Gifts received from so many
Out from under the shadows, memories of beautiful women and girls
who gave, shared so much more than they received, strings of pearls.
No diamonds, gold, platinum, or bouquets of flowers, just a shallow man
who provided very little in return but did the best he knew, the best he can.
It was a time when loving, from me, was not more than a superficial gift
offered to all those who desired, a plutonic relationship alone with the stiff .
My regrets haunt, broken hearts long since healed, what do they, today feel
about a fool who could have had meaningful relationships, this man of steel.
B. J. “A ” 2
June 9th, 2026
Three women
with the same chin,
and same ears.
The last of the three
has less likeness to the others,
her eyes will not fit
within their glancing windows.
although she is almost,
she will ever be not quite.
One, the one with the chin
as soft as a pillow
I could speak to
and she would not understand my words,
but she would nod and smile
just to please me.
The other
the one with ears that match the first,
is wise, she sits on a lotus leaf
like a scintillating frog-angel,
or a green Mona Lisa.
I could speak to her and she would nod,
repeating my words verbatim.
The last lady will be the first.
Her eyes are not quite left or right,
she is dissimilar.
My interest in her is impurely plutonic,
I listen, unseen sex pods,
pop all over her nubile body.
I never see any of this,
mind hides its picture shows.
Late at night or early,
we build a tangled love nest
out of all the same things
we can think of.
though, like that Shubert symphony
It never gets finished.
Always, some old, odd twigs
cannot be woven together,
no matter how hard we try.
when i was a sage
would want to take advantage
of poems i manage
while being a sage
would write my poems page by page
which was latest rage
with capacity
poems had much tenacity
for sagacity
had a head with bone (Bonehead)
either against wall would stone
or leave me alone
when he was a priest
together puzzle had pieced
he would be a beast
had been annoyed
horrible hemorrhoid
was celluloid
when pneumonic
broke barrier and sonic
had been plutonic
with apartment posh
his both hands from case would wash
when into would squash
Trump i would offend
my poem will amend and append
more sins he will send
when poem have been best
here is what I will suggest
eat easy to digest
when with much plantage
would want to take advantage
of poems i manage
while being a sage
would write my poems page by page
which was latest rage
with capacity
would have much tenacity
for sagacity
had a head with bone
either against wall would stone
or leave me alone
when he was a priest
together puzzle had pieced
he would be a beast
had been annoyed
horrible hemorrhoid
was celluloid
when pneumonic
broke barrier and sonic
had been plutonic
with apartment posh
his both hands from case would wash
when into would squash
Trump i would offend
my poem will amend and append
more sins he will send
War mars the face of Man,
Pitied, unpitied. Though
This be known to all men,
We realists connive.
Thrice-prancing priests in March
Have made red their faces,
Have conspired to despoil
Anew summer’s increase,
Overmuch not caring
For those about to dye
Crimson Plutonic plains,
To expire in the dark.
War, Mars, the face of Man?
War mars the face of man.
Though this be known to all men
we realists connive.
Thrice-prancing priests in March
have made red their faces,
have conspired anew to despoil
summer's increase,
overmuch not caring
for those about to dye
crimson Plutonic plains,
to expire in the dark.
War, Mars, the face of Man?
Is it blind or can it see?
Is it real or is it fake?
Is it give and take or not?
Agape, mutual, plutonic, or what?
What is love supposed to be?
For a period or for the keeps?
For the rich poor or for all?
A relationship, an affair, agreement or what?
What is love supposed to be?
How does one traverse the distance,
Between two hearts separated by love?
How can one pass the infinite expanse
Of time created by their loneliness
Will their longing and heartache
Explode Like a supernova
Creating a vortex
That sends them both spiraling
Into an abyssal plutonic existence
Or will their passion and desire
Be strong enough to bend and warp the continuum
Bringing the far ends of the universe
In upon its self
Allowing their love to join once again
Creating a intergalactic paradox
Of celestial oneness.
Rising from sylvan embraces
solitude
of the wild, wild wood
hunger burning deep within these
caverns and temples
within my misunderstood being;
haunted by you
touched by you
satisfied only by the
sweet nourishing currents
that course through your veins;
Soaring down from the mountains
on heavy black wings
in an avalanche of gabbro
accumulation of my dormancy
your scent
your heat
salts to revive me
warmth to thaw me;
Volcanic desire
fire
breathing the air
softening the hardness
of my plutonic heart
burning the fibres
of my arboreal soul
before plunging into the waterfall
momentarily destroying my composure;
Spirit reengaged
river’s current
supporting my weak state
towards your healing
thalassic body
waves of emotion
break over me
your liquid arms hold me
your saliferous kiss beguiles me;
How I missed this
elemental
perfect
you
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.