I had heard about the legend of her lips,
so, at the sight of vermillion moonlight,
shimmering on turquoise ripples at twilight,
my soul ventured, craving the sighs of her sips.
Fate led towards a path of wooden shutters,
amidst the silence, silken whispers enticed,
upon her vision, all speech was sacrificed.
My heart danced like velvet butterfly flutters.
Her lips resembled two petals yearning for rain,
with an innocent blush resting on their tips,
curved liked sacred, unwritten poetic scripts,
I surrendered my muse for her kiss to drain.
They seemed to tremble, waiting to be explored.
An unspoken allurement composed through her eyes,
where she veiled a threshold of nectarous cries,
like dawn, we merged as the moon and sun adored.
In neroli mist we melted like molten gold,
lost volcanic spirits spilling in lava lust.
Her wildfire swept my senses like a spiced gust,
as hummingbirds, hummed about secrets untold.
There was a sinful sweetness in her caress.
In her sanctum, I forgot the essence of 'me,'
as her taste turned a blank page into poetry.
A rendezvous, which ylang ink cannot confess.
The clover lay still, closed,
small, certain,
nothing to offer,
the color of her going dark—
a vitreous-Tyrian.
The bee, chromatic senses’ tasting on the tongue-tip
licking the runes of black-light-lace
circled once, twice—
warm wing-drift brushing kindred nearness
his thorax trembling, scent of sun-saturated-sweetness
nectarous-fragrant with desire.
He loved the clover
and she opened—
bright, fearless, certain—
the sound of yellow flooding her interior
surrendering her nectar into sunlight-passion
petals, wings, one heart
timelessly infused.
Who shall tame for me
Times swift-footed dash
Into nostalgia-filled realms;
Future-past regretful clash?
Waging war upon my span
Leaves me with a tearful shell
Of the once-nectarous stretch
Of days unmarred by baleful spell.
And time’s fleet-footed sprint
Into oblivions sad and rueful
Still paints such a dull picture
Of prospects dim and doleful.
The Invisible Strings of Black Light
I sing my mute blizzard on the stiffened string of full void,
the shrill echo of silence gently undoes time's curtain for me,
like a luminescent howl from a transparent sarcophagus,
that aspirates my breath through the pores of an effervescent abyss,
cacophonic symphony of angels with wings of calcified plague,
conducted by white crows singing in psalms of evaporated matter,
adorned with the phosphorescent keyboards of the abyss-color,
that blinds with its radiant blackness any lucid non-seeing,
abstract paintings of crystallized tears in dried blood,
a hypnotic rodeo of petrified butterflies in arrested flight,
metaphysical courtesans of a sterilized and eternal amor,
king without crown in the kingdom without throne and without stern,
where love is an amnesia that remembers everything in forgetting,
and presence is no longer needed to always be living disappearance,
my sinusoidal trajectory through a crystal of solid fog,
that wove our eternity into an exploded second,
to the nectarous curses floating through your granite thoughts,
the mosaic of my solar nights with fate's luminous catastrophes!
Her body was always kind to me,
our garden - a sunny bath
for a luxuriant
peach tree.
On special days,
we would sit naked under its shade
to share
just one of its blushed,
luscious fruits,
it was our ritual.
As one, our tongues would drink
each other's thirst.
Moreover,
where the erotic crease of the fruit
dimpled inwards, our curling tongues
washed velvety skin.
A salacious consuming followed,
a nectarous bacchanal,
a drenching,
that we,
eager and laughing,
smeared over one another.
Her body was always kind to me,
even on moonless nights
her peach saturated my senses,
while magenta folds
flowered,
and a primal darkness
hung my mouth to her lips.
Whispers
Long and lost
Loud and low
“S e i z e t h e d a y”
Touched my ears,
Poured into my soul,
Vanished my inner ghoul,
The night nostalgic, new,
Nectarous and nefarious,
Feathered my hands,
Floated me from my desk,
I sniffed soul soothing poetry
Intoxicating from the dusty old
Buttery books shelved on, inviting.
I drank one poem,
And another,
Then another,
Until I was dizzy drunk,
My eyelashes winged to the window
And it was dawn.
Nectarous taste would not surcease
in torture now that’s my showpiece;
I sit in a hard chair pallid,
there’s solace in something solid;
Give fine obeisance to the madness,
decayed memories savor sadness;
Such enmity in your answer,
the pinnacle of gross grandeur;
Your lotion now my nepenthe,
letting me drown so easily;
Rocking on this rickety porch,
that scent hits me like a blowtorch;
Alone, I want to be swaddled
in each moment that we bottled;
I’m locked in a living tomb
rusted with such a stale gloom;
Filthy stench, can you smell it?
Perfume for some to covet;
In a cataleptic state
circumvention seen too late;
Doppelgänger could not withdraw,
prose signed ‘Edgar Ravenclaw’.
New Orleans French quarter bakeries
feature luxurious flavorsome bene’s
palatable pumpkin pies, exquisitely decorated cookies
aromatic meaty soups, nectarous scones, rich dipping sauces
appetizing cobblers, and cream puffs larger than clouds.
