Long Smolder Poems
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A fire blazes behind the veil
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This veil I wear
is not made of cloth
for no fabric could withstand
the incendiary passion
I command
It's self-imposed
not forced
no man's hand
would dare cover me
yet here I am
swathed in these layers...
folds of security
you see
it's easier
much easier
just to be like the rest
not a subject of discussion
or the brunt of derision
with meanings misconstrued
by the crass and the rude...
thus,
anonymity allures
I finger the veil
its threads: religious doctrine
its dye: denial
its paisley patterns: protocol
culturally appropriate
I stand:
~chaste~
silence simmering
with actions inactive
I stand: quiet, demure, serene
but my thoughts burning, unseen
and behind the veil
I smolder
passion flares through my eyes
the only indication
that I'm alive
I pass you by
another woman
unseen
unknown
unacknowledged
I pass you by
you...frivolous in your freedom
you...unappreciative of accpetance
I pass you by
and yet, inwardly I smile
warmed by inner flames
emanating from my core
I know…so much more
There's potential...
potential this woman has in store
for this I know
when the time has come
when I'm ready
it will fall away
by my own hand
unobtrusively grand
and you will see the sight
the walking, breathing delight
of the unveiled woman
confident
sublime
a woman
calmly, gracefully, purposefully
passing you by....
Eileen Manassian
This is not meant to be offense to anyone from the Islamic faith. The veil has symbolic meaning.
Beirut, Beirut...why do you charm me so?
Why do you make my heart smolder
With a never ending glow?
Beirut, Beirut...why do you captivate?
Why is it that when I see you
I feel I'm at heaven's gate?
Beirut, Beirut….how do you mesmerize?
How do your bejeweled shores
Make my heart fantasize?
Beirut, Beirut….where can you try to hide?
The buildings with the gaping holes,
The ground on which martyrs died?
Beirut, Beirut…..when will conflict ever cease?
When will terror give up its reign,
So you can be crowned with peace?
Beirut, Beirut, you sparkle so at night
When war scars are all covered up
And I can revel in your light!
Beirut, Beirut….when will you truly be?
Free from the wretched stench of war
Free to bask in your liberty.
Beirut, oh Beirut, prosper and be strong
Show the world your lovely face
For God blessings to you belong!
Eileen Manassian
Papa unexpectedly overtaken with woe
flashback shook me complex edifice
head, shoulder, knees in to toe
quietly processing silent film status quo
shant upended jollity
between when a little girl no
matter mine nonconformist
mien unconditionally accepted,
ye dear daughter(s) don't know
sudden onset of anguish ho... ho... ho
holiday cavorting accentuated as
charade, facade, masquerade fueling ego
particularly Santa with the Misses,
and her sharp claws
keeping warm while
temperature five below.
No matter most every detail
I accurately gauge to attest
your life bustling
chock full o' zest
withheld, no doubt emotions
smolder within your chest
and kudos to thee lovely offspring
(both) packed bags
and headed out west
twas honorable duty, though now...
papa feels like
an unwanted guest
thee survived, albeit psyche bruised,
undergoing the electric
kool aid acid test
laughter when playing
Mancala, Uno, Sorry, et cetera,
how dada predictably did jest
when table turned,
I (spoiler alert)
willingly, lovingly, and blithely
lost desire to win quest
to dispose cards, game
pieces, and/or glass beads
invariably other occasions
ye long since left (as thee must)
me and mother with an empty nest.
Nothing more doth
Matthew Scott ask or desire
then to delight and bask
as well educated hire
swimmingly how thee
learned to acquire
confidence and multitasking,
while I trod thru much
psychological muck mire
oft times (like now)
experiencing financial straits dire,
linkedin to when only youngster fire
within me belly to joie de vivre
peter out and prematurely expire
and yours truly reckons nothing
can change the past aghast being
deprived a marshmallow
at long ago time sharing campfire
with shortcomings scalding,
killing, crimping relationship,
doth now conclude another poetic wire.
There’s fire in the way your eyes do smolder
with lust your gaze caresses every curve
of my body making you grow bolder
to trill and pluck and tingle every nerve.
Arousing touch awakens my desire
as waves of passion roll like timpani,
ravished by your rapture takes me higher
our movements in sonata symphony.
Your bow - my violin we do unite
on rhythmic notes of ecstasy we fly ~
entwined our heartstrings vibrate through the night
emblazoned love songs burn across the sky.
In Stradivarius intensity
crescendo joins your virtuosity.
Susan Ashley
April 15, 2018
~ Second Place ~
Contest: Your Best Sonnet 2018 Poetry Contest
Sponsor: John Hamilton
~ Tenth Place ~
Premiere Contest: Any Rhyming Poem In April
Sponsor: Laura Loo
Staring through,
Eyes so new.
Forgive me,
For judging you.
We've been trained to,
Single out the few,
who dont fit the view.
Picking them apart,
Like the vultures do.
