Dream peep of early gold rim halo
August riser gleeful in exalted chant
Yield to dulcet chirp from ornate winger
Sunburst orange red splash of heaven
Taunt and tease ocean blue mist eyes
Amber warm rays dazzle pearl clad beach
Revere the hue-rich magic spectra veil
Designed by glow world spirit apt
Aligning deft nirvana enigmatic
You’ll embrace a stunning touchstone
Strewn amid solid crystal bounty
Traipsing vivid emerald paths ahead
Amazed by wondrous vista woven
Redolent of chalk mark visual rife
Dabble in the morn’s first usher
Archway to vibrant wakener within
Yen for ample stimulus astride
Sensory luxuriance devoid of match
Tangled web surfeit found epic
Aching surge of tinted aspect
Rhythmic ripples on beaded brow
lovely lavender
languidly, lavishly, lithe
lushly living large
Written on 2/26/2023
For: Alliterku Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Charles Messina
The land suffers too much greening;
luxuriance froths to fever and glut,
birds cannot consume all the insects,
nor serpents eat the thronging flocks.
The soil hogs on the swill of decay,
drey and burrow are ovens
for a prowling pestilence.
There is no softness. The sun
bites the bloated and rancid,
a balance is tipped off kilter,
the climate repaints its face
more garish each day.
A little poverty is needed, a tax
on the riotous and abundant,
the sickly succulence of ripe sap
be drained and clarified.
We live now in the eyes of strangers,
hunters are maddened by the gnawing
of long fevered bones.
Supine craggy canopy basking beneath the blue sky,
rests on bent boughs flushed with opulence of foliage.
The mighty oak has seen many misty winters pass by,
but its procreative ebullience hasn’t yet turned senile.
In the nestling cradle of the forfending folds of leaves,
we the furtive acorns flourish like the kernels of love,
the toughened tree has fostered in the trove of time,
deeming us as the touch of feathers birds feel on flight.
The lively clusters filled with latent luxuriance of life,
face the fury of storms, the strike of squirrels and jays.
As I see my flocks fall on fallow land leaving me alone,
I cling to the clasp of the frail stem of future obscure.
Someday soaring gale of promise will gently glide by me,
dislodged, I’ll drift to a distant landscape of sun and rain.
I’ll sprout in sanguine sequence for infinite forest to form,
where on verdant wings will fly the dream of the last acorn.
April 27, 2020
Contest : The Last Acorn
Sponsor : John Lawless
Hearts beating synchronized
tears flowing from welling eyes
exhaling truth, expelling lies
in dreams are we, our dreams go free
through effervescent smiles
exuberance,ebullience
whimsical Luxuriance
neither of riches or gold
but life untamed and fresh
to us this simplistic bliss
what wonders we miss
when we're stuck inside
the thick drawn line
it's madness they say
don't break away
the parallel string
what does it mean
such a quizzical thing
chaos and order
stay inside the border
of reality, don't be so weird
no room for it here
distinctly defined
a human being mind
full bodied women
tantalize senses like wine
delightful to taste
cushions of comfort
everywhere soft to the touch
more luxuriance
curvaceous can charm
sexy is as sexy does:
get size wise, people!
Eileen Manassian
Footnote:
This is a repost of a deleted poem. I am not justifying being unhealthy, that goes for the ultra thin and the ultra fat. I'm promoting acceptance. Perceptions of beauty change over time....I'm glad fuller women are getting more press coverage these days....women like Tess Holliday. I follow her on Instagram and am shocked by the amount of hurtful comments she gets. Let the woman be....
Not I, Then Who
Another blood bath. A bubbling bunch of innocence
Shot down by an ogre, in brutal arrogance;
A busy mutter ‘The system is in pits',and done,
All sighed, time and again, lost in deep reverence …
By lesser mortals a girl was quelled bestially, a mere decadence.
Lost her life on board a bus, a public conveyance ;
said the folks again,’The system just feeds political hunger.’
Once more all sighed, time and again, in wrenching grievance.
Thus, (we are) reclined in the cradle of excuses in ample luxuriance
Till one day a hurricane pounces, triggers petulance,
holds in whirls of life’s misfortunes. No trace of poised elegance.
No sophisticated statements. No thick and proud prudence.
No fondling of excuses in hands; Only pangs of helpless despondence.
No claiming of those laid back excuses over forfeited chances;
From all angles, volumes of consequences pry in variance
No systems, no excuses; only victimized throes teem in abundance.
To never letting voting be enough,
And not abuse the priv’lege of convenience;
To stop excess and live within yourself,
Denying all your loved luxuriance;
To not await for change that must become
In revolution-based expedience;
To hearken for the age that is to come,
To live in Civil Disobedience.
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