Reaching out towards
delicately rouged areola
(dusty pink,
supple
like rose petals)
his fingertips blush madly
upon their first caress.

He nestles himself
against her blooming *****,
against this garden of a women
where only lovely things--
Star Dust.
Laugher.
Poetry--
may grow.

Poppies abloom in memoriam.

Fields content of the past.

Storms brewing above.

To renew them once again.

Memories of battle, scars on the earth.
Revealed once again.

In the fields.

It was the poppies to bloom

In memoriam.

Her voice is like clear water
That drips upon a stone
In forests far and silent
Where Quiet plays alone.

Her thoughts are like the lotus
Abloom by sacred streams
Beneath the temple arches
Where Quiet sits and dreams.

Her kisses are the roses
That glow while dusk is deep
In Persian garden closes
Where Quiet falls asleep.

Remember that stretch in the crack of dawn
Late we both were so I thought I had companion
I ran fast towards you and deafeningly called on
But you walked past me in the hallway and waved a yawn

Remember those mornings in our classroom
When there was no other feels than gloom
You’d suddenly crack a joke and keep us abloom
You’d give us a good laugh and avert the doom

Remember the countless lunch times we shared
You’d go to the canteen and I’d have mine prepared
Then you’d come to me and ask for candy I had spared
I’d hand you one or maybe two as if I was compelled

Remember the sunlit afternoons, humid and hot
Obliged to take a nap but there’s no problem on that
When I couldn’t, I’d look out the window overlooking a vacant lot
And some random times I’d find myself glancing at your spot

Remember the twilight spent at some place
You came to me and all of a sudden broke into my own space
I went forth to desist looking at your adorable face
But you went after me and caught me in a chase

Remember that night when everything was easy
We talked for hours and not cared about the others, really
You leaned closer and made me breathe barely
You and me were finally we and I couldn’t help but be happy

Remember some other nights when we had it rough
When we felt like giving up and everything just wasn’t enough
But we unceasingly came out  tough
We swept every worry and hurdle in our path with a laugh

Remember that other night in the busy city
Under the beautiful night sky in the hour so early
You walked beside me and held my hand tightly
It was cold and windy but with you I felt summery

There was also a night I can remember precisely
Your eyes were locked on mine deeply
I repeatedly swore I’d hold you forever dearly
And you whispered, “Don’t worry, sweetie, till doomsday you got me.”

But as much as I would like the night to never end
The sun didn’t want the moon, stars and serene darkness to extend
It rose above quickly and it hurt so bad to see it transcend
Hence I woke up that morning being just your old friend.

Laced with ribbons of moonlight
Bangladesh a touched dream at first light.
Land of my father, my mother
sweeter than nectar.
Purer than the driven snow
brighter than raw gold.
Gazing stars’ bumped up bottom
down the untouched moon.

Men and the six seasons
living in one loving fold
our one fertile sweet home!
O Allah rank our martyrs our heroes
up high in paradise in bloom
brought Bangladesh freedom abloom!

Punters cumulus clouds fly
eyes on the sky blue  
on a spur hanging low tune into wild coo.
Picture independent Bangladesh
step in on the morning rug
rolls out outside the sun
walk through, the moon is inside!
Bask in, take your time
when the twilight adds a shadow
the beauty spot on your broad daylight
escape to more serendipitous discovery.
Eye on the stars or tuberoses on the ground
our free land is inspiring, beautiful even in the dark.

Laughs free from a tulip glass  
across the land, air and the water
upon the reed flute stirred river
flowing downstream to the hilt
from a deep-delved foundation out of reach
her raised high flag flies
over the pivotal banyan trees.

Every flap of our ‘the sun in the green’ shaped flag,
the light of heaven on the evergreen earth!
Ah, sways in the chalice of every flower
on the land cheers beyond the warm South
whispers to our hearts and makes us feel proud.

