"charismatic" poems
Umm, the presence and scent of a man
Magnetic attraction where his feet stands
His natural body charismatic aroma
Element of charms, seeping to awaken a woman out a sensual coma
Is it his eyes, the soul behind his life’s mysteries
Flirtation in his smile, tells me he has an undercover ****** history
It is his nose that smells out my charms
An enticing deep baritone voice, his spoken words, which turns me on
Is it the erratic heartbeat he has for a woman, his passionate relent
Stealing my breath, as he tenderly seals my lips in an impassioned moment of content
The strength in his biceps
His triceps
Strong, yet such comforting arms
An epitome of steel, circled around a woman in winter life’s storms
In the cold of night, his body providing your heated warmth
His chest, a hard pillow to tell your doubts, your uncertainties, your fears
Pulling you closer onto it, his reassuring words eradicating your tears
His intellectual mind to think as a man
A stimulating, slam bam and thank you ma’am, or your personal grand slam
His weakening love, taking your body beyond the stars
Woman from Venus, my handsome Man for Mars
His groin, and his family jewels from which it springs forth
Erected compass of his wand now pointing North
A woman’s reservation to tease, please, stroke, or allow it to choke
His loud murmurs shadowing your moans, echoing in the wind
**** I love the presence of men, and his undulated carnal sins
From the first taste of honey dipped Butter *** me
As his giving oral fixation is traveling free
Freeing the elixir of juices that deems to flee
His hairy legs as he stands to lift my weight
In the shower, no wait, as I anticipate
Hooking my twerking bait
His physique in general…Oh, God thank you
Without the scent of a man, we women would not know what to do
Your presence to a woman is our earthly food
Our je ne sais quoi for our every ****** mood
Rather you are standing, lying still, or upside down
The blissful 69 number conquered as we’re fooling around
My Dream Weaver
My distance heartbeat receiver
His dripping sweat
Droplets to my skin have been met
The presence and scent of a man holds me throughout the night as our eyes finally rest
Sep 12, 2018
Sep 12, 2018 at 10:00 AM UTC
My love,
I saw you in the smile of the cheeky Sun,
When we met in the park.
I saw you in the glow of the charismatic moon,
When you asked me out.
I saw you in the twinkle of the dazzling stars,
When you kissed me with passion.
I saw you in the lyrics of our favourite song when we had our first dance.
I saw you in the cocoon of a caterpillar,
When you slept soundly beside me.
I saw you in the huge waves of the ocean,
When we made ecstatic love,
I saw you in the flutter of the butterfly wings,
When you were agitated and worried.
I saw you in the ferocious roar of the lion when you ranted in anger.
I saw you in the tub of my favourite icecream,
Which you did not share.
I saw you in the halo of an angel,
When you showed love and kindness to grandmother.
I saw you in the sweet song of the lark when you mingled happily with my family.
I saw you as a complete packet,
Someone I could spend my life with.
I saw you in a four hearts diamond ring,
When you proposed.
Last I saw you in the marriage vows,
Which you and I took.
For better or worse.
