In the dark of the night, my loneliness
Seeps through the window,
Dissolving into the moonlight.
Upon the table lies
A single chili pepper, stained in green,
And half a clove of garlic, exposing its bare flesh.
The pepper burns my whole self
As if setting the tip of my tongue ablaze,
While the garlic—even fiercer than the pepper—
Makes me briefly forget who I am.
I sit before them in silence,
Facing my own reflection
Deep within the pepper and the garlic.
Solitude is a place
Where different existences on a single plate
Depart, as though filling the vacant spaces between them.
Yet,
When the two merge into one,
My solitude proves
That I am still alive.
::Nothing::
~ on the tip of my tongue ~
\but lodged in my throat/
|can't spit it out|
¥only hack it up¥
¥
ThAt
fEeLs
SoMewHaT
lEss
poEtiC
Dear Moon,
Each syllable of your name sings a melody so serene, I find the scarcity of my own tranquility immersing on the tip of my tongue.
The hum of my profound fragility twirls along the brittle attempts to submerge into the cloud of my thunderous delicacy.
The remnants of my soul crumble into a decaying, dispense of dust, floating through the basins of Earth’s hue.
The scent of you radiates off of the vex of my skin.
An ethereal blend of elegance, silver and the spirit of my distillation.
I find each celestial fragment of my embodiment thickening in the night sky, enveloping itself into the safety of the split space within the stars.
The green of Earth farewells the gleam of my cells.
Each one shines with the shimmering pride of a newfound purpose:
The stillness of perpetuity in lunate.
The hush of eternity in galactic saint.
And the appease of permanency in cosmic quaint.
A final exhale until my excess joins your divine rock of tragical, obscured beauty.
Your gravel brushes against my skin, so calamitously determined to test my devotion, oblivious to the ache my ashes fester for you.
Dear Moon, I call your name.
How do I say everything I wish to say
When I back so far away
Easier to text Easier to be alone
Lack luster life
Every day a battle to see through all the voices
The screams the sudden darkness
On the tip of my tongue can't seem to make sense of it all
On paper so much confidence so much charisma
A pen and paper I can say it all
Can take it to the limit Speak with so much clarity
But in your presence a fog of shaded distorted what ifs
So scared to show you what is inside
What your beauty does for me
How you reach out to me without judgement
How a peace over takes me with just a thought of you
It's tormented realization that I have so much fear
That these scars have determined my journey
And still steer my direction
It's the thoughts when I am alone that free the demons of my existence.
The silent killer the useless lies I play over and over
It's wondering if this is as good as it gets
Is this my destiny solitary confinement for what this life has become for me by my undoing.
Between dream and memory, I dance on the rain that falls slowly,
I didn't run from the cold drops, but caught them on the tip of my tongue,
Laughter and chaos spun in wide circles of joy,
I stepped on water with bare soles, and the sky was close to us.
We whispered winter stories under the gray and blizzard-swept sky,
And we bathed in life's puddles, without fear of the cold to come,
We played childhood games, throwing rain toward the stars,
We knew that morning would find us with cold and wet chests.
But what did it matter? For in that rain we found our paradise,
We let fever and cough unite us closer under the blanket,
Sharing warm soups and dreams, embraced from morning until dusk,
In a time that seemed to be only ours, a winter heaven.
It's a dream I fear to lose, a magic that I keep,
A corner of the world where wildness meets love,
Like a story written with white ink on January's sky,
A dream winter, a paradise that seemed so unreal.
Her skin, a velvet sin, a scripture I recite with the tip of my tongue,
melts like dark chocolate, bitter and sweet on my hungry lips,
pouring confessions in breathless whispers, a dance of endless desire.
I pull her closer, white-knuckled on silk sheets,
intoxicated by the ecstasy between her thighs, a paradise lost and found,
a pleasure so intense it hurts, an echo of unshared desires.
Let me worship, adore this altar of the senses,
let me destroy and be destroyed, lose myself in your depths,
for in this ruin I find rebirth, in this chaos, the sought-after peace.
——— erogenous poem ———
——— slides off the tip of my tongue ———
——— spoken incursive ———
Roaming among a sea of stars,
like a feather adrift in the breeze,
I wandered into kismet's bazaar.
From all the exotic scents and colours,
I became hypnotised by your guise.
Gazing into your reverie eyes,
you blushed like a lilac sunset.
