"sizzled" poems
‘To bed! To bed!’
Said Sleepy-head;
‘Tarry awhile,’ said Slow;
‘Put on the pan,’
Said Greedy Nan;
‘We'll sup before we go.’
(from Mother Goose)
They sat at the kitchen table as
The candle flickered low,
And Greedy Nan put on the pan
To indulge her sister, Slow,
While Sleepy Weepy Annabelle
Blotted her book with tears,
And thought of her Beau from long ago
Who she hadn’t seen for years.
‘Why doesn’t Roger notice me,
Why doesn’t Alan Dell?
I’m wearing the dress cut low for me
And I’ve hitched my skirt as well.
I’ve a pretty turn to my ankle, so
You’d think it would drive them wild.’
‘But men are a mystery,’ said Slow,
‘And Alan Dell’s a child.’
While over the pan stood Greedy Nan,
Was cracking a turkey’s egg,
A lump of yeast and a slice of beast
And a single spider’s leg.
With a wing of bat and an ounce of fat
And a toe of frog for the spell,
She needed to turn her sister off
From her crush on Alan Dell.
For Greedy Nan was the eldest girl
And would have to marry first,
The other two would wait in the queue
Or their fortunes be reversed,
The omelette sizzled, and in the pan
She added before they saw,
A piece of some Devil’s Trumpet plant
For the mating game meant war.
She sliced the omelette into half
And she served them up a piece,
‘Didn’t you want?’ said Annabelle
But Slow enjoyed the feast.
‘I’m not that terribly hungry now
I’ve cooked it up in the pan,
I think I’ll just have a slice of bread,’
Said the scheming Greedy Nan.
They finished up and they sat awhile,
And they mused about their fate,
‘If Greedy Nan isn’t married soon,
For us it will be too late.’
‘I’ve set my sights on a country squire,’
Said Nan, without a blink,
Lured them away from her secret fire
To confuse what they might think.
‘The room is woozy, spinning around,
I’d better get me to bed,’
Said Annabelle, while Slow with a frown
Saw Dwarves dancing in her head.
But Greedy Nan was cleaning the pan
To clear all signs of the spell,
Her back was turned to her sisters, spurned
For the sake of Alan Dell.
And when he came in the morning
Greedy Nan was sat by the door,
While Annabelle and her sister Slow
Were lying dead on the floor,
‘I didn’t mean it to **** them, Al,
It was only a simple spell,’
But as he cuffed and led her away
He frowned, did Alan Dell.
David Lewis Paget
Jan 25, 2015
Jan 25, 2015 at 8:01 PM UTC
#
Each body part
sizzled in pure pleasure
in the blissed wake
of your oral efforts
brought forth the waves
of rapturous delight...
Spurs poetic inspiration
in equal liberation
of desires to please.
Bodies transpose
in fluid motion
as brazen eyes meet.
Savor the voluptuous image before you.
Indulge your eyes in my carnal halo
before they roll to the back of your head.
On all fours
knees between your thighs
tips of swollen breast
caress your chest
tasting fresh honey
upon lips in a kiss.
Ripples of ardor
hover
by wet trails
of sensual kisses
suckling towards
the apex.
Breathe in
the slow motion pace
that pulsates eagerness
to the fore tumescing bulge
leaking with anticipation
of viscous lava.
Tickles of silken hair
against flesh edges closer.
Emerging subtle grumbles
in deep resonance
betray your impatience .
Hands tightly twine
in tangled hair
to maneuver
the treasure hunt.
Licked lips pause
at the sight of fire
burning in
glazed gazes
before engulfing
the throbbing member.
Plump ruby lips
greet velvety texture
in a slow deep dive.
Tongue curls around
the flavor
in a dulcet embrace.
Moans release
as grip tightens
in my hair
settles the
rhythmic pace
to taste in an
oscillating dance.
The masculine aroma of heady musk
lingering there, arouses my appetite.
With my enthusiasm
attuned to
your preferred rhythm
suckling, slurping
surface and dive
in measured unison.
Break of breath
allows tongue
freedom to roam below,
licking, soft kissing
the tender hammock
of testicles.
Tongue and lips escalate higher
to mount another assaulting dive
deeper in the depths
of the cusp in cavity.
