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Jul 2020 · 70
Une nuit enchantée
Joel Frye Jul 2020
Naked, moaning softly, bathed in sweat,
jaw agape and panting. Such a sight;
a perfect beauty I'll not soon forget.

Charming evening's prelude to a night
where passion grinds your voice to feral growl,
jaw agape and panting.  Such a sight.

The gentle purring now belies the howl
from shattering release that takes you whole
where passion grinds your voice to feral growl.

Your strong yet silken legs enfold my soul,
as you recover life from petite mort,
from shattering release that takes you whole.

No need to contemplate what's still in store,
I'll hold this waking dream until we sleep
as you recover life from petite mort.

Tomorrow's work and worries all will keep,
I'll hold this waking dream until I sleep.
Naked, moaning softly, bathed in sweat,
a perfect beauty I'll not soon forget.
a terzanelle pour votre plaisir.
Jul 2020 · 63
Autumn
Joel Frye Jul 2020
Some people change their
colors and fall away; a
few are evergreen.
Transferring poems from an alt account.
Joel Frye Aug 2017
The deepest bruises
stay numb for the longest time;
self-preservation.
Romeo: Courage, man, the hurt cannot be deep.
Mercutio: No, 'tis not so deep as a well,
nor so wide as a church door,
but 'tis enough, 'twill serve.
"Romeo and Juliet", act 3, scene 1.
Jan 2016 · 734
Oompa Loompa
Joel Frye Jan 2016
You ever wonder
why (with so many poems)
why we keep writing?
Dec 2015 · 662
Autumn
Joel Frye Dec 2015
Some people change their
colors and fall away; a
few are evergreen.
Nov 2015 · 459
Je pleure
Joel Frye Nov 2015
people, stop killing
each other for god's sake; then
we will live in peace
Nov 2015 · 769
To grow, perchance to bloom
Joel Frye Nov 2015
the simple knowledge that
you are
will nourish
the stony soul
wherein
my heart
takes tenuous
root
Oct 2015 · 1.0k
In Memory of Cayman Whent
Joel Frye Oct 2015
He was a simple man of simple words,
or high-school girl with broken heart who thought
they had a message, or a call, or not.
Arriving with a sense of the absurd,
a bittersweet purview on life and love,
together with a gift for nuanced phrase,
appreciating how the language plays
upon the mind and tongue, they rise above
the well-worn similes, the tired cliches
for days, perhaps for weeks.  Then comes the time
when human ugliness shows up to flay
the budding poet.  The evidence of crimes
committed: smoky circles, nameless gray
reminders of whose gifts they took away.
A tribute to those who have left disheartened or disgusted.
Oct 2015 · 431
Not sure what
Joel Frye Oct 2015
fighting a
nascent
lassitude;
words and worlds
are brewing
within.
Oct 2015 · 625
simple song
Joel Frye Oct 2015
in whispered words
you sing along with
the song of my heart

unconcerned with tune
or harmony
a simple chorus
in unison

the reverb swells
as the presence
multiplies
you and i and love;
with Spirit
adding contrabass
more felt than heard
Oct 2015 · 629
Acserbic Acronym
Joel Frye Oct 2015
I will
FIGHT
life's pain;

****,
It's
Gonna
Hurt.
Tough.
Oct 2015 · 253
Just For Today
Joel Frye Oct 2015
I will put myself
in the future, looking back
at the present pain.
A response to Mike Essig's "Problems With Prognostication".  Sometimes, it's how I get through the day.
Oct 2015 · 403
Discards redux
Joel Frye Oct 2015
I hold my
sexuality
with pursed lips
and *******;

a wry smile
belies
a life of
joys and regrets.
Oct 2015 · 465
Discards
Joel Frye Oct 2015
A dozen chairs
haphazard
in the service entrance
the boss says
you can have
any or all;
the junk man comes tomorrow.
None are broken.
Perhaps too firm,
or too soft,
not supportive enough
or someone
just couldn't get
comfortable
with this one.
The one I found
on the third try
is plain and strong,
has my back
where needed
and holds me
at the proper height
where I see best.
Strange who
some will toss aside
as worthless.
I'm not everyone's cup of tea, either.
Oct 2015 · 469
Forced
Joel Frye Oct 2015
When life is good, I force myself to look,
for smaller miracles will go unseen
when I'm not led by Spirit's finger crooked.
When life is good, I force myself to look;
my poet's eye would sleep in shaded nook,
content with heaven, earth and all between.
When life is good, I force myself to look,
for smaller miracles will go unseen.
Sometimes y'just gotta take the bit in your teeth....
Oct 2015 · 874
Prayer
Joel Frye Oct 2015
can i give thanks
any impossible way
for wholly grace?

