Succulence Poems | Examples

Tiramisu Mousse

Such an intensely rich indulgence.
A cream of so much succulence.

Hazel Eyed Stars on the Rise

The 49er arrives with the virgin sunrise.
but the golden veins have long ago dried. 
Pick axe in hand Dynomite in his good eye.
He's the only one left of the callused kind.
Back in spring Blackjack the burro broke free 
bolting for the last watering hole
licking the salt from his reigns.

Deeper and deeper the miner burrows in.
It's all about double blind commitment now.
The poison of pride over the succulence of time-
Willowy faith over the slag of good reason-
The gristle of isolation over nectar of companionship.

At the very edge of the dimming lamp light
the black snake has tapped the vein dry. 
A dusty angel sips the last of the moonshine.
The 49er rolls two stones over two black holes
that once were hazel stars on the rise.

DAMN!!!

Standing under the hot sun
The sand of the beach singing melodies of tingling to my toes
I watched your summer body as the sun kissed it 

Running away from the waves of the ocean 
Your curves and edges bounced 
Speaking volumes of your succulence 
You were happy and full of life 
Turned a few heads in your direction
You became the reason for many erections

I didn't mind 
None of theirs will feel your warmth
The sun can kiss your body 
I'm the one going to kiss where the eyes of the sun cannot reach 

Young Woman
You were not made
You were carved
You were not created
You were built 
God had nothing to do with your creation 
He is too conservative to create such a gorgeous weapon of mass ********

Damn!!!!

ABSOL

and then

and then:



perhaps there is love

		perhaps   

where there is the shape of things

the majestic, the mystic,  the mighty


	the 	miniscule


that I have not been taught

		altogether

to get her	or   him	or  them

or especially			it;

with endowment

with succulence

with patience		or		prejudice

if only there were no


		perhaps

Preference a Freed Verse

PREFERENCE
the succulence
  on display
 arrestingly
 different
a
timeless
exactitude
 alongside
 luscious
 beauties
  concoctions
of symbolist n
abstractions
 simplified lines
  emptily idealised
yet
authentically
expressed
 & depicted
if
somewhat
in absurdity
of
  an  exploration
of  the sensual
in
the  of
  conscientious
to   make
a startling
 masterpiece
illustrating
&
 portraying
a naive
  fantasy

My Irresistible Brown Coffee

MY IRRESISTIBLE BROWN COFFEE 

I will drink to your love. 
Start with my brown coffee some forehead kisses
just to show you my abundance of respect
till my lips hyperbolically becomes crested on it. 
I will drink to your love,
Taste the pureness from your lips
just to show my thirst for my coffee
and unify our passion for each other. 
I will drink to your love. 
Caress the shoulders of my cup
just to make her feel my touch 
as I feel her steamy warmth. 
I will drink to your love. 
Grapple like waffle the two points 
where sweet signals strikes sensitivity 
till I become hot or warm like my coffee. 
I will drink to your love. 
My tongue is made to taste it's succulence, 
as I ravel in the softness of your heavyweights
until our souls come in twain and simulate. 
I will drink to your love. 
Reach down to the paths that leads to heaven. 
And when I get to that heaven beneath, 
I'll drink the oceans till we both run wild. 
I will drink to the love of my Brown Coffee. 

Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP} 
Form: Cinq Cinquain 
Copyright© 3rd January, 2023.

A Yet Unwritten Reality

Be a "what if' being
a poet all seeing,
let your wishes
ride upon unicorns and rainbows.
Don't be typically cynical, be topically hopeful,
have faith in the ridiculous
the fantastical.
Le us not wait
let us be grateful,
let us not hesitate
to stare at our navel.

If the Mindful Universe
(that ever succulence of sprit),
can make an ape think,
lift it into the poetry of creative ideas,
it can change your heart,
it can make it bloom in much higher gardens.

You are the who-man, the walking womb,
what inseminates you,
what seeds your imagination
are the wings of an everlasting,
ever increasing wonder.
Butterfly dreams will learn to soar.
Unicom's will be a poem you have yet to write.

Exegesis Rhapsody

A rainbow looms outside the window
however, she lingers quietly
for the slight strips to portray twilight
as her predominant shrewdness
strive exegesis in the vault of heaven
and they retain the darkness
captivating promises flavor edible orbs
she is doused with succulence
soulful craving skin in hellish bliss
solely for squander
where there is crown motionless
is shattered by midnight rhapsody.

3rd Place Contest Winner
Written: July 07, 2022


A BRIAN STRAND PREMIERE CHOICE Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand

Green Bikes, Red Bites

What's cooler and juicier
Than a long-striped rime of green,
Whose internals are fortified with
An explosion of mesmerizing desire?