Wetted fingers
probe even lower
circling superficially
as gasp escapes
your heavy breath;
flaming eyes lock.
Finger dips in
with expert finesse
gorging hardened growth
within a wrapped hand.
Thighs tighten
with rocking grip.
Head thrusts onward,
drilling forward
in each dive.
Salvia slips
fingers grip
lips dip
Engorged swell, flesh tightens in an intensity
of volcanic eruption ...
HALTS
assault
Pace retracts.
Loosened lips kiss tip.
*“Soon sweetheart, your time will ***
inside me as we surrender to synergy."*
#
Sep 10, 2018
Sep 10, 2018 at 7:51 AM UTC
For the first time in ten years
Both my parents were near
Seated at a table together
Not next to each other
With my brother in the middle
They sat as their food sizzled
We will always be a family
Though my mother has remarried
I really need for times like this
Family dinners are bliss
Dec 22, 2014
Dec 22, 2014 at 2:25 AM UTC
*T'was a diamond
amidst stardust
struck of gypsy's
celestial adoration,
crashed and sizzled
'neath earthly intentions,
ultimate shimmers
escalated upon
fiercely impetuous seas,
each dappling
luminescent wave
saturated of
splendiferous galaxies,
bathed in heavens'
stellar effulgence,
mesmerizing wanderlust's
magnificent indulgences*
Jul 8, 2015
Jul 8, 2015 at 12:37 PM UTC
I'm pretty sure I dreamed you up
Late last night while I was walking in the rain.
I probably shouldn't tell you
That nobody's ever been
Proud
To hold my hand
In front of anyone else.
It probably shouldn't mean something to me
That your fingers felt natural laced with mine.
Everybody has hands,
Everybody can touch me.
Ah,
But few people can touch me
And make me feel it.
I could go on about your voice,
The way you stumble and trip over your words
That tugs at my heart in this deliciously painful way:
I want to stop your confusion
With a kiss.
I could talk about your eyes,
Sparkling, sparking a connection like a short circuit in my head
That makes me have to stop and re-collect myself.
With a ring of dark around the edges of the iris
That I read somewhere makes somebody more beautiful,
Scientifically.
It didn't feel scientific.
It felt gravitational.
I could say lots about the way your hair
Never falls the same way,
And dances, reaching, in the breeze
And somehow the image makes your eyes glow more.
But your hands...
Contact is a thing for me, you see.
Skin.
(Yours.)
I love contact, and it's because
No words get in the way of what you want to say.
If you feel and wish, you need nothing more than a brushing of fingertips
To say exactly what you mean to.
I think you heard me, all night.
I was saying everything
I wasn't saying.
You kept drifting back to me, your fingers on my knee
Or resting in my palm,
And I think that's really what did it,
Honestly.
What made me decide I don't care if this is a terrible idea
(oh it surely is)
I know I should probably make a better show of it-
A token attempt, really, to be smart.
But then again, when
Does that ever work out?
And your fingers twined with mine...
I think you carry some kind of low level electric charge,
And it sizzled through me every time your hand touched mine.
I thought of breaking the connection a hundred times,
Easier for you,
Easier for me,
But god, how impossible.
I held the thought in my mind and it hurt me to consider.
And so instead I pulled you a little closer
And kept going.
Outside walking in the rain early this morning,
When the streets were paved in silver and gold from the sheen of the water
That caught and held the soft glow of the streetlamps
I thought,
"Well **** this is going to keep me up nights, isn't it?"
And it began immediately
To pour.
Sep 2, 2013
Sep 2, 2013 at 12:12 PM UTC
You cannot fathom the dizzying elation I felt when your lips touched mine, brief though it was, drunk though I was
Instantly sober, the electric shock
Sizzled
Light in my chest
Whispered "Did that happen?"
Breathe into my mouth, and I into yours
As you test, taste, tenderly
Tenderly, oh yes, hands slide up through your hair to cradle your skull
Gently, gently pulling back, my lips dance across your dancing pulse
Restraining myself, you are innocent
Teeth nip, your breath catching in my ear
You clutch me, unsure
Do what you like
Take the lead, explore
Or follow me, and do as I do
You know this dance, at least the steps
Hips moving, searching
At least the ache is similar
Similar but new, racing faster through your body
A moment of uncertainty, and I take your mouth to mine again
Lay your hand upon my heart, calm now love
Timidly, heart becomes breast
Beneath your palm
Explore away, love, not so different, yes?
