My first approach to this contest
Was to write an Acrostic Poem.
It was written but not posted. I later
Decided a different more direct form.
Contest: Later Than Witchcraft
Sponsor: Matt Caliri
Witchcraft has a distant past;
A strong present;
A doomed future.
Witchcraft, is a 'No No' from God.
The future is in God's head and heart.
Time and space are in His hands.
Our future is in his hands, not in the
Readings of the palms of our hands.
Lustfully seeking earthly fortunes is unwise.
Our fortunes are not known by fortune tellers.
Christ is our hope, our fortune, and our future.
Reading and believing the Bible is reasuring.
It will enable us to avoid deception and false hope, which is the hallmark of witchcraft.
In time, the future will be known by us all.
Damp —across the fulcrum of the
Wheel of this month —May;
It creaks the cog of
Time and the energy of age.
No reverence for the parvenu or the
Rope-climber.
It has often been bleak and cold. . .
Tallow from candles weeps in the vigil
Held between fractured hours and
Hatching days,
Burning slowly among the wax community,
And sparking off bashful flames of dry grief.
When April comes forth, the ground softens,
But when May peeks lustfully into the calendar,
With the cunning of the invading spider,
The ground sinks towards the dig of
The metallic hewers of the trembling earth.
May conveys silence and the rage of deep inquests
Into the hasty departure of a covey of youths —
Mere striplings with the flying courage of migrating terns.
Moon is a lonesome voyeur
Who peeks down lustfully at the silhouetted nudity of Night.
Peccant, she does it with overt grandeur,
Reluming steadily crackling embers of a smouldering light.
Need him to give me the hugest, hottest ever hickey.
Need him to give it to me in state of missionary.
Need him to give it to me so sensually and lustfully.
HAPPY HAPPY WONDERFUL WORLD
Basking in the sun
slithering through the marshes.
Happy, little newt.
Waves of wheat shimmer
in the whispering westwind.
Life isn't all bad.
Alligators sing.
Elephants dance in the sun.
Dark Africa's strange.
The lemons are ripe.
The limes are juicy and fine.
Life is good again.
Frogs croak lustfully
in search of the wayward toad.
The swamp is alive.
The grass grows real green.
I think I ruptured my spleen.
Life is funny, no?
These shaded scars may alarm,
Yet in my eyes, they are surely painted.
Scorned love that which won’t harm
In my sigh of relief I cry to this, tainted.
Fire lustfully denies the everso carnaging fate.
Torn apart by the advantage of its flaws,
I am morley sewed up in these lion claws.
I am surely bowed up in famen i did cause.
Take my flower
And take my name.
Don’t leave a crumb.
Don’t leave me numb.
Apologies won’t phase
In this love-land daze.
Bruises I Hem, in which shade,
Paint over the pale flesh I jade.
Flying in a strong state of contentment,
I turn back to find my eyes are closed.
I am nothing but a seeping resentment
In a life of dreary follies, now disposed.
The best practice prediction
for curing sexual addiction
successfully
less lustfully
is anciently aging affliction
LOST LOVE
Love at first sight
Having thoughts you're Mr right
Emotions creeping in so tight
An angel of love to care
You turned to be seen rare
Coupling to the envy of others fear
At the peak of deep affection
Came angel with huge infliction
And swept the love like erosion
Shattered emotions
Bleeding heart of contrition
Scattered around expression
Broken are the strong feeling
Uncherished are the desired longing
Lustfully lost in the love sharing
An Ijeoma Ikonne's poem © 2021
What bridges the stale, hot air of summer?
Icecream
Soulful pageant of flavors
A cone piled high
Vanilla, Chocolate, Strawberry
or Rocky Road sublime
Control unteethered, de-stabilizing diet
Comfort food soothes stress
and laps of relentless striving
To lick, lustfully, the sweet drips
that ooze to our hands
heavy with the weight of June
Inside a limitless obsession
that hammers hunger
that lifts the talons of heat
the trappings of cold, telegraphs relief
an altered state
In the tucked curve of a summer's smile
stitched to a ruddy, sticky
cookie-cream face.
