Long Waxes Poems
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I perceive her as fire, not too smokey,
But glossed enough to burn my desire
Of illicit pleasure to fill empty pathways
Isolated by glass, guarded by egg shells
Only the waves know this rapture,
Only the stars hear loud groans,moans.
Although the warmth or heat is rented,
My own misery or despair erased
As her thighs waxes on mine, slow
Then fast in the restless grind of hours;
We take little drops of wine
Before sunlight begins to rise over sheets
Crumbled by dusky lust, maybe an ounce of love--
She, draped in mannequin's thin wrap
Is delicate and tough with a heart
Unavailable for constant ardor---how could
Her past release all those silent wails?
And while I button her second-hand dress
Our next rendezvous is done, again--again
The comfort of a lifeless marriage
Allayed by the harlot of my nights.
Controversial Contest---Charlotte Jade Puddifoot
Sept 8, 2015
Dearling, see my heartsome way,
The hawthorn branching nearby;
For peace the sacred seeds delay,
With every shivering breeze they fly.
Some forgetful browning pods
Are given the moons waxing light;
Of standing in tall grass hidden moors
Is buried silent by moon-eyed dark;
The bended pods shake down their bed
As taken from windy chimes instead,
To swallow words past lips unmet,
Whispering a melody of Celtic sets.
Here, into awesome waves, flow
Harbinged passion made uneased nights,
Passing and passing where we'd go
This wanting spiraled into life.
For staring into empty pods,
As seeing past and present leap and lend,
Your vision waxes with gentle care:
Dearling, look into your soul.
Envision ne'er in mirrors past
To evil, in its bewitching style,
Hold up the light and let them leave,
But see little and look less
As images grow deadly slow
From cut grasses, and burned lands,
With sprouting seeds below the snow
Pressed sorrowful by baleful winds.
Everything returns to dust
By the dark mirror that evil cradles,
These wearisome husks of grass,
Created when All was All in aging fables.
Where, into awesome waves, flee
In flocks of restless thoughts;
Looking in and looking out
For all that's there is already bought.
Hear the breezes speak of these,
As they quiver quaking free; at last!
Your gentle vision seems not kind:
Look not at waxen mirrored images past.
The sun smiles, the moon waxes and wanes
The stars twinkle when they come out at night
Winds blow, gust, shirt, swirl, pick up and die down
Tornadoes are twisters and hurricanes have eyes
When the sun shines on us, that's good fortune
She hides her face, we take it on the chin
It rains on our parade, or we get snowed under
Hurricane-force winds can tear whole towns asunder
Earth's cracks and crevices widen, innocents consumed
Lightning can strike us -- electrocution
Tsunamis wash ashore -- total dissolution
Twisters touch ground -- destruction, destitution
Nature is oft delightful, capricious, full of fanciful whims
Yet the havoc she can wreak is devastatingly grim
Whatever turns your crank
Whatever tickles your pickle
Whatever dunks your donut
Whatever waxes your dolphin
Whatever buffs your Buddha
Whatever pops your cork
Whatever pets your monkey
Whatever frosts your cookies
Whatever spills your pills
Whatever trips your trigger
Whatever humps your camel
Whatever melts your chocolate
Whatever peels your onion
Whatever chafes your carrot
Whatever flops your mop
Whatever rocks your socks
Whatever teeters your totter
Whatever milks your goat
Whatever pings your pong
Whatever peels your banana
Whatever blows your nozzle
Whatever tips your canoe
Whatever flicks your switch
Whatever zips your zipper
Whatever blows your stack
Whatever... whatever... whatever!
© Jack Ellison 2014
Moonstone on a chain, as I follow my gaze
into your soundless, opaque world,
I stroll about, peering through your milky mist,
striving to comprehend.
Inside your small body, the landscape is timeless and immense,
which makes sense,
given the beguiling round orb that is your namesake.
You were here long before I, or even mankind, existed,
and you will be here long after,
and, as the moon rules over the night, the heart's domain,
you grace the breast of one that organ beats within.
So, eternal one, don't you have some wisdom to impart?
The woman whose exquisite neck you adorn
is also like Luna,
as she waxes and wanes, and disappears,
only to appear again.
