Perspired Poems | Examples

One out of five

He was 6 foot 3.
I was 5 foot 5.
My only thoughts at that moment were staying alive..
Caught in the tenacles of his grip, helpless as I witnessed
my top rip..
My bra lifted up as  mammoth paws perspired, my
round breasts exposed, he paused and admired..
"You are beautiful" he said and then forcibly
he pushed down my head..
My face now buried in a groin, male parts exposed.
I caved to his needs with hopes he would go..
One predator preying on a weaker sex.
I was grateful that he hadn't broken my neck..
One vulnerable woman who managed to survive,
in a country where sexual assaults happen to one out of five..

TIRED--Andaree

Extreme cleaning my house is wearing me out,
but I’ll get through. There can be no doubt. 
Straining and scrubbing’s required.
Buckets, I’ve perspired.
I’m beyond
tired.
Though not fond
of being this mired
in hard labor, I aspired
to cleanliness. When I’m through, I’ll shout.
Extreme cleaning my house is wearing me out.

Retirement

I looked around my little cubicle
Used up days months years
Those files lying stacked up 
Decades piled up to reach the dream
And here I am about to retire
Most of my life, till then perspired!

The game the goal that made me wait
I watch the setting sun that holds my fate
And like those colours in a twilight sky
I take anew each day each date and try
Moments to savour, cherish, create!

In the storm of life this is the calm
The waters seem still a soothing balm
Time for reflection time to be filled
The solution elusive the outcome unknown
A new chapter to life, who can condone!

12.8.22

Hit a Poetry Homer, For What

With joy and jubilation today,
The strong batter smiled and perspired
As he ran the bases, so greatly admired.


A lesson, though, for poets all.
Just write, must each poem be in a contest?
Much each poem be a blatant conquest?


Is there no pure joy in what we do?
I think there is, through and through.
Personally, I find no joy in being better than you.


It’s a grand gift to show a bit of humility.
Not, “ I am so much better than thee!”
“Being the Star on the Poetry Tree.”


Write to embrace another soul!
Poets, hear me, whether young or perchance, old.
You are loved as is, you see, we need not be sold.


Poetry is not a major league sport.
It moves the soul and touches sparkling hearts.
Far, far too many, forget it really is an art.





                     6-26-2022
                          -1-

The Night Before the Fall

The Night before the fall

Life seemed verdent through the weary eays
Earth stayed motionless 
Unhurried wind and peachy sky made the warmth more irresistable

The talks were ignored
Persisted indignantly 
Night walks, slow talks, perspired.
The feeling was boundless

Looking at the pale face 
Seeking for attention
Warm touch, small talks, long walks,
The eerie feeling skipped a heart beat

The night lucid dreams were crystal clear 
Hands moved along the cold wind
Walking down the road
The night before the fall

The Night Before the Fall

The Night before the fall

Life seemed verdent through the weary eays
Earth stayed motionless 
Unhurried wind and peachy sky made the warmth more irresistable

The talks were ignored
Persisted indignantly 
Night walks, slow talks, perspired.
The feeling was boundless

Looking at the pale face 
Seeking for attention
Warm touch, small talks, long walks,
The eerie feeling skipped a heart beat

The night lucid dreams were crystal clear 
Hands moved along the cold wind
Walking down the road
The night before the fall

Weak Spots Xvi

In those sweet voices, 
Traces of euphoria and poisons,
Pour out in waves, 
Entering canals 

Sound becomes delicacy,
The body Enraptured
—Horripilation—
Titillating the flesh

Instruments smite the still air—
Smokes and oxygen
Are not the only source of breath—
My tears form in perspired release

Those bumps spreading,
In the strangest of places,
Through the doors. . .
Through the windows. . .


2.16.20

Parents Tribulations

Perspired with pertinacity to bring up their progenies cozily,
Indescribably fondled them to make  them smile forever !
Built brick by brick their dreams about their off springs,
Hoped they would be cared in their twilight existence !!

Attained bread-winner status and focused on their selfish ends,
 But nonchalant towards the plights of the *** of their lives !
Not shared their anguish and joy played hide-seek with them,
Immeasurable is their love which brings no ecstasy to them !!

Dawned on them are the trials and tribulations,
Unheeded are their biological clock reminders of their hunger !
Precluded them their self-esteem from mendicanting,
Pestering hunger enfeebled them day-by-day!!

Villainous were they to throw the old ones from their home,
Knew nothing where to go and stay!
Marched out without destination,
Accompanied them their tears and sorrows !!

Ponderously made it to a place to seek shelter,
There a good Samaritan took care of them !!

Forgotten Words

It’s hard to keep on writing
when you know your words
never reach quite deep enough—
fail again to plumb prosaic depths
and render speechless those of
greater wit and skill.  

But now and then I’ve managed,
when struck with spasms of lucidity, 
to write of something tiresome
as if it were brand new, and perspired, 
when each word would surrender,
finally, chiseled as if from stone. 

All the chosen words, their meter,
form and rhyme in tight procession,
longing merely for convergent glow, 
and not to come to rest upon a shelf, to 
gather dust and fail to see the light again,
when you’ve written your last word. 

