"gingerly" poems
Before long the summer sun will rise in London
Like the half of the Ge meets the other half.
Like a magic by the Lamp of Aladdin
The love flame hidden in the chest lights up!
Like a blooming rose in a glowing beam of light,
Like a smiling face speaks a gentle word,
Like a beautiful sunrise colour in the first light!
The summer in London will pop and sizzle
We will see a threshold in our land.
The rose for a while is tucked away
Off the winter and is given to the sun
Winter is not forever spring is on the corner
Come back in the sun with the early bird
Before Cinderella takes on the primrose path.
Keeping an eye on a thriller is in the winter’s field
Oozy ozone misty land gets a gingerly seasoning
What on earth will it strike, will it dish out?
Ah, the sun will pop out like a river breeze.
Like a southern song singing on a dream scene.
a smooth fairy dance facing the Moon
a thrill of exposing Stonehenge once and for all
a melodious raindrop in the serene pond
a butterfly dance on the rose
a turned on tall tale of the blue peacock
Like a pure belief in heaven without a pinch of salt!
Mar 21, 2017
Mar 21, 2017 at 10:37 AM UTC
Fingers sinking deep
below your surface;
seeping into your *****
caressing your crevices.
leaving their mark; baring pleasure.
coursing ecstasy through your veins.
searching for the highest of peeks beyond measure
scorching heat, blood boiling, the pleasure pains
soothing your aching flesh
in relentless pursuit; of higher depths
guilty yearnings, urges run rampant
as your ecstasy starts to progress
heavy breathing your hands held abreast
pungent liquids; drenched with desire
a seeping puddle stains the mattress
gingerly leaking, outlining your canvas
a mist in the air, cooling your skin;
Mar 5, 2017
Mar 5, 2017 at 9:55 PM UTC
He lays me down
For the first time
And kisses me gently.
His hand moves gingerly
Down my side.
He does his best to
Keep eye contact
while I'm naked under him.
I feel appreciated,
Respected,
Cared for.
I can tell I can open up to him
About what I'd really like
In this bed...
I want those tender lips
To part against my neck
And hips.
I want those gentle hands
Clasped tightly around my wrists.
I want his anxious eyes
To explore his lust with me.
And then I want him
To give in
To take me
Pull me
Grab me
Bite me
Scratch me
Pin me
**** me
I'll tell him its okay to pull my hair
And show him the best way to do it.
I'll tell him its even better with bruises
Tied down, blind-folded.
I'll be dripping with sweat
While you drip wax. And
I'll be soaking wet.
But we've only been dating for a month. Guess I'll keep secrets
Until they won't scare him off.
Feb 5, 2018
Feb 5, 2018 at 10:45 PM UTC
Are you a witness of the precise moment
on that very proverbial, unpredictable day
when everyone did mind the gap
but the Ramadan moon took a step?
None could time it at first, as if it got out
from a black hole or an uncharted water well:
down the trail, who can tell?
Now a day or two is gone, has passed by.
The moon is in the fast lane soaring high,
and fills the orb with serene soft light.
Ah, buddies catch up, the suave fireflies.
Tons of these stay awake in the night.
Before they fly away, vanishing afar
into the epic portion of the night.
A confluence down the black moon,
only to catch a glimpse of any pattern:
a morning star or a forming pin bar,
a slice of light on a gingerly lit chart.
Premiering the Eid moon’s first blush.
Yet, if only one can time it, when will it flash?
Deep down a black moon, all eyes black out.
Still, how can one sigh though? Ah,
the unpredictable black moon, should it show
just a peek, showers the earth with Eid’s joy!
Will it show up in no time, far from the sight—
galaxies light up the shady nook of night.
A houri in the Eden rings the alarm.
The veiled bunch of fairies push the sky.
Every star throws its hat, only to tell first
when a crescent moon will crop up
And with the first spill of moonlight,
topflight it goes, pushing the boat out!
A walk down the black moon
without a light or water gone into the blue,
As though walking dead, blindfolded.
No pattern, decimals of Pi undefined by design,
but spot on gets to the apex spike!
There’s still an unmarked blank space
the light on this way doesn’t paint.