Silent gemstone that you are,
I long in vain to hear you speak to me or sing your melody,
so, that I might finally fathom your depths,
as if then I'll understand her,
and know what, perhaps I was never meant to know,
and which I must now, no longer a fervent youth, accept.
She will never be mine,
but I will always love her.
Delighting Aaron head to feet—
Courts cascade, of precious oil, sweet.
Drips pleasure cruise without restraint.
An ointment of the healing saints.
Best perfume’s poured on savior’s feet.
A sinner’s sorrowful heartbeat.
Tenderly her tears, mix, acquaint.
An ointment of the healing saints.
Now— trumpet’s precious altar call,
At service end, for one and all.
Anointing from the flask, no taint.
An ointment of the healing saints.
Ten virgins in engagement hold.
Keep Spirit warm, the eve is cold.
Don’t wait ‘til lantern waxes feint.
An ointment of the healing saints.
9/24/2021
“At that time the kingdom of heaven
will be like ten virgins who took their lamps
and went out to meet the bridegroom…
But while they (five) were on their way
to buy oil (Holy Spirit), the bridegroom arrived.
The virgins who were ready went in with him
to the wedding banquet. And the door was shut.
Matthew 25:1,10
We are born breathless,
empty but not still.
Poised, suspended in silence
awaiting the first cry!
The first inhalation,
as the spirit enters us,
for the very first time,
with a profound
loud announcement,
that catches
the mother's
the father's
and watchers' and carer's
breath away
in awe and wonder
at their
new birth.
Much in nature is breathless;
lifeless but not still.
The tides ebb and flow.
The moon waxes and wanes.
Day becomes night,
and night becomes day.
The seasons come and go.
Waves rush in, crash, gush and exhale;
without gathering a breath.
The sky changes its mind.
Storms gather and disperse,
announcing their arrival
with a loud
thunderclap - a smack!
But there's no life within
to inhale,
draw breath
and breathe,
at their lifeless,
and breathless
new birth.
I perceive her as fire, not too smokey
But glossed enough to burn my desire ,
This back street pleasure filling empty pathways
Isolated by moonless eve... guarded by egg shells :
Only the waves know this rapture,
Only the stars hear loud groans,moans...
Although this warmth or heat is rented,
My own misery or angst dissolves
As her skin waxes on mine ... slow
Then fast in restless grind of hours.
We take tingling drops of wine
Before sunlight gleams to rise over sheets
Now crumpled by lust, maybe an ounce of love--
She, draped in mannequin's thin wrap
Is delicate and tough with a heart unbidden :
How in this moment, her flaming eyes
Flirt with my demons... and yet her cunning mien
Restrains surrender of constant ardor--
And while I button her second-hand dress
Our next rendezvous is done, again--again
The comfort of my scourged loneliness,
Allayed by the harlot of my nights.
With Spring's gentle sway, my thoughts take flight,
As weather stirs our festive mood with delight,
Strong winds shake trees, leaves dance and sway,
Like late October's colors on a grand display.
As heaven stirs passions with its cosmic play,
And desire whispers as the world waxes away,
Our love moves on, my fairest maid,
Whose heart speaks the same words as mine conveyed.
God approves, as roses bloom with grace,
But some creatures may spurn love's warm embrace.
I confess, as clouds weep and roses grow,
My love for you burns with a radiant glow.
In humble sin, I confess my love with ease,
With unworried hand and lips, like pilgrims on their knees,
That touched a rough touch with a gentle kiss,
And found love's treasure, in moments of bliss.
"The sky prepares the sun for night
where drifting clouds are slowly steeping
in tepid pools of waning light"
The horizon reveals its colors
of a peach's nectar and squeezed overripe lemons
that are drunk by the Dusk's sky.
Baptized clouds washed
in the receding sunlight close the Heavens' sleepy eye;
its pupil is the New Moon.
The morning will slowly inhale the Dark
while the rim of the Earth melts
an angora oval;
melts a pink stone
that has been polished
by the Sea.
As the promised Dawn waxes the sky,
and its crown of stars is set aside until
another night,
a tree's body will briefly become the hue of a Dove.
And the sun will sculpt the trees' arms, fingers,
in the waxing light.
May 25, 2021
The Contest "Peaches and Apricot Skies".
Quote# 4