"relishes" poems
I watch him as he's treated like a germ
behind his eyes there are whimpers
A secret held
for no one should know
because once its revealed
they treat him like a *******
My heart cries out and yearns
to console
to show him acceptance
as he struggles to do so
Death's cold breath raising hairs on his neck
At seventeen he faces this foe
Lost in a world that holds too many
Homophobes
Curse all of them
Curse his darkest taunting hours
Curse the creators of this Reaper
and when they walk in the fires
crying out
I hope the devil relishes every moment
Dec 28, 2012
Dec 28, 2012 at 5:28 PM UTC
The sunlight winks from behind the umbrella of leaves and mangoes overhead. It tickles your cheekbones like the first, second, thirtieth good morning kiss. Your sandals are worn. A woven basket rests heavy on your hip, in your hands.
Your fingers, slender and worn by the earth, trace the contours of my face the way they search for meaning in a dictionary. Gravity. We inch closer. Have you always had a widow’s peak? Your hand finds it rightful place over my heart. I kiss you for the thirty-first time today. You taste of plantains and milk. You smell of sweat and the sun. My hand relishes in the traces of heat on your cheek.
One mango drops from your possession. Unripe, but soon to be opened up and worshipped as it is meant to be. Your fingers grasp the yellowing heart and press it against my lips. I rest against the trunk and sink my teeth into it. Liquid sunrise trickles down your wrist onto my blouse. The leaves create shadow puppets on the ground, the story of two young fools swaying in the shade of a tree.
Aug 12, 2021
Aug 12, 2021 at 6:32 AM UTC
Some would have
You to believe that
Love is blind
Love isn’t blind
At all
Love sees every
Color
Love does not require
Sameness to love
Love sees every shade
And every relishes
In each one
Love seeks to understand
And give freedom of
Expression to every
Brilliant color
Love has perfect
Vision
That sees and celebrate
Every color
Like love
I see color
And it is indeed
Beautiful
Love in color
It’ll
Change your life
May 21, 2018
May 21, 2018 at 2:18 PM UTC
My perfect guy
Is the kind of boy
Who is always a gentleman
He opens doors, pulls out chairs
And is polite to my parents
And yet when he wants
He can be so hilariously fun
He's not afraid to wrestle
Or play games, even have a nerd fight
But when the day is done
We can sit and talk for hours
He listens to every word
And says more than "okay"
He will smile and act intelligent
Helping with my problems
But he's not too serious
To put up with my insanity
My perfect guy
Is the kind of boy
Who is always there for me
I will never feel shy or scared
In his protective hold
He will back me up
Even if I'm wrong
And when we sit together
He will wrap his arms around me
And sit tight and perfect
And he is always there for me
When is about emotions too
He will be my steady rock
To comfort if I cry
He always try's to make it better
No matter what is wrong
My perfect guy
Is the kind of boy
Who is thinking of me
He pulls special surprises
With flowers and romance
He never forgets a special day
But he's not the kind of guy
Who is crazy about anniversaries
He might give a gift once a year
To keep it real special
He plans dates
And makes special days
Just for the two of us
And while he keeps them
Perfectly romantic he lets them
Have fun too.
My perfect guy
Is the kind of boy
Who compliments me now and then
Even if he doesn't mean it
Just to make me feel nice
But he isn't all worried about beauty
He notices me for me
And isn't afraid to joke around
And say what's on his mind
My perfect guy
Is the kind of boy
Who likes the things I like
The kind of guy who
Shares my dreams
And relishes in the insanity
He wants to make the impossible come true
Without forgetting about now
He will think about the Future
While we banter with each other
My perfect guy
Is the kind of boy
Who doesn't see me as just his girl
He is protective and strong
Yet easy going too
He isn't afraid to get *****
To roll around in the mud
He is always up for a game
Of road hockey or paintball
He will play video games
And sports
Without going easy
He will keep things fun
And won't cry about losing to a girl.
My perfect guy
Is the kind of boy
Who gets along with friends
Who is always charming to new people
And who my friends like back
The kind of guy who
Gets along with a group
Yet doesn't mind to be alone
My perfect guy
Is the kind of boy
Who I write this incredibly long poem about
He is the kind of guy who is perfect in my eyes
He is the kind of guy who likely doesn't exist
Nov 1, 2014
Nov 1, 2014 at 7:36 PM UTC
I open my fridge door and what do I see?
