Short Satins Poems

The finest satins, silks, and tatted lace
In exquisite beauty cannot compare
To my love with red ribbons in her hair.


written September 25, 2021...

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you put your silks and satins 
in me, a darkened abattoir
I see your pain, a summer crisis
staring sometimes for minutes
it's a love hate relationship
it's a love hate hall of mirrors
lost in dirty bone catacombs
I wait for your return...

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Don't stop me now something brilliant's gonna happen
A masterpiece of outstanding proportions you sure can't dampen
A master chef in the kitchen
True greatness can't be hidden 
As I prance around so stunning in my silks and satins...

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The Satin Show(Rondelet poetry)

Bright satins flow
as ladies display their fashion
bright satins flow
stage full of sassy girls on row
~glitz and glamour mixed with passion
their designs speak with great caption
bright satins flow.



Olusegun Arowolo;contest:"weave a Rondelet"...

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Slipping from satins embrace  
Her soft shoulders; slowly, it falls
Lingering amid dreams, atop the bed
Breathing their perfume her essence she.. 
Beauty, tasting rose splashed colours; love's
Morning dew flavours;  wines, mesmerizing kiss
Breast upon breast; gently, caressing, silk, ecstasy....

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They ply themselves to sculpting,
designer gowns, Delmonicos, 
those crafty artistes, tasting, trimming.

Excesses to delight the senses,
silks and satins, sauces bearnaise
distinguished by their excellence.

Haute couture or haute cuisine, 
they'd grace a page in any 
food or fashion magazine!...

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I still miss her mystery, moments
when I'd wake beside her and 
nuzzle her nape, hear her 
breathing so softly, so sleek under 
satins that sculpted her beautiful shape. 

My days are now vacant, 
evenings are empty with no one to hold, 
to ponder and pattern ambitions 
together once shared,  
and now so far distant and cold....

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I still miss her mystery, mornings 
when I'd wake beside her and 
nuzzle her nape, hear her 
breathing so softly, so sleek under 
satins that sculpted her beautiful shape.

My days are now vacant, 
evenings are empty with no one to hold, 
to ponder and pattern ambitions
together for ever, pale dreams 
that are now so far distant and cold....

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As the grace of my lord invade my segments
my soul stears from satins decent

with his hateful lament 
and his constent resent
the feel of my soul is in malcontent

i never look back at the shadows in black
but insteed look ahead at the living dead

for I will never become blined to the wise mans sin
for he can lead me to sin again...

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I still miss her mystery, mornings 
when I'd wake beside her and 
nuzzle her nape, hear her 
breathing so softly, so sleek under 
satins that sculpted her beautiful shape.

Now my days are vacant, 
evenings are empty with no one to hold, 
to ponder and pattern ambitions
together for ever, pale dreams 
that are now so far distant and cold....

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I still miss her mystery, 
mornings when I'd wake beside her 
and nuzzle her nape, hear her 
breathing so softly, so sleek under 
satins that sculpted her beautiful shape.

Now my days are vacant, 
evenings are empty with no one to hold, 
to ponder and pattern ambitions
together for ever, pale dreams 
that are now so far distant and cold....

Read More

I still miss her mystery, mornings 
when I'd wake beside her and 
nuzzle her nape, hear her 
breathing so softly, so sleek under 
satins that sculpted her beautiful shape.

My days are now vacant, 
evenings are empty with no one to hold, 
to ponder and pattern ambitions
together for ever, pale dreams 
that are now so far distant and cold....

Read More

I still miss her mystery, 
mornings when I'd wake beside her 
and nuzzle her nape, hear her 
breathing so softly, so sleek under 
satins that sculpted her beautiful shape.

Now my days are vacant, 
evenings are empty with no one to hold, 
to ponder and pattern ambitions
together for ever, pale dreams 
that are now so far distant and cold....

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She has taken herself
Off the open market
And made herself available
To the wealthy at private auctions
Wearing only the finest
In silks and satins and sparkling diamonds 

And though everything she wears is new
She herself is a hand me down
Shared for the price of Tiffany bracelet
Or an Oscar de la Renta dress 
Longing for happiness
Praying that someone might keep her
Never seeing that she, herself, is kept...

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Years of friendship now comes to close 
As wooden box enclaves your bones
I incant the dirge picked just for you
Through vaulted halls soft notes flew
White robed deity their incense burn
Satins power to dismiss and spurn
Then wild birds call over open grave
All life’s sins packaged and forgave
As you are lost neath natures clay
Adieu   good friend till another day


( For contest,’ Just Poetry’, by Paula Swanson)...

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I see the spirit that we share walk on the lake into thin air .
It's the evil in the haunting , the needful things that leave me wanting . 
The seduction of your mind . the wickedness that left me blind .
I taste your sex the feel of you , your sensual ness that see's me through
this abandon desolate wasteland ,just like the heat of satins hand.



                                              James Stevenson....................................................

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Hybrid disassociation enveloping the realm of the brutal. 

Severed limbs rain from the sky, heads rolling the streets- A hell rejoiced by satins’ 
glorious army. 

Disembodied virtues, convoluted vision in a rhetorical era. 

Buried remnants of a societal refrain post due lay staunch in ruins of a untold text. 

Blood rages through the river as bludgeoned faces paint the streets of flesh and 
blood. 

Involute power reigns absolute, so begins the desolate landscape...

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Streets filled with hopeless regret
kids with lives their tring to forget

brothers wasting valuable time 
only to further see their demise

hope is the brother that dosent give up 
to always go strong even through tough

hope is the teenage girl with a baby 
yet even through her tears she earns an education

these streets of misery and lost souls 
are filled with satins red hot coals

Satan loosen your grip from my brothers mind 
so that they will not see your hateful demise...

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In deep specks, the sea flashlight sways.
sapphire flecks, and azure splashing.
Screes’ speckled satins.

Sadness fluid in the bowed beldam.
sprinkle its stretch into the shards
as her wings curled in dismay.

She had morphed into a mountainous waterfall.
a stratum full of opal swords clasped her down.
similar to a thumbprint

Gloved and cloaked in a conundrum
While roaming, she spoke a light
of transforming stone into a mist

Written: November 27, 2022...

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