Jun 28, 2018
Jun 28, 2018 at 5:34 AM UTC
complexity bias
how you love to criticize my poems
as too long and overly complex
poor me, I’m no genius, don’t prosper by exploiting
unrecognized simplicities, rather deconstruct the
intricate complexities that I flatter myself are the me-sinews
Writing is a **** temptation -
we focus on the 10% that is complex and ignore the easy 90%
perhaps this once I will surrender my bare bones
put aside the rich, satisfying of cave diving, urban spelunking
word caressing tongue verbiage rich tapestry exploring -
give you the plane of plain where nestles my destiny: nesting near motionless where the couch is my kingdom and cold cereal is
easily digested and there are no consequences
I am a member of a discriminated-against minority
we have no charismatic leader, no marchers anywhere, and government programs say
hey you’re free white and twenty one plus, get the crap out of
our faces, you useless piece of rhymes with **** and includes dirt, though I shower twice a day to keep myself occupied
25 years old, a high school dropout, of course I’m white,
my occupation is playing video games and making sure
my supply of opioids is adequate in these great United States
where I was born
there are fewer jobs than none that my application survives
a first glance discardation, and now my disability preempts
any demand to pretend there is gainful employment in store in
my future
this reductio ad absurdum is a technique to expose the fallacy,
ah what’s that you say no interest in hanging about,
on your way out, of course, of course,
we are the wrong flavor of downtrodden
my life is simple - simplistic in its a chaotic entropic way,
order slowly declines into disorder
my rituals are a fight against slip sliding down, falling off the
the Herzog continuums
and the poems are desperate hand holds to prevent my
going, gone under
so forgive me if I tax you without possessing not the
requisite taxing authority
you hone in on the obvious disparities and my contradictions
resenting my sending you this bill of extravagant length
compose with me and a mean will be located and to sleep I go,
perhaps to undress my dreams and explicate the wealthy multiples of complexity in the simplicity of a junkies life
Feb 4, 2018
Feb 4, 2018 at 3:56 PM UTC
Dear Poet Friends, Here is a poem by a young Canadian poet named Darien, which I found while browsing the Net! I would like to share this with you as a prelude to my poem about the 'Rise of The Third Reich', - which I hope to post on this Site shortly. Thanks, - Raj Nandy, New Delhi
World War II - ADOLF ******
by DARIEN, Aug 21, 2006
Austria raised a man so vile and vicious
His life was dark, callous and malicious
Passions of hatred engraved in his mind
As he plotted to create his own mankind
A soldier for Germany in World War One
War to end all wars had only just begun
The National Socialist Party appeared fast
Their numbers grew rapidly as time passed
Charismatic oratory and propaganda his tool
False promises made, people he would fool
Were Nazis the one to bring hope? Perhaps
Without their help Germany would collapse
The Reichstag Fire would be a stepping stone
Germany's President died, he took the throne
He became the fuhrer leader of all Germany
And would start the worst war of the century
War had been started with a Nazi-Soviet pact
Together with Russia, Poland they attacked
England and France were not ready for war
Marching of Nazis soldiers was not ignored.
Mussolini became his ally and supported him
For all other countries their chances were slim
Many countries were defeated in a few days
the Fascist and Nazis would give him praise
Blitzkrieg was a strategy that worked most
In defeating all his enemies he came close
The Nazis would spread all across Europe
But it would be at Stalingrad they would stop
Communist regimes were one group he did hate
Yet it was the Jews he would try to annihilate
In all cruelty, bloodshed, war would soon end
There was still so much for people to defend
On V-Day he saw all his armies demolished
****** and fascism in Europe was abolished
World War Two ended the areas were secure
From that evil, monstrous beast Adolf ******
- By Darien. (Canada)
..........................................................................
Sep 22, 2018
Sep 22, 2018 at 11:11 AM UTC
Woof.....woof.....woof...woof....woof....wooof
Some Red setters dogs are eating Jewish people
in England
But why, do call them off, they are british people,
The are hard working, Industrious, Entrepreneurs,
Professors, Doctors, Lawyers, Bankers, Entertainers
Scientists, Writers, eminent Surgeons, Artists, these
are nice Britons....stop the dogs, stop the dogs.....
Woof....woof....woof.....woof.....woof...woof woof
Some Red Setters dogs are eating and biting some
Labour MPs all over the country
But why, do call off the dogs, No! we have a list and this list, highlighted the behaviour of a number of Left MPs, including Jess Phillips for telling Corbyn’s ally Diane Abbott to **** off”, John Woodcock for dismissing the party leader as a ******* disaster” and Tristram Hunt for describing Labour as “in the ****
and all the other hard working Moderate MPs who dared protest at Anti-Semitic stance or supported the Jews .