When I return to Hope
it will be the height of summer's warm July
I'll stroll the gravel road to take the cutoff path
gathering lupine wildflowers, breezy among the dewy grass
make my morning way along heaven's labrynthine trail
with chirping cheery bird, sweet songs or distant calls of loon
where blue of sky is woven wild with magenta all abloom
and I will lose myself most complete
immersed in nature's room

you lit up my path,
so now i grasp happiness,
prettily abloom.

viewing naked body in mirror
as if, its not my own; at my
age I sometimes wonder, am
I still desirable in his eyes?

breast are firm, buttocks
tight, shapely legs; thigh
to ankle toned to wrap
around his sinewy waist.

belly flat, waist trim, he
sneaks up behind; warm lips
to nape, his subtle bait to
taste me, it's never to late.

tongue between breast, I
know now as I gaze into
those baby browns, I've
found my answer.

*** appeal is still renown,
it shows in his eyes; as I
sigh from his touch, ummm!!
his lovings never too much.

******* taut from his touch,
tongue upon belly and navel;
laying on the table, flickers
my jewel; making me mewl.

purring like a kitten, lapping
up my milk; tongue feels like
silk, in and out licking; love
how he keeps me ticking...yes!!!

parting lips; warmly I dip, lightly
I sip upon blooming mushroom;
pulsating in reddened abloom,
spillage slowly from his plume...sweet

finger tracing veins poppin',
allowing throb to easily drop in;
nice and slow watching manhood
grow like a framed Van Gogh...he flows

****** self-confidence I'm convinced
watching him grow long and dense;
taking in every inch, winching in
delicious pleasure; his desired
measure...sexually self-confident

soaped and lathered in wetness

his twitching hand rests
on her warm thigh, say her sighs:
" valley is abloom"

From our happy home
Through the world we roam
One week in all the year,
Making winter spring
With the joy we bring,
For Christmas-tide is here.

Now the eastern star
Shines from afar
To light the poorest home;
Hearts warmer grow,
Gifts freely flow,
For Christmas-tide has come.

Now gay trees rise
Before young eyes,
Abloom with tempting cheer;
Blithe voices sing,
And blithe bells ring,
For Christmas-tide is here.

Oh, happy chime,
Oh, blessed time,
That draws us all so near!
'Welcome, dear day,'
All creatures say,
For Christmas-tide is here.

Once there was a maiden who has a gardener as her wooer. And the maiden love him too.

The maiden is affluent in money called Memories. And the gardener has flower bounties called Feelings he gives daily to the maiden. Every morning the gardener would knock on the maiden's door and hand her the most beautiful picks of Feelings his garden has. Some days it's a posy of 'I love you's'; or a nosegay of 'I miss you's'. Other days it's a wreath of 'kisses' and 'hugs'. But he knew what she likes best - it's the bouquet of the four. And every time, the maiden would insist to pay him with a Memory, but sweetly he would shake his head no.

Until one morning, she heard no knock on the door nor there were flowers on her porch. She waited and waited, but nothing came and he never arrived.

Days became weeks, there were no signs of the gardener still. The Feelings he gave her started to wilt, but many remain abloom.

"I wish the next time he knocks, he would hand me a bouquet of 'I love you's' with a coupling of 'I miss you's'," *she whispered between sighs. "It's not my favorite arrangement, but those I favor among all."

And the skies seem to hear her wish. There were three gentle knocks on the door. She smiled and stood in front of it, wishing that it's really him. And it was.

But he had no bouquets in hand. No posies nor nosegays nor wreaths.

"There is a new damsel in town, and to her I chose to give the Feelings, but she don't seem to care," he explained. "My Feelings piled up on her lawn but she never opened the door."

He paused.

Then earnestly, "My garden is bare of flowers, and I ran out of Feelings to give you," he continued. "But if you would allow, could you hand me a little Memory so I can restore my garden and offer you bouquets of Feelings again?"

*Then she gave him every Memory she has.