You, whose soul
beats in every heart
in every poem

futile words flail
their feeble reach
to grasp your beauty

a simple man
whose simple thought
cannot encompass Your All;

i am alive
because Spirit of Life
breathes within me

may that simple life
be fully spent
exalting Your glory.
It is good to feel alive again.
Oct 2015 · 706
Cleansed
Joel Frye Oct 2015
Returning from a
walk impossible last week;
grateful for my breath.
Was in the hospital this week for dialysis.  I have no words for how much better I feel.
Oct 2015 · 420
Thirst
Joel Frye Oct 2015
As a youth I chugged
life with open throat; now each
day a precious sip.
Joel Frye Sep 2015
Great Spirit, I'm too tired to offer prayer,
too worn to ask for grace or strength divine,
so I must trust that You will still be there.

I speak far less; some think that I don't care,
it's more that I cannot abide to whine.
Great Spirit, I'm too tired to offer prayer.

My friends have precious little left to share,
no muttered reassurance all is fine,
so I must trust that You will still be there.

I sit at night beside her empty chair
with sleepless memories to fill my mind.
Great Spirit, I'm too tired to offer prayer.

Her footsteps echoes hanging in thin air
remind me of lost chances and lost time,
so I must trust that You will still be there.

My silence does not leave me unaware;
what words are left when one is left behind?
Great Spirit, I'm too tired to offer prayer,
so I must trust that You will still be there.
My brother in arms Ivan Giles lost his woman to cancer this weekend.
Sep 2015 · 1.1k
Une nuit enchantée
Joel Frye Sep 2015
Naked, moaning softly, bathed in sweat,
jaw agape and panting. Such a sight;
a perfect beauty I'll not soon forget.

Charming evening's prelude to a night
where passion grinds your voice to feral growl,
jaw agape and panting.  Such a sight.

The gentle purring now belies the howl
from shattering release that takes you whole
where passion grinds your voice to feral growl.

Your strong yet silken legs enfold my soul,
as you recover life from petite mort,
from shattering release that takes you whole.

No need to contemplate what's still in store,
I'll hold this waking dream until we sleep
as you recover life from petite mort.

Tomorrow's work and worries all will keep,
I'll hold this waking dream until I sleep.
Naked, moaning softly, bathed in sweat,
a perfect beauty I'll not soon forget.
Reprint from my old version, with thanks to Stephanie for the correction.
Sep 2015 · 466
Oops.
Joel Frye Sep 2015
I stepped on my rose-
tinted hippie shades looking
for my gratitude.
@/@
Sep 2015 · 313
Friends
Joel Frye Sep 2015
Some for a reason,
some for a season; even
lifetimes come and go.
All things are transitory.  Doesn't mean I have to like it.
Sep 2015 · 405
impulse
Joel Frye Sep 2015
Run away with me;
tomorrow we shall laugh at
the foolish children.
Sep 2015 · 1.2k
why
Joel Frye Sep 2015
why
Some days there are no
needs that matter; other days,
I need a reason.
Aug 2015 · 415
Storm and Fury
Joel Frye Aug 2015
For all its Times Square
activity, HP is
eerily silent.
"Nobody goes there any more.  It's too busy." - Yogi Berra
Aug 2015 · 391
cuppa
Joel Frye Aug 2015
One senryu today
awakens, braces; a second
quenches spirit's thirst.
Aug 2015 · 797
the snows of yesteryear
Joel Frye Aug 2015
broadcast words echo
down memory's empty hallways;
footsteps, a door shuts.
Aug 2015 · 611
Old age and treachery
Joel Frye Aug 2015
Woman's fortress is
more oft breached through their headlands,
not their netherlands.
A word to the young.
Jul 2015 · 1.5k
mash
Joel Frye Jul 2015
we poets spend lives
writing praise and penances;
the wine of our souls.
A response to Vicki's "on some days".
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/1278628/on-some-days/
Jul 2015 · 1.0k
State of Platonia
Joel Frye Jul 2015
no of course
you would not notice me
the guy who walks your dog
those nights you go out
for dinner and combat

