Long Tongued Poems
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Today I find
yesterday's essence
still tarries within my mind
I try and wrap myself
in thoughts of you
to regain warmth
from November's wind
the trees
are less blushed than I
as they stand naked
from this weathered touch
I feel you
in a winded breath
like a tongued whisper
against bare flesh
the lake
mirrors my reflection
as I smile back
through its ripples
as if fingered
by the soft caress
of your hands
I can see the sun
paint passion's red
across the sky
I get lost in the depths
of you within mind
and climax
between the folds
of this day
11/19/2013
Dusty Rain
Puffs of random promise coldly awaken the hope of droughts thirsty ticket holders.
Parched dust joins in pig-like, snout in the trough, dry tongued greeting.
Satiations mud bath ensues
leaves rub their hands together
cupping cool water
soothing the screaming roots.
Flowers lean back
rinse their colored tresses
rejoice in the trickle
of renewal.
Worms lay – Cleopatra-like -
self seeking mud worshippers
freed from their dungeons.
Puddled streets shiny rainbow hues
search for the pot-o-gold
of street signs end.
Dandelions shake golden crowns
mimic the sun,
smile on the dream
of future days.
Garden Buddha,
licks stoic lips, smiles
cool trickles tickle his girth.
Thin groundhog sleeps
knowing his prized shoots
will soon be plenty.
Birds succumb
to the perfume of petrichor,
dance in fence top chorus line
to the dusty drum beat of
Spring rain.
6/5/2016
submitted to – ika-labing-tatlo(13th): Rain, Rain com my way – Poetry Contest
sponsor – binibining P.iNK
Rhymes -normally I love them-
But tonight they seem like sweet-tongued harlots.
Cheap.
Cliche.
Predictable.
More concerned with sounding right
than capturing the truth.
A poet would use them to empower his words,
but, instead, they rob him of his dignity,
chaining him down,
clipping his wings,
building walls around his baffled imagination.
Tonight, oh rhymes, I would chase you with a firebrand
as did my spiritual namesake.
You stir me with anger,
make me wish to grab a gladius,
leap into the trenches,
and cut away all pretenses until I free her-
the true love of all true poets:
Truth herself.
11-12 December 2023
We can but try, our words let fly, with gifted tongues we shouldn't lie,
fork tongued ones have had there fun, time for a change all said and done,
money no longer number one, realize this by just seeing sun, above your face, it shows your place, in true words deed, lives no disgrace, in all this conscious time and space, there is no time or space to cast ink fake, hiding in unconscious states, because of what you stand to make, the right not granted just to take, see siblings eye's the deepest lake, looks to the soul, see's you're not whole, those places inspiration stole, just become another hole, without justice, do them malice, speak of virtue, bring back bliss, when poets wrote of all things light, of all that's under heaven's sight, the noose is getting far to tight, against evil rope that binds we fight, don't still you're tongues fearing what might, gifted people say what's right, push back darkness forward light, for after all, we can but try.
©2013 D.N.Read
In the beginning, there was salt.
It hung in the air like unfinished scripture,
gathered in the throat of the sea,
waited for a mouth dumb enough
to mistake thirst for an invitation.
Then butter,
smeared on the void like gossip,
greased the dark’s knuckles
like an understudy,
taught the abyss to melt.
The first sound was not speech—
it was a swallow,
a hush,
a crack of cartilage between molars.
We spoke in reductions.
Grammar dripped from the bones.
On the second day, teeth—
tiny altars lined with nerve—
ground memory into ashable pulp.
Pomegranates burst like promises.
Figs cloaked their apples in lace.
By the third, we named what softened.
We named what burned.
Built ziggurats from rind to rind.
Wrote psalms in onion skin.
The fourth hung hunger in the firmament—
a constellation shaped like mouths
mid-ask.
On the fifth, we forgot the recipe
and mourned it like a god.
By the sixth, we’d tongued every fruit
that offered a rumor of sugar.
We learned:
the mouth is a beast with no leash
and excellent taste.
And on the seventh, we lay full and feral,
belly to sky,
licking
the holy oil from our fingers.
Whispered words from behind a wall,
to cronies gathered short and tall.
“Go on ahead,” he said, “let's see.”
“If I can turn her sweet on me.”
So from within, she heard the tale:
the rye, small, snickers, the wolves’ wails.
Yet, like the doe in the fires light,
the wail entranced, did not cause fright.
Wide-eyed, so stunned, the morsel stood,
in frozen stance within the wood.
Within his reach and steady glance,
the hunter broached the ancient dance.
With swagger, grace, he set the pace.
the honeyed tongued Knight on the chase.
He spoke words of honor, brave deeds,
of his claimed virtues she took heed.
“No, ” said the Maid, for she was shy.
“I’m afraid,” she moaned. “Do you lie?”
He turned her chin, and eye to eye,
stroked her fair cheek and heard her sigh.
Offered cake to this starving waif,
with trembling hands, she took the bait.
For upon his lips and rough skin,
She could, sweet-sugar, taste within.
He sought the warmth of her blood; bone.
He thought the conquest was his own.
Yet, she too held a hope within,
to bring forth the goodness in him.
Oh, she could feel his aching need,
'Twas his seedling soul, she'd feed.
The prey, prayed, to touch his heart.
to give the Hunter a new start.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Many’s the times, his teeth came near,
to the pulsing vein in her throat.
