I wonder what she is dreaming of
Behind the curtains of sleep
Is it the beach beneath the starry night?
Or the cool breeze in the mid-July heat?
What if she's dreaming about someone,
Someone dear to her
Perhaps a paramour
With undying love for her
Perhaps I can find the one she admires
For I am jealous of him
Such a beauty
So remote from me
What if that privileged person is me?
Perhaps she is dreaming of a tryst with me
What a lovely dream that would be
But alas, her love is not for me
I bid thee farewell, my fair maiden
May we meet someday
May we talk and talk
And that would be my best day
The Reaper's cloak, a velvet night,
Embroidered with stars that never ignite.
He walks with a woman, pale and serene,
Her laughter a whisper, a wind unseen.
She is Death's paramour, his constant bride,
A shadow that walks by his chilling side.
Her touch is a frost, her kiss a cold sigh,
A promise of slumber, a lullaby.
He offers her roses, the petals all black,
A bouquet of sorrow, a lover's attack.
She takes them with grace, a smile on her lips,
The taste of oblivion, his cryptic gifts.
They dance in the graveyard, a waltz of despair,
Where tombstones stand silent, and whispers fill air.
He holds her close, a bone-chilling embrace,
A love that consumes, with a haunting grace.
For Death's paramour craves the final embrace,
A lover's surrender, a time and a place.
To join him in darkness, a journey untold,
Where souls find their peace, in the cold, silent fold.
So fear not the Reaper, nor his lover so fair,
For their embrace is a promise, a love beyond care.
A passage to stillness, a slumber profound,
Death's paramour awaits, on hallowed ground.
When you dive I sparkle my dreams,
When you swim in me I touch the essence of your skin,
When you let your feet touch me I hold my speed and come drifting,
you call me the sea and I call myself Limerence.
when you uphold the smile at me I shine more brightly,
when you roam in the garden I make flowers to applause you,
when you let your hair down I try to hold my breath and let the breeze touch you,
you call me sunshine and I call myself amorous.
when you come out to feel my drops I try to make you glow,
when you dance in presence of me I try to match your beat,
when you laugh and play and droll I resist soaring more,
you call me Rain and I call myself Paramour.
Lady Melanie with silver locks
Loved her bonbons, bagels, and graved lox.
Curmudgeon geezers viewed her a fox,
But she loved them less than chicken pox.
Melanie kept free as best she could.
She allowed no time for coquetry
Or Penelope-style stitchery.
But three bores persistence understood.
Trini, a jet jockey CEO
Lived his life allegro con brio.
As his lovely red Lamborghini,
His love raced too fast for Melanie.
Claude, a failed nebulous maunderer,
Gossip, post-modern philosopher
Believed everything in life was free,
Which made sweet Mellie his property.
Her third paramour drove flat-bed trucks.
When Bo misspoke, he would say “Aw shucks!”
And then, hands on, wordlessly switch gears.
She cast him off leaving him in tears.
Single she may wait until too late,
For a blissful bridal altar state.
Should her three bores e'er face a hot date
At least she shall stand at heaven’s gate.
You severed me for your paramour,
My first love, you are mon amour,
Doxy of love surround your heart,
Betrayed in the lanes of my sweeheart,
Sweeping the hectic lanes,
Sleeping in the lonely fanes,
I feel solaced in this heavy rain,
Why is this pity a condolement of pain?
Sire of our children, am a lone parent...
Squire's anguish on your treachery is apparent...
Finding love in your absence,
I am in awe of his presence...
You rush to the aisle in clamour,
Heart cracked, I am married to your paramour.
A period of youthful vim ferments
as coruscating golden flecks in eyes
that mesmerise and tantalise, give rise
to secrets in my breast to stir, foment.
The xanthous tresses that cascade torment.
My eager and impressionable sighs
that echo every pirouette and pliés,
a fleeting intercession of lament.
A maverick when it comes to amour
and quintessentially a rakish cad.
Unrequited love longstanding rancour,
but finally become your paramour.
An enigmatic smile ever so sad;
your broken heart I gladly give succour.
Patricia parades pretty periwinkle paisley pyjamas playfully presenting plump pinwheel pastries
AP: 3rd place 2023
Submitted on October 21, 2019 for TAUTOGRAM POEMS sponsored by EVE ROPER – RANKED 3RD
your smart hat
your coifed
charcoal brows
your blue questions
about how I’m moving
through the day
have me in hand
reminiscing
making me want you
and reminiscing
more and more
Sometimes I've got to ask-
And can't help but exhort aloud
Am I haunted, Rask?
In this aging house
Where my granny passed
Grandpa died in this room
Marks were left of you
It's about time that I moved
We have a little boy
And a little girl
Or am I paranoid?
My bones ache just to stir
My niece,
My friend,
And I
In my bedroom
My niece,
My friend,
And I
Taking pictures
My niece,
My friend,
And I
I feared a ghost
That I
could see,
Clear as the day
We went to hide
It followed us,
Shiver, resile
I saw that girl beside
My niece, my friend
Don't be afraid
I'm terrified
folio's paramour bemoans the drifter's trail--green in the eye
06.12.17
bunch of red roses
fresh and velvet at his grave
year after year now
in a shade deeper than mine
his mystery paramour
Written on 07/06/2016
Paramour
Your lover is a traveler
Who can only spend one night
You’re their hotel room
And you’re tired of such a
Disdainful sacrifice
Never any public display of affection
Because you’re not their prime collection
Perhaps it’s time for introspection
No holding hands
No kisses and "see you soon”
At the airport
Every time your lover leaves
You feel like a desolate fort
That the General said “abort”
Abandoned as when the land is in a drought
And when you come out
And say what you are feeling
Your lover is always in a hurry
And is only concerned about
Sexual healing
You want a do-right partner
Who you can go to bed with every night
And rise with in the morning light
And when you take hold of your
True desires and be inspired
Elevation will take you higher and higher
I see the edge of your smile
and the tip of your varnished toe,
the waterfall of your flaxen hair
that makes your shadow grow:
Love! I am the one, who loves
you as the day.
To lose you makes me shudder
like a mast on a blustered day;
Keel-haul and whip my hopeless love
Send my soul to hell
But let me call before I die,
Love! I am the one.
I watched the yellow
ripple in your reflection,
and as it danced on water
it was mirrored in sense
Dreams quivered
in plunging tears
but a falling stars
rare effulgence
revealed this sub rosa
That tripping shadow
moving into the night
carries your secret
bound into desire,
a paramour of night
Still, watching,
her bowed head stitched
into the shadows edge
always regretting the stab
of never knowing love
Stop it!
I’m exhausted by you
Always complaining, never supporting yourself
Stop it!
I’m overworked by you
Never being grateful, but expecting the help
Really!
I know it’s not your fault
Now pick yourself up, I will see you on the twelfth
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