why yes i'd love to
fill in as your partner
for mixed doubles
flashing a smile at you
as you score and walk off the court

the one who gets you giggling
through your tears
those nights when
the handsome *******
earn their names

me, who'll you'll trust
with your car
with your plants
with your house
with your life
but not your heart

you tell me i'm first
in your syntax of friends
yet I'm so starved for you
that leftovers
will feed me for days
A response to Vidya Ravilochan's  "ode to handsome *******".  A flashback to my days of "love you like a brother".
Jul 2015 · 1.3k
Librarian
Joel Frye Jul 2015
Shopworn covers, brittle pages,
faded, handled carelessly -
dime-store dreams locked up for ages
in the musty library.

Risks untaken, words unspoken
stacked in cornered memories
beside the shelves that hold the broken
spines of bound-up fantasies.
Jul 2015 · 489
here we go loop de loop...
Joel Frye Jul 2015
Fear the Mobius
strip mind: one-sided, closed-off
and severely kinked.
Jul 2015 · 408
For Miss Raugh
Joel Frye Jul 2015
You came back in 1968
from teaching Kenyans
to speak English
to teach Americans
how to see the world.

A nine-year-old boy
was in your fifth-grade class,
precocious, gifted
and quite full of himself
and ignorance.

It was magical, that connection;
the world-wise teacher
and the barely contained
bolt of potential.
It was his only year of school
where he never missed a day
or dropped a class.

Amazing how subtle,
blunt and gentle you were with him,
tapping walls of arrogance
with a wrecking ball,
allowing him to maintain
his structure
while rocking and rebuilding
his foundation.

You saw the boy
who danced on the the tightrope
between genius and insanity...
and quietly fed the jukebox.

He wanted to write;
you gave him Frost and cummings.
He yearned to draw;
you showed him Van Gogh.
He thirsted to learn;
you taught him how
to slake his parched mind.

He left your classroom,
but you continued to teach him.
You still do,
nearly fifty years later.

The last time he saw you,
he hurt you,
in that casual,
caustic way
of the high-school senior.
Still, when his nieces and nephews
with his last name
passed through,
you'd ask them
how he was doing,
and asked them to tell him
to stop in, or call.

He never did,
so he's now reduced
to offering words
you would have loved to read
in their full futility
telling you
that you
are
immortal.
I hope that you've all had at least that one special teacher.
Joel Frye Jul 2015
To truly know the fire,
one must taste the ashes.

To truly feel the burn
one must know the flame

To truly burn with fire
casts off the brightest light.

