babe pink
soft skin
cute small
talc smell
was born
to warm
they win
your heart
no hair
small cap
pug nose
cute toes
bed stir
small stink
loud cry
warm milk
wide-eyed
play time
Months so warm and flourishing with bud
Talc and crystals fall and covered by mud
Playground disappears as party ends
Group of gamers with staffs stoop and bends...
After sunset as the World rises and bathing
Third month the waters overflow, not steaming
One symbol drops as the soil hardened
Seal of excellence, covered and flattened.
Handpicked, like coffee seeds or strawberries, ten eggs I kept
Like a tensed insomniac, for a long time I'd not slept
I found a change in the bloom of the dermis as days passed
There came out surprise-filled tint tots, elegance unsurpassed.
Red, green, blue, purple, and yellow, like a compressed rainbow
With perfectly blown balloons, as children merrily glow.
As seedlings spring up at night and glisten in the morning,
These soft talc and cloud agate gems appear without warning.
Standing erect and straight with sun-moon-stars-tinged, blazing eyes;
Robotic reflexes; peep, peep, peep, filling up the skies
Judgement quality of quantity like the honeybees
Psychic contagion is in them, like treasures in deep seas.
Symbols of resurrection, springtime splendours, and new life
A masterpiece of nature's craftsmanship after a strife
Scenes of Elysium, Coleus, and Jannah revealed
The mysteries of chicks, like the Milky Way, are concealed.
Yes
Wide eyed
And Oh
So small
Little man
He fits
In both my hands
I still know
How to hold
The little one
"Does it bring back memories"
Her question
Stayed with me
For days
Than weeks
Flowing along
Past
Distant times
In that
Expanse
Of memories
Times four
I explored
Cuddles
Hugs
The first
Fresh
As a field
Of shinning sunflowers
If that's what you call
A Delivery room
Or humidicrib
Does not matter
Those cuddles
Are there
Fresh
As with the smells
Pinetarsol
Talc
Their hair
Blankets
And tears
Reaching
Reaching for up
With hugs
Those pains
Away
Bed time
Hugs
Love you
Never
To much
But one hug
Eludes me
Can't remember
By four
The last
One
The last
Time
I pick up
One of four
For a hug
A ritual
In love
Faded
Without
Within
Fanfare or acknowledgement
A transition
Without notice
Or
A reason to recall
That which
I cannot recall
Until now
So many
Years later
So many years
To late
Somersault, flips and swings like an oar
Cup of salt, flings and stings on floor
Powder of talc, smoothens all
Slides and glides over all
Skip, stretch, turn or twist
Huff, puff like whist
Heart and soul
Fly high
Hop
Scorching heat, undrying sweat
Soothing talc, utmost a better bet.
Ubiquitous sun rays, ushering heat waves
Umbrellas of all types & ultra-sunglasses saves.
Most tiring, more thirst
Munch mangoes & mouthful of melons.
Midday radiation, mounting towers
Mild relief with a/c & coolers, makes it Mindful
Elements of high summer, enveloping around
Evenly breeze, entertain a little in the evenings.
Raising temperatures, restless lives
Rain to pour in, rescue in season.
It's not that we despise you,
the case of colour doesn't arise, you
being black doesn't matter...
It's just that the customer's idle chatter
insinuates the good name of our honest pub
will take the blame for your darker taint -
Don't get me wrong talc or face paint,
Would eradicate
misunderstanding.
It comes once a year,
A time most looked forward to,
Decorations hung up lights on the tree,
Time to send children to bed,
Santa is due at any time.
Talc footsteps lead to the tree,
Presents underneath,
Mince pie and carrots on a plate, milk in a glass,
It bedtime for the adults now.
Morning comes all to soon,
Been woken with "he's been he's been",
Bleary eyed up you get,
Its Christmas morn.
I rise up
Off the chaise lounge,
And greet the garden....