Many times the Universe stopped
like a dandelion seed afloat.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The hunter balked, stayed for a time,
tasted the joy of her sweet wine;
loving the feel of a drink new,
a gift, love, offered each of you.
Could he extinguish this pure light?
Could He reciprocate, cause fright?
Sorry, was the wolf deep within.
He was sorry; she’d let him in.
Sorry, he couldn't grow in her arms,
Sorry, he couldn't loose to her charms.
“Sorry,” on the tip of his tongue.
As he left her, unharmed, on run.
“Sorry.” said she, rising higher,
made stronger by her pure desire.
Like the ancient Phoenix, she rose,
on the wings of her loves fire.
And prayer floated back from above.
A prayer, sent with her hearts' love.
echoing his sentiment many ways.
“Sorry Love," She said.
"May the Wolf find his Way.”
A DREAMERS PLIGHT ON JUDGEMENT DAY
Give solely sovereign sway & Masterdom.
The air nimbly & sweetly recommends itself unto my gentle senses
To commend the ingredients of my poisoned chalice.
But this same thing we desire the most
That makes us say 'the one I love the most is the one I hate the most'.
The love that follows us at times is our trouble.
How tender it is to love the babe that milks me?
And make my face vizards to my heart,
Disguising what they are.
False face hide what the false heart knows.
From a dream, I hear a shout; a loud one
But hear it not, the dreamer; for it is a knell
That summons thee to heaven or to hell
For sleep is the cousin of death
Which keeps the face pale as lights thickens,
The crow flies away to the rooky wood.
Nights black agents rouse to their preys.
As a dreamer wakes unannounced from nightmare
And eats his meal in fear
Sleeping in the affliction of those terrible dreams
That shakes him nightly.
The torture of the mind which maketh lie
In restless ecstasy...
My virtues will plead like Angels trumpet-tongued.
Upon the sightless winds
Shall blow the realities (of life) in every eye,
Restrain in me the cursed thoughts that nature gives way to in repose.
Innocence & pity like a naked new born baby
Striding the blast or heavens cherubim riding on an horseback
Then arose to escape the thrills of the instant
Living a coward you ones own esteem.
And I asked: is it nights predominance or days shame?
But knowing where my path leads to; I follow my journey
Even when the dark night strangles my travelling lamp.
Would nature hold God's benison from those
That would make good of bad and friends of foes?
Maybe with vivacious or flushed face, we all go to the grave
After life's fitful fever, we sleep well
And be not disturbed, nothing touches us further.
Just like a possessive man trust are their great grandmothers
He sleeps well not, because six feet of solid earth
Hath not keep her permanently underground.
She would creep out - so many Lazaruses from the grave
But after the dead which goes to peace
And at the end, hears a voice cast from pure gold, calling
Heaven or hell, the book chooses
Even he who was left unwept, untombed,
A rich sweet sight for the hungry birds beholding
Leaves for a permanent and eternal home.
Get set.
VickWizzy
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Copyright ©2009.
I should have spoken clearly
(i am never eloquently-tongued)
with blue skies singing,
'i am the smallMouth'
and so-i like when the sun moves me
expressing light as nature
that moves mysteriously away
from humans whom i love
scattered by exquisite thoughts
the giantSmall meets this
smallGiant heart i captured just
today! The brilliance of love!
the remembrance of romance
She sat upon a bench with
a single rose within her tender hand
: where i am is where she is
where love-Bursts frozenKisses
across the burning sun passion
exploding exhilarating us!
i am too --this love we share
my eternally-everywhere!
:: ~ ::
Oh... sorry, this was supposed to be a positive message...
I can't see very good through all these dark clouds,
veils of lies,
all being exhaled
by the faceless (shadows),
and sewn together
(because hand made is always better)
by pointed tongued succubi and incubi,
But for a moment I did see a tiny bit of light poke through, so small,
but I saw it.
But, none for me...
I chose the dark a long, long time ago... It was safer there.
If I was going to always be running into demons
I figured I had better-become friends with them.
Eventually, they became better friends than the so-called "Angels".
(Right, Left, Up, Down)
Two-faced hypocrites with all their lies of "Unconditional Love". Blegh...
I think they need to go read what unconditional means...
I've only known conditional...
From girlfriends to friends, to family.
Slip off the path (their path) and get written off just as quickly.
Nope, no second chances, pretty much no chances at all.
One time, that's all you get.
Now, go... Don't make any mistakes, and don't stress about it.
Never get caught in his sight
If u are, u're in for a fight
Don't mistake him for a fool
Listen up! I'm about 2 take u 2 school
Run as fast as u can!
Better watch out he's a bad man!
Heed my warnings
If not, u will see no more mornings
Pushing up daisies
He doesn't come off as crazy
Keep an eye on both of his hands
Or u might find out why he's a bad man
He's kept the evil at bay for a long time
But now, vengence is on his mind
A day late and a dollar short
U better come up with a plan of some sort
Silent and deadly
His hands r always steady
U r going to find out firsthand
Why I keep telling u he's a bad bad man
Eyes in the back of ur head
Red dot on ur forehead
Hide under the covers in ur bed
U will never see his style and swag
Think fast or u'll end up in a body bag
On ur own 2 feet u will have to stand
Square up cuz he's a bad man
Silver tongued devil
He functions on a deadly level
Always gets his target by any means
U might catch him rockin jeans
He might be wearing black slacks
Let just cut to the facts jack!
Run as far as u can!
Goddamn, he's a bad man!