And this time, the time won’t tell
is there anyone who can is anyone’s guess.
So should the houri dare to run, then
cherubic she be on her flawless flaw,
rushes to ask the Queen of Heaven!
Oh, good luck to her, a wild one.
Time the black moon, its first glance
precisely when the Eid moon will crop up.
Enlighten us, we are more than curious.
Tell us, too—don’t just tweet it to the stars.
May 19, 2018
May 19, 2018 at 8:08 PM UTC
Galaxy gardener sailing a ship,
through endless horizons it makes a trip.
She/he looks into the inky canvas blend,
then scatters some seeds in the spacial rend.
What does await this brave lovely soul,
when we see the universe's gears roll.
Ionizing radiation penetrates through,
while watering can always holds true.
Space turf gingerly shovelled over seeds,
her/his forehead adorned with water beads.
Nitrogenous nutrients now nuzzled into,
the serene slumbering seedlings to be.
Galaxy gardener greets growing greens,
lively lushscious leaves forward leans.
Wormhole worn star systems she/he fixes up,
as does she/he proudly prune her/his wondrous crop.
Many a plant has grown under her/his care,
yet she/he never feasts on the fruits they bear.
Aug 30, 2018
Aug 30, 2018 at 1:49 AM UTC
•
will
you take
me into your
space...•cradle
me upon the
sultry limbs of
your nebulous
grace•the expansive
arms of the universe,
where peaceful
slumber awaits•your
poetry laden comets,
bore abundant love,
all towed in freights•
gingerly drinking in the depth
of your face•seemingly blindfolded,
i'll tread each dark crater•my head in
a swirl of your majestic trace•
where I would stumble upon
V a love ever so... V
/ | | || \
( )
( INTERSTELLAR )
( )
Oct 29, 2014
Oct 29, 2014 at 12:59 PM UTC
It was early morning when she descended the steps
to the porch side, teacup in hand, dressed in her nightgown.
Steam billowed from her cup, and with a swallow
she examined her garden of weeds and unexpected peonies.
It was early for blooming peonies; frost, like glass,
still settled on the lawn, reflecting sunrise light of tangerine.
The radiant glow of tangerine
cast amber trails across steps
covered in an icy coating of glass.
Between her fingers she tucked her nightgown
and gingerly treaded the garden of peonies
that melted the frost in one great flower swallow.
The barn swallow,
perched not far from the path of tangerine,
must have also taken notice of the peonies
as he took the first steps
to nest-building. She imagined that his lady bird, also in her nightgown,
would enjoy the flowerbed of glass
that he chose for their home. Sipping her glass
of tea, she admired the familiar swallow
lover as she folded into her nightgown
bouquets of peonies that glistened in the tangerine
sunlight. She took the steps
back to the house, recalling her own swallow’s peonies:
Peonies
placed in vases of glass,
peonies lining the porch steps,
peonies presented over morning tea. With a swallow,
she carefully, methodically lined the tangerine
trail with the peonies from her nightgown.
Her nightgown,
stained with the rouge petals of peonies,
dragged along the tangerine
terrace of glass,
blood red with the memory of her swallow
lover’s peony-petaled steps.
The steps to the house creaked beneath her nightgown.
The barn swallow, quieted by the rouge of the peonies,
shut his glass eyes to the skies of tangerine.