Poem composed: April 1st, 2021
Contest: All Yours (June 7)
Sponsor: Brian Strand
As the flames licked like a whorish tart,
that encompassed lustfully at it's fuel-
seeking it's heart;
principalities, in duel, instructions fit for a fool.
A fool that plays badly at his part.
My eyes scanned these flames,
the horizon and memory of names.
Of places and spaces shared,
and of these spaces,
the faces that once were there.
They were there.
They.
Will not remain, ashes, unclaimed.
But will be unleashed again, you will see, the same.
I know God has a plan. Even for a drunk underachiever-poet-wannabe. Like an all consuming flame.
Magical Perplexity
by M. Griswold
06192020
Your a magical mystery which draws me near.
Can't place my finger on it, yet it is perfectly clear.
That twinkling in your eye, the warmth of your smile.
The grace of your form with such a beautiful style.
An attractive force which I just can't resist.
I am helpless in heart as the currents persist.
Driving me endlessly like a moth to a flame.
Your spirit does entrance me, direct in it's aim.
Why so captive am I that I am a ponder to understand.
Never have I been under such a magical command.
Demanding my affections to which I voluntarily give.
For it seems now without you I surely wouldn't live.
Beautiful sorcery to which I haven't any self control.
Of primal surge passionate does it lustfully grow.
Your magical mystery of soulful, wrenching harmony.
Is wonderfully quizzical, mystical in it's perplexity.
Take me now for I give you myself,
Bind my hands to the mast,
Take from me whatever you want,
I’ll give whatever you ask,
As we both sail away on the edge of reason,
Exposed on this drift away boat,
Exposed to the world of air, wind and sea,
Exposed as we quietly float,
And cover my eyes… take all my sight,
Take away all of my clothes,
Then take all you want from all of this skin,
All this skin you have proudly exposed,
Because I am your sub for you to enjoy,
Your toy, I’m your beautiful swan,
For you to nurture and grow by yourself,
To lustfully sit down upon.
Oh ambrosial Aphrodite send me love
on Cupids arrow,
For it has vanquished like licentious lightening
in a sybaritic storm…
Fill my cup with nesting nectar that pours with
lecherous liquids of amour,
Enter my heart so it may thunder
and like heated Hurricanes lustfully kiss the shore…
Send me carnal caresses with a fervid flesh
and feral flushes to adore,
For I am lost in a vixen vortex
within a carnivorous cave of liquid lust...
Send me flirtatious kinky kisses
that hover above my bawdy being,
With the midnight moon undressed
exposing its inner light of erotic equations …
Fill my abysmal amative appetite
impassioned and inflamed,
A lachrymal liaison libidinous to the grave
For I hunger for your lewd libertine love.
July.23.2019
Hunger Poetry
Sponsored by: Silent One
Background music by...
Erotic Lounge Music
Sensual Band
'Magie de amour' 2018
With virtual female voice
Placed 1'st...Thank You
One golden coin of poem,
under mother's frail old bed,
hiding in it's bright darkness,
undiscovered by who know's who,
but here it is in my poetry book,
and your eyes roll and loll along,
to hide this coin in your purse.
Two silver coins of poems,
sleeping in the sea and on its bed,
covered by the wriggling wrappers,
of dancing old corals,
hiding from straying sailors,
who lustfully venture,
seas that hide and hold,
precious glittering coins or stones.
Three bronzy coins of poems,
laying and waning just over there,
among those rubbish of cans,
and dancing buzzing flies,
by the side of cars path,
and unnoticed by your eyes,
but here it is in my poetic plate,
as i shout "coins of poems for sale".
Party-face comes midnight creeping,
Proposing passion—piles heaping.
To boudoir—lustfully leaping,
Next I know—serenely sleeping.
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