Walking past the local used book store, 
you might see a box outside marked
All These Books For Free. Reach inside and 
take one home and there reflect upon 
the author’s soul and listen for a distant voice, 
now stilled—the voice just might be mine.

Soil and Toil

There upon the ground discarded
 where fruited blessings were ill guarded
lay the efforts of my spring toil
 the perspired digging and setting seed in soil
 
Peaches and tomatoes once large and green
 are cast upon the earthly tumultous scene
and  now squash and peppers lay
 torn down, half eaten castaways.

Scouring the landscape garnished
 I questioned what happened to my harvest?
There way in the back beneath the shed
 the tell tale signs of the groundhog now well fed.

Brainwashing a Greenhorn In My College Den

I dubbed a first year my room mate
Upon arrival into our teacher training college
To baptize him. His pride in quick order I did decimate
Taking him at high celerity on a binge

Initiating him into traditional beer
In a nearby shanty compound
Where I got his head into God’s fear
Whereby upon returning the greenhorn couldn’t push anyone around

The special welcome made him the follower
I desired
Having diminished his self-concept and self-esteem lower  
Than he aspired but higher than he perspired

I proceeded to indoctrinate him into elocution parlance
As best as I could
Ensuring he possessed a college etiquette lance
That would

Not upstage Special
Whom he soon began to emulate
With artificial
Manners to dissimulate

The nascent confidence he feared might offend me
If he grew overconfident
More than I could agree
If he became less diffident

But he played the good boy
Obedient like a lapdog
Happy to enjoy a bone for a new toy
Like a contented warthog

When my training petered out
Satisfaction smiled
In my bosom without any shadow of doubt that my clout
Tamed the greenhorn who wouldn’t succeed in getting me riled.

Stories Heard and Told

Why does stepping into another's well-told story
fade away my own?
Until I glance away from screen
or page
or exterior speaking voice?

What if my unmediated life,
unwritten and unplayed
with untold anonymity,
were the entirety of my actual spiritual journey?
While all I have read
and watched on screen
of others' creation and destruction stories
are sacred scripture,
divinely inspired
as humanely perspired,
alternative paths and ways
of speaking to and for my own shared resonant voices,
light and more darkly fearsome.

What if biography
were ecological history
of natural,
yet also spiritual,
sacred development?
Written scripturally small,
speaking in still small eisegetical voices
of inspired natural resonance,
fire with water,
ExegetingEarth with revolving,
absorbing,
creolizing enlightenment.

Why does stepping into another species' creation and destruction story
fade away our sacred ownership?

My Nubian Queen

Do you see your King?
perspired
breathing
musk in your arms

Come my Queen 
stirred
Mocha
flower of desire

Come
cocooned in silk
morning star
your skin on my sheets

Enter my Queen 
we are
the most 
loving of lovers

Come
dressed in
red, gold
and green

Your body
only for
the hands
of your King

My Queen 
skin dark
so beautiful
it gleams

My Queen 
soul dancing
my goddess
my lotus

My love
my soul
come to me
from the Nile

The water
is as deep
as my
desire for you...

Beneath the Blues

Candle was center staged
A Candlelight Romance perspired 
Flame lit up beautiful faces
Flame, ruthlessly pierced with rushing Nicotine
Lovers Love drowned in the Sea of Smoke
Passionate kiss became oblivious
The burnt lips cried in vain
Only Pungency of Ashes, choked fragrance of Love

So many cries, so much noise
Numb Eardrums, an agonizing mum
Estranged from Jazz, envious of Saxophone 
A burning Spirit, a claustrophobic Heart, left tussling
No Mango for Tongue, it’s all bitter Booze
Trembling with Disgust and debris of abuse
No sense of direction, no sense of senses
Compassion dwindles in all Tenses

Those long Drives look real long
Like a rush in a Marathon
Windows are ruined by viscous dust
Praying Lords for a heavy Rain bust 
Scent of a Woman is cringed 
Manifestation of Romance winched

It’s high time to burst the bubble
Time for a Kiss beneath the blues of water
Let those wet curls smitten you
Let that touch giggle you
Drive down those tamed roads
Feel the rush inside
Stop snooping for the Rains
Take a dip into wet terrains.

History and the Recent Times: the Truth Unveiled

Writhe 'bound thousand of centuries
Drawn in a thin sheet of paper
Within its palm, destined, fated
The endless flow, our memories 

Motherland in quicksand of hate
Hatred rules, the rotting system
Wallowed, famine and injustice
Thoughts which touches the weak

Each step straight to enlightenment
The battle against the darkness
Those slaves, suff'rin' they're meant 
Engulped in flames, cried in duress! 

As I raise my knife, Righteousness!
Screams in the call of liberty
A patriot's heart, a burning haze
Perspired with cleansing history

Turning each page, torn and faded
Cloaked and hidden with avid lies 
The book it stated, blurred, blinded,
Revealed, deception in disguise.

The sun once a shimmering pride
With its stars, white, red, blue, yellow
Now sunken, mud of idiocy
Battered by agonizing bellow.  

O my dear God, praised and adorned 
Your holy name used, selfish deeds
Sentenced with crimes uncommitted
Death's a wish, here goes rolling heads.

Is this a blessing, our freedom
Or it's just another wretched dream?
Will our people's time fin'lly come?
This is the challenge I 'll redeem.

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