Fingers roam, new planes and rises to discover
I inhale your scent, that is so very you
Dizzy
Would it help, to have a more familiar partner?
"I know this song, these steps"
He is waiting in the wings, if your desire is balance, old to new
Or do you favor a private instruction?
One-two-three...
Find the rhythm, the beat is there, under your skin
Glide upon it, upon me, into me, under me
Palm to palm, lip to lip, hip to hip
Listen to your breathing, revel in the new sound
Bodies roll, pleasures roll
Keep in time, savor it, love
Sensations swell, crescendo
Tempo in your veins slows as the music fades...
Shall we dance?
Nov 12, 2012
Nov 12, 2012 at 4:23 PM UTC
your gusto
ripping through my veins
'merican flags
trump supporters
platinum beer
fireworks flaring
fires visible atop seedy peeled-paint rvs
technicolor lights amped up on edgy recreational vehicles
4000 (BRIGHT BLUE), 6000 (BRIGHT GREEN), 750XR ON-AND-ON-AND
covered in dirt and filth
eating meat
sizzled atop
flames atop
charcoal bricks and lighter fluid
complimented by krafts brand
mac n cheese
i am apart of it
you know
your triumph burns sticky, out of my skin
guiltily i came into being
birthed inside anthracitic sediments and lighter fluid
scratching, writhing, biting
at the mercy
of a hyper-paint / subtle-death encrusted
reality
Nov 25, 2016
Nov 25, 2016 at 8:52 PM UTC
A fire broke
with his kiss and sizzled
her wet 'n' drowning lips
Feb 21, 2018
Feb 21, 2018 at 11:19 AM UTC
He walked outside and placed it between his lips,
As every drop of rain trickled down, so did a tear.
He wore nothing but a t-shirt, as white as the sky,
He wore nothing but sadness, as he lit.
As he pressed his lips together and took a drag-
His lungs sizzled- his tears- sizzled.
All what was left... a dried up person, lost between drought and hydration.
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 11:07 PM UTC
such a treasure, and a chore! I have bought the local store
out of bleach, vinegar, baking soda, ***** and kibble.
A bother, yes, when I try
to walk to the bathroom or refrigerator
without being tripped up, and I shuffle along now,
I don't dare to lift my feet for fear of hearing a wounded
yelp. And bad breath, I thought the drunk begging a dollar for a small bottle who lives under the bridge when he asked, "spare a dollar, mister?", and my
eyebrows sizzled , had bad breath. These treasures breath smells like they eat and drink from a septic tank.
Let one whimper or get on their back legs begging me to pick his or her little sticky *** up, and I put it on my chest and watch her , or him, get all cozy listening to my heart beat, and it seems worth it.
Feb 3, 2016
Feb 3, 2016 at 8:16 PM UTC
I have always had a wild imagination
Especially when I was younger
A endless flow of questions
Of everything across the nation
I wanted reasons, causation
I wanted to know the foundation
The formation
About any human creation
I had this fixation
It helped me make relations
But at times ended in frustration
At times my questions seemingly
lingered in the air
And I always stared
At it Suspended
As if time stopped
But only for me
Until an answer appeared
Because I couldn't move on until I knew
But majority of the time
An answer never came
It caused me to boil in pain
And steam sizzled my thirst for knowledge even thought the heaviest rain
As if the world believed this was all some child's game
Each raindrop pounding against my body were punches against my soul
Droplet by droplet
I wanted to scream stop it
But then water filled my mouth from the sky's faucet
Like I never grew out of a child's fantasy
Jul 28, 2015
Jul 28, 2015 at 2:05 PM UTC
Shyly curious you smile at me.
Tender, delicate I lightly stroke you,
friction ridges of long index finger
brushing fine hairs to attention.