Woof.....woof....woof....woof.....woof.....woof...woof
Some Red Setters dogs are devouring some minor
Royal from Africa
But why, do call off the dogs. No that ****** has a big **** he's
Charismatic, intelligent, wholesome, has good work ethics, polite,
wise, charming, generous, witty and a ****** good lover and to top it all he's Royal. Now that's ******* GREEDY, how much can a
******* man have. NO! he's a goner. He is too perfect, he must be hounded and persecuted to death.
Woof....woof....woof.....woof.....woof.....woof.......woof
Grrr.....woof.....Grrrrr....woof...wooof...Grrrr....wooof
Congratulations People, we have got rid of them all
we now have real democracy, we have a real society now
Get in the dogs ... And all you useless ******* people shut up!
And report to the Labor Camps 7:30a.m. tomorrow
You're Working Class and now you ****** have to work!
Sep 12, 2018
Sep 12, 2018 at 6:45 PM UTC
Pale blank faces all scattered around
Pale blank faces can make the ugliest sound
Your pale blank face wasn't pale at all
See, your pale blank face made me fall
Your eyes showed the judgement of a 4 year old kid
Honest but sweet
Your smile was big so charismatic,
I could run off this world and you'd be one to believe this was real tragic
Your eyes and that smile are all that keep me here,
Because honest but sweet isn't much of a fear
And that big charismatic smile is all I can see
My eyes closed in the dark but smiling for I'm lucky to breath
Apr 25, 2014
Apr 25, 2014 at 5:51 PM UTC
We are each our own moon.
Charismatic souls reflecting sunlight,
As if to illuminate a room,
We glow against black, void; an endless night.
Like a caterpillar to a butterfly, emerging from a tight knit cocoon,
Spreading each wing, confidently slicing the evening air…taking flight.
Or even a flower freshly bloomed on a midsummer’s afternoon.
The moon: a flower, silently smiling despite the plight.
Aside from what each day shuffles in; each night simmers out
No matter how often we feel we have lost ourselves…
Or leave way to fill our heads with doubt.
With recurring assumptions of a worldwide redemption:omnipotent stealth.
Needn't some take longer than others to sprout?
Staring blankly into a mirror, or a moonless night sky: hungry for answers, yet facing an empty shelf.
However, that doesn't infer we embark on a divergent route.
Simply due to lack of clarity, lack of reasoning behind each card dealt.
With that in mind,
Just as the moon,true colors may dwindle…they may fade, yet in essence are always there.
Even on a cloudy day, or when the sunshine is at its peak…and just as well for the blind.
Full moon, half moon, new moon…waxing, waning: dynamic phases the night sky shares.
Moon phases;moody faces…natures way of emphasizing personality defined.
Notwithstanding the dark side, each moon may wear.
Like a guilty pleasure manifesting in a secret shrine,
We all suppress a certain side; to pompous to face reality genuinely bare.
Fragments of our faces may always be hidden,
But there’s one thing that will never absorb into the eclipse: emotion.
Some figure each phase, each wave of vibes … simply fate already written.
Devils advocate begs to differ… let your mind emit all distraction and harmonize with the ocean.
Effervescent rays,warm barrels in which emotions, old and new, have ridden.
Chaotically contradicting thoughts, pulling and pushing, creating the paradox of serene commotion.
A world of words from each moon face: a beautiful encryption.
We are each our own moon, written in the waves, compelled by life’s devotion.
Apr 9, 2014
Apr 9, 2014 at 1:13 AM UTC
I want to apologise.
Broken relationships, I shall eulogise.
To those I know (or, knew);
Forgive my absence when you needed a warm caress and a hug,
But instead got frostbite, a torrent of snow or dew.
I am sorry for drawing a sword
When you were hoping for an olive branch;
I can be as thorny as an all-knowing lord.
I wish my heart was limitless,
And my kindness infinite –
I dream of love that is fearless,
And of joyousness completely exquisite.
Yet, that is not who I am –
I can be a calm ocean or a tempest,
A total commotion, or peacefully at rest.
I can be enigmatic and reserved,
Or, I can be charismatic, if the mood is reversed.
We are not good or bad;
We can be lewd and strikingly mad,
Or cunningly shrewd, or maybe sad.
We are the yin and the yang;
We all tend to sin, to our demons we hang.
