"hennaed" poems - Hello Poetry

they danced in a dream of bending shadows face down begging *** all hungry back door paradise ankles strapped on a foot worn floor paint faced in whorey nights with pin needle eyes beded blood crimson neon's cut curtains like kissing claws so their bodies wouldn't forget dark pleasures lightening and biting tantra tantrums they swallowed mad ***** blossoms of hell candy breathing the others inhalations foot sniffing ballet arch in fastened Japanese melting red slippers gazing upwards rectums prayer solar eyed insurrection finger by finger clutching wrists like the grave for bloods salty cove an injured landscape a dire pink desert like bogs hold bones a rave for a slave covered in yellow ocher rubber sheets soft on the feet x rated amputee costume made of blood and spit look mommy no arms a bellied tattoo of hennaed homunculi burning Candomblé Jejé, skull black eyed beauty hissing while accordion throated rip tie tighten another notch please a dizzy ******* down silver fluted gullet in a steamed up bath house party of blotted sockets *** kitten kissed dead girls thighs tremulous and stretched a shimmering serum like wide tubular channels as pontoon edges slit through midnight howls for velvet skinned girl who thrills her head a veiled Jehovah saliva wagging tongue **** a stuttering ****** dance a hula hot momma in rubble slapping hot lipped kisses over starved darkness along telegraphs avenue melting eyes like butter a globed pudding spill ******* drool drops of gold and black river gladiators slaughter lies with every long stroke between cascading squeals paraphilias mausoleum like tumbling eels a scapegoat pulp fiction chiseled in cement ******* rips drip drip drip babbling **** bubbles **** spasms ooze like a hot glue gun fire spats soil cherry clover

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Jan 12, 2019

Jan 12, 2019 at 3:39 PM UTC

zebrablack

*** Kitten and Little Dead Girl....Ero ****

they danced in a dream of bending shadows face down begging *** all hungry back door paradise ankles strapped on a foot worn floor paint faced in whorey nights with pin needle eyes beded blood crimson neon's cut curtains like kissing claws so their bodies wouldn't forget dark pleasures lightening and biting tantra tantrums they swallowed mad ***** blossoms of hell candy breathing the others inhalations foot sniffing ballet arch in fastened Japanese melting red slippers gazing upwards rectums prayer solar eyed insurrection finger by finger clutching wrists like the grave for bloods salty cove an injured landscape a dire pink desert like bogs hold bones a rave for a slave covered in yellow ocher rubber sheets soft on the feet x rated amputee costume made of blood and spit look mommy no arms a bellied tattoo of hennaed homunculi burning Candomblé Jejé, skull black eyed beauty hissing while accordion throated rip tie tighten another notch please a dizzy ******* down silver fluted gullet in a steamed up bath house party of blotted sockets *** kitten kissed dead girls thighs tremulous and stretched a shimmering serum like wide tubular channels as pontoon edges slit through midnight howls for velvet skinned girl who thrills her head a veiled Jehovah saliva wagging tongue **** a stuttering ****** dance a hula hot momma in rubble slapping hot lipped kisses over starved darkness along telegraphs avenue melting eyes like butter a globed pudding spill ******* drool drops of gold and black river gladiators slaughter lies with every long stroke between cascading squeals paraphilias mausoleum like tumbling eels a scapegoat pulp fiction chiseled in cement ******* rips drip drip drip babbling **** bubbles **** spasms ooze like a hot glue gun fire spats soil cherry clover

75

by this man-made lake a steady drizzle hums, the sun, yesterday’s news as nature’s palette turns green and gray. staring into the gun metal sky she nuzzles her hennaed hair into his gandhian lap, mesmerized by the pitter patter she dubs, as tears from heaven. a bow-shaped stone bridge on the near horizon, red-eared sliders floating on the water, the pencil thin architectural skyline, even the floating melancholy mute swan beckons monet to rise like the phoenix and have a second go at whimsical life but not me, with a cornucopia of life-scars to show, and a ticking clock that’s monotonously relentless, this trip to the crease better be the last time at bat © 2022