A sensory meeting, pupils contracted,
I impress upon your pale skin
from the glenohumeral joint to your elbow,
Then our mouths align, entwined,
Soft lips parted, eyes closed and tasting;
Your worldly generous thighs slightly ajar
pressed apart by a firm hand, the sensitive
multifingered extremity searches out,
Reaching for where you’ve been waiting for years.
Beautiful, wide-spread in close proximity,
Touching and sizzled by that sweet odour
from your neck, pleasing the soul,
I do not ask for more delight
Upon slipping into your wet and woven silk.
But you suddenly unglue our lips and ease me
back with a firm hand,
Your voice articulates a silent pause.
There’s a fierce and undeniable attraction here,
Tempered as I sit back for a moment,
Excited, quiet and praying for nightfall.
Apr 13, 2015
Apr 13, 2015 at 7:42 PM UTC
Upon the heat of the day
When Sol high above our heads towered,
Raindrops fell cool on panting flowers.
You took my hand and led me where
You picked damp flowers
And then placed them in my hair.
With drops that fell and touched my lips
Mouth was drawn to mouth in tender kiss.
The drops each sizzled in heated bliss
To satiated this withering flower.
With this bedewing came a glistening spill,
In the heating of the day
As Sol above us towered,
And renewed this panting flower.
Mar 11, 2015
Mar 11, 2015 at 8:26 PM UTC
You make me melt
Like butter on hot skillets
Before you cook us steak
And I mash the potatoes right next to you
Even when they’re under salted you tell me
You wouldn’t want to eat anything else
Your eyes are a fire too hot to touch
But whats better than burning love
The kind that leaves you in ashes
I sizzled and I sparked but now I am one with the flame
It causes my skin to bubble my hair to smoke
But the heats so **** hypnotic
I want to rest in your arms smoldering forever
Apr 2, 2019
Apr 2, 2019 at 1:26 PM UTC
The boiling point of water is one hundred degrees Celsius,
or two hundred and twelve degrees Fahrenheit.
Every morning,
my wife boils water in an old fashioned kettle,
because the new one that beeps,
well, it broke.
Somehow,
she broke it.
So every morning,
I wake up to the obnoxious whistling of the old fashioned kettle.
The slow rising,
higher and higher,
louder and louder,
the whistle pierced my ears,
like a spear through one ear,
and out the other.
I just couldn't take it anymore!
One morning,
I woke up with a monstrous headache.
I rolled over in bed and asked my darling,
"Do you mind not boiling water this morning for your tea?
I have a horrible headache"
"Sure" she said kindly, and went back to sleep.
Finally,
one day without the screeching kettle.
I slowly drifted back to sleep.
But then,
I was awaken!
A hideous screeching noise was coming from the kitchen,
slowly rising,
it got higher and higher,
louder and louder,
the whistle pierced my ears,
like a harpoon through one ear,
and out the other.
I just couldn't take it anymore!
I jumped out of bed,
took no time to put my pants on,
and charged out into the kitchen.
"What's wrong dear!?" my wife shrieked, frightened by my sudden anger.
I did not even listen to her,
I grabbed the kettle,
opened it up,
and threw the boiling water,
onto my wife gorgeous face.
The boiling hot water sizzled on her cool face.
Her skin began to bubble,
and burn.
The aroma of burning flesh,
filled the air.
She cried out in pain,
as she fell to the ground.
It was then I realized,
I was going to go to jail for this...
So I proceeded to smash her face in with the kettle I was holding,
until she was unconscious.
I checked her pulse.
She was dead.
I looked at the clock.
5:34.
"I can deal with the body in the morning" I said to myself,
as a grabbed a cold glass of water.
"Looked like you reached your 'boiling point' there, Jeff" I thought to myself,
as a chuckled.
Apr 4, 2012
Apr 4, 2012 at 7:18 PM UTC
The light shines through the windowpane
and I start to melt, I scream in pain
Hello? help, I can't do this again
Shut the curtain, I'm alone again
Sizzled and fried, I think I just died
How does it feel to still be alive?
My lungs are the only thing that's left
Slowly rising and falling in a ****** mess
How does it feel to still be alive?
Stop crying
Goodmourning
My heart skips beats when I can't sleep
My eyes strain red
I shot myself in the head
This hole in my brain makes me think I'm insane
Watch me laugh it off again
Syrup pours out but it's not very sweet
So I'll hand you the gun, tell you, "copy me."