We are objects of pure fascination,
In constant fluctuation,
A recalcitrant reconciliation.
So, I will say it one more time –
Look into my eyes, see through my guise.
I apologise to those who had no shoulder to cry on
And sought mine, when I was not there.
I hope you’re fine, and that someone showered you with care.
Sep 6, 2018
Sep 6, 2018 at 10:25 AM UTC
ponces! nancies! veritable egrets of men!
people pleasing anti-charismatic animals
philistines, every one of them,
everyone else
a curse upon their forebears and a curse upon their goings-on
terrible business, that
the world should be filled with boundary pushing eccentrics, that is progress!
a plague upon normalcy, a plague upon stagnancy
uninteresting, dying off, done
ugh!
greatness can not be expected of all but at least an attempt should be made
how else will we overcome, will we build our utopia?
what use is MY struggle when others are defeated in making a move past the remote
television is for swine
rots your brain and morals
I've swell morals, just look at them
my morals reach to the moon
my morals are so swell I should run the country
my morals aren't two millenia old scriptures written by the seers of goat-tenders
my morals are modern, they are sleek and well dictated, they represent the future
my morals defy the past, my morals create new paradigms
why, you could say my morals defy all of traditionalism
and a curse upon tradition!
who ever learned from the past
history is rife with naught but sufferance
forwards is the only direction
forwards is revealed only to me
my ideals aglow with the lumine of the future
they are entrenched in idealism
me and mine, we are ideal
Jan 30, 2016
Jan 30, 2016 at 1:30 AM UTC
Every single one of us has our own perception and definition of perfection and beauty.
My definition of perfection and beauty is simplistic, but at the same time is insanely intricate and alluring.
My definition of perfection and beauty is her: her riveting smile, her luscious brown hair, the glint of her admirable brown eyes, so perplexing and captivating.
She is different, not quite like all the other girls.
Something about her makes her stand out.
Could it be her inspiring and enchanting positive attitude?
Or could it be her constant yet elegant and exceptional charismatic display of intellect and wisdom?
Whatever it is, it’s entrancing and spectacular, constantly forcing me to crack a genuine and stimulating smile, even when I may not be feeling the greatest.
The feeling she makes me feel when she’s present is indescribable through words; it’s a feeling that can only be truly understood through enduring it.
There is only one word to truly describe how I feel whenever I talk to her, and that is bliss.
I may be naïve to believe that I am deeply in love with her, but that intense smile and sense of self-worth I feel when I talk to her tells me otherwise.
She gives off similar vibes, leading me to believe that she may feel the same way about me as I do her.
When she displays affection towards me, my face turns slightly red and inevitably, I smile like an idiot.
When I talk with her, everything feels at ease, and I don’t ever have a single worry on my mind.
Every single one of us has our own description of perfection and beauty.
My definition of perfection and beauty is her, and she’s the perfection and beauty that I need.
Oct 17, 2013
Oct 17, 2013 at 11:42 PM UTC
Conceited
I have the body of a god
I must confess
And if I dress,
I dress to impress.
Charismatic
and liberal with the charm
Looking for a woman
to be on my arm
I'm a perfectionist
I'm perfect you see
I assure you none
equal to me
I talk to the mirror,
vanity is great
I'm the one people love
and love to hate
I've been through life
and never defeated
That's just a few reasons
why I'm conceited.
Jun 12, 2012
Jun 12, 2012 at 1:18 AM UTC
(the tics will talk 'til twelve o'clock)
When we make time,
When we listen:
The theistic preach deistic talk;
The atheistic preach pragmatic talk;
The agnostic preach proleptic talk;
The heretic preach shismatic talk;
The mystic preach prophetic talk.
(the mesianic and satanic never stop)
When we have time;
Then we listen:
The optimistic teach hypnotic talk;
The pessimistic teach sarcastic talk;
The altruistic teach empathetic talk;
The idealistic teach synergistic talk;
The pacifistic teach semantic talk;
The body politic teach charismatic talk;
The technocratic teach robotic talk;
The romantic teach poetic talk;
The critic teach cathartic talk;
The moralistic teach dualistic talk;
The ascetic teach platonic talk.