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Jul 2, 2022

Jul 2, 2022 at 12:49 PM UTC

rama-krsna

last time at bat

by this man-made lake a steady drizzle hums, the sun, yesterday’s news as nature’s palette turns green and gray. staring into the gun metal sky she nuzzles her hennaed hair into his gandhian lap, mesmerized by the pitter patter she dubs, as tears from heaven. a bow-shaped stone bridge on the near horizon, red-eared sliders floating on the water, the pencil thin architectural skyline, even the floating melancholy mute swan beckons monet to rise like the phoenix and have a second go at whimsical life but not me, with a cornucopia of life-scars to show, and a ticking clock that’s monotonously relentless, this trip to the crease better be the last time at bat © 2022

21

You asked the color of my dreams. In sleep, my eyes have sought The inky black of raven lashes. Starry nights and sooty ashes. Prussian blue of fading violets Indigo of clouds and silence Beryl skies and turquoise seas Blue-green waters of the deep Peacock feathers of emerald green Mossy dells of faery queens Fields of wheat and brilliant suns Amber gold in mid-autumns Coral reefs and salmon streams Marmalade and tangerines Auburn sunsets, titian lips Hennaed hands and fingertips Blushing brides and rosy cheeks Pink hued walls and white topped peaks Silver moons and crystal nights Downy geese in graceful flight Ask not the color of my dreams The question is not whole; Deep within my rainbow’d sleep Lies the color of my soul.

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Dec 30, 2014

Dec 30, 2014 at 11:46 PM UTC

ranjini-malhotra

the color of my dreams

You asked the color of my dreams. In sleep, my eyes have sought The inky black of raven lashes. Starry nights and sooty ashes. Prussian blue of fading violets Indigo of clouds and silence Beryl skies and turquoise seas Blue-green waters of the deep Peacock feathers of emerald green Mossy dells of faery queens Fields of wheat and brilliant suns Amber gold in mid-autumns Coral reefs and salmon streams Marmalade and tangerines Auburn sunsets, titian lips Hennaed hands and fingertips Blushing brides and rosy cheeks Pink hued walls and white topped peaks Silver moons and crystal nights Downy geese in graceful flight Ask not the color of my dreams The question is not whole; Deep within my rainbow’d sleep Lies the color of my soul.

24

blood red dancing peacock adorns right dholak and shehnai play rhythmically on left hennaed hands rekindle my bridal memories stolen glances of dream-filled eyes the anticipation of a new life mingled with apprehension at straying off familiar roads ***faith tied everything together and coloured my hands today*** - Vijayalakshmi Harish 14.10.2012 Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish

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Oct 14, 2012

Oct 14, 2012 at 9:00 AM UTC

vijayalakshmi-harish

The Promise of Hennaed Hands

blood red dancing peacock adorns right dholak and shehnai play rhythmically on left hennaed hands rekindle my bridal memories stolen glances of dream-filled eyes the anticipation of a new life mingled with apprehension at straying off familiar roads ***faith tied everything together and coloured my hands today*** - Vijayalakshmi Harish 14.10.2012 Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish

20

Cuddled in bed au naturel, legs twisted around that sculpted waist, I smell the english rose in the silky strands of your hennaed hair. But it’s his vetiver-tinged cologne sprawled over your swan-like neck which suffocates me. An empty pack of Marlboro, after our hurried twist under the satin sheets, is all that remains. Your distracted eyes during that last puff give it away. It’s our love that will go up in smoke. continental drift engineered by stealthy time ~~ shards of broken glass © 2019

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Jul 4, 2019

Jul 4, 2019 at 10:18 AM UTC

rama-krsna

search for greener pastures (haibun)

Cuddled in bed au naturel, legs twisted around that sculpted waist, I smell the english rose in the silky strands of your hennaed hair. But it’s his vetiver-tinged cologne sprawled over your swan-like neck which suffocates me. An empty pack of Marlboro, after our hurried twist under the satin sheets, is all that remains. Your distracted eyes during that last puff give it away. It’s our love that will go up in smoke. continental drift engineered by stealthy time ~~ shards of broken glass © 2019

6