Treacly Poems | Examples

Exiles

Potent grief exists in the paternoster
recited by exiles each break of dawn —
and they never cease to mourn with drums.

Exiles are men 
with two lives,
and they often fast,
preferring to sip gently the treacly sap
dripping from the eyes of fortitude.

Riding the thin line
of the horizon,
they seek truths underneath 
receding rims of the atmosphere —

the truths 
of a desolated homeland
atrophied by distance.

They do not pray 
only to return home,
but to meet their mothers’ funerals —

Mothers harassed to death
by ruthless authorities
whose diaries speak of languor.

How do pirates with their eye patches 
count the stars,
and how do feathers of thinning clouds
react to the invasion of rioting storms?

Exiles are native drummers
gone for a festivity yonder.
Like the dead, they live in the
hearts of those who truly love them.

Exiles

Potent grief exists in the paternoster
recited by exiles each break of dawn —
and they never cease to mourn with drums.

Exiles are men
with two lives,
and they often fast,
preferring to sip gently the treacly sap
dripping from the eyes of fortitude.

Riding the thin line
of the horizon,
they seek truths underneath
receding rims of the atmosphere —

the truths
of a desolated homeland
atrophied by distance.

They do not pray
only to return home,
but to meet their mothers’ funerals —

Mothers harassed to death
by ruthless authorities
whose diaries speak of languor.

How do pirates with their eye patches
count the stars,
and how do feathers of thinning clouds
react to the invasion of rioting storms?

Exiles are native drummers
gone for a festivity yonder.
Like the dead, they live in the
hearts of those who truly love them.

Tasting

Treacly sweet is the juice of summer berries, 
enervating me to anticipate it upon my lips.
Savoring the confection of melted chocolate 
is a delicious flavor to lick from my fingertips.

Intoxicating my palate, is a decadent wine.
Ripened grapes leave me in a euphoric state.
Bacchus would claim, "It's simply divine!"
To slake my thirst, I'd not choose to abate.

But there are other flavors, not so appealing...
salty tears that have coursed from my eyes
or the taste of goodbye from a lover's kiss.
Bitter is the sapidity of a soul's sorrowful cries.

After tasting pure honey of unmitigated love,
there can be no substitute for the syrupy mead.
When sipped from lips, once tenderly kissed,
the desire for more becomes an obsessive need.

The Heart's Eye

"The Heart’s Eye"

When the heart’s eye
speaks to you,
you listen, just as 
when the heart’s eye
sees how it all is,
you feel, touched
in the mind

the heart’s eye 
is an overworked muscle
working overtime 
a pearl of wisdom
eating you inside out
like a carnival eats 
its exposed clowns

eventually it stops
tick-tock
tick-tock
no one truly suspects
the depths of its 
depraved covert nature 
incognito, it’s a time bomb

some Lewis clock
on a well-lit fob watch
down the rabbit hole 
we go journeying 
with smiling hatters
who are really Jabberwocks
the heart’s eye is a Red Queen

residing inside 
Love, exists, resists,
concedes for all its worth 
light and dark treacly stuff
it’s a messy business
it ain't clean, 
all said and done

when heads 
roll off 

(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)

R I P Dad

S ubsequent period of flashbacks sunbath my heart 
Acccosted my adjourned remembrance: got me intermittent
More laughter in disguise not to divulge the obscure 
Stormed me in the cloud of memories that trigger apparently
Oh until those seem concerned appaer treacly 
Nagging in the hospital of less or no patient 

At your own best, your presence were felt to a fault 
Krugerrand in making with no jetney-like behaviour
In no reluctancy of delegating resp. to Ina 
No one has the great and genuine love shown after demise 
When will there be menopause?
Ullage of good turn around preserve us 
Most awesome possibility equisitely manage the emotional tug-of-war 
It will take exceptionality to discover them in my treasure chest 

OLABOSOYE_RIP

Old Melody

Saccharine tune flows in the air of the gloomy morning,
Birds in the branches of the trees chirping
The cold breeze touches each inch of my memory
The mix of black and rainbow drops in this thin air
And this heart seeks more for its longevity.

Each sunrise is autumn that longs for spring
Long sweet walks, holding hands, bench-talks, laughter
Locked-in wall frames for keeps and reminiscing
The exquisite scent of each blooming memory in my head,
And the old melody creates a treacly lemonade in my heart.

Seduction On the Quay

He caught the faint scent of perfume as she walked by
The treacly fragrance of gardenias caused him to sigh
She moved with grace and poise that caught his eye
Her sultry wink made him quiver at what it might imply

She walked towards the beach, near Harper's Quay
He followed at a distance on this sunny Summer day
A bit of a stalker, he seemed to me, looking for prey 
Should I warn her? A quandary to me. Yay or nay?