Outcasts in hysteria hold onto our feet
How does it feel to still be alive?
How does it feel to join the dark side?
Stop crying
You're dying
Goodmourning
Feb 3, 2021
Feb 3, 2021 at 6:03 PM UTC
You are a drug to me
Im a passionate jitterbug when you hold me, carelessly falling like a debris, avoiding all casualty
I wanna kiss your lips
Pull you with my tight grips, hold your hips, endlessly killing you with my kiss
Im in love with you
In and through the blues,
Hon, what allure do you have
It got me all stuck and caught through your rendezvous,
slept all sizzled by our paramour
woke up in the morning all so glamoured, your love always felt me so pampered
Mar 22, 2017
Mar 22, 2017 at 12:15 PM UTC
The night flopped over the chimney tops
and dripped from the guttering as
the day broke through in spots
I could hear the house martins sing.
The radio sizzled, the
bacon crackled,
on the range was a pan
full of porridge from the
morning before.
Boots by the door which were itching to go
everything's slow when you want to go fast but
at last we were out on the last day of the world,(a
game that we played where zombies were real and
they were coming for us to make of us a meal)
Each day is a bonus where the onus to be, is
the King of all castles, the Queen of all seas and
to seize with both hands the hands of all friends.
The day ends with a call from,
Mother, you know,
everything goes fast when it ought to go slow.
Mar 3, 2015
Mar 3, 2015 at 3:57 AM UTC
The electrical energy that powers a city
Fridges, happy songs, and lighting so pretty.
That same electricity that powers our lives, can destroy a home in the blink of an eye.
A bolt of electricity thrusts through the sky. The home is destroyed, they’re lucky to be alive.
Is it better to feel pain than nothing at all?
Is it worth the tears of rain that inevitably fall?
The lightning has struck and only a drizzle remains.
The home is now ****** and they’re left sizzled with disdain.
But had they not built that house, in fear of regression,
they would have been left in a life of sorrow and depression.
They will cry, they will mourn, they will ***** and they will scorn,
But when the sun rises tomorrow there will be no more storm.
They’ll reset, they’ll rebuild, better than ever before.
Jun 17, 2016
Jun 17, 2016 at 10:51 PM UTC
Men are doomed, Carla told me,
It’s your eternal haircuts, she continued,
How can you sculpt a life from a single shape,
One look,
Every mirror an impersonation
Of the initial version of one’s self,
Each day reduced to a child’s calculation,
You wake up, only older, grayer, a withered rasp,
Ever more discouraged by the unfairness of things.
Carla exhaled a dragon’s torrent
White jet streams unfurled out of both nostrils,
A waft of my father’s morning scent.
With a flick of her thumb,
She snapped the ash
Off the end of her cigar.
A sharp hiss as the ember sizzled and sank
In the shallow of a pavement puddle.
It had cold rained most of the day.
Over a pause, the sky roiling with indigestion,
We bundled up in autumn clothes,
And trudged uptown,
Our chins tucked deep into our chests,
Our squinty eyes glued to our shoes,
The wind had a slap to it.
It isn’t war you should fear, she continued,
It’s robots.
Soon we won’t need you for anything,
Carla jabbed her lacquered fingernail at phantoms as she spoke.
Women have been fornicating with machines
For over a hundred years, she said,
The transition for us has already occurred.
Weld and solder us a pleasant replica,
One that can shine a toilet
Sterilize the dishes, **** us brilliantly,
And recite Shakespeare at will-
Believe me,
Soon we will barter for your *********
Exchanging bitcoins for the innate,
With no intention of ever attending your funeral.
No the war is over and men have lost, Carla repeated.
She walked ahead me,
Her hips a sashay as she spit a loose bit of tobacco leaf
Onto a lamp post.
I could not persuade my eyes to look away.
Oct 21, 2015
Oct 21, 2015 at 9:36 PM UTC
That feeling of being watched crept over his back;
it sizzled like fresh moon dust on morning dew,
and a smell of guilt — burned vanilla and hair-honey —
tickled his flaring nostrils.