Feb 16, 2010
Feb 16, 2010 at 4:49 PM UTC
walking through the woods i was surrounded by a plethora of golden bronze amber leaves tumbling in the wind sparkling with a star fire that evanesced from their jagged edges upon their descent. i stood entranced, mesmerized, utterly hypnotized by their glorious magnificence. i observed with intensity as a golden bronze amber leaf never having been attached to the majestic tree had no need to let go but gently released. feeling no trepidation it wholly lacked desire for manipulation to control the forces of the wind. i watched in awe and wonder realizing that it never disengaged from the tree knowing that separation is an illusion; it simply became the wind. whirling it shimmered in the autumn sun as it wafted with no need for reins allowing its destination to unfold. gingerly cascading it settled tenderly on the ground resting comfortably in ambivalence. i sensed it did not cringe when it was picked up by an unsuspecting boot but intuitively knew immediately that it was being carried and dropped off serendipitously at an auspicious location. i listened to it intently and drank in its essence as it simply lay in being not obsessing over what would happen consequent but sat in sheer stillness seemingly encompassing all totality. i was stunned to see that it lingered without judgment in undivided clarity for what wild synchronicity would come. it quenched its thirst in mystery while being completely at home in uncertainty. the golden bronze amber leaf seemed one with all that is while simultaneously retaining awareness of self-perception. as a gentle gust of wind coalesced with the beige fall sky it literally merged with the momentum enjoying the ride to its perfect destination. with delicacy it rested cozily in ambiguity whispering to me that heaven is a state and not a place. i vow surrender to black and white existence pledging fearlessly to climb higher creating life with vivid vibrancy adding golden bronze amber to my palette of colors with which i’ll paint.
©2016 janetaylor
May 11, 2016
May 11, 2016 at 5:37 PM UTC
I want to kiss you
Slowly tenderly
All over your lips
I want to kiss you
Gently gingerly
Down to your hips
I want to kiss you
Smoothly softly
Up to the tip
I want to kiss you
Kiss you kiss you
Kiss kiss kiss you
Jan 15, 2016
Jan 15, 2016 at 12:32 AM UTC
*as winter acquiesces to the blazing sun
a soothing breeze softly grazes tips of aspen
gently shedding past liaisons
a perfect panacea
allowing wild freedom for summer’s dawn
healing from the ominous night
a flower gingerly releases its grasp
leaning into golden rays of summertime
keenly aware of newfound vulnerability
it yawns into the light
a rousing essence induces
a silhouette of life once thought lost
prodding river’s rigid ice blue crystals
to melt and flow with buoyant wonder
kaleidoscopic-like waves
having weathered near annihilation
a sculptured consciousness remains
painting summer clouds with soft-hued wisdom
all awakens from the dream
and should the cold return once more
the sun will shine again
©2016janetaylor
Apr 30, 2016
Apr 30, 2016 at 3:23 AM UTC
You held me in place with that commanding look
writhing under your gaze
unable to look away from the piercing sight
and afraid to disobey any order
If it was uttered from your lips
my heart would have soared, stretched, and broken
to be praised by your words
or tenderly touched with your rough hands
I could feel your hand on my neck
squeezing slowly until the blood started pounding
my pain was your pleasure
and your pleasure was my purpose
Little did I know that you would be squeezing too strongly
the ropes were too tight around my waist
the collar choking my neck
no amount of clawing would have made you let go
so I went limp with my love
A submissive gives trust
yields to whoever they believe is worthy
submitting more than their body
but their very essence
A dominant is supposed to wield that trust
to protect and realize the significance of it
not squeeze and suffocate it
pretending that lies warrant trust in return
I could not have been enough for your demands
and you broke the trust I gingerly placed in your hands
Take your bonds and pretend to wrap them around someone else
my being can take no more of your bruising
Mar 2, 2018
Mar 2, 2018 at 10:09 PM UTC
*stars silently
enveloped
turbulent seas,
gingerly dappling
each current,
whence the tides
were stilled
'til they ebbed
'tween streams
of serene
spring waters,
rushing its
banks in
cascades of
tranquil
awed hushes
overflowing
midst
surrender's
quietude*
Jul 12, 2015
Jul 12, 2015 at 11:10 AM UTC
The trees juice swallowing
Dread-locks opening the
key to my heart
Pulling Amber Agate to the end
wishing the wagon
was my good luck hand
So helpful than my
hallucination struggling
wilderness mission
Apple abandoned Mcintosh
her computer
The thirst compelled her
So Gingerly lemon tea
4 -2 beer pockets
Four letters not to like
H-E-L-P____$$$
if you only knew abandoned hike
Imagining stew of rabbits
Four people Fast Wendy
4 meals for 4
Sahara desert burger
The Amber ghost of
two wrinkled catalyst
Did time desert me
4:44? Paralyzed list
No Star wars may the
force be with Amberlized
Quicksand lowered
water was drying
Her abandoned party
type Diva evaporated lava
Amber the corner of her lip
all pruned couldn't sing
Slenderman slumber nails and dirt
Amber people are the strange
wagon getting hurt
1- Hot it is (..)
