I ask of the night why it slips into my bedroom and
extinguishes Earth's light,
He replied softly "I'm a jealous lover and my shade
of evening lies down beside you, as we bid the
augustness of the sun adieu."
I laugh and weep at the same time,
as I'm in love with the four season's soirees
he enchants my heart with.
Many years ago, walking slowly hand in hand
with my lifeguard lover on the sands of Fire Island,
I thought love's charms would last,
his fire with starlight, jewels of moonlight,
and kisses-
with summer's wane he faded into September's
wooing embrace.
Yet glorious eventide was always there,
and, as he filled my eyes with the swallow's flight,
he whispered breathlessly, "You are mine to keep."
Categories:
soirees, 9th grade, beach, kiss,
Form: Free verse
I was at this here shindig just the other night
was all duded up and was feeling all right
When this fancy fella saunters over my way
it 'peers to me like he might have something to say
Gawking at my boots, rodeo buckle and band
I guess he figured it out that I worked the land
He tips his wine glass with his pinky sticking out
then begins telling me just what ranching's about
He'd bought up thousands of acres of this cheap land
that used to belong to some worthless Indians
If I wanted real money, I'd be pumping oil
or dig gold, coal or silver from under the soil
He said man it's easy just to get down to it
bring in these machines and rip the prairie to
Waive a little cash and them congressmen aught to
just follow you around like cattle to slaughter
I says hold on there, I'm not sure you understand
so just let me show you what I think of your plan
Us rancher, we have pride in caring for the land
and I introduced him to the back of my hand
I'm sure they won't ask me to any more soirees
none of them snooty people talk to me these days
Because as I walked out I toasted them you see
with a finger sticking out but not my pinky
Categories:
soirees, humor, poetry,
Form: Rhyme
Was I a bit too real for you
too raw, like meat bleeding on the butcher’s block
too honest like an angel
as I stripped the skin from my flesh
flesh from my bones
put every prickling nerve on display
every taut tendon
Did it frighten you to learn the truth
of what lies beneath the searing burns and scars
below the surface as if I’ve been lashed
by the thorny branches of a honey locust tree
Did you find yourself choking on your rank hypocrisy
Your pathetic platitudes about love
empty mewlings about empathy
as you stand there stolidly silent
setting yourself apart from all the nobodies
behind your walls, your fences to protect your privacy
when you know damn well their true purpose is to prevent
what you don’t want intruding
in your perfect fantasy of champagne soirees
your loafers polished to a high shine
black mirrors in which you can see yourself
instead of us, instead of me
From those festering wounds my words come
the poetry I pen, the rhymes I wrangle, the worlds I write
searching for a guiding light
someone to share this journey
Categories:
soirees, abuse, anger, angst, celebrity,
Form: Free verse
When leaving from here,
I will donate to the world
my poetry...
In it will find my fulcrum...
You will read the joy I experienced
sharing spaces with the stars
with whom I dialogued frequently,
will notice upon the spontaneous nights
of soirees under the moon...
From confessions and lessons learned
from the sea with its memory of elephant...
They will realize the delicacy of flowers
that adorned and perfumed my life...
When I leave, I can miss you all,
but I will leave satisfied...!
Categories:
soirees, 7th grade, allegory, allusion,
Form: Free verse
She had aspirations
Wanted to belong
Hung out in swanky clubs
With the creme de la creme
That percentile with pure blue blood
Attended all the soirees
She dressed the part
Loved to strut her stuff
Never turning down a challenge
She blew till she was blue
A girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do
Submitted on January 7, 2019 for contest BLUE sponsored by CRAIG CORNISH
Categories:
soirees, blue, celebrity, desire, parody,
Form: Free verse
Short weekends and long weekdays
School’s out then it’s onto résumés and workdays
Mondays dragging on through to Fridays
Long commutes on highways, subways and tramways
Toiling for okays, some praise and hopefully a raise
Soirees and negligees for Saturdays
Aspiring to bouquets so enchanting in a vase
Before you know it’s on for matinees on Sundays
Enjoying soufflés, sorbets, sundaes and parfaits
Eyeing the calendar for paydays
As well as birthdays, holidays and getaways
But nowadays, as retirees, we have our days
And often we just graze in haze almost a daze
Where Tuesdays look no different than Thursdays
To paraphrase it’s our final phase when interplays
In many ways the sweet nostalgia of yesterdays
AP: 3rd place 2020
Posted on March 13, 2018
Categories:
soirees, life, nostalgia, perspective, retirement,
Form: Monorhyme
Another quaint conversation
with Les C. Moore
Boy, I tell you,
people who say they don’t want more problems,
sure got a funny way of praying
They always be asking the Lord
for more of this and that
Get another pay raise,
and another job title feather
on their boss straw hat
More work responsibility equals more stress
Ain’t nobody ever sat ‘em down
and told ‘em that yet
My goodness,
and they wonder why
they be always drinking that
bitter black coffee of regret
They need to be praying for less ...
