Short Fingering Poems

Trees fingering bone
white of the frozen land are
stripped bare for winter....

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Trees fingering the bone-
white of winter are stripped bare
under the chilled blue sky....

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sexy curved
body fingering
her strings
fretting not
what words
in chords
come out
of her
sound
hole...

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its fingering slicking
its kicking
good taste
me it don't go to waste
am alway s looking
for some
SOUL COOKING...

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Morning
Sunlight’s rays
Fingering their 
Way through cotton ball clouds
Gold glow.
...

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When issuing Globalist threats
it proves best to shed all regrets
of Dull Care lingering,
still busy fingering
all across those DNA frets....

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i have a pear
shaped mandolin
depression era
that has surely
sinned in
speakeasies
in the '30's
because my
fingering has
never been so
beautifully
dirty...

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just sit  at desk
and get set
 while lingering
start fingering
 read the word as told
call compose
 than writer or tyde ment
than quick yo click sent
it never fails
HOW TO SEND A EMAIL...

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you play 
my flute
and i your
conch shell

ocarina
with both 
of us fingering
to configure some

sort of
melody in
harmony with
each of us not one

without
the other
for this is
not a solo...

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a roughened garden
devil's claw over blossom
stones like dominos

estate sale today
fingering through memories
grief cold uncaring

sold to the future
children bouncing on the grass
laughter resurrected

...

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Quantum g-spot
Simultaneous revulsion
And primal mystic
Archaic groan
Unpredicable tectonic
Moaning through time
Creation spins itself
Reincarnation splatters across the waves
Fingering past time hopes
Groping for change...

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tuneless piano
silently singing
the truth of silence.

broken keys fallen
in the rounding path 
of stiff ticking clock.

sun of love once perched
fingering the hearts
joined the joke of life....

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Drooling for my luscious garden,
Your tongue licks
My sweet smelling mist.
Fingering my pink petals, 
I moan.
Whispering and screaming.
Drunk and delirious.
Raw from lust,
We lie together.
Lazy, languid, dreaming
Of days to come....

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Tonight
darkness engulfs;
tranquility amour.
Fingering the eyes of your grace,
forever your beauty in my fancy;
stills the rush of entangled thought.
Faces in ebony night
reminiscence
Tonight

Copyright © 2009 By Caryl S. Muzzey...

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Surreal 
surround 
entwining 
Love souls fingering branches 
Roots combing into the deepness 
Ashen love embrace oozing nectar 
Calling out buzzing and humming 
Frenzied passionate calls
By waters edge
A tumultuous 
bulbous 
flowering 
bush born
Erected...

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Our
conversations quickly turn to black confetti.
Dining in separate cells.
Fingering our cell phone pals to death.
Until they turn us on.
Chips in our relationship throb. 
Yellow tape outlining respect.
Where does love go,
oh, where does love go when it's 
gone....

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music’s up
top’s down
cool breeze
fingering my hair
thoughts drifting by
at fifty-five
cares dropping
like leaves
this september day

traffic lights
in hues of trees
the creek
below the bridge
flows  heavy
with yesterday’s tears
my memories
float on by
i am free
this september day...

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the moon rises
her candle-lit glow dances
casting shadows on walls
as she weaves in and out
of night's winded breath
fingering every inch of  darkness
as she thrusts herself forward

night moans
in a climax of screams
then becomes silent
under freshly fallen dew
she tucks herself beneath covers
and awaits morning's blush...

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Most of my flying now
is restricted to planes,
feet less able to 
“trip the life fantastic” -- 

age having slowed fast living
to delayed starts and early
finishes – 

joining the genuflecting
lines, many of us
striving for sainthood
in latter years, fingering
rosaries – chanting on knees

converts 
at Altar of years…....

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It does rattle the Bone 
To be oddly alone 
And one makes prone 
To fingering one’s phone:
The seed of solitude sown 
And fruit of boredom grown, 
Life is a hollow cone;
One like a defaulter over a loan; 
In ears a loud insisting drone 
Of an unseen plane being flown…
 
Loneliness reaches the bones 
And speaks in our moans....

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Discouraging others 
Expecting instant respect 
Fingering a bad guy 
Imagining worst scenario 
Negating someone’s accomplishments 
Irritating people in a mean way 
Tasting caviar 
Eating slimy oysters 
Laughing at a person’s misfortune 
Yelling about people I have never met 

Needling a nefarious never-do-well-er
Ostracizing an ostrich 
Tackling a Tiger...

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I was writing in my diary,
a daily routine,
when my English teacher walked in.
"Is that a story?", he asked,
glancing at the many pages below.
I thought carefully,
fingering the pages.
"Yes." I said, looking up at him.
"What's it about? 
What's the climax?
Where's the plot lead?"
I thought again,
flipping the pages.
"I don't really know yet."
Someday I will....

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I want to fall in love again
As I stare in my eyes
In the water's reflection
I suddenly miss the hungry burn
Fingering my scars, I hesitate to
Take a new step
I'm feeling the youthful, ticklish
Yet not discomforting feeling
In my chest
I find myself rambling
Feeling hot and red
Once more
I can't see far into the distance
But I'm willing to make
The first step...

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Hands twitch
remembering the sensations
of the fingering flesh.

Side by side we sleep
between ghost worlds.

Feather whisps
of body awareness
anchors us
to one deeply breathing bed.

In that place,
skin secretes thought and sight,
we dream each other's dreams.

Are we more in love
there
in that nether land
then when fully awake,

when our tongues are
loose and sly?
...

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In a small green tent I reached for midnight
Above our stoned embrace my lies
Emptied in an indifferent trickle of desire
We giggled, fingering each other’s faces
The strange familiar- absurdity
In the doef-doef music and the scale of my fish-nets
Two teenage screw-ups, a clichéd poem already forming
On lips bruised with vampire kisses
With which I stroked your smile, coaxing truths on which to feed...

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