2- Is it wrong to feel abandoned
3-Wrong being sold out to Uncle Sam
What was?
4- Was she blinded all alone S-O-S
5- SOS surrender distressed wood belong?
6- Belong to be dumped
near a wagon deadbeat song
7- Song didn't move lonely emptiness
, please help
8- Help wanted not just any sign
9- Sign was stolen and Amber rose
10- Rose so ember plain and desert storm
he gulped
11- Gulped left with one (.)
12- One far two stars bygones
13- Bygone the last line 13 I= phones
Help______
deleted numbers
Now don't disappear on me
I was abandoned too many times
The dirt and the sand stayed still
No cell phone picture to install
Aug 3, 2018
Aug 3, 2018 at 7:03 AM UTC
Falling asleep, with your arms wrapped around me.Encasing me.
Drifting into unconscious.
Feeling completely safe.
And waking up.Not fully.
But just enough to see the new days sun.
When I gingerly touch your hip.
You turn and wrap me in your arms once
again.As if it was second nature.
As if this action, was embedded into your DNA.
I lay there half asleep.
Listening to your breath.
Anything past the edge of the bed is
Galaxies away.
This moment is ours forever.
No one can take this from us.
Apr 24, 2015
Apr 24, 2015 at 12:44 AM UTC
Three times now
when I have sought solace in solitude
over the headland on the rocky shore
I have displaced my insistent inner voice
with a simple quest:
"I will find a starfish".
And each time I have done this,
gingerly rockhopping away from it all
towards the kelp-caressed wavelets
I have found one
under the first stone I turn over.
But no matter how diligently
I continue the search
I have never found a second.
Oct 28, 2012
Oct 28, 2012 at 8:57 AM UTC
Heartbeats fast
whispers and plans
a mother's heart conflicted
as she wrings her hands
through the courage,
streaming tears
she will let him go
despite her fears
Outside, canines barking harsh
men's cruel shouts
she must say her goodbyes
as the shots ring out
So many kisses
on his sweet, sleepy face
little man deep in slumber,
in angelic grace
yes, he cried for a minute
as the morphine kicked in
and she rocked him and rocked him
his little frame, so thin
Now as his father takes him
she crumples to the wall
"By the will of God may I see
him again" she whispers
for he is her all
Outside the freeze
puffs breath into clouds
the quiet imperative for
this next move:
Father gently slips son
into the rough-hewn jute,
No rotten potatoes today, no
this is far more important
No one will look for a tot
in a potato sack, he hopes
He looks around and slips
through the hole in the wire
These moments are critical
the need for speed is dire
A quick trip to the village
in the black cloak of night
looking over shoulder
Finally the house…it's just there,
the next meadow over
the secret knock is sounded
and the door opened in silence
warm arms greeting, helping
carry the goods inside
Will this be a respite
from all the endless violence?
Laid gingerly on the bed,
the sack is eased off gently
no potatoes inside
just a small sleeping boy
his parents only pride
Father strokes his hair,
Lays his palms on his head
to bless this bundle of sweetness
in his new environment
"I will come for you, my son"
tucks thin blanket around
and the deed is done
and now, in the cold lonely
smoldering air
of the burning dark
now in the kiss of hopeful protection
yes, now it's time to part
Back to his wife in the ghetto's
cold, sickened space
to try to convince her
to bust out of that twisted place
You are my warrior, you
and all the others
Your spirit beats on
in my
naked heart's
thunder
May 4, 2016
May 4, 2016 at 10:59 AM UTC
Midway upon the journey of life
I found myself riding
zigzag down dark streets,
for there was no straight way
through that teeming urban grid.
Thus I travelled deeper into the night,
while rosary beads swung hypnotic
from the mirror, reflecting the revenant eyes
of one raised by an invisible hand
from salt water rocks where
as a boy, he said, he should have died.
