my soul was relieved of every CARE.
I have no doubt that it was The Christ; and about Him I now gladly SHARE.
031622PS
I accepted that am a girl only after this incident
in which I witnessed peak adrenaline rush !!
That unforgettable day still alive in my vision~
When he held my hands ,
placing it on his shoulders,
pushed me against the wall,
curled up my soft silky hair in his finger tips
and pressed his warm.. already swollen lips
on my forehead;
I was in a crazy drive ..just completely lost in the
extended door of love explore,
doused in unsettling sudor dribbling leisurely;
Whilst undressing my soul,
he smoothly opened my heart and
embraced the throbbing beats.
Hot breaths from lungs continually waltzed over skin.
My ecstatic erogenous nerves thrived
in the phase of flash.
Stirring me throughout with kisses,
his swirling lingua caressed my curves.
Sensual flame unravelled his honeyed
steamy mood as my breathless faint moans
cuddled the heated passion,
his scent entangled to my hair, i inhaled and melted.
His masculine force strenuously spilled intoxication..
And I was his hunt caught to relieve his hunger
and fulfill desired crave.
He was extremely eager to devour,
gazing at his eyes I gulped down the sizzling tremor.
As it was gradually progressing..
I suddenly heard a sharp call through my ears.
"Wake up" !!
And there I lie, sighting the ceiling & fan.
It took so long for me to realize that it was a dream.
Just an incomplete, unquenched dream...
26-6-2020
Second place in the Contest.
Note: Sensuality poetry Contest.
Sponsored by Silent One.
A scene never out of mind; totally unforgettable. A mental implant, far more than an ancient notable.
The first sighting of her was inside a quiet and Holy Place. A sanctuary of dismissed impurities and Amazing Grace.
In a frozen stare, my eyes took hold of me; I could not look away.
She never saw me, because her smile was for someone else that day.
A heaven made smile was formed and embraced upon her face. A magic moment of beauty, like a living red rose in a crystal vase.
Like unhindered fragrances and projected sweets of a lasting taste. Mate searching ceased, because I'd found an angel in the human race.
03262017 PS Contest, Opposite Gender Love Expression, Frank Herera
2nd Pl.
(Dedicated To Submariners All Over The World)
Dived deep in the bowels of the seas
My steely shell’s a womb.
Deep down amidst the oil and grease
I am at peace in the Lovecraftian tomb!
What’s with the antonyms, you may ask?
Two opposite words you’ve used -
One’s a warm and wonderful cask,
The other’s dead and worm-abused.
The words are apt, as you’ll soon realize,
For a sub’s a Faustian hell
Where the soul imperceptibly dies
A place where sub-human’s dwell!
Dimmed lights cast a sepulchral gloom,
Myriad machines sing Orphic songs
Of palpable peril and impending doom;
Each one of us a Houri’s groom!
To us’s denied the kiss of the sun,
Not for us the fresh blown breeze,
We know not when the day’s begun,
Nor when the night’s a-freeze!
Up periscopes and down again
The klaxons’ strident screams
Make us jump from where we’ve lain
To drilled duties in well-oiled teams.
The sighting of a laggard prey,
Spells sure a petard blown,
For a homing submarine fish tail spray
Brings terror to hardened men and grown.
Though through silent prowls of the deep we hunt,
Like coin could be our fate.
Our shell could crack with the depth charge brunt;
With Davy Jones we’d have our date!
But when heightened pulse and throbbing heart
Have ceased their labours wild,
Routine sets in and all is “back to start”
Each one an unborn child.
The sub becomes a womb, you see,
A place where your thoughts get sorted;
An amniotic envelope, safe and cozy,
With fair chance to get aborted!
So I hope now that my ditty’s run its course
The message’s plain and grim
That life and death share the same source -
For a submariner womb and tomb are synonym!
