dulcet …
the night …
holds far too few hours
to attend you, pure … proper
in twilight reverence
your body’s song is my scripture
the braille my fingers ache to read -
sexy verse moonlight recites
and orates to my blood
longing’s lullaby
spoken glyph-by-glyph
and plopped like sugar on my tongue
where it attends …
yours …
speak to me with
your coy and curvy whispers
such fair flesh tells an epic tale, erotic
few know the language
but I am fluent
I will listen with an anxious ear
and reply in cursive on your dermal page
my game?
to raise those tiny little bumps -
catkin skin that jumps to
the touch, as my adept answers wind
their warm way south
to the source …
come, let time stand still
night is too fleeting
and a delicious pas de deux awaits -
a torrid tale of pillows and percale and
moonbeamed madness …
where minds and moans and motions are
met in one rapturous breath …
of breathlessness
ghostwriter … and manuscript
this tome is ours -
you and I … lost
to ourselves …
to each other …
to the world of whys and whatevers
and to everything …
but us.
Categories:
percale, analogy, metaphor, passion, sensual,
Form: Free verse
your skin …
cornflow’r in the moonlite
through louvers that
slice you to tender shards
of opalescence
arranged like piano keys on
Egyptian percale
the sea of sheets we so
often drown in …
“oh baby” -
the way you say those words -
soft candle puffs
as if turning flame to wisps
coyly chasing my name from
where I thought it safe
to its utter peril upon your lips
and its baptism by the
kiss that slays …
my rapture is no longer my own
it exists only in chaos
at the source of the divine -
the wellspring
that indescribable place of
wilding wonder …
and yet …
at this moment of contentment and
joy and security -
where we are timeless and true
where every hour is midnight …
a tear leaps from my chin to its doom
unnoticed by you with
my back strategically to the moon …
because I know with certainty
(though I don’t know HOW)
that someday I’ll be alone -
someday I’ll be drenched by the same moon
remembering this very moment
remembering that I knew
that solitude would be my fate …
that I would one day ache
for the gentle, whisp’ry way
you said …
“oh baby”.
Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden, January 24, 2024
Categories:
percale, analogy, kiss, love, metaphor,
Form: Free verse
breath, gone
you drip moonlight
blue, wan ...
thru shades -
skin and tresses
soft braids
cede sleep
limbs and percale
swim ... deep.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Finding Your Musette" Poetry Contest, Joseph May, Judge & Sponsor.
Categories:
percale, love, metaphor, moon, romance,
Form: Rhyme
my heated hopes are waxing hazy
a couple crushed for carnal crazy
sneaky you, the scheme to hatch
with her, a perfect itch to scratch
menage a trois Moirai, indeed
this triple-dip thru natural need
to savor both at once, supine
and make that spicy nectar mine
soft sugar tongues mix with my own
and instantly flesh turns to stone
such carnal cloisters, meant to be
two curvy creatures clutched to me
our tangled limbs in pretzel knots
a percale sea of naughty thoughts
how can such crazy cookouts be
to taste you two while tasting me
before I feel compunction's clasp
to let good virtue close my grasp
I'll dive this molten madness, US ...
and drown ... in fiery febrile fuss.
Categories:
percale, lust, passion, sensual, sexy,
Form: Quatrain
oh ...
Gustav, how you pique the senses
captured passion's plural tenses
lovers twined in percale folds
caught supine with spattered golds
porcelain dolls in fetal slumbers
brushed sublime in tans and umbers
bold, the bleeds of Burnt Sienna
stippling scapes of fair Vienna
Yellow Ochre, Prussian Green
Cadmium Yellow, Blue Indanthrene
trees like soldiers, lilting boughs
abstractions spun of silken vows
ceilings meant to thus adorn
gilded graces - Heaven-borne
waters, tranquil - tresses, bare
a world composing textures, rare
you struggled long to e'er refine
your critics and uncommon line
subjects some then found appalling
yet, remained, your faithful calling
imbibing absinthe, sans a chaser
life you sketched with no eraser
and while we mortals can but dream
you left the world your gauzy gleam
so death would not define the worth
of genius meant to shake ...
the earth.
~ 2nd Place ~ in the "Klimt" Poetry Contest, Anthony Slausen, Judge & Sponsor.
Categories:
percale, art, beauty, history, humanity,
Form: Ekphrasis
Really Good Rap Song Horn Haiku
There are scores and scores
Of stores that have gone away
Too much have to pay.
When small star twinkles
Will we see all the wrinkles
As each one mingles.
Can you mingle late
Because you did have to wait
And anticipate.
Might mingle later
And prefer percolator
Coffee creator.
When things will percale
We should stand in a circle
Pray for miracle.
This won't want to miss
Really good rap song it is
Can be hers or his.
James Hilarious Thesarious Horn
Bolivia, NC
Categories:
percale, humorous,
Form: Haiku
The academy of long winter grass,
an education in the backyard.
I always thought I was better
than the sparrows,
thought nothing
of that black cat
looking for his lucky break
on our porch,
the neighbors’ bastard dog
at the fence playing puppy.
One day our cousins visited us,
all dressed up in percale linen
and sailor suits,
little wealthy angels
gleaming in the sun.
“ Careful for the grass. It is wet,”
I said to them.
My uncle ordered fish and chips.
The cousins fed
the old changer cat
some of their fish,
the dog got some chips
and the sparrows the last crumbs
of Portuguese buns.
How long I lived on liverwurst
and happy bread,
how these stray animals
shared in a take away luxury.
I was no different from them.
I have been instructed on poverty.
Categories:
percale, bird, growing up, growth,
Form: Free verse
Beauty Queen
Yes indeed, for all to see.
And what a doll you are.
Sun - lit colored ringlets in a row.
You do your little dance for the judges.
For all the world to see, you are the color of poetry.
Second on your talent, as you went strolling by them.
Walking in your sun bonnet and percale, singing along.
Big blue eyes to sparkle and shine.
Then one day they found you dead.
Seems God called you home at last.
Said, come rest your weary head.
Your name on the tombstone read:
JonBenet Ramsey!
3/ 28/ 2012,,,, I put my 8month old daughter in about 4- 5 pageants. She was about 3 last time as I put her on stage, I thought no more of this.
Categories:
percale, beauty, child,
Form: Couplet
.
Her perambulating
my dream
winking
Her eyes
fluorescent green
in a soft white
percale
coaxing me
with her to
undress
And then the ringing
in mine head
Oh my
that alarm clock
Categories:
percale, fantasy,
Form: Free verse