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ˏˋDalPalˊˎ Feb 2016
Passing through those glorious doors together

We find home at Bombay Bakers

Your hand in mine

The sugary air hitting us harder than a brick wall

We both feel the grace of familiarity

Our chemistry hotter than the rolls in the oven

The smell of freshly baked croissants gives me the same warm feeling as your smile

Passing Agora we look at each other with the same bright eyes

It'll just be a quick stop but such a savory one as we sit and share a large caramel coffee

I hate the aftertaste but anything with you is such a candied tang in the end

Your cinnamon dusted lips so close to mine

Your taste so sweet couldn't even be compared

Licking each finger after your touch, trying to save each bit of you

It doesn't matter which side of the world we are on or where we end up in the end

As long as there's that corner bakers shop nearby

It'll be home with you
I'm comparing love to food <3

Short little poem today. not too happy with it but I don't know how to go on with this.

also another note: I love the word tang but I wish it wasn't so sexual :(
Cné Jun 2017
My
Third eye
Clouded
Busy blurry skies
What have I done
To the you and I
To the me and you
That could never be
Drawn to these pleasures
Between these sheets
Smothering moonlight
Deep summer heat
Damping lust
Still no retreat
The flame burns
Even hotter
When You and I cheat
.....

Take my hand
and come with me
to dreams of love and lust
Where....drifting down
the blurry skies
the eye need not adjust,
Where....
moonlight dances merrily
reflecting us unseen.
The smoldering heat
of our united union,  
except to you and me
No need to worry
the things that we do
between the sheets
of carnal pleasure
that draws me to you.  
Together we will reach our peak
as we share this glorious night.
Lie with me beneath the moon
and feel its timeless flight.
Hope you don't mind Trader Tim.
Nat Lipstadt Aug 2013
(Inspired by and dedicated to John Edward Smallshaw, and his "Spice")**


I am a summer-man,
Because I'm blessed to sit by the sea.
Let it and the other two Musketeers,
boon companions to me,
Sun and Wind,
erase my discomposure as I
reside in the Poet's Nookery.
Let them have almost
all that troubles,
but not all.

I am a summer-man.

On the bay, on the beach,
I see birth, I see death,
osprey nests, carcasses of mussels and horseshoe crabs.
This, somehow reassuring,
the cycles,
this circularity,
the tides and inevitability.

I am a summer-man.

Student of languages seasonal,
Peaches, plums, cherries, poetry
and loving Woman.^
This, the  summer alphabet-soup of my multiple tongues.

I am a summer-man.

Sancerre and Pinot Gris, super cold,
Paul Simon, Nina Simone, with proper aging,
getting  hotter,
Salsa and Afrikaner hints, super louder,
Even "Still Crazy After All These Years,"
that-who-wud-be-me,
chills outer.^^

I am a summer-man.

When ever this lad's writes appear,
it proves once again,
there is no truth that his  
name was once Dr. Seuss
In a prior life, even if
each is signed by
Ogdiddy Nash

I am a summer-man.

Disrespectful of the calendar,
if I can, try to make
summer season stretch-marks from
May to October.

I would add April,
but the IRS is already pissed at me.^^^

Though the cherry blossoms of May
now gone away,
the lilies of June
arrive, but but for a week or two,
soon, like my mom, withered away.

Acorns in August^^^^ have arrived too swiftly.

This summer, beloved,
and love of summer, deep-rooted.

Season of my Peter Pan Poetry Galore Festival.

A love,  incapable, impossible, of ever
growing old, ever growing cold,
it cannot wither.
It is summer heat reminders exposed,
how it misses its man,
that hide in the flames of
the teasing, popping, reminding
Winter fireplace's crackling pops.
^ See "The Summer Alphabet of Woman (I Speak Woman)"
August 23 2013

^^ See "Made the bed backwards"
August 24 2013

^^^  See "Caesar Has No Authority Over The Grammarians"
August 22 2013

^^^^ See "* Acorns in August (Sonata for Summer Cello and Fall Piano, No. 3)" August 19 2013



* Paul Simon and Art Garfunkel

April come she will
When streams are ripe and swelled with rain;
May, she will stay,
Resting in my arms again

June, she´ll change her tune,
In restless walks she´ll prowl the night;
July, she will fly
And give no warning to her flight.

August, die she must,
The autumn winds blow chilly and cold;
September I´ll remember.
A love once new has now grown old
Cné Sep 2017
The smallest microbes cause a fit,
in misery it dwells.
It starts with sniffs and then a sneeze
then sinus membranes swell.

My head begins to throb
and soon my eyes begin to water.
I feel the clammy chills but soon
I find I'm getting hotter.

I cannot rest my head because
I think that I might drown.
You'd think they'd have a cure by now
but colds are still around.
Ive been under the weather
but feeling much better
Umi Jan 15
Hellfire do not go out!
Please just stay as you are
Once in the flames I wander through an answerless world
All the embers burning all the people are turning, trying to get away..
Hellfire do not go out!
Please just stay as you are
No matter how much they walk, no matter how far...
In the end they are consumed by these merciless flames
Burnt away, until not even their names,
Are remembered here, in this world full of shames
As the fire burns I ask myself wether this is a nightmare or not
And as it consumes my very soul and makes me then rot
I begin to then understand my very purpose, my destiny
Just being fuel for that fire to burn is what was planned for me
Oh Hellfire, will you go out ?
No, once you are about to go out, you just keep roaring loud
Come back hotter, more painful than I can take
My body is burning up, I think my mind is going to break
And as this torture goes on
I wished I would be gone

~ Umi
Ever notice how a piece of timber first catches on it burns so bright...
There's sort of a passion to it?

How it moves along flaring hot or hotter,
flaming-out here or there...

Coming around again to exhaust all efforts at staying alight...
...but it matters not.

That dark hardened shell of the wood has nothing left to give...
...can't maintain itself.

Sure, -you can add accelerant.
A later something, perhaps different in thermal expression?

In the end only speeds up the process of becoming nothing; as ashes cast into the winds.

Charred pieces were better left alone, dissolving in raindrops over time?

Never rekindle a thing once burnt.

Yes I suppose that makes logical sense...

Unless you feel cold?
Umi Apr 15
That shooting star,
Loved the earth so much that it crashed right into it, burning away in passion, lethal, poisonous passion, to be with what it really wanted,
It cut through the darkness with our hopes, with our deepest wishes,
Before it vanished, like a long lost dream, or a overshadowed memory
As time ticks on, reality and illusion melt together, sharing a heart,
That too is a sign of death, as each lost its meaning by just doing this,
In order to heal my aching chest, I too must be to death in sweet love,
So I will not lose to anyone, daling, after all, once you give another a home within your heart, a part, yet small dies and fades into shadows
I know I am not alone, because I am reaching out for your love, dear
A last remote of lonesome fear, engaging the thought of losing what you hold so dear, is what makes it morbid, burning even hotter now,
But a fire burns out faster, the higher it reaches, so be very cautious,
Envy is for love the metamorphosis to turn into pure fury or hate,
A bloody devotion to be the only one your darling ever will desire,
As you fall, to death in love

~ Umi
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