This sort of thing never happens in this quaint town
I watched him; and on my face, I imagined a frown
Wind ruffled her platinum hair, her eyes, soft brown
That guy moved in, and I was going to bring him down

She welcomed him with a flirty smile of recognition
Seems it's a game they play; the seduction rendition
where he offers a proposition; she nods in submission
Do I deserve a penance for my erroneous suspicion?



February 12, 2021
Mind Your P's and Q's Contest
Sponsored by:  Michelle Faulkner

Panther

I've read legendary tales that convey
an emerald eyed panther stalks its prey.
Hunger tells him it's meat he must crave
He consumes his kill within his dark cave.

He feasts and then peacefully slumbers
for three days before he again encumbers
the need to hunt for a deer or boar,
luring them with a treacly ambrosial roar.

In graceful motion, this wild cat slinks,
more luxuriously than a leopard or lynx.
Dragons have no fear of being his quarry,
but such a clash would make a great story.



October 9, 2020
Panther (Legendary Creature)
Sponsored by: Julia Ward

I Danced With the Wind

You were sweetly seduced by my treacly scent
to come a little closer and take a daring peek
Then, tears spilled down your crimson cheek
and a drop of blood from your finger was rent
My hero, Thorn, pierced you in a fit of pique

Did my curvaceous stems hold supple appeal
Were you enticed as I danced with the wind
I will forgive your touch, although you sinned
when you leaned too near to fondle and feel
the delicate beauty of my ephemeral skin

I am called Bougainvillea, climbing up a fence
Protected by the thorn that caused your abrasion
A hefty price you've paid for a personal invasion
The pain you're feeling is called a recompense
You got the 'point' of my unfriendly persuasion

I roam about in gardens, but my life span is brief
I enjoy the invited company of busy buzzing bees
and butterflies that flutter by in Summer's breeze
I beg you not to become a snippety flower thief
by clipping me to wither and die in a vase, please


Originally entered in:
The Flower, The Thorn or Both Contest
Judged N/A on July 11, 2020

See So Low

Clouds loll over,
snows cling fast,
and, as the world
tilts,
set to flowing - broadly
treacly; joining
capillaries to veins,
veins to the heart
of this good spinny 
Earth.

Clouds loll over,
and ever,
the Sun.

I seek my peak...
in the Valley 
below.

Love Me Like You Mean It

Where gilded autumn dazzles hazy morning
And golden leaves sprinkle on marigold beams
As sparrows dance and hummingbirds sing
Amble in my shadows on blue river’s prairies.

Tell me treacly secrets of whispering winds
Befriending sweet nectar on butterfly wings
When you hear me in lyrics of heartbeats
And sing me the hymns, in verses of dreams.

When twilight paints blush of the evening
Flirting with tangerine sunset on skyline pink 
Sprinkling gold-dust on pulsating ripples
Show me the amber sun dipping in water.

Watching the night sky in symphony of stars
As sensuous flames ignite echoes of romance
Caress my desires in embrace of your heart
And compose me playfully in intimate allegory.

When I want to hear it, tell me you need me
Be my spring season, when my winter haunts me
Be my only reason, if you say you love me
Say it like it’s pure love, say it like you mean it.

December 3, 2019
Poem of the day on December 5, 2019
Placed first: Strand select contest 1 by Brian Strand
Love me like you mean it poetry contest
Sponsor: Julie Leigh Rodeheaver

We Whisper

Like prayers adrift
In candles’ glow,
Our whispers rise,
In reverent tones:
Soft coos of love
And futures guessed,
A treacly void
Of nightfall words
While, sapped, you lie
With weary face,
Our newborn son
Upon your breast—
	Hush, you whisper …
	He sleeps.


November 17, 2017
Whisper Sweet Nothings Poetry Contest
Julie Leigh Rodeheaver, Sponsor

Butterflies of Beauty

The
Nectar
Treacly as
Honey, entice
Vibrant butterflies
To taste pollen sweetness
Dancing with rhytmical compass
Displaying a colorful sight
In the multicolor flowers field









For Butterflies Of Beauty Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Mystic Rose
January 12, 2016

A Tribute To the Great Master's Composition -Sonnet 18

A Tribute to the Great Master's Composition -Sonnet 18

Shall I compare thee to the Moon's Sublimity?
Thou art more tender and more sensitive:
Serene breeze does twirl the treacly toes of November,
And winter's spell hath all too soft a note;
Sometime too cold the eye of the needle shines,
And often is his silver resplendence shown,
And every dare from dare begins,
By fluke or legerdemain nature's epiphanies undeliverable;
But thy nocturnal winter shall not give shade
Nor lose affection of that rare thou become'st;
Nor shall health drab thou asunder'st in his tread,
When in pensive wines to years thou grow'st;
So long as we can discern or we can redolence be
So long is preserved this is and this will make thee.

Avijeet Musafir Das

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