How tensely fraught with nerves was Rory
When entered in the Masters again
Never before there a victory
Rather his efforts had all been in vain
Right there his head had to be OK
To don the green jacket there and then
A blood-dipped letter lies before me,
Wrapped in moth-ridden silk,
Written by your ghastly fingers.
The cold of another bleak fortnight settles in,
While crimson-eyed ravens rest upon creaking window sills.
Stoking the fire, umbers rise and dissipate before me,
Painting prophetic warnings in the air,
As the distorted ticking of clocks chimes tensely,
Repeating the same hour—two a.m.
A crisp chill shoots up my spine,
I wrap myself tighter in your charcoal shawl,
Reaching for the last of the firewood you chopped.
Placing it in the hearth, I now know it's time.
Removing the silk, I cast it into the flames,
Peeling back three wax skull seals.
I open the fateful envelope,
The curse you unknowingly wrote into existence.
Placed upon me, it rests in my weeping hands—
One cataclysmic night was all it took,
For our destruction,
Your soul claimed by the nether,
And mine bound within a perpetual loop of despair forevermore.
Bright sunlight tumbles from the crystal blue,
while contemplation plows my fertile mind.
The moon comes early, making its debut.
Dark night will settle, leaving day behind.
These sights implore my consciousness to think,
since days can see their joy sometimes abate.
Such times like these can be a tasteless drink.
As darkness falls, I tensely sit and wait.
Such times have come and gone in rapid fire.
My strained heart wants to know my life is good.
I strive to see the joy through muck and mire,
Remembering the fun of my boyhood.
I’ve heard it all my life in diverse ways.
Are these the times we’ll call the Good Ole Days?
October brings best wedding time,
When couples heart unite sublime,
Its colorful hues of hills & trees,
Seems like a painting on a piece.
On bright sunny wedding epoch,
Dancing begins outside the church,
Music of drums serenades all,
Groom rides Mustang without a fall.
Wedding seems like fairy story,
Groom stands on the altar tensely,
The bride walks the isle like princess,
Flower girls sprinkle rose petals.
After wedding, its picture time,
Couple pose with romantic shine,
Everyone gets a snap with pair,
Memory to last forever.
Dusk sets in near reception hall,
Party to dance without a fall,
Food, wine, sparklers, enjoy it all,
dance till you drop & mingle with all.
Back when
all that laid ahead
were the unheard
tales of time
tensely twirling
towards tomorrow.
Where our
hollow heedless
heads of hope
would wistfully
follow.
Still strumming
out their
stammering
starless streams
of desolate
undecided
dreams.
Then bashfully
burn out
into bittersweet
beams of
belittlement.
A man
tensely
tied to a
tired tempered tower.
With his mind
like a reticent
rutted rat
scurrying off
to cower
within the
crooked cryptic
corners of
reality.
But whose
heart is the
only hand
reaching out
of the rubble.
Still hanging
onto a
half hushed
howl of hope.
I smell fresh light wafting
near this dissolving darkness
I hear its faint ringing
the second hand ticking
while the refrigerator hums
and the distant driver drones
I tensely anticipate
the first tweet to ripple the silence
a tentative answer
an assertive reply
a confident rejoinder,
the ensuing cacophony of chirps
and
the distant driver cross fading
into the morning commute.
So
right now
in the warmth
of this darkness
before
the tiniest
glimmer
glints
before
the bubble of dawn
creeps in
and blasts it away
before
it's burned
in the cold cruel reality of
all consuming light
I'm holding onto this
precious moment
Took the kids to the Petting Zoo.
All the tame animals came through.
While I was standing watching the monkeys
And chimpanzees there in the few trees
I felt something tugging at me;
I turned around to see
A goat eat-ding my tee-shirt.
I shrieked, walk backwards, fell to the dirt.
Standing intently beside me, the giraffe
Stretch out its long tongue with a laugh.
Out of my skin cut and scraped, I shout,
Crawl on my hands, as I was tensely strung -out,
Stole my bag of buttered popcorn.
Crawling backwards dirt-borne,
Screaming, flapping my arms in the air.
Everyone stood to stare,
Laughing everywhere.