A half empty bottle of beer, relishes, old vegetables and water.
I close the door.
My groaning stomach persuades me to open the door once more. Like an alter ego, I obey it's commands.
I'm sure this time, there will be food, food that was invisible just a second ago. Food that I will see, if I look hard enough.
I grab the chilled silver handle and give it a pull. Wide open swings the door to reveal food galore!--
Oh wait, there's no food, not even a decent beverage. There's still just a whole load of nothingness and hunger.
A deep dark depression cuts me like a knife through butter. no food here, no food there, nothingness all around just starvation and suffering.
I close the fridge.
The cycle repeats itself.
Such is life.
Nov 5, 2015
Nov 5, 2015 at 1:58 AM UTC
There goes Lady Fate,
donned in solar sparks
and her lace corset
whose overt promiscuity
catches the attention of
one unsuspecting astronaut–
his helm fogs as he exhales,
his breath crude and lascivious.
Even Neptune’s eyes themselves
glitter wetly with passion
as she struts towards Polaris in
her pinprick stilettos.
She adjusts her stance accordingly:
I. Purse lips into a smoulder
(might as well look
pretty while ya get the job done.)
II. Aim for the desired target
(that there’s the bull’s eye.)
III. Wreak havoc
just as any Fate is meant to do.
(But, of course.)
She picks up her staff and fires.
The universe tremors
in an unbridled spiral
of colour and chaos
as the planets
d a r t
about like billiards, * * *
colliding/|\with/|\ the/|\ stars
who, in the midst of the madness,
d i v e r g e and c* r* o* s s
for fear of being vanquished.
A cluster of mismatched constellations
and forsaken cosmic particles
settle into a state of
mutual negligence and destruction.
And, together, they liquefy into
a festering pool of molten silver.
Lady Fate grins–
yes, she has the stars right
where she wants them now–
and, in a final act of defiance,
she strikes against the earth
and watches with satisfaction as
it hurtles towards the silver
and sinks down into the molten
like an eight ball.
(And everyone knows it’s
Game Over
once you’ve sunk the eight ball).
From where she stands–
bent over Polaris
in seductive pretentiousness —
she relishes
in the screams
of some wretched lover–
the first to ever be
betrayed by the stars.
Jul 24, 2018
Jul 24, 2018 at 2:44 PM UTC
1641
Betrothed to Righteousness might be
An Ecstasy discreet
But Nature relishes the Pinks
Which she was taught to eat—
2.8k
She misses his delicious kisses;
relishes his teasing touches,
and wishes his seductive whispers
said in secrecy beneath sheets and covers
while limbs twist and spasm,
axis spring and swivel,
and torso arches and collapses
during shared soft and salacious caresses,
shall soon return in such sweetness
to serenade streams of heightened senses
causing erupting screams of
Yes,
Yes,
Oh, PLEASE,
YESssssses.
Oct 27, 2014
Oct 27, 2014 at 4:56 PM UTC
3am is for the fearless.
The ones who aren’t intimidated--
by life;
by silence;
by darkness;
by love;
by loneliness.
3am is when the soul relishes in its blackest pitch
and learns to illuminate.
3am isn’t an hour.
It is a lifestyle.
Apr 29, 2015
Apr 29, 2015 at 2:55 PM UTC
The Kingdom of heaven is like unto a merchant man,
seeking goodly pearls; who, when he had found one,
sold all that he had and bought it.—Matthew 13.45
I know the ways of Learning; both the head
And pipes that feed the press, and make it run;
What reason hath from nature borrowed,
Or of itself, like a good huswife, spun
In laws and policy; what the stars conspire,
What willing nature speaks, what forced by fire;
Both th’ old discoveries, and the new-found seas,
The stock and surplus, cause and history:
All these stand open, or I have the keys:
Yet I love thee.
I know the ways of Honour, what maintains
The quick returns of courtesy and wit:
In vies of favours whether party gains,
When glory swells the heart, and moldeth it
To all expressions both of hand and eye,
Which on the world a true-love-knot may tie,
And bear the bundle, wheresoe’er it goes:
How many drams of spirit there must be
To sell my life unto my friends or foes:
Yet I love thee.