He sneezed, and licked the gob of mud-snot that covered his mouth.
Eyes still watery, he looked up from the hole in the ground:
Jenny Jones was standing on the front porch, lantern in hand;
he ducked between the flowers.
In order to stifle a yelp of laughter, he held his breath,
for a cliché question carry-whispered itself over Jenny’s lips;
of course there was no-one out there— Christ Almighty!
Did she really think he would answer?
Here he was, risking his life by dragging a dead body
over the neighbours’ lawn, digging a midnight hole in the flower bed
where the blue of the paraffin flame waltzed with the rose buds—
such a fantastic dance of death.
Jenny had one last, urgent glance over her shoulder;
she shut the door and caught her night gown in the slam!
He wagged his tail, scratched away at the swarm of fleas behind his ear,
and placed the pigeon in its grave.
Feb 7, 2011
Feb 7, 2011 at 7:31 PM UTC
1
Water lilies remembered her
as one of them, lotus buds nodded, jealousy set thick in their eyes
her fingers were white lily buds
she balanced on the big, smooth, round
pebble stones, like a danseuse in an
under water ballet,you are buoyant here than anywhere,
as if you live a life after death
your bodies pale and water caressed, create an illusion of 'unliving'
2.
she tickled my skin-
goosebumps appeared allover
as small bubbles going up..up till they burst above water
I can't forget her first kiss , underwater
my lungs were filled with her feminine fragrance like smoke of cannabis
an experience that sizzled the water, never to forget
(even if she would never come back from the unfathomable love, water gives)
3
I was naked, she too, like a lily in bloom that was raveling in love
as if it was the last season we had
she was magic in body and soul
I peeped in to the limitless with her entangling me and at the end,
I saw halo around her pointed *******
that have become lotus buds.
I couldn't take my eyes off them
after the magical transformation.
The lake was totally out of the world
the mossy patch between her legs
had a fluorescent glow intermittent,
she was transforming every minute in to a form of water life, I understood.
like a fish, coral, moss or water plant
I , for my dismay remained as before; nothing was to be done about it,
like many of the things brought change in a person's life.
4.
Sun, in the voice of light
called us from above,
his pranks tickled her and me
like ghosts of dead women,
found their watery grave here,
we played with tortoises and frogs
made for us crowns with algae and water flowers.
5
A silvery snake, thin, with some intent
coiled around her narrow waist.
eyes in its sharp pointed head,
intently looked in to mine.
she was now a dolphin without fins
then, I received waves of clear foreboding
time to return to the shores, I tried to tell
but massive sheets of water ate my muffled words!
Swimming up a water column, she smiled that detached smile
already, she was a mermaid , I could see
I stammered"You..promised..
to come back..
we have promises to keep,
that we exchanged..."
Under water time runs in a way we can't understand
one becomes a flow, one with altered time..
she was just a glow in the depth when I saw her last.
O
Dec 7, 2011
Dec 7, 2011 at 1:33 PM UTC
1.
At the first timid tinge of blush in the sky
he emerged, shirtless
from his shelter.
And seeing how the shadows
slipped down into the canyon
he searched, thirst-less,
for a cactus.
He sat at its feet
all morning, legs crossed
like a native. He prayed to the green
scarecrow, begged him to help.
He was worn, like an old stone,
weary from his war
with the sandpaper wind,
and ready to be born again
as pieces.
When the heat reached him,
broke the distant ridge,
he stared at the sun--
until he cried.
Blueberry eyes
bled and burnt black.
He turned away,
just before he went blind.
2.
In the white afternoon
when shadows dissolved,
he gazed downward
into the carcass of the creek.
He passed the red hours
by counting piles of bleached bones,
clumps of carbon
that sizzled in the sand.
He counted Seventy seven
fleshless creatures
sleeping beside the dream
of water.
3.
It was dusk when he descended
into the canyon.
He carried a pen light,
a shovel, and a map.
At the bottom he waded
through dust, ran his hands
through cold sand, touched
ripples born of the breeze.
4.
The moon bloomed.
Blue light flooded the canyon.
He smiled. Laid down.
Let the water wash over.
Feb 4, 2010
Feb 4, 2010 at 12:22 PM UTC