I don got nothing but terrible
reviews bruited about
dip pressing field day
me (Lothario wannabe)
trumpeted execrable lout,
a garden variety baby
boomer father without doubt,
his own shameful paternal
shenanigans cavalierly he did flout
dwarfed teapot dome scandal,
thus one look no further,
or send out a scout
herewith infractions distilled,
though personally, I strongly advise
ye to go trout
fishing in America,
with a master bait
tour and/or subsist
on circa 1521 a.d. vintage date
diet of worms, well preserved
nearly five centuries
since team did excavate
cuz his narcissistic
propensity, brought fate
fool downfall wool find you
fist pumping imaginary pugilist great
reflexively recoil, at the ingrate
asper adultery, terrible
black barbs caused psyche dial late
bacchanalian debauchery,
marriage did mutilate
philandering prurient lechery,
et cetera (albeit kinky),
he did participate
heatedly enough to generate
electricity to induce perms
in every man, woman,
and child, or make poker straight
tightly coiled locks, whose weight,
sans comb bind
terms oven destined
with hot sizzling endeavor to find
my inner Elvis a vis with curled lip,
and daily pelvic grind
tryst ting mounting with hind
quarters sighting derriere
rearing to groove while inclined
at a sixty nine degree angle hull lined
for maximum fair moan to get mined
licentious behavior spurred from celibate
marriage, hence call of the wild pined
tubby satiated, and
subsequently huss signed,
thus within web of treachery
"FAKE" Casanova did wind
up gaining independence as
a Norwegian bachelor farmer.
Grab that whimsey, don't wipe the blow.
The feeling, of fear, starts to grow
Creepy tendrils that dart around
In your head, they can't be bound
Unleash the power of your poetry,
That is what empowers the poet free.
Let it flow from heart to page,
And let your imagination rage.
Sunlight illuminates the abyss of my heart.
But gloom lurks, for betrayal shreds apart.
The simplicity that I used to consider dear.
Leaving me stranded and packed with fear.
An emptiness consumes my soul,
Yet an urge to write, to brand me whole,
To pour out my pain, my sorrow,
To find a glimmer of cheer for tomorrow.
My pen becomes my only friend,
As I strain to comprehend
The reasons behind the deceit,
The lies that brought me to defeat.
But in my words, I find a way,
To heal, to mend, carpe diem the day,
To rise above the welt and pain,
To find the light, to love again.
The valley of my heart may be scarred,
But with my pen, I can rebuild, discard
The darkness that once held me down,
And rise up, stronger, without a frown.
Stop resisting and start writing.
The pen is bleaker than the sword.
Each draw, each stroke, each sighting.
Unshackle the force of your words.
She stands by the window
Looking out over the blue
For soon he will sail home
He lover oh so true
It was many weeks ago
From Valletta harbour he sailed
For the Atlantic cause
Following the convoy trail
From its industrial ports
On America's east coast
The war efforts cargo
Must never be lost
Tankers and freight
Ammunition and foods
To serve the heroic
As we deservedly should
Corvette's on the peripheral
Scouting for the packs
For these demons from the deep
And their torpedo attacks
Action stations
As the packs are discovered
Sonar kicks in
For the depth charge shower
The surface explodes
In showers of spray
As lookouts view
Any debris display
The sighting of bubbles
And traces of oil
One of the wolves is maimed
Another statistic war spoil
Days pass
As Liverpool is reached
A rare sight indeed
For a convoy not breached
This Corvette of the brave
And the hero's who have manned
Continue on their journey
To the North African lands
By the Bay Of Biscay
Into the Gibraltar Straights
Down the Mediterranean
To Valletta where she waits
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/love-9.php
My eyes must be going hazy
I can't be seeing all the crazy
Things in life I am observing
It's becoming so disturbing
When I look around to find
Loving acts of any kind
Or help in some caring form
There is nothing, it is gone
Fading away minute by minute
We need it back, lets get with it
There has to be some descency
Left in this world, where can it be
Not all of it can be displaced
Tossed aside like it is waste
We all need to stop and stall
In our tracks, before we fall
Into a hole so deep and dark
There is not one single spark
Left of kindness in our grasp
It's a simple easy task
Do not judge or use mean words
More loving ones should be heard
Not ones full of racist terror
There has to be a caring lever
That is pulled so this land
Can walk together hand in hand
Showing everyone's accepted
NO one should be shunned/neglected
Because they're different in some way
There has to be a shining ray
Of sunshine in everyone
This hurt needs to be undone
Swept away in a big wave
Leaving no sad soul a slave
To the sorrow they've been shown
When did hurtfulness get blown
Into sprinkled racist pieces
That is causing the increases
In a world full of fighting
Will there ever be a sighting
Of somebody stepping in
When this happens once again
There has to be a way to drop
A big sign so we can stop
How some are becoming vengeful
It's a sad and pitiful
Place to be in
I can't take
Anymore for goodness sake