Rough hands upon her,
not near, there, or where,
nor the seashell tip of a fingering care
or other
lack-lustering lapping's
but the groundless clubfooted grasping
of long incoherent passions.
A clinker of desire hammered anew
by the forceful hands
of mist shrouded Nibelungen;
a dross now forged bright
into red-eyed gleams of flame.
She who bears the weight
of such a slobber-lipped changeling
covers his paws
with a tracery of spidery entanglements
the softest spell-binding webs
that break his knuckles;
refining hot bones
into phantom kisses.
For her satisfaction (and hers alone),
she captures that clumping stray
caging him deep,
and he left with no hands but hers.
How bountiful is the spacious sky
Releasing breaths in a single sigh
My soul is calmed by the rising sun
Revitalizing rays lively spun
Intoxicating aromas play
Winds of desire baroque their ballet
Landscapes levitate their mountain peaks
For Angels attend as Heaven speaks
Night nestles with the mesmeric moon
The Mockingbird sings a starry tune
Lovers cocoon where shadows seduce
Amidst spacious sky lustering loose.
April.26.2020
Couplet- any theme
Sponsored by: Dear Heart
Placed 1'st...Thank You
Star-struck
S-tuck in the ceiling of the clear night sky,
T-ell me, are you three, five or seven pointed?
A-s my way is consumed by the darkness,
R-eveal my path with your brilliant twinkles.
S-truck!, I was mystified from a tender age,
T-ruly, are there more of you than sand grains,
R-adiating energy eternally through the cosmos,
U-niversally sought for a peek into the future,
C-lustering to aid navigation and time telling,
K-eeping us Star-struck from birth till death?
July 11, 2017
Hey Dear, we're here
It's where you've always dreamt
Ever since you slumbered such
In slevering content
Remembering back home
It's somewhere you always declared
You said it would excite you such
Mmm, my trouser leg you'd stare
Of pants and different pants
Your lustering descriptive tongue
Absorbing the poetry from me
Mmm, honestly, am I well hung
Lets go down-town my beautiful
Just like Petulia in song sung
I guarantee, never be scored by me
Where Manhatten hearts, strung
Hey Dear, we're here
It's where you've always stored
Ever since you slumbered such
Whilst slevering, you'll never be bored
27/12/2015
Like an oyster
Left now only
with a belt of pearls
I peel and palm each lustering orb
whilst whispering your names
reverently,
till the call of dawn
and this….
after invading your , sometimes,
sacred spaces ,
oh !
so brusquely
but then again…..
you ,
naturally,
like an oyster,
haloed and held
my rough intrusion
deep inside your quivering fibres and folds…..
churning and turning
the irritation into a tear-like pearl,
or was it rather,
after the ache ,
a pearl-like tear?
And now…….
with the night
gelling around me a bounteous black pearl
I think of you
and your loose-limbed movements,
dearly,
and it eases like love,
loneliness away .
Truly……
you must be infused
by the same enveloping force ,
that now
majestically orients
this silver orb,
this pocked pearl…..
in my zenith .
Many lustfull luxuries,
lustering so luciuosly,
how many moons will fade before the sun?
Can't you feel this longing jeweler,
waiting for the lovely lunar,
to eclipse the empty canvas holding none?
Come fill the waiting piture,
suture up the fissure,
illuminate, whats dark and tiresome.
It's freedom the will free him from,
a picture that has fouled up,
and rotted all that is this, inprsioned one.
Without a jailer to realease it's spoiled,
stagnant and complaiciant toil,
pressure will result to fail the seal.
Once this man is broken,
he will search for wounds to open,
within everything, and all the he can steal.
For consiquince meens nothing,
and heartache seems like stuffing,
to a seething man who can no longer feel.
Those who neglect this warning,
will soon erect a mourning,
within the wreckage of all they used to know.
For he will spare no other,
consuming souls benieth the cover,
of the quilt that you and all the others sew.
Be weary of wich cross you hold,
its body might contain the mold,
Imprisioned, with no jailer to be told.
in your sweet, lovely voice
words of love,confirm my choice
its gay tone,disdains life's bane
with its sorrow,mind would strain
in your black, sleek hair
shiny curls,make me stare
a lustering bunch of grace
hugs with fondness,your striking face
in your lonely,worried eyes
Pinky,let, the golden hopes rise
endow them ,with the Mighty light
on the eve of the Christmas night
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