I’ve got fine lace lingerie.
Where is the poet
with soft hands?
The rain pours like blessings from heaven
The lillies and ferns dance and sway swiftly
The dry soil turns swampy and soft
It glides away all that rests upon it
The feeling is so vibrant and cozy
The hopeful heart flies with wings far off
Wandering like busy butterfly...
soft, creamy, gooey
sweet pudding melts on my tongue
rain falls in torrents
what's better than caramel?
warm inside, stormy outside!
10.09.2026
The most beautiful poem suits you,
written simply, like your own beauty;
with the soft dawn breeze
dancing lightly upon the curtain
as it drifts through the open window;
like a rose half-open—the bloom of youth—
a stanza paused at the break of day.
May the breeze blow ceaselessly,
and you unfold from the curtain’s folds
like a butterfly emerging from the shadows,
your face a trail of light at daybreak
awaiting the rising sun,
your beauty revealing itself in full splendor—
a verse that touches the firmament.
Let the breeze rise from the depths of your soul,
stirring the curtain with a flickering pulse—
your form, a cherished vision,
drifting through the open window;
in your dark eyes, the sea
becomes a mirror of the sky,
with words like lighthouses in the boundless blue.
And should the time come for the breeze to fall silent—
as if a hand had closed the window—
you will dance lightly upon the curtain,
moving eternally within its graceful folds,
your beauty shining in the firmament;
the words in these verses
will speak only of you, forever.
Hooray autumn is on it's way,
the long summer has been way too too hot.
Cooler days are what I want,
with a soft cool breeze covering me.
Pretty leaves falling down,
colors are a patch quilt carpet.
The welcome mat now reads autumn.
soft colors
soft slippers
soft steps
soft bedsheets
soft pillows
sweet dreams
soft, the night streams...
~ sunlight’s satin beams
twilight leans gently over the past
memory feels like soft wings brushing the dusk of years
Through all the noise and The Wandering Mind,
I searched for a grace I was meant to find.
They talk about the Many Faces of Love,
Though we’ve been Judged Differently by stars above.
I still smile thinking how SHE ASKED FOR MY BLAZER,
Wrapped in my jacket, feeling you near.
I Love Doing This Life Thing with You,
Catching The Look i Don't Notice, so quiet and true.
When Love Calls Me Sweetboy, my world turns soft,
My Silver Lining when my thoughts float aloft.
You brought me a Clarity nothing can break,
Pure Perfection in Motion in every breath you take.
Even when apart, Still Longing to hold,
In the Dawn's Gentle Light, our story is told.
One look and I sigh, Damn, Its Her,
My light, my favorite blur.
My Desire and my Wish is simple, to stay by your side,
I give you My Words, nowhere to hide.
We’re leaving behind the Shadows of Youth,
Because For Me, You Are Enough and that is my truth.
At the end of it all, It's You
This should not be hard.
Anticipate me, for I am open.
I have hidden nothing, and am a creature of habit, predictable.
There is nothing too difficult to discover about this soul.
Nothing sequestered away from any prying mind.
Speak to me gentle.
Everyone surrounding me talks in a decibel that I associate with my head cradled between my palms.
The pressure attempts to mash every invasive thought, inevitably they fail.
Melt into my mind.
I've spent all these many years explaining myself.
Even with these oh so fragile words at my mercy I cannot make you hold them truly.
I slice into myself when you fracture them apart, rearranging what was intended.
Be delicate with my heart.
She has endured far too much, somehow persisting in what some may consider to be an inhospitable environment.
A fragile broken thing, untrusting of every encounter because- what if it happens again?
What if it's worse?
Love me softly.
I long to be held in tender hands, that just brush against my skin.
Searching for the lost pieces of themselves in me.
It is a kindness I have never known.
Perhaps I am undeserving.
Maybe it's harder than it sounds...
Pretty flowers were what we looked for,
had no money for the store.
Bathroom to save the day,
soft white flowers not gray.
Toilet paper roll no more.
dusk settles lightly,
brushing the paling treetops
with fading color~
and I feel summer slipping
in a way that sighs through me.
August light folds itself thin, a pale scarf left on the sill~
I watch it drift, unsure whether it’s leaving or lingering for me.
In its hush, I learn how even brightness carries a soft bruise of longing.
Sometimes thin, like a cloud,
Scattered and foggy, it drifts,
Softly down or too high,
Silent mist turns to art,
Shadows grow dark and heavy,
Sunlight makes it bright and moving,
Steady shield, just a cloud like me.
'Tis I, the better man by far,
to put my finger in the cookie jar.
My only life, I chose to risk it
for a cookie or a biscuit,
as a madwoman in the house
places traps best meant for mouse.
A lesser man might linger
on a missing thumb or finger,
but a man like me (a macho brute)
celebrates a cookie, down the chute.
agate
flame of rich hues
bestows warm and serene moods
hinders light for his own body
an upright altruist
PLACE: 2 nd
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