Long Versify Poems

Poetry is tangerine and other potent or poisonous colors.
It is the breath you feel at the nape of your neck and
the strong caress of flesh on flesh, defying death.
It is most certainly Spring with petal...

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My little versification remains
I versify to satisfy 
Beautify and dignify
Our union

My Amazon
Flourishes in honesty and dignity
Glows in beauty and sanctity
Flawlessly flaunting your scintillating
Curvature with all courtesy and curtsy

My Arkhaggelos
With an angelic benign voice
Warbling sonorously to...

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'You are the tea leaves I am the teapot 
I the tiny snowflake and you the snow’
This is how the essence of life shuffles 
Forth and past you and me.
I am the head you are...

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I rest my chin upon her , I caress her neck
She responds with the music of the ages
Silky hair rubs across the smoothness of her belly
Her melodious voice Heard soaring in the wind
We are one...

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Through the beauty of words, 
an unsuspecting poet unleashed his passion, 
instilling it into my brain.

His in un-familiar form, written flawlessly, so sweet they say.

Oh, do not hungry nor tease me with your musing, 
for...

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God was the first to drop the mirror
and a mighty crack was born
crisscrossed by two 
the webs of life began

Webbed paths merged though time 
over shattered remnants of a holy glass puzzle 
no three feet...

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To Lesley do  I owe a big debt
No more over verse will I ever  sweat
Reading her nuanced advice between the lines
My motivation  to versify  sharply declines
It has become clear to me...

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My salutation still goes
To the people living under heaven
To verily verily versify my words
For generations of beings
To think beyond the earth
Where one will live forever
Living a life of worthy cause

From the days of the man
Who...

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If we, 
The words whisperer,
Are the ones that have the power 

Of the silver quill, then 
Let us move, in oneness,
And versify the earth

With more crème caramel
And not of salt,
Nor, of vinaigrette;

Let’s cultivate our thoughts
And...

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DAWN HOUR


Dawn hour where I walk with you,
Was the time I ever spend with you
The world unknown us,
As we were the slave of that morning,
Time was wangling us,
Coz we did before the sunrise,
The morning star...

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To dwell  in the realm of Doggerel Bank
Shows the writer up as  a crank.
Should anyone my poems  stoop  to chronicle,
I would surely be ranked with the Great  McGonagall.

Whether I rise...

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Allow me the pleasure
Of being the one
Who still gets to you
Even under the pressure. 

Allow me to be
One of the people
In your life
Whose words you may cite a friendly gesture.

Allow me the liberty
To be young...

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