(the artist would rather not talk)
When we find time,
Do we listen:
The lunatic speak quizzotic talk;
The neurotic speak pathetic talk;
The chauvanistic speak monistic talk;
The nihilistic speak ballistic talk;
The hedonist speak narcissistic talk;
The futuristic speak galactic talk.
(the minimalist hasn't the time to talk)
Just don't.
Look.
Some tic reset the clock.
Mar 7, 2014
Mar 7, 2014 at 12:15 AM UTC
*When ink kisses paper
Leaving his marks on her
Staining her Immaculate white
Corrupting her innocent purity
With unspoken words and lines,
Punctuated with figurative styles,
Embedded with phonetic rhymes
Of divine charismatic beauty;
Sweet poetic lyrics are born...*
© Raphael Uzor
Apr 19, 2014
Apr 19, 2014 at 6:35 PM UTC
My Suppressed Anger
I hold it all in,
everything they've said,
I mold it all in,
inside of my head,
We all go through it,
me and you,
Yes you've all been,
in my shoes,
I don't want to listen to what others have to say,
I wake up thinking negatively every day,
I care about those that feel like me,
I think I can help but then I realise their not as ****** up as me,
I sit in my awkward posture,
here I am,
corner of the sofa,
once again
same place every time,
thinking of words with paper cuts and pens,
with a mouth jibbering like I just ate a lime,
I'm not good and I'm not fine,
and if I say I am then I am lying,
I'm not happy and I'm not free,
not as free as I'd like to be,
When I'm in a group of people I'm not shy,
but I'm not charismatic either or sly,
I don't always show my emotions but I don't always hide,
Although I suppress all of my anger inside,
I don't want you to deal with my feelings,
I don't want you to tell me how to get by,
I don't want you to tell me I'm a human being,
sometimes I want to die,
But you can't help me when I'm down,
the most you'll get from me is a smile or a frown,
Even though I'm not happy like you,
I can pretend,
a little false smile,
just for a while,
I'll think of the good times in that split second,
and reminisce in memories that have come to an end,
I can be anybody for a day,
but I'll just be me,
once you go away,
I'll just sit there like a lazy bear,
hibernating like a rabbit,
I don't give myself any care,
but staring at my spots became a habit,
I don't like to attention seek,
but I don't mind sharing in an artistic form the secrets I keep,
Well I'd like to speak to a person who cares,
But I've not found that person just yet,
So I'll just learn how to draw manga,
listen to depressing *** music
and write a poem about my suppressed anger.
14/01/15
~Peace~
By Larna Kira Kourtis AKA LkSkyFlyRose
© 2015 LkSkyFlyRose (All rights reserved)
Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 4:52 PM UTC
He hit the canvass
cold last night;
that impressive frame
and charismatic soul
father, son
and consummate brother
went down for
the proverbial
10 count;
complete with iron band
and Iroquois
tap out pipes
and that fashionable
Frank Smith vein
there was no grudge
in this match
no condemning contest
or mad cap bout
just mano a mano
with the dark apparition
and it played out
precisely
(despite the bills
and pressing deadlines
and calls from Christ)
it came with tears
and fear
in that decisive
and surrealistic
voice from the ridge
they all arrived;
on plains
and trains
valiants
and fat boys
from across seas
and remote hills
bringing tales
and sorrow
angels,
laborers
and mourners
in mass
with eagle wreathes
and adorning pine
it was cited
as natural
but there ain’t
nothing natural
about The Heater
going down
nothing natural
for the
mauy thai bossman
with black leather gloves
and golden heart
the giver of hope
to those blue
collar dreamers
Jan 16, 2017
Jan 16, 2017 at 1:33 PM UTC
The dusty storms of the Sahara,
The Egyptian Pharaoh,
The beautiful pyramids and the precious jewels of Cleopatra,
The deep blue sea,
The rare coral reefs,
An exotic bloom and a swarm of fish,
The marvelous Taj Mahal,
The resplendent minars,
Moonlight irradiates the charm of the building,
The enthralling and engaging Kaaba,
The charismatic surrounding and the soothing sounds of Salah,
Such a heavenly feeling.