In the carnival of time, worlds are abloom

Stars blaze on in song in the cosmic jamboree

A revelry to raise the spirit, stoke the soul

And fill the heart with sparks and glee

Of all the colors
or incense of fragrance imbued
of lavender in fields, violet blue
or softer still the lilac florets all abloom
pale silk, sweet the honeysuckle dew
drips and drinks the yellow painted tanager
and flits afield the newly winged swallowtail
the thrum and dance of bees bright in floral symphonies
gathering, heavy laden in the bending breeze
of all the colors, this bird iridescently shimmering
blue into the disappearing trees
too soon another day to lose
of all the colors, a favorite
I can never choose.

From our happy home
Through the world we roam
One week in all the year,
Making winter spring
With the joy we bring
For Christmas-tide is here.

Now the eastern star
Shines from afar
To light the poorest home;
Hearts warmer grow,
Gifts freely flow,
For Christmas-tide has come.

Now gay trees rise
Before young eyes,
Abloom with tempting cheer;
Blithe voices sing,
And blithe bells ring,
For Christmas-tide is here.

Oh, happy chime,
Oh, blessed time,
That draws us all so near!
"Welcome, dear day,"
All creatures say,
For Christmas-tide is here.

on edges of swing set of summer of child
I grow -- a rust abloom while ghosts
of women once called "mother" do push
a wind a creak a falling leaf feathering
downward, candied sentiment traveling
forward

for hope for empty swing to fill to turn
the chronometer back to *12 noon, March 6, 1972

It is so cold and dark as gloom
I'm on the floor hog-tied and bound
The door is locked to my new room
I don't know if I will be found

I'm on the far side of the moon
Deep silence I can't hear a sound
I really thought I was immune
Even though no one was around

I think maybe it was about noon
I saw you two and my heart drowned
You were hand in hand love abloom
How on Earth could I have been clowned

My hand to my hip then the boom
You lay bleeding on the hard ground
Caught within the web of your loom
Grief and misery both abound

Tour song of love was out of tune
I weigh treachery by the pound
My heart break to you I impugn
My once kind smiling face has frowned

Horrid deeds drop me in a swoon
The gravity does me astound
You will be buried this afternoon
A grave and tomb will you impound

The green-eyed monster sealed my doom
But why, why did you so confound
A love, a life so opportune
My feelings for you so profound

A cuckold pathetic buffoon
Alas no peace have I found
Here on the far side of the moon
Here on the floor hogtied and bound
You lay bleeding on the hard ground
Caught within the web of your loom

The horizon , a floating melody
Abloom like any mundane wonder,
So I need not supersede all exceptions
Even in an unravelled margin.

A visual force  provokes ephemeral soldity
At the boundary,the dangerous line,
Between art and philosophy
With  the idols circulating popular enthusiasm
As we lament the surface from a spatial depth.

To be distinct from decay
Is not a vain desire.

Flame-tree abloom: dabbing red,
the distance paling green -
from the half-open window
to a dreary room;

Horizon waves bathed in gold dust -
from a vessel floating
in deep, enveloping seas;

Smudged streetlamp ayonder
a dark, rainy night;

Love, blooming silent, outlying mundane life.

the   view
                            stands beneath
the carousel efforts
to blast through
impregnancy aBLOOM!!!!
(w)ith feral legacies
aligned intimately ornately
     posthumous adulterer
awakens    in               need
       of
****** corrective agency
towards Fenitbow
           and Glightrovee  ab-surd as
qua as qua
asqua aqua qua
a^s is trite melody infer[no]
t a x i     yellowing  each pavement
by truth in yo ' fa ' ' lo ((lo))
    i by horns and turns
in plyable waves arrest
what justice      juices
      freel_y
                          oblig­atory
                                      antecedent
quai noyh thlume
                            ye
           HEaVY

The truth is
spring broke open,
I wish it were winter again.
Bodies about, walking
arm in arm and
no matter how much
I practice pacing my steps,
dodging the torn-cornered
slabs of concrete
to avoid breaking my stride,
my confidence, my ankle,
I always seem to stumble
with a hand interwoven in mine.