My nose lead the way after I found the brochure
I was not disappointed
Written: December 04, 2023
_________________________________________
Desensitizing me—destroying my delusion.
Snapping sight of the kaleidoscopic illusion.
Delving into eternity of utopian ecstasy
Shimmering in an ethereal golden fantasy
Drifting inwards—yielding inner space.
Flamboyant with a nectarous embrace
Playing an intricate oboe of tenderness.
Drumming along to the tune of gentleness
Invigorating my soul—infusing my barren cup
Embraced me wholeheartedly the wassail up.
Sitting on grass, smelling delicious lavender.
Gulped divine ambrosia, wild or scavenger
Syncing wires up to my celestial essence
A haven where my bosom can quiescence
A tranquil haven where my spirit can soar.
A tranquil haven that my heart can't deplore.
A sanctuary where my soul can find peace.
Somewhere, my soul may relax and release.
Nothing can be concealed in my quiet spirit.
The whole day, one can both sense and hear it.
"Halcyon moments are privileges for the destitute.", by the poet
The nectarous voices are whispering bye,
as seasons substitute one for the other,
remodeling landscapes harmoniously,
~~subtle surrenders,
A balmy brush of sand granules shifts a beach,
while warm bodies lie are gloriously blessed,
ere a quarterly sunset soothingly sound,
~~humid loses fair,
Pastoral renders reconciliation,
as a glamorous nature fluctuates gleam,
anon vividness slowly acquiesces,
~~restful greenroom folds,
Milk-warm coolly sedates creaminess cascades,
cushioning mellow fields of snowy delights,
entreating eyes amidst shimmering pleasures
~~picturesque shuffles.
luscious orchid of purple sitting in a faux crystal vase
flavorsome apples of red
nectarous juices of orange tangerines
palatable watermelons with pink centers
marvelous corn pancakes
wondrous scrambled cheese eggs
spectacular meats of ham, bacon and sausage
astounding Sunday breakfast buffet at a fancy place
joyous lively, happy conversation
perky, excited, teenage granddaughters
tormenting little brothers at the table
grandparents loving the miscellany of dreams, thoughts and ideas.
feeling rejuvenated and revived, no ordinary week day.
(PoetrySoup Format)
Worthy
beyond words
Warm, Wavy and Wild
Southern, Symmetrical and Shapely
~ Oh, those satisfying sensations ~
you give me
A
Bountiful Ballad
Blissful, yet Simple
Sophisticated-- (dedicated to you)
~ Oh, those satisfying sensations ~
you give me
Sipping
on Syllables,
Sultry-- (delicious too)
very Suggestive and Stimulating
~ Oh, those satisfying sensations ~
you give me
You:
(repeatedly indulge)
- in Nectarous Nouns,
Invigorating my Vocal Vocabulary
~ Oh, those satisfying sensations ~
you give me
-----------------------------------
(Swept away in Sentences)
* Because Verbs Vibrate *
Richard’s Love Letter
Through distinct beaten paths we’ve wandered and journeyed
Gliding through the fog of the mundane days; scurried, hurried, worried
In quest of happiness by mans standard
Culminating bleeding hearts, a soul so armored
Perceiving a sense of doom, a lonely end
Pain so deep that the days and nights blend
Through stormy days, there shone a light
A light so bright, it’s brought us insight
Within the world of love and it’s magnificent pleasures
The endless strokes of the sweetest treasures
Eyes that shimmer with love pure and true
Nectarous lips as velvety, there can’t be two
A soul so kind, an unbreakable spirit
Hands that embrace me in the most beautiful lyric
skin
a lonesome word set above all others
provoking one to strain beyond the epithet
curious to discover the oracular journey
of a single utterance…
skin
will this bard’s quill paint flesh
with colors blanded by prejudice,
heralding the decay of humanity
divided by the hue of
skin
perhaps instead you wettened your lips
anticipating curling your toes beneath sheer linens
absorbing nectarous images of the supplely naked
or the nakedly supple
skin
mayhap you innocently sought
morphological bantering disguised by the poet—
bark of willows
carapacely concealed in the crust of aging
skin
with a solitary word
the mind of the reader roams boundless terrains
seeking unspeakable affections, inescapable escapes,
footloose promenades guided by one…
word
Though sapient vision limps short,
And digs no eye into nirvana's fort;
Albeit most vivid dream’s flips stop,
Instinct excels where iffy triers flop.
And that sharper divining seer tells
Sweeter tales no deft lyricist's bells
Ever rung a one bereft of Love's ting,
Who jilts fine gold to hear a bird sing.
He needs no fumbling eye to behold
What yet lies beyond horizons’ fraud,
Nor flimsy ear's wit to sweetly divine
Blisses and nectarous lickings mine.
His are all-espying orbs steeled in hope;
Netting honeyed things before here pop
Tangible sights for showy ears and eyes
To grab and boast and stir belated sighs.
Known to him are times of lost rest
From lonely stints icily cold at best,
Thrills discerned many days before
They stir faint ears and eyes below.
Sub Categories
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