Short Wringing Poems

Couple’s last long hug
Wringing every bit of love
An expiry date...

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.

 drowning mine words
       weren't her's
 but her wringing hips
...

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the wounding of youth


and the wringing hands of time


convoluted rhyme...

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Her vision is flame.....spreading like wildfire adrift....a wringing of hands.......

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exhaustion of stars
wringing out the memories
one light at a time
perspicacious perspective
revives poetic express
...

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Wringing feelings
Like a sponge…
The words dripped down
My lips
Onto the page
  —staining my soul

(Villanova Pennsylvania: May, 2016)...

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Wringing feelings
Like a sponge…
The words dripped down
From my lips
Onto the page,
—staining my soul

(Villanova Pennsylvania: May, 2016)...

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Wringing feelings
Like a sponge…
The words dripped down
From my lips
Onto the page
  —staining my soul

(Villanova Pennsylvania: May, 2016)...

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Is it an angel that I hear singing?
Or is it tinnitus in my ears ringing?
The voice is so high
Its making me cry
It’s my underwear, it's tight and wringing...

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the stiff clouds 
still 
wringing their hands, but
hearing your sweet voice,
through
the motherland
where
the 
colorful seagulls
flap their long wings
over dry land...

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MORE evil

   than gods &

loathing smiles 

while wringing my

hands -- at two-lips

so beveled

  god the martini slog

~ so brutal taking life as 

it is and miles to go

before I am useless.

:: 06-22-2017 ::...

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Looking Forward to

I look forward to 
wringing my 
endocrine glands covering the 
top exterior of 
the kidneys; loving deeply, intensely, first respecting and 
approving the 
toilet brush; the 
new second Tuesday of 
the week. 
...

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I suggested that
The ink fall 
Below the sweep
Of your silhouette

Wringing physical sirens
Challenge the prick as
The shades blend
To a beautiful form

Complete
Your lower lip sags
At the glistening triumph
Since the nerves cannot smile...

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Rhyme is a crime,
A misdemeanor or more.
And cadence is worse—a rhythmical verse
Is a felony critics abhor.

“Love” gets a shove
In the ash-can where Beauty “belongs”.
Psychosis is “in”—optimism’s a sin:
Down the toilet with heart wringing songs!...

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Opening bottles

Men can
Women can't
Not always anyway.
Some women
Have men's hands
Knobbly and strong
Take my late mother-in-law
Hands good for
Wringing heavy washing
Lifting pints of Guinness too!
Me, useless, needing a man
If only to open my bottles....

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Pounding of the sun.
Pounding of the storm.
Drummers on trees.
Freeze the moment
Of unusuality.

Stream of arousal.
Stream of hot rays.
Stunning silence.
Freeze the moment
Of tranquility.

Heed transient thunder.
Heed, it’s late arrival.
Wringing out rain.
Freeze the moment
Of instability.

8/29/2021...

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Breathtaking

    Our secret lechery 
beneathe the wringing cascades
oft caressing .....        
       ev'r breathtaking  
                  nev'r failing         
                        oft glowing               
                 our hearts still knowing.



                 McCuen Copyright October 2008...

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wayward, wanting
winds

waiting without
weigh

weary woefull
wanderers

weaving weather
warfare

walking waters
wringing

whatever writing
with

whirlwind wonders
working

wrenching wrinkles
worthless

wrestling wrong
writes

well....for now

stan sand



writing...when
writs...wring
wrong...

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Ah, dazzled by the dark messiah's calculating tongue,
Panoply of a scheming soul residing deep in his being -
Engaging the mindless herds gathering all around him.
Rue the day when he is exposed as he truly is, that no
Conniption, remorse or hair wringing could ever undo.
Until the next election comes along, just grit your teeth!...

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There was no clear move.
Flamethrowers were on the way- 

and I was looking, 
backward.

A fragile truce with the 
clouds. They had abandoned-

the sky and were wringing- 
the neck of mountains.

Compromising with the painted lips 
of winter, my secret was out.

I was shivering in the crowd 
of moon-gazers.



Satish Verma...

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Last night when the first
snow fell I was hovering
on the doorstep of 

yours anxiously and 
wringing my hands without a 
dare to knock, even 

my voice was laced by 
unspoken poetry and 
only stuttering

came out of my mouth. 
I wanted to act; to love 
out loud and fill the 

space in between, but 
under the shadow of a 
doubt this void was made to grow....

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watching through the looking lens as wickedness unfolds
  wriggling complicit, lounging in my comfort seat
  knee on neck, agony again, ... Again, .... AGAIN, ..... and YET AGAIN!
  weighing heavy, bearing down, my weary conscience scolds
  weaponise my wringing hands and my tongue-tied feet
  I CAN'T BREATHE! good-causes relieve the pressure
 ....... but only now and then...

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I may have grown tired
     but my lungs have opened wide
Never to be so inspired
     as when we shut the divide

Now universally singing verses to be heard
voices chorusing uniformly wringing through the urn
which formed splits and fissures through my nervous cord
hexed cortex adorned with loose tissue and enormous horns
looming viciously against my dreams

     I am reborn...

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Diphylleia grayi turns transparent in rain,
Transforming before me to lustrous bone
Drawing out aches in my marrows pain
Patience — the clouds will fade, leaving you standing alone
Ending transparency, we find white in every pane
Wringing you dry; elevates this capstone
Wet again, you bloom into ice-etched floral glass
Hiding in purity, the world forgets quickly; how clarity is surpassed...

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The holes of the lace curtain,
Having closed the winter windows.
Life shimmers like so coveted blueberries.
So many pieces of obscurity.
The tops of the trees are spinning in the wind,
In a semicircle, back and forth,
Like whipping up the raw material for a biscuit.
Or maybe they're wringing their necks?
The wind has thrown the rumble of trains
Into a soundproof bag.
Every human is asleep....

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