Dexterity seeps out
through my heels,
but lets be honest,
boots aren't the best attire for
sturdy, balanced walking.
This weight
(I'd guess)
presses down on my shoulder
where the collarbone meets
whatever the other bone is called,
and the person is on a stepstool
(yes, there's a person),
floating next to me as I move
and the his heel of his palm,
the meaty part,
presses where the bones meet
(could be, I'd guess, a very masculine She)
and leaning forward, tiptoed
on the top step and
the weight is coming down hard.

How anyone could walk like that!
Me, the town *******,
the drunk staggering about
trying to keep footing.
Even thinking it, projecting it,
makes it true,
especially when arguing,
no, just receiving a nice, hearty
reprimanding from babushkas
(a group of them)
with their knit hats abloom,
selling cabbage and honey
outside the Belarusian kiosk.

Now, I know what you're thinking,
and yes, the honey is delicious;
but just because they're together
doesn't mean they need to be.
Boiled cabbage and honey
for colds.
And honestly, it's not the weather
to be stopping on the sidewalk
in jeans-shoes-tee-shirt
only to hear curses
(no, not swears — lit. curses)
spat out crooked mouths,
clinging to you
all the season through.

Sitting on my back porch,
Hemet in April once again,
My garden abloom:
Bright reds and orange,
Purple, blues & white, &
Of course, green everywhere.
Last night in her loving arms,
A tune still fresh this morning—
Background music in my mind.
(The Pointer Sisters - Slow Hand - YouTube Artist: The Pointer Sisters
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pnVOt2LK2Gg  Album: Black & White Released: 1981 Full lyrics on GooglePlay Nominations: Grammy Award for Best Pop Performance by a Duo or Group with Vocals)
($Ka-Ching! Ka-Ching!$
The poet finally figuring out
How To Make Poetry Pay:
Sell ad space right in the middle
Of the ******* poem!$)

Lyrics: “I want a man with a slow hand/
I want a lover with an easy touch/
I want somebody who will spend some time/
Not come and go in a heated rush…”

Did Anita Pointer ever ******* nail it?
An instructional instruction manual for men,
What women really want,
Never so explicably explained:    
“It’s the ****, Stupid!”
McLuhan: the massage is the message,
Literally, cliterally,
The Pause That refreshes.

(The Pause That Refreshes - More Than A Minute morethanaminute.com/ the-pause-that-refreshes. Coca Cola first introduced this marketing slogan more than 80 years ago. If you ask me, they were way ahead of their time. More & ...”

$Ka-Ching, Babaloo!$

there's a firefly in my bedroom
it flew in through the window
with its glowing tail abloom

20 stories up
from the backyard down below
200 feet of modern distance
with its lightning tail aglow

(that it's here at all)
flashing in the humid heat
(that it's here at all)
is a miraculous conceit
(that it's here at all)
a spark that still persists
betwixt his wings
the holy god exists

A fire abloom
Deep within my heart
Even a match
Couldn't start the flare
You blaze so brightly
Without having to burn
Away from the field of roses
In my arms
You don't see how much you mean
With or without
A blazing mark

A scared, sad little girl arose from her seat
At the dinner table, where thoughts went off beat.
Her plate empty, her stomach full,
And a brain filled with plans
To become a perfect little girl.

So she slowly sunk back to her room
Laid down on her bed, dark thoughts abloom.
Surrounded by the evil voices in her head,
And despite the howls and the screeching sounds,
Those terrible thoughts, she could not shred.

When she later arose with a tear-stained face,
She stalked to the sink, and gripped onto its base.
A glance in the mirror, a monster she saw,
With tiny seeds of self-love and self-hate
And out came that dinner, once and for all.

Eventually invisibility was all anyone could see
As she withered away, she was happy as could be.
Our beauty now lives with a broken mind, body, and soul,
But because of her secret no one shall know,
She forever has a heart full of sadness and holes.

Rain;eventide
Ever so slow, a drizzle
Misty leaves,drenched earth
Shaded yard, wet stones...
Quietly, I snuck out into the evening
Broken slippers,potted plants,
One abloom;fragrant white flowers
Below ashen skies.

Full moon night,
jasmines all abloom...my love's
tresses silver-streaked!