Less company soirees,
makes for less gossip to attend to
Less social media frenemies
to micro critique everything you do
Less expensive personal hobbies,
that prompts your spouse to spend more
Less time spent in the man cave,
and you might see the shooting star dreams you missed before
Praying for less, my dear lost friend,
will require you to be more vigilant
The more you can stifle complaints,
the less your stress will be mounting
Can Les see more of that, please!
Categories:
soirees, humorous, social, truth, wisdom,
Form: Light Verse
My dream shines brightly with ambitious gleam,
And in my heart, its vivid brilliance rivals even sunbeam.
I dream to be among the ranks of landowners,
To have thousands of acres and a hanseatic house,
Adorned with colorful feathered grouse,
And lush gardens fit for soirees and dinners,
Gazebos hosting bands and crooners,
And a view of a river as fair as the Great Ouse.
By day I shall paint,
And write prose and poetry
Lauding flora and fauna.
By night I shall play
Baroque tunes on a lute
Or Bach on a harpsichord.
All rights released into Public Domain
Sept. 26 2016
Three style II poetry contest
Categories:
soirees, art, beautiful, beauty, desire,
Form: Sedoka
Sea breeze swaying trees
A slow waltz of what's to come
Open-air soirees
Categories:
soirees, dance, nature,
Form: Haiku
“Oh Emma, my cherished and unholy soulmate;
Woman of air! Raw phrases leap with love and hate.
Behind glasses seethes a romantic, daring the night
August child of gothic verse, lines we all recite.
Yet , when soirees roll, your flame the men desire;
It surprises me how that glance changes like fire!
In class, we ignite our teachers’ ire with naughty quirks
Creating romps as the batch mimes our theatrics.
Tonight, we pluck more wild seeds of younger memoirs
Still coloring our lives as time waits for girl- hours.”
.........................
* Emma is a dear friend way back in college. As an activist,
writer, and down-to-earth woman, she graduated with cum laude
honors. We regularly meet up to bond and nourish our friendship.
Emma Contest of Juli-Michelle
Categories:
soirees, friendship,
Form: Couplet
Sweet Home
From the tense of turbulence you profer comfort,
from the tests of time you offer abode,
Will all the fortresses of home refer incline?
Will all the fortitudes of hope adversity sublime?
The ocean of pleasure thou are; forever will I clamour instill,
The mission of leisure sweet amass; forever will I welcome still.
Dotting the lines of succour through the poets' quill-pen,
Blotting the limbs of honour through the Equerrian quince.
The enclave of birth and nurture to the dwell enclose,
The conclave of might and culture to the bells entwine.
Entrenched in shelter from rain and sun concomitant undo,
Embellished in sceptres from ornaments to unravel the feud's undue.
As the elements of Architecture are singing beautitudes,
The velvets of bevels are clinking tambourines.
As the culverts of artefacts are mincing soirees,
The valance of bevies are ringing solarium.
In May you lay in mash of holy velds,
And in June will Juno return amidst.
Oh God of mercy grant us the grace of lair,
When the solace of sauna breeds comfort of sweet home.
Adeola Yusuf Amuni
Categories:
soirees, passionsweet, sweet,
Form: Rhyme