Tensely Poems

At long last

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

Thinking About The Kill

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.

Good Ole Days?

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 Wedding

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.

Drifting From Dreams

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.

Reaching Through the Rubble

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.

Precious Moment

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

Zoo

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

Wildfire Legacy

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!

Olympic Trials

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

G-Spot

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

Sensual Reaction

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.

The Hero's Game

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.

Poets Are Tough Enough!

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.

Batter Up

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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