Mar 2, 2016
Mar 2, 2016 at 1:01 PM UTC
Cocky yet humble,
Yelling at a mumble.
just another contradiction,
Self destructive predilection.
Smart enough to know better,
Yet too dumb to care whether,
I'm dead inside and rotting out,
Or simply just living with doubt.
So the story goes,
Only heaven knows
Why I do the things I do.
I just wish I knew.
Tall, small build,
Not strong willed.
yet willing to finish the mission.
Watch my plans reach their fruition.
Stuff four friends in a white panel van,
Keep them on the road as long as I can.
So we can fit our piece in the puzzle plan.
Cause I'm nothing, simply nothing without any fans.
So my hair, it grows,
And the wind it blows,
Hopefully in the right direction.
To the next intersection.
Evil, yet good,
And Misunderstood.
Idle hands, busy mind
Produce horrific crimes.
Play with emotions to sway
People's affections swing my way.
Yet never carry out the ***** deed at hand.
I'll call it a conscience, say never again, but I'm just a man.
My eyes wander,
Will's getting stronger.
But it's just too hard not to see
Or adequately appreciate beauty.
Calm and enthusiastic,
Dull but charismatic,
Maybe a dash of eccentricity.
Throw in Some single minded duplicity,
Add in a heaping helping of guilt to top it off.
Let cool for twenty years and let the odor waft,
Then you get a blue eyed, brown haired ****** bag.
Who wants nothing more than his childhood back.
So much for growing up.
So much for no regrets.
I wouldn't mind staying young,
But time just won't relent.
Dec 12, 2013
Dec 12, 2013 at 10:16 PM UTC
You stepped on stage,
And people ohh-ed,
And ahh-ed,
There were murmurs of,
“He’s cute.”
But something wasn’t right.
Something was off about you,
And it seemed oh so familiar.
Where have I heard of this?
Where have I heard of a person having those same…
Characteristics?
You’re charm,
How charismatic you are,
How people seemed to worship you?
Odd.
Up on that stage,
I saw you,
But you were tainted,
Something…
Messed up.
You seemed to be radiating.
But it wasn’t love,
Or charm,
Or anything like that you were radiating,
It was evil.
Pure madness.
And then you smiled,
And won over the hearts,
Of many,
Many people.
Where have I heard of these characteristics before?
They sound so familiar,
Like something I learned in school.
Oh,
I know.
History.
I learned of a person like this in History class.
His name was ******
And all the things people are saying about you,
They said about him.
Be careful my darling,
History repeats itself.
Dec 5, 2013
Dec 5, 2013 at 8:12 PM UTC
The cheerleader,
Hearts goes to the highest bidder,
An encapsulation of beauty,
She has the license of beauty,
She elucidated my vague and indistinct dreams,
Her voice is mellifluous in my dreams.
Cheerleader is unaccustomed to mundane.
Her admiration full of gains,
Bloomleader is unprofane damsel,
She is immaculate even in tunnels.
Cheerleader is like an epiphany,
Enternity with her? Not still many,
The charm in her face us very potent,
My reasons are arrantly cogent,
Her presence chastise dolor,
Laughter with charismatic colour,
And as the emotion creeps on me,
Making me a sycophants to her knee,
The Cheerleader,
Her love is not a treacherous swine,
Her lips is exquisite than any wine,
Though is infatuation sound very lame,
My heart adores her with fame,
A pragmatic way to study her frangipani face,
I want to be the first in this race,
The cheerleader,
She with crystal teeth
And blue eye *****
I see her climbing on walls,
Auspicious love without any wit,
I realize I was only in a dream.