I know the ways of Pleasure, the sweet strains,
The lullings and the relishes of it;
The propositions of hot blood and brains;
What mirth and music mean; what love and wit
Have done these twenty hundred years, and more:
I know the projects of unbridled store:
My stuff is flesh, not brass; my senses live,
And grumble oft, that they have more in me
Than he that curbs them, being but one to five:
Yet I love thee.
I know all these, and have them in my hand:
Therefore not sealed, but with open eyes
I fly to thee, and fully understand
Both the main sale, and the commodities;
And at what rate and price I have thy love;
With all the circumstances that may move:
Yet through these labyrinths, not my grovelling wit,
But thy silk twist let down from heav’n to me,
Did both conduct and teach me, how by it
To climb to thee.
2.1k
an awkward title perhaps
but may present
a vision of patience
varied in shades..
our neighbor's dog
extraordinary not at all
relishes like others
daily sniffing exploration..
Norm with dog
seen tethered together..
control however
very hard to discern..
on certain streetcorners
with odors exploding
Norm with dog
share equally
decisions to move on..
some neighbors say
it's patience we find
life's lesson displayed..
patience has colors
shades of suffering..
yet on this walk
two carry a leash
joining senses of discovery..
we neighbors might see
brighter Lighter
shades of Patience...?
Jan 17, 2013
Jan 17, 2013 at 11:39 PM UTC
I often wonder why people say love is color blind? See, I don’t think love is color blind at all. Love does not require sameness to love. No, love sees every color and every shade, uniqueness and relishes in everyone. Love seeks to understand and give freedom of expression to every brilliant color. It doesn’t demand general labels such as black, white, yellow etc. Love has perfect vision that sees , embraces and celebrates every color
In everyone and everything
See , I see color and kindly let me enlighten you
It’s Beautiful
~~~~~~~
❤️
May 21, 2019
May 21, 2019 at 3:48 PM UTC
The tempest builds in its confined earthly cavity,
Swirling and crushing its source.
It roars searching for escape,
Thundering out with torrential rains.
Lighting sparks through veins
Escaping in blistering snaps.
The soul relishes in the primal storm,
Yearning for a greater release,
A larger typhoon to rip this earth away.
To shatter the shell constraining its rage.
It shakes with monumental tremors,
Succumbing it’s structure,
to rubble on the floor.
-ALC August 14, 2022
Aug 14, 2022
Aug 14, 2022 at 11:25 AM UTC
Bald, wide-eyed, white skinned stretched
Muscles ripple across obscene ink
Void of art there is hatred
Seething resentment and loathing
These strike the innermost realm
Murderous temptations
A reminder of our carnality
I must remain led by my helm
This has happened before
But not like this
It's a textbook cycle
Of being treated like ****
Fists clenched, teeth gritting, standing idly by
Domestic terror and physical distraught
The predators are strong
But the manipulator is stronger
A reminder of circumstantial hopelessness
Death has never sounded so sweet
The camel was thirsty and it's back was broken
When the prey was finally beat
Uniforms and papers
This will not stop it
It does not fear the flash and captured
It relishes in the resistance
It is sick beyond compare
A contagion forever void of rapture
Watching the script unfold
It is taken away
It took a victim with
And it's death we hope and pray
The next biome the predator seeks
It's next prey arrives and squeaks
It is unaware and uses it's beak
To dominate the once-chained but newly free
It's presence has yet to be seen
But it's return is anticipated
It has always been keen
To complete the cycle
A period of peace lies between
The next unnecessary tribulation
This time I refuse to be the light house
Nov 12, 2014
Nov 12, 2014 at 11:18 PM UTC
there is a woman
who drives
the bus I take to school in the morning
I always wonder, more often than not
why she works on a bus
it must be tedious and boring
running the same route over and over again
dealing with girls like me
who
more often than not
forgot their money
she is pretty, young
wears expensive sunglasses
but she drives the high school bus
full of loud, rude kids
instead of something
she would find more
appealing.