Our souls reflected like bismuth crystals,
as hues shimmered upon forgotten lips.
I desired to decorate your sultry sighs
in a garland of holy petals,
showering you in a fountain of confetti,
creating a trail of opulent pastels.
Yet, all shades fade away,
as so much that is precious
is stolen or lost forever,
so with this porcelain heart,
where in between every beat,
the tip of my tongue calls your name,
I will adore you from a distance -
for I am just a hummingbird
in your horizon.
Simple Musing
It rolled off the tip of my tongue
clear and easy
sounds good to say
I used it in conversation
to hear what people would say
it's something cool and groove
something you say on a tuesday
for a date on friday
or a magical Saturday night
I exaggerate the sound
carried out to ah soothing slur
what do you prefer
Don't it sound groovy
supper or ah movie
how about some dancing
the nights right for romancing
let go out on the town
My voice was mute like featherless songbirds,
without vocal chords to sing doting tunes.
Sleeping spirit yearned for amorous words,
composing twin flames to ignite from fumes.
Glance of her eyes and embers kindled bright,
like gold moonlight kissing indigo waves.
Symphonic stars formed in a lonely night,
as we sang among galactic airwaves.
Her touch is a cliché of butterflies,
her lips kiss like ballads with boundless verse.
Without her I can feel my heart capsize,
in sickness and in health, she is my nurse.
Her name remains on the tip of my tongue,
as her love completes lyrics, once unsung.
Something wondrously magical happens when winter appears
My thoughts find joy when they turn to holidays and cheers
I find myself running to catch snowflakes on the tip of my tongue
And doing other enchanting things I enjoyed when I was young
I welcome the sunshine on wintry days because it keeps me warm
Unlike the heat of it in summertime, which has become the norm
Often, I've dreamed of being in a scene painted by Currier and Ives
Riding with loved ones in a horse drawn sleigh on leisurely drives
Although winter's frosty breath is chilly, and leaves my lips cold
The abundance of bewitching beauty is quite mesmeric to behold
When the winter world around me becomes a frozen moonlit stage
I'm inspired to write seasonal poetry about its magic, page after page
The taste of vanilla lingers on my lips, long after we kiss,
The flavor of her love, always at the tip of my tongue,
The curvature of her shape flows elegantly,
Her skin feels smooth and velvety as my hands pour over her,
The warm and creamy undertones of her lightly roasted complexion are delightfully beautiful,
She's as light hearted and mild-mannered as blonde espresso,
I drink from her sparingly, consuming her body in sips,
Short, tall, grande, or venti, she's always fulfilling,
and still my craving for her is never quite satisfied,
Having never felt the overmastering effects of love,
I can only imagine how it must feel,
but my thirst for it is so unquenchable,
that I taste it, see it, and feel it, in everything,
even in something as unassuming as this Iced Blonde Vanilla Latte.
The tastes of spring jostle
my taste buds to awaken.
To stand up,
Get poked out on tongue.
Then to flick and lick, from the very tip of my tongue.
Savoring the tantalizing, titillating, tit-bit tastes,
that spring in season, rendered in bounteous bounty harvests,
from berries, fruits, peas, herbs, beans and juices.
Premeditated, contemplated and jazz-jammed
to razzmatazz improvisations and mantras
by scents wafting up the nose.
The five senses,
five essences,
five heavenly scents,
dance and jive
rejoicing in the tantalizing
quintuplet of
quintessential tastes,
that emerge in spring:
sweet, sour, salty,
bitter,
umami.
the green truck,
was waiting
in the drive way
the right words,
came too late
to the tip of my tongue
Doing a crossword puzzle, to be frank,
One fulfilling task of filling the blank.
It perks up the brain testing my IQ,
Doubting the depth of what I thought I knew.
It virtually takes me 'round the globe
As I fret frantically, poke and probe.
With trendy themed ones I feel like a fool;
What was I doing all those years at school?!
Some words, in the line of my expertise,
Restoring my self esteem back at ease.
Some - at the tip of my tongue - circulate,
While stubborn letters don't cooperate.
Some tough queries raise my eyebrows instead -
I turn to the last resort, internet.
I've never given up in other words,
Most meticulous among crossword nerds.
Google here and there, the word search is done,
Feeling great! Less puzzled and crossed, no pun.
February 2, 2023
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