The tiger Lily’s
Are orange freckled faces
Soft as talc,
The morning dewdrops pose
Expanding like a ballerinas tutu.
Now I pause
To watch the roving buck
Pass through......like a
sentient being
The antlers are miniature trees reaching
to the sky,
Silent, he is the guardian of the
Countryside
In midsummer.
What is a moth?
I only know flitting shadows
Magnified upon my wall.
In closets and in chests of drawers,
Despite balls that smell of hospitals,
Holes in clothes where they once were.
They dance around my lantern
Made by Coleman, forest green,
To a deep sea diver breathing kerosene.
They’re drawn to candles too.
One misses a beat
And in diaphanous tragedy
Falls to my table top,
A crushed, tropical cocktail umbrella,
Match sticks and news paper mâché.
Its carcass dusts
My hand with mica shininess
As soft as talc.
If everything is wings
And flame, what need
Does this one insect feed?
In snowflakes’ sunlit souls - an amber chest,
orange, yellow, blushing red impassion
resplendent ember hues of stained-glass zest,
vivid vibes enliven snow from ashen.
Inspired bliss of shining kiss on pale snow,
with delicate caresses Sol imbued
highlights to saturate the talc aglow
romancing frosted facets’ fiery mood.
Warm spectrum seeps across the crystal white
as sleepy sunbeams stir the embers’ heart,
igniting jewel tones before twilight
frost bitten festival of arctic art.
Illuminated thrills in chills impress
in ruby rapture sunset's snow does dress.
Susan Ashley
December 31,2017
~ Eighth Place ~
Premiere Contest: Embers and Snowflakes
Sponsor: Anthony Slausen
endless sky brushes crimson strokes
upon a cloudless Summer void
sea soft to pastel blue benign
robs shore of its sparkling treasure
trees drip opaque tears 'pon sharp blades
of velvet grass stood to attention
queen bee summons dawn's light to blaze
a trail across talc-ed pollen paths
birds drift thermals as if hung
to dry their new inked melodies
whilst lovers lick chocolate from lips
agape for breaths of fantasy
at speakers corner atheists
sing amen to politics' tarnished guilt
as listeners turn a blind eye to memory
I bought Talc de Venise today.*
Do you marvel at the name?
It conjures white rain on canals.
Imagine going on a Venetian bridge,
and white rain falling.
This is not snow...
No this is real rain tempered
or tampered with real talc,
the sort to pour on babies' tummies
when they're sore...
More imagination now...
Imagine being on a bridge,
and holding your tongue out to the rain,
REAL rain this time,
and then letting it soak you all it dares.
********************************
7/23/2015
* I did, too.
Out of the bath, in the mirror, check me
picture of spindly masculinity
talc on the feet, and armpits sprayed
now for the body a choice to be made
Hai Karate or Aramis
both leave the women in a state of bliss
(so the adverts say, yet no such luck
since thus far I have scored a duck)
tight Y-fronts are to my taste
and Oxford bags with a six button waist
big collared shirt in Brunswick green
and a silver kipper tie that looks pretty keen
nylon socks with a couple of holes
in black and red three inch platform soles
jacket in cream, collar up round the neck
with a red and green pattern of tartan check
hair centre parting wet the comb, keep it simple
for a look reminiscent of Anne Boleyn's wimple
out of the door, bemused looks from my Mum
so watch out, ladies- here I come!
( looking back on it now when I hear the old tunes
I can honestly say you've seen better dressed wounds )
1970's: the decade that fashion forgot.
Viv Wigley, to his eternal embarrassment, July 22nd 2015
I will be with you until the end of our lives,
when we are old and grey and covered in hives,
We will share a cup for our dentures,
and go on day out adventures,
Holding hands in the street,
rubbing talc in each other's feet,
We’ll count each other's varicose veins,
and then we'll go for a walk,
with our matching simmer frames,
Oh what a life it will be,
the things that make us happy,
are what make you and me.
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.