but maybe she likes the repetition, the change
the power of driving us each day
maybe she relishes our little lives
in her hands
which grip the steering wheel
as she navigates the streets
maybe she enjoys the challenge
of wide turns and
negotiating her way through the streets like
an overweight pedestrian
on a busy sidewalk
Mar 19, 2015
Mar 19, 2015 at 8:05 PM UTC
say say, "poems"
orbit around teenage angst or "melodrama"
and unrequited love or a "15 year old's infatuation"
with the relishes of teenage woes
alongside skanky ******
were reversed roles in a millennial
battle ; a literacy war
say say, "poets"
clad in magniloquent scrapes
of tight skin, "grandiose" leather
that screech tumblr or more commonly known "fashion"
were the luminescent windows
to that "boy's soul" or obnoxious ****
say say "teens"
as infertile as neglected garden soil
had fervent thoughts on "feminism"
or as the males see it as misandry
and whose words did not revolve
around themselves or "ignorance"
then maybe bloods wouldn't boil
past water's b.p.
and heads wouldn't load with loathe or "insecurities"
and hearts wouldn't heal with blood
or "suicide"
| say say - m.m |
Feb 16, 2015
Feb 16, 2015 at 9:33 AM UTC
She is many things to me...
Captivating!
She is captivating!
Knowing only that I want to wrap her in the finest silks and wreath her in clover,
And pray that her reign of my heart may never be over.
Elegant!
She is elegant when she walks with her head held high,
And draws many a look from astonished passerby.
Brilliant!
She is brilliant!
Her mind creates kingdoms
which span beyond the wings of heaven's most radiant angel,
There is darkness in there,
But not all darkness is evil.
Beautiful!
She is beautiful in an otherworldly way,
And I shall never tire to gaze upon her fair freckled face,
around which tawny tresses tenderly play.
Enchanting!
She is enchanting with every eloquent sentence she sings,
And my spirit rejoices and relishes in the euphoric serenity she brings.
She is many things to me,
She always has been,
And always will be.
Jan 21, 2013
Jan 21, 2013 at 4:10 PM UTC
The haggard lawn is tired of the long hot summer now September has arrived.
Its seedy moustache is no longer luxuriant, but wiry;
A snake-like thing that has ambitiously unfurled without the full quotient of chlorophyll.
It is time to offer the sward the privilege of a cut.
Man moves towards machine, assuming simplicity.
But mower is asleep and will not fire.
At first he tries the simple fixes; fuel is present, spark plugs in place.
But the horticultural haircut remains undone,
As the tease of utility leads him to try louder, less sensitive approaches.
Meanwhile, the rotary monster relishes its narcoleptic interlude,
And the grass grows on.
Sep 28, 2013
Sep 28, 2013 at 11:31 AM UTC
When my mind is at rest I think of peace and blissful things
I see the unfettered and innocent smile of a new babe in arms
Or the Omnipotence gilded arms outstretch showering blessings
The shores of a pristine beach with blue waves marking times
Silver sunset sprinkling magic across quiet waters with no stressing
Or me sat at my fathers feet as he reads engrossed in his charmes
My mind rests easy in places of warmth and enriching lovings
My mind has no space to linger in the murkiness of failings
I do not plunge dark dept to court the uninspiring s in terms
To share company with wretches with wasted mental ecthings
Eyes that see dew in darkness and acrimony in fruitless farms
Voices made for howling dirges and apostles of negative cravings
Demented downers who drink from the fountains of fallen vamps
Satiated miserably they seek to retch their stench on followings
My mind finds the luminous stars and praise their spark-lings
It atunes to the silent melodies of sages who now sleep uncramp
It relishes the delights of the million trillion wonders tinklings
Its marvels the joys of the thousand mothers holding new champs
Can share the lifting dreams of hopes for happy new beginnings
Living is never about waste for the Creator avails no dumps
For a mind that lives and grows in the Light is forever inspired and inspiring
Copyright LaurencA.1stAugust2018.All rights reserved
Aug 1, 2018
Aug 1, 2018 at 7:54 PM UTC
she jumps from table to table, dances with me like no other.
dips me, lifts me, whips me round in the most passionate of tangos.
She traces her legs, every movement, with care,
a fall from grace, so perfect and so rare.
she catches me as I leap. And leap I do but still I am there, in her arms, wrapped so tightly and held so dear.