Or a total circle of green without stripes,
Protectively enclosing the best of eats,                                                                                                                 
Thoroughly permeated by the color of pure red,                                                                                                    
And speckled throughout with seeds of black?
Or if you prefer, no seeds at all to delay your treat.

And what's more tastier my friend, than a softly textured cut                                                                                                                               
Of mouth-watering goodness bite after bite after watery bite?
An oasis of succulence and sweetness to the taste of healthy             Goodness awaits our sense of taste each summer with nothing                     To prep; nothing to waste. A watermelon sweet and cold is Like                     A free-wheeling bicycle ride along the countryside.

070422PSCtest, Watermelon contest, Mystic Rose Rose

Beware the Fantasies

The grass is not greener on the other side.
Rather, there are things that love to hide.
We need to discern what's in disguise.                                                         

I wasn't looking 
for it, but I saw it,
and for a season,                                                                                        I could not look away.

I felt it,
and was arrested by it.
I did not hear it,
but I could taste it,
and was captured by its succulence.
But it was a delicacy I could not afford.

I could touch it, but I dared not, because
To do so would have been a tragedy.
As you can clearly understand, all but
one of my five senses were engaged.
And such sensory inputs were far too many.

The entity that I encountered was a fantasy.
I was forced to come to the inevitable conclusion
that indeed, it was a mirage that could end in a casualty.
May we be aware of fantasies seeking to conceal realities.
From such, one must walk away, before we become a travesty.

052922PS

Privilege, a Pleasure of Life

Sandwiches and soups for supper.
Rare privilege of such succulence.

A Ravening

The land suffers too much greening;
luxuriance froths to fever and glut,
birds cannot consume all the insects,
nor serpents eat the thronging flocks.
The soil hogs on the swill of decay,
drey and burrow are ovens
for a prowling pestilence.
There is no softness. The sun
bites the bloated and rancid,
a balance is tipped off kilter,
the climate repaints its face
more garish each day.
A little poverty is needed, a tax
on the riotous and abundant,
the sickly succulence of ripe sap
be drained and clarified.
We live now in the eyes of strangers,
hunters are maddened by the gnawing
of long fevered bones.

A Ravening Heat

All around me the land suffers too much greening.
The luxuriant froths over into a feverish lush.
Birds cannot consume all the insects.
Snakes cannot eat all the birds.
The ground hogs on the swill of decay.

If this is natures wealth then a little poverty
is needed, a tax on the riotous and too abundant.
Death the reaper must rule his kingdom with more gusto, 
both the prey and the predator sparring none,
the sickly succulence of overripe sap
drained and clarified by a cooler sunlight.

I was whelped in more temperate climes,
wolves died of hunger and age not heat stroke.
The rabbit burrows are oven gates
for marauding hordes and an avid pestilence.
The balance is tipped and off kilter,
The climate repaints its face more garishly
each day.

I hear the mandibles of ferocity, their
click and remorseless grind,
and there is no softness in the nibbling jaws 
of those who rampage silently,
those, who strip the bloated and obese
to the dark and rancid bone.

I secretly journey now under dawn stars,
trace my way over cooling paths
before another fevered heat 
force feeds the land.

The Mocking Face of Love

The Mocking Face of Love

Oh, love, why is it that you mock me
Cupid’s arrows falling at my feet
flitting eyes that settle – always elsewhere
trembling hands that never reach to touch.

Why must you visit yet never stay
linger in scented memory
consumed in darkening shadows
pursued by memory’s melancholy.

Oh love, had I tasted your nectar
imbibed the succulence of your secrets
dined on the opulence of your beauty
sated myself on a moment of your madness

Would I then have known you well enough
to smile at the mocking face of love.


John G. Lawless
©6/17/2021

Two Seeds

Two seeds in heart 
compete to be fed
with mercy 
or vengeance
oh mystery 
of consent
one blooming 
in sweetness 
petal fragrance
joy of honeybees  
and butterflies 
elegance 
nestling birds 
in tender foliage
curtains
sparkling
from cracks
their hidden songs
as gems
then petals fall 
embroidering grass
in colors
and fruits mature 
to succulence 
ambrosial
nourishing life 
with seeds that fall  
and sprout 
reminding 
made by God
circle cycle
while made by man
disintegrate and vanish.
The other seed 
a weed 
that chokes all life
the Devil 
known to trail
in shoes of blood
to be eradicated or
allowed to flourish
a choice to be made
in life's short instants
that will continue
unchanged after death
to joy eternal
or never-ending Hell 
where those
who don't believe 
will... 
when they get there.

First Place Winner: Brian Strand-Your Option Again-2/27/23
First Place Winner: Brian Strand-All Yours-6/3/21
Note: St Padre Pio said to someone who didn't believe in hell: You will when you get there.

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