He walked into the room, commanding attention
and my heart, the scent of him is like a drug,
intoxicating me, controlling my every thought.
A hint of musk and cedarwood, with a touch of leather,
manly without being overbearing. I can't help but
associate those notes with his broad shoulders,
and the way he carries himself with such confidence.
There's a subtle spiciness to it as well,
a reminder that he's not just strong, but passionate too.
It's a fragrance that lingers long after he's gone,
a phantom presence in the room, making me crave him even more.
I wonder if he knows the power he holds
in just one spray of cologne. How it makes me feel
like I'm under his spell, completely at his mercy.
His scent alone could bring me to my knees,
but paired with his charming smile and piercing blue eyes,
it's almost too much for my heart to handle.
I take a deep breath, trying to memorize every note,
to hold onto this moment forever. Because no matter where life takes us,
this smell will always bring him back to me,
and remind me of what it means to love a man.
Categories:
spiciness, desire, men,
Form: Free verse
Spiciness clearing sinuses
As I dine on pure deliciousness.
Categories:
spiciness, food,
Form: Crystalline
Even though it has been long yore,
time immemorial through unwillingness,
even though life can still may lure,
us how, somehow we should not loose such awareness,
of selves for that is a loss of touch,
and feeling that if it continues to weariness,
of course, habit forever will hold the heart.
A wearied abyss remained wild,
if you want to remain anyhow awhile,
within a non don't mind,
wind is a weather and there is a style,
now, proffer a thing of spiciness,
to exorcise dullness of life,
one thing with our conditions is forges.
Categories:
spiciness, fun, love,
Form: Ode
Sweet
Princess
sensual sass
oh virtue sublime
two perfect little bows
plump raspberries, fresh
tapered, moist lusciousness
wispy chili pepper spiciness pure
plucked in cool rain for love's intent
dew-dappled fruits of desire, inexorable.
Oh, like spinning the moon in your hands
there's naught but Luna's glinting your eyes
that can hold measure to those nectarous berries.
I shall consider it my honored duty, to so determine
to let the soft, deep adoration of my press to your own
be the only concern for which I shall offer my deft attention.
Oh, do not gods themselves aspire to such commitments, thus?
Your divine mouth is all I'll need for my own deliberate attainments ...
loose the moon from your tender grasp, for this moment is ours alone
its soft blue beams, the rill of romance that we swim together ... to drown.
~ 2nd Place ~ in the "Picture Prompt" Poetry Contest, Brenda Chiri, Judge & Sponsor.
Categories:
spiciness, analogy, metaphor, moon, romance,
Form: Free verse
Chicken Fajita's
Delectable dish of spiciness wrapped in flour blanket.
Written By: Laura Urbaniak
November 5, 2015
2nd Place Winner
Categories:
spiciness, food, memory,
Form: Verse
I carefully break the crusty circle
As I lift a slice of cheese;
The chewy, stretchable goodness
Clings and breaks off as I please.
I lift it close with both hands
And inhale its warm, cheesy smell;
It sends a spasm of hunger
Deep into my stomach’s well.
I temptingly take a nibble;
The gooey warmth fills my cheeks;
My tongue finds pepperoni and pineapple,
And the flavors explode in peaks.
The fluffiness of crust, the chewiness of cheese,
The spiciness of meat, and the tanginess of fruit
Collide in my mouth, sends my taste buds whooping
And my stomach grumbles and gives a hoot!
I can no longer refrain!
I can no longer restrain!
I stuff my face until
I can no longer contain.
Categories:
spiciness, food,
Form: I do not know?
Hearing conversations
Spoken in a foreign tongue
Serves as a reminder of
The folks we live among.
Immigrants from distant shores
Residing where we live
Add a little spiciness
With all they have to give:
Hints of other cultures,
Both alluring and exotic;
Customs that we might just find
A tiny bit quixotic.
When I hear people talking
In a language rich and strange,
I wonder at the meaning of
The words that they exchange.
It’s like a secret code to which
I do not have the key,
And likely what they’re saying
Doesn’t have to do with me.
Yet still, if we could comprehend
A language not our own,
Perhaps the world would cease to be
A xenophobic zone.
Categories:
spiciness, people, language, language,
Form: Rhyme