and in the ashes lay
the taste of another day
This was a "call and response" dash-off on one of Helen's poems, "Unrestrained".  Check out the comment section; you can see how it came together.
Jul 2015 · 629
Third-degree
Joel Frye Jul 2015
To truly know the fire,
one must taste the ashes.
A response to Helen's "Unrestrained".
Jul 2015 · 547
Try it, you'll like it!
Joel Frye Jul 2015
Read the poems
your favorite poets read;
expand your mind.
Go to your favorite poets' home pages, look just below and to the right of their banner, and click on "Favorites".  I promise you, it's worth the journey.
Jul 2015 · 508
Awash
Joel Frye Jul 2015
sipping cold water
the desk lamp
pooling light
in the ocean of
dark morning
wondering at the waves
of electronic soul
washing over my heart
cleansing my blood
of bitterness
faces i may never see
looking at me
with love
through the eyes
of their words
You are light itself;
you are blessed, you are blessing.
Peace always with you.
Joel Frye Jul 2015
The deepest bruises
stay numb for the longest time;
self-preservation.
Romeo: Courage, man, the hurt cannot be deep.
Mercutio: No, 'tis not so deep as a well,
                  nor so wide as a church door,
                  but 'tis enough, 'twill serve.
"Romeo and Juliet", act 3, scene 1.
Jul 2015 · 386
Coward's prayer
Joel Frye Jul 2015
Please walk through my fears
with me; I feel alone, and
death is real tonight.
It's dark here tonight; tomorrow will be better.
Jul 2015 · 334
Reprieve
Joel Frye Jul 2015
Cut yourself the slack
you would allow your best friend;
be kind to yourselves.
sticks and stones may break my bones,
the names i call myself will **** me.
Jul 2015 · 292
She doesn't do poetry.
Joel Frye Jul 2015
I write
leaving her
memories
I know
she'll never
read.
Jul 2015 · 527
Caught
Joel Frye Jul 2015
the words tied
together carefully,
with a natural
nonchalance
belying the
concentration,
looking for all the world
like a harmless insect
cast into the
atmosphere
with such a
casual flick
of a wrist
to float lightly
upon the waters
of consciousness
relaxed wary hands
await the emergence
of the subconscious
from the depths
the hook is strong
and snelled
to set deep.
But I only keep what I will eat....
Jul 2015 · 420
Can't live....
Joel Frye Jul 2015
a musician's blessing:
there's always a song
in your mind.

a musician's curse:
you are not always
the program manager.
...you always smile, but in your eyes, your sorrow shows...yes, it shows....
Jul 2015 · 332
Existential cord
Joel Frye Jul 2015
there's craft enough
to last my lifetime;
any artistry left?
Feeling like the old fartre Sartre tonight.
Jul 2015 · 543
Ne m'oublie pas
Joel Frye Jul 2015
While I still breathe, I write to save my life
in compact form; mistakes, the lessons learned,
triumphant days and nights of needless strife
brought on by willful dreams and bridges burned.
One day too soon, a final page will turn,
the book will close. My fine and fragile chain
to life will break.  A loneliness unearned
will mark your passing days in ink of pain.  
Then if you wish to hear my voice again
one silent morning when you wake alone,
I leave you songs and poems.  Each refrain
will resurrect the soul you've always known.
So when my fated moment shall arrive,
my words are here; come read me back alive.
ne m'oublie pas - forget me not.
Spenserian sonnet.
Jul 2015 · 1.0k
vigilant
Joel Frye Jul 2015
the pack of demons
who run with me must know that
i'm the alpha male
"...i don't wanna do your ***** work...no more...."
Jul 2015 · 1.0k
manipulation
Joel Frye Jul 2015
two grand masters
play checkers;
chess is a lost cause
Jun 2015 · 610
Mater Deus
Joel Frye Jun 2015
angular
the memories
of the body drawn
by god's own french curve
the soul un(re)touched
by human hardship
the eyes brown warm
acknowledging sin
accepting the sinner
the sacred heart
still wearing
bearing the
crown of ignorance
set upon it
thorny years ago

and still pumping love
into the universal void
free
to any willing to
stand in the rain
and catch it on their tongues
Mother Mary came to me...and I let her be.
Jun 2015 · 2.0k
Crucible
Joel Frye Jun 2015
What
           ((holds)) you
to unyielding self?

Petrified
you stone your sins
and still miss the mark;
attempt to beat soul
into healing.

Fool.

Even this
nascent struggle
to understand
casts another rock.

Would you lobotomize...
****** a stick
into your eye socket
to see more clearly?

The peine forte et dure is
in the resistance;
you know,
and do not accept
grace
in the hands
easing you toward
the gentle current
of Spirit
washing around you.

Why?

Entombed by need
to atone,
you cannot roll
the rock aside alone.

Stop asking for
"more weight",
Giles Corey...
you are a fearsome man
standing upright.
Jun 2015 · 843
Sniper
Joel Frye Jun 2015
Be troll assassin;
to be ignored is to die
on the internet.
I still maintain that Gandhi would have loved the Internet.  When enough people ignore trolls for long enough, they lose interest, and go away.
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