"Do you like that?" she whispers into my ear
I do not. But I cannot seem to drag myself from her, a swirling twister of silver and red, though to be with her is my downfall, and she knows it.
she sees the fear in my eyes and she relishes in it. she sees my inhibitions and she dances all the more, shocking my soul and pleasing my heart. she is a heatwave, frostbite, a tragic death and the first breath. she is my ending and my beginning, killing me softly. and yet I do not stray. try as I might to escape she drags me back screaming and kicking, spinning me round till I cannot see, cannot walk and cannot think. she is ingrained in me, patterns on my skin that burn desperately through my clothes, itching red-hot. they remind me that I am hers.
and what if i liked it?
Dec 11, 2021
Dec 11, 2021 at 7:37 PM UTC
Playing by all the rules,
or so it seems,
the out-law fears
nothing and no one
as she
places her backwards cap
atop her
full head of fine hair,
sunshades
hiding her wide
toffee-colored
eyes.
Chewing hard on a piece of
wintergreen gum
like a first baseman
and some chaw,
she grips the steering wheel
as a heavy clap of
bass
emits a thundering chorus
out her rolled-down windows
into the half-empty street.
Brow furrowed,
the out-law ponders her next move,
bobbing and weaving through
one-way roads;
the destination she knows,
but the route is more
a riddle
yet to be solved.
The light air
and brilliant rays of sun
that sneak behind
puffy white clouds,
the out-law senses
some promise
from the
universe.
Lungs still filled
with
smoky wisdom,
she reflects intricately
on the life
lived by she
in the past few months,
gaining insight
into her own
optimistically
curious
soul.
She slurps
her Diet Coke
thirstily
as her cottony mouth
forms words and phrases
she one day
wishes to utter.
Time and space,
they are dear friends of the
out-law,
so drive she does
down that
long
windy
road,
twisting and turning
on the beacon of self-discovery
and hope.
And
love.
The out-law
watches the sky,
fascinated
by the rich colors
the sun paints
as it falls into a state
of serenity,
and
the out-law feels so serene.
Leaving comfortability
and safety behind,
the out-law relishes
in the excitement of the unknown,
getting high off
the fumes
of the uncertainty
that looms.
On she drives.
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 9:43 PM UTC
tongue relishes steel
eyes dilate, euphoria
artistic cold heart.
Aug 9, 2015
Aug 9, 2015 at 8:34 AM UTC
You question me with insipid candor
As though it was worth an answer
Repeat the same deeds with silver tongue
A talented, insolent dancer
Do you not see the ripples and wakes
The wan smiles pasted on your son's face
Reflect just once on your mistakes
The painful sound your cadence makes
Crashing like waves as it's always been
I am forced to wayward roam alone
To receive my only splendor as obscene
I am cursed to despise anything my own
Until only perspective renders me clean
The strength within is all I've sought
Through years of patience finally bought
Destroyed in a second with one wrong thought
So I hold fast to what my numb heart has wrought
Wash away, and never let you in
Perhaps one day you'll breach the shore
As a man who relishes in serendipity
Abandoning everything else for whom he values more
Who trades an ocean of isolation for an epiphany
But until you know a man from a mouse
Until you know a lover from a spouse
Not until you know a child from a louse
Until then I'll be waiting for you at the lighthouse
Waiting to call you Dad again
Oct 10, 2015
Oct 10, 2015 at 3:11 PM UTC
My skin flushed and rouge,
chest rising and falling
in sync with yours.
Oh how you whisper in my ear,
how I wish I could be as pleased as you.
Guiltily my body relishes in the afterglow
knowing inside the depth of our act,
the sin of a desired scarlet.
You hold me, arms holding me like
The branches of a tree,
strong and balenced.
Your hands warm on my heart hurt me so.
Don't you see the shroud of gloom covering my features
The Subconscious of a bride.
Shivering you pull me close.
How I loved to map your body,
questioning what made your body tingle.
To watch you shiver like golden leaves.
Yet I know now the conciquence of our mirth.
Can't you see the deviance our love held,
the hand of all morals held in hand
Broken at the wave hitting shore
as we sang to the goddess Artimes.
Our bodies mold in a scandelous embrace
intwinded like twins, a woven braid.
A mothers death above from our act,
bravery the soul of promise.
Darkness leaving as a dawn hits your face,
as we lie in your loft.
Our bodies emitting the perfume of ****** plea
With my heart beating guitily.
Feb 4, 2014
Feb 4, 2014 at 3:44 AM UTC