Deftly navigating changing lights
of amber, red, and green,
he humbly inquired after my beliefs
and the state of my soul.
As to this I could not say,
so I drew it out and held it gingerly
by the rough edges, examining
as best I might in that dim backseat
its wrinkles, creases, and scars.
In the reflection he saw all these clearly,
and with gentle resonance spoke
of things impossible to know,
less difficult to believe,
and blessed me so
that on passing out the door
I found my soul again soft and warm.
May 26, 2019
May 26, 2019 at 1:25 PM UTC
early daylight across my face sweeping,
gingerly ginger-yellow heated by the low-
risen sun, it confirms what my beating heart
yet signals, granted us, a new twenty and four,
but no more,
for certainty is not a human condition, so we cover
our eyes, not from the sun-rays, but in deference and
thankfulness and gratitude, that we have one more chance
to the world distribute, blessed human loving kindness, unique,
the greatest gift most excellent we human possess to give away freely!
Jewely 23, Twenty Twenty Three
8:30am
Jul 23, 2023
Jul 23, 2023 at 8:36 AM UTC
While continuing
My voyage across the sea
Aboard this gracious ship
Here I am spinning
A web of disgrace
In the name of seafarers
Around the open sea
Looking forward to
An islander's love
As I doze into below deck
While the ship rocks me to sleep
Caressing
As I nest
This lovely sea gull
So gingerly
Gazing in it's eyes
With passion
As I set her free
To the open winds
While I'm dreaming at sea
Feb 11, 2010
Feb 11, 2010 at 5:48 AM UTC
Words without
Unspoken truths
Cut in neat pieces
Sharp like knives
Plunged deep into yesterday’s drivers seat
Intoxicated
The sweetness of wine
Time took hold
Tastes grew old
Drank straight with ice
A barrel aged whiskey with bite
Involuntarily, my body shakes
Like it was trying to run away from the feeling
“I didn’t know you would make me so drunk”
Stumbling and fumbling with my keys
Scratched drivers side door
Attempts to unlock what shouldn’t be
It left chips in the paint
“F*ck” murmured beneath my breath
The engines low rumble grumbled and sang
A stereo left on too loud came alive when I turned the key
Busted eardrums, slow trickle, ears that bleed
Silence spoke the loudest after that
The nights drive turned sideways
Cherry red lights matched with blue
I could outrun them if I tried
Pressed petals in between pages
Pushed gingerly to the floor
The speedometer creeped to new heights
That annoying flashing brightness followed me
Threat to freedom and a refusal to give in
Twist and turns
The chase ensues
I finally feel like I’m gaining distance
Little was known, encroaching on a dead end
Blew past a warning sign
Wrapped my car around a tree
Crimson red soaked shirt
“Why is my face wet?”
A steady stream of life giving fluid pumped through a **** in my forehead
Dizzy, it made me dizzy.
I sat and waited, not for help
But for time to be taken away
I understood that sometimes a mistake is made, and I can pay the price with iron clad bracelets and a night spent on a bench for a bed.
You taste like wine and then bit like whiskey, when all I wanted was coffee black on a crisp summer morning with the sun rising up to meet a lovers lust in my eyes.
Mar 27, 2022
Mar 27, 2022 at 1:33 PM UTC
Read, watched, Listened for snippets
Wore the buttons,
Devoured anything…
Apartheid
Had my own personal
Bedroom Revolution...
Jumped high…In place… with the best of them
Little balled up fists…
Pumping…
Chanted the chants
Sang the song
Freeee-ee Nelson Mandelaaaa
Freeee-ee Nelson Mandelaaaa
And I meant it!
Oh My God I meant it from my
young revolutionary soul
Cried adolescent girl cries
For our South African brothers and sisters
All of the martyrs
Known and unknown
STOP APARTHIED!
STOP APARTHIED!
Free Nelson Mandela!!