Jul 3, 2016
Jul 3, 2016 at 10:34 AM UTC
London,
Beating heart of England,
Charismatic time-capsule thrumming to its own rhythm,
History looming, akin to massive waves splashing down,
Drenching all, the unwary, the scholar, soaking it up,
Savouring every scintillating droplet, blissful, hopeful,
Weaving through lives, changing with every moment,
Variety of race and creed, intermingling, jostling, noticing,
Sharing sight, sound, colour, scents, smiles and frowns,
Pulsing soul of people, thriving and alive, buzzing with spirit,
In Camden, easy-going, a friendly riot of textured-hazy-peace,
Artful structures of Belgravia, magnolia temples of affluence,
Lauding architectural finery while mere mortals pass through,
Mind swinging through centuries, flowing along the river artery,
Bridges carrying us home, keeping their own dark secrets,
Cranes rising high, creating modern palaces, new beginnings,
Old lives wreathed in the foggy past of legendry deeds,
Embellished beyond reality, ghosts crying out, warning,
We can never own this city, never know this city, not really,
Guardian dragon allows us entrance, pours herself upon us,
Takes our love, progresses while we observe,
All left behind, knowing, feeling, sensing,
We are but shadows in her Light,
Dust on her famous streets,
Blessed to know her,
To breathe her,
Love her,
London.
©Paul Chafer 2014
May 19, 2014
May 19, 2014 at 3:49 PM UTC
Party like a rock star
Pretend to be elegant and wear sundresses
Remember to smile and wave at the desperate housewives, I choose to offend
I'm inconsiderate
My charismatic side makes up for everything
So blow me a kiss and flirtatious wink
I will ignore the fact you have a plastic grin
I hate to say it, love you're not my friend
Hey, don't worry I will do this again
Contaminated, I hope to infect the ticky-tack world
Please don't vanquish my plot of sin
Don't forget to bring a bikini (optional) and gallon of whiskey
May 11, 2016
May 11, 2016 at 6:59 PM UTC
The house I lived in was like a chorus
of five-hundred elementary school-age children,
singing with all their might.
No mention or worry
to whether they hit the right note or not,
all that matters is that they try.
The air rings with carefree melody,
dancing and charismatic.
Rhythmic- full of life, love, and passion.
The house I lived in was perfect--
in all its imperfection.
Oct 2, 2011
Oct 2, 2011 at 9:57 PM UTC
I - WORDS LIKE PRISMS
The crystal awaits the perfect slant of sun.
The world turns just so and refracted light
Hurls a color blaze against the wall.
So it is when a long awaited word
Forms on the lips of the wise.
II - WORDS LIKE FLAX
In the fire of conflict,
Words fall to the floor like mounds of charred flax.
Red–faced saints gather clumps to themselves
To spin into finest thread for self-flattering raiment.
III - WORDS WITHOUT WORDS
When pain burrows deep in the marrow
Where words cannot assuage
A gentle touch can bleed some out
And channel hope back in.
No words can spell a kind caress.
IV - POISON WORDS
Beware the charismatic
Carrying a jar of poison pills!
Cover your glass when he passes your way
Or he’ll slip one in unawares.
V - LAUGHING WORDS
Absurdities and failures are the stuff of jokes.
Long live non sequiturs and double entendres!
We love a clumsy tumble into the drink
As long as nobody drowns.
VI - WORDS FOR BUILDING
Of course you can!
I place my total trust in you.
VII - WORD PAINTING
Mister Frost's words never made a wood
Or caused a harness bell to shake.
Even so I’d travel many miles
To see his imagined snow accumulate.
VIII - THE GIFT
My cat, Zoe, never says a word to me!
He doesn't have the tongue or lips or larynx for it.
He cannot fit his paws around a pen.
His brain’s too small for metaphors.
The gift belongs to us alone.
To craft words to build or **** or heal.
Forgive us Zoe for doing little with so much.
July, 2006
Jul 30, 2013
Jul 30, 2013 at 1:20 PM UTC
There's so much to say
Yet so less to speak
Hundreds of things to scribble about
Yet not a drop of ink blotting the white sheets.
The scars of her soul, the pain in her teary eyes
So much to express, honey
Yet she hides it all
Behind that charismatic smile!
Aug 7, 2020
Aug 7, 2020 at 2:01 PM UTC