11/28/2020
Make Me Laugh With Some Humor -
Any Form - New Poems Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Tania Kitchin
Tensely polarized
Fiercely alienated
Furiously devoid of
Space and peace
By deeds unjust
By antics blatant
Short-changed
****-noshed
Orphaned
Offended
From people
To pieces
An equation
Unbalanced
Sinister motives
Documented
Grand strategies
Visible mirrors
To annihilate
To assimilate
Partisan practices
Warped policies
Of can’t pilot
Be passengers
Lost trust
Lacks shine
Lost lives
Eternal
Galvanise
Demonise
Keep on to
Put down
Till one sees
The snake’s
Nude red
Buttocks!
We see his parents in the stands
As they sit tensely clasping hands
In silent prayer for their loved son
And for the task that must be done.
Another recalls the child she knew
Who early showed the skill that grew
With hard work and determination
Into a gift for her loved nation.
A small boy turned into the man
Who is this tall Olympian.
Spotlighted as the whole world watches
This daughter who is winning matches.
With medals won and more to go,
Speed records fall; they’re much too slow.
Favorites competing in the races,
Fall back as others take their places.
In Summer Games of two zero one two
They’ll show us all what they can do
And as they win or lose with grace
They are winners in the human race.
Each country sends its very best
And as each strives to pass the test.
We wish such fair play could expand
To every leader of every land.
Rules and skill would win the day
And foolish war would slink away.
By: Joyce JohnsonPosted 7/2/12
Pleasant pleasurable
spot of delight, let my
touching spark your
light. Ventilator by your
side as you grasp for
breath tonight. May
my kissing make you
weak, as in this heat
you fight to remove
the quilt and sheet.
As your goose bumps
begins to rise I'm left
to feel I'm touching your
sensitive spot inside
and as the volume of
your voice increase to
tensely shouts my name,
your sounds would
drown Marvin Gaye's
sexual healing through
the tension of your
body's feelings.
As your nail sinks
beneath the chocolate
of my skin and your
milk escapes your
walls within. To see
the relief as your
cheeks meet your ears
but is this the joy you
patiently waited for all
these years?
Copyright Andrew Vassell 2012
www.andrewvassell.com
My affection is more than just a flame within my heart.
Your lips make my passion, burn hotter then the sun.
One touch bleeds my body slowly, makes chills run
Wildly and rampantly until a reaction, shakes the start.
Our bodies caress, then tingles swish silently like a dart.
Kisses arouse and awaken; we flow preciously as one.
Encasing our movements, our excitement tensely won.
We shall never be apart, encased in sensual art.
With luscious oils, our intimacy will always shine.
Our love guarded, empowered forever, in angelic bliss.
Growing between us, with no remorse our bodies salute.
My lover that I adore, my ardor shall always be thine.
Thou I know, are a treasure that other men will miss.
Thee shall always drive me beyond ecstasy without repute.
We see his parents in the stands
As they sit tensely clasping hands
In silent prayer for their loved son
And for the task that must be done.
Another recalls small girl she knew
Who early showed the skill that grew,
With hard work and determination,
Into a gift for her loved nation.
Their small boy turned into the man
Who is this tall Olympian.
Spotlighted as the whole world watches
This daughter who is winning matches.
With medals won and more to go,
Speed records fall, they're much too slow.
Favorites competing in the races,
Fall back as others take their places.
The winter games of twenty-ten
Are turning children into men
And women who with their skill and grace
Are winners in the human race.
Do You Think We Are Not Tough Enough?
Poets and contests are not a strange mix.
Though, winning or not, emotions play tricks.
We are competitors, really quite buff.
And “fighting” with words, can truly get tough.
We might not be rough or want our knees scuffed.
It might be true, with our hearts on sleeves fluffed
We enter some contests hoping to win.
Waiting with passion competing with friends.
We might not like loss for fear of no fame.
But all the same, it's a glorious game!
How does one vie without wanting to cry?
Fearing a loss when ones bests have been tried.
Emotions and contests played as a sport.
Tensely awaiting the judge's report.
And if one has lost, are emotions chucked?
Do poets think they are down on their luck?
Nay! I say nay! Poets are not all fluff!
We can take rejection; we're tough enough.
Contenders are strong and not powder puffs!
Sock it to us judges, our words your quaff.
© Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
November 24, 2009
Dedicated to Poetrysoup judges who "suffer the agony" of picking winners where there are
so many wonderful poet's entries.
The air was full, pregnant,
shivering with anticipation.
All of nature held its breath.
The trees stood their small branches,
like eyelashes tensely open,
waiting for the day to blink.
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