To this very day
I love me some Nelson Mandela
Love the man he is
Mourn the man he was
Big Fine Educated Pugilistic
African
Man
Passionate
Compassionate
On that serious mission
Who, though technically still breathing upon his release, in reality
Gave his life
To promote the cessation of
An idea more merciless even than the Rwandan genocide
In that Death
Seldom came quickly
A system more sadistic even than the African Slave Trade
In that it was not based economically
Therefore ALL the
“Kaffers”
Could be maimed or die
And it wouldn’t cost a thing…
Monetarily speaking
A society wherein
Each Black death
Someone’s Job… or
Someone’s Entertainment
Every atrocity’s purpose to serve only to
Douse fuel on the already
Brightly burning fire of
Hate and torture and hate
I love Nelson Mandela
For making like David
And having the *****
To take on the Goliath
Apartheid
Satan is creative
His minions resourceful
We will never know the indignities;
Can only imagine the violations
My Nelson was forced to endure
Imprisoned for 27 years
I love
Nelson Mandela
For having the strength
To keep living
When so many others couldn’t
Still able to put
One
In front of
The other
Albeit gingerly
But still locomoting
Out of hell
On his own two feet…
That alone makes him a hero
To me
In my heart he will always be
The
Big
Fine
Educated
Pugilistic
Passionate
Compassionate
Hero
That the young revolutionary in me
sings about…
Dec 7, 2013
Dec 7, 2013 at 6:29 PM UTC
Somehow, I managed to get to my thirties
without eating a cherry --- a fresh one, anyway,
raw, untamed, unshelved, and forgodssake,
unmarischinoed.
I had them in pies, gooey, sickening, too much
syrup, and in sundaes --- again, not real, a turn-off,
saw people tie the stems in knots,
I had the impression, I think, that if people
had to do all the things they do with cherries
to make them flavorful, they must be really
**** straight out of the bag.
I made my mind up that they were unpleasant
and I would have nothing to do with them.
Even, or especially, in chocolate-covered cherries,
which my mother loved, so I wanted to love,
I could at best eat the chocolate around that
thick viscous sugary embryonic fluid
wherein lay the embittered, unborn and unloved cherry
and not the coveted prize.
So imagine that day when, careless at a cocktail
party, or at someone's house, hungry, I nibbled
at a fresh one, deep red and whole, gingerly working
my way around the stem and coming awake
to ohmygod what have I been missing all these years?
They still seem brand new now, every time, a delicacy,
something wealthy people indulge in and so not really
belonging to my world. They beg for the company
of wine and the most delicate cheeses, they ask to be shared
and doted on. The keep revealing themselves,
on the plate, unadorned, and they keep reminding me
to try something else that I have never tasted,
like complete and utter honesty, or looking at myself
naked, without judgment, even at the innermost
feminine parts, upside down with a mirror until I see why
they say making love for the first time is giving away
your cherry.
Jul 31, 2014
Jul 31, 2014 at 1:03 PM UTC
She knows it is something to eat
Smells like what she’d fancy
as yummy … but not quite
so She smoothly zigzags along
Forbidden Chords
Smells - Tosses - Hops - delicately Licks
and Jumps at once
back to Shadows wherein she always hides
paints Numerous Cooler Tones with her Yawns
Lest her Glittery Eyes
a Pair that never shuts
despite Days Seasons Nights
I approach silently
beside her
Not to bother
As if Wiser
because I look taller
-I guess-
Stupid! Stupid!
I just realize now...
An elegance of furry highness lying aside
For her ‘of me’ means
Playmateness just
none about silly bossiness among us
With me
She does her pats Gingerly
Not to hurt
As if
as if I could not handle some
Innocuous Spice
But I mind not
if she finds this way alright
because I trust her nature
with all of my broken Hearts
And let go
the all of me
Fully
to the fury of the Furry
come on babe Hit me
Come! Come Now!
arghhh!
Bites She!
swiftly and tenderly brushes afterwards
happens this
All the -outta my sight- Time
but she also
Lets me win sometimes
win ...I guess. ?. Purposefully
Anyway Yeah
Maybe it’s Love
dunno why or how
I wonder and smile then Cry
aiaiaiaiai
until a PATZ Paw
shoots my Pathos
outta Sight
Come on Babe
Hit me!
Come now! Come!
Argghh!
:))))
Bites She!
Feb 24, 2015
Feb 24, 2015 at 5:35 PM UTC