--------------
Growing more each day,
Seeing the error of my way.
I start thinking,
About what to say.
How words play,
such important roles,
Touching souls,
So deep,
They weep.
--------------
As we grow older,
The surface grows colder.
Often giving someone,
The cold shoulder.
Words from the past,
They smolder.
Creating a boulder,
Robbing our opportunity,
blocking life's beauty.
Hiding the truth of love,
From The Eyes Of The Beholder
While idling away the precious minutes
tapping into the wide whirled web
a smattering of random words and phrases
(in an attempt to jump/kick start
pinteresting material to sink figurative teeth),
thoughts pinwheeled back decades ago,
when attention attuned to forfeited, languished,
squandered... college/university chums,
whose persona, dogma, charisma...
appealed to my contemplative,
introspective, perceptive... prospective
positive interpersonal comrades.
Nonpareil ability to remember
smattering college chums
knowing their first and surname
found yours truly in good stead,
when surfing the Internet
typing critical (race theory - ha) data
within Google search bar
for long lost buddies
than daring to dial
accompanying telephone number
with various and sundry information
experiencing successful results
after a few (tailor made) swift keystrokes.
At first while sitting in front of the Macbook Pro,
no deliberate intent arose to jog memory bank
housing dormant circumstances,
thus I merely let thoughts aimlessly drift
invariably ruminating about mein kampf
in an attempt to craft another poem.
An unexpected outcome regarding
delving into the murky past,
comprising my life and hard times
where I dwelt in a bleak house,
when presence of existential crisis
even then did smolder
within the bowels of me being
analogous to a dormant volcano
gurgling ala lava lee liquid rock.
Nevertheless, I did manage
to strike up warm rapport
with a handful of fellow students,
yet such found camaraderie
fizzled and faded once I withdrew
after matriculating couple of semesters
at about half a dozen
institutions of higher learning.
Now I chide myself neglecting
potential kindred souls,
and ponder what meaningful outcome
can be distilled from fledgling acquaintances
that never given opportunity to flourish.
More challenging to nurture lapsed prospect,
but taking risks adds adventure
to mine rather fluted humdrum existence.
From death exudes the acrid breath of Hell
in burning pyres of rosined timbers' blaze.
Return to me where passion's fires dwell
enchanted by the light of your sweet gaze.
I can't endure through life's infernal pain,
without your love, no, nothing can remain,
so burn my soul to soot in hearths of char
and cast each lonely ash to pits of tar.
I know in truth I'm not the one you need.
Emotions smolder deep in fiery night
to have you here just feels so real and right
but if you leave my heart will surely bleed.
You beast, now burn my bones in flames of coal,
your flames of fire will never touch my soul.
04/24/16
I ponder on Death as I grow older,
not with trepidation or phantom fears;
although Death's cowl is often soaked in tears.
I've reviewed the files in my mind's folder,
where ashes of an afterlife smolder:
God has gained more credence over the years.
I've lived my life in shades of black and white:
in death, I expect colors beyond this.
Yet, when Death takes me, there is much I'll miss,
like a sunny day and the moon at night,
sense of touch, smell, and especially sight:
but even more, the love behind a kiss.
Oblivion, Heaven, or damnation:
which fate awaits: anguish or elation?
A blind light crashes
through bar windows.
Since they began to talk
her breasts had moved
to a small apartment in his head.
The smoke from her cigarette
shaped words
into sensuous motes.
He imagines her lungs.
They are green-leaf not black.
Inside the bronchi and alveolar
sylph's teasingly beckon
out of a spongy foliage.
Votive clouds lather red lips.
Words flare dark clefts of desire.
Throats assume vapory feelers
inside a filtering breath.
He needs her addictively,
a blood craving
that seeks her as an inhalation.
There’s a strung-out intimacy
between them.
Eye’s smother, and blur
as they absorb each other.
Soon they will meet
upon an in-between world
where each visual breath
forms fumy erotic dreams.
Meanwhile, a midday daze
permeates their smolder
as they sightlessly
light another.
"I have offended God and mankind because my work did not reach the quality it should have." ~ last words of Leonardo da Vinci
Dear Leonardo, one so easily admired,
countless souls you have inspired.
It's been five hundred years, and yet,
the world, it seems, cannot forget.
So striking, your last words of regret.
How, then, can this be?
You make us question. It is your style.
What makes the Mona Lisa smile?
She gazed at you with all her heart,
bemused at the genius, set apart,
and became the world's most famous art,
and so maybe I can see:
I do not think it's false modesty,
but another puzzle key
to the meaning of your quote,
as history you rewrote,
God's divine purpose to devote,
you didn't optimize your gift.
While I don't know God's thinking,
I expect He's unoffended and unblinking.
You needn't brood or smolder.
From your illustrious shoulders -
go ahead, remove that boulder.
Give your heart a lift.
I would expect He had a plan,
using you the best way He can.