"sophisticate" poems
Some men woo
With diamonds and jewels.
Some with trips to Paris,
For Le Weekend!
Some with furs.
Ugh, might as well get them
A pet,
The fur that keeps on eating.
Me, a city sophisticate,
***** my tolerance to the
Sticking place, tween my ears,
Put on a brave face
And say:
**Babe,
I love you so much,
For your birthday,
Let's go
Shoe shopping.**
Wisdom for the ages.
Sep 5, 2013
Sep 5, 2013 at 5:40 PM UTC
To love
you must find
where light convenes at daybreak
brooding
You must search
beyond impending greenery
assertive lace and pirate flower
Below the clouds of spring
that can’t—
be seriously taken
Behind time’s betrayal
where vined lattice
cages fragments of a smile
Why sophisticate such sense?
Far more to the extent
of will and heart extended
taste is answered
unaware
of when the sweet was gone
For presence is!
when savored sources—linger
...in their endings
known—and not resigned
Melted...quiescent...priestly moment
It’s not Zenith!
but Twilight
who drops her eyes!
To love
you must—
must love
beyond...below...behind
Jan 25, 2018
Jan 25, 2018 at 3:55 PM UTC
Don't do those little things
You always do to me; you know
That look, that half-smile, with the closing eyelids
The hint of a smirk, the tilt of the head.
It's unfair, I've got only eyes and ears
Full of you, and you have the whole universe
Of well conceived temptations, to lure me in,
Open-mouthed fish that I am, to be baited by your sly styles.
You offer all the desirable things a woman could lust for,
Lust and never be satisfied, forever in the understanding
That you surely have other smiles and other poses, for other women
In unknown eras, different climates and panoramas.
I can only try to hold onto the parts of you I know,
Recognize it is futile trying to capture all the invisible things
Though doubtless they are all there,
Just beneath your fleeting expressions.
And you are all sophisticate
And I am all trembling schoolgirl
Having forgotten the things I once took for granted.
Now look at me again, this time with a blank look
And let me see it slowly fill in, with the essence of you,
So slowly that I can see every year, wrinkle of growth,
Every change and sign of maturing, like a tree's rings.
I want to know all your weathers,
Want to let the rainbow fill up with your humors;
The world swell shut or empty out on your whim.
I want to be made pregnant
Entirely with the incredible idea of you're existing;
Because the real ecstasy of knowing you, is one that I can almost-
But not quite- touch.
Sep 27, 2010
Sep 27, 2010 at 9:40 PM UTC
loving you in seven ways to Sunday;
the ways you tend to meet my wandering mind.
Sophisticate, the world through prism light.
Movement, the uptight and the lithe.
Tenderness, sweet then bitter like wine.
Will, when true love fights.
Trinkets reminiscent.
Forever in cycles.
Soul I know because I see your eyes.
through seven days I know, even if you don't.
Jul 18, 2015
Jul 18, 2015 at 3:48 PM UTC
to you
i hope you take me as seriously as i take you
there was a glimmer in your eye i swear i could see
and maybe after all of this time- this game of tug
of war we've had- our two lights could be joined
together- like a star birth so fantastic in the vastness
of the galaxy
i long for the day i can give you my undivided attention.
i know you appreciate me far more than i have been able
to appreciate you.
i fear if i took any more time to look fully at your naked soul
you may become my obsession.
-and I may realize life would be impossible to continue
without you by my side.
we'll probably never be together, truth be told.
but i envy the woman who fully devotes herself to your arms.
for she will know security without doubt, she will be drowned in the aftertaste of your sincerity- tingling from the warmth of your skin.
i forgot to wish you a happy birthday.
and I don't want to.
I want to be suspended in time every encounter we have- in a space where life does not weather our skins or tarnish our beautiful souls. i will remain young and still seemly, you aged in sparsity with a sophisticate air.
I believe God has a plan for us.
in this life or the next.
maybe in the heavens our souls will rest.
but for now I pretend I don't care about anything
or anyone.
it will hurt too much.
until next time, you perfect- but oh so familiar- stranger.
Mar 1, 2018
Mar 1, 2018 at 12:48 AM UTC
Spirit healer you are my personal gift from god.
Night fans down, until midnight past or more
I follow your taste to the dark and through doors
For a moment I lapse into letting go
where I reconnect
where I disconnect
casually always, most days lost to impressions
through telescope
Swallowing just a minute back to nature's love
Back to mother's arms, Back to father's arms
Sophisticate basic thought when I sit with you
Briefly sipping news directly from the source
learning for sure what I miss moving forward and cast off before
In each night forever on and on
still closer to me
still closer to me
softly and savvy shimmering lips to my ear
all in whispered tones.
Healing and wandering aimless into nature's arms.
Nov 28, 2014
Nov 28, 2014 at 12:24 AM UTC
When I was young and callow
and could run for twenty miles
I met a woman, Karen,
both sophisticate and kind.
We met while on vacation,
I was her junior by five years.
Her eyes a vivid, limpid blue-
marred recently by tears.
She was on the rebound
from an instance of heart break.
I was young and willing
and,to be honest, a mistake.
It was a thrill to take her hand
and be invited in
I watched her undress slowly
so our passion could begin.
We did not get much sleep at all
though I'll not kiss and tell.
I will say for her recent loss
I stood in very well.
When I awoke next morning
She had dressed and gone away.
I never saw her face again
or spoke about our play.
We loved for one night only
when we wrestled in the sheets..
How bittersweet came morning
with no chance of a repeat.
Jul 15, 2012
Jul 15, 2012 at 8:42 AM UTC
Suppose we were lunar,
ventriloquists and sisters and bed-sharers still:
your mouth would open so mine
did not possess that dry cement quality.
If my toenails were painted,
those fingers would be a shade as pastel.
You sophisticate. We would dangle
our limbs on each other like they hung over a
bridge and could not betray us,
the fall would be interrupted by delicate lace
or that photograph of us in twin hairdos.
And when you hurt me,
I had to scrub your stench from my bones.
Mar 24, 2013
Mar 24, 2013 at 5:43 PM UTC
Look at us,
Thinking we are a sophisticate,
so intricate,
and yet we ***** about what we have not anticipated.
Look at the last person you saw,
picking out their every flaw,
noticing how they are a piece of ****
yet we are not a part of it.
They have lives which differ from ours,
we are the extras in their hours,
they do not care for you,
just as you do not care too.
We eat the same nutrients,
read the same rudiments,
believe we are better,
because of our new sweater.
What we do not see,
is we all have a plea,
we watch the same ****
have times to mourn,
act as judge and jury,
to everyone else's storm.
You are a god,
in your own right,
you deserve to be awed,
because you fight the good fight.
Yet when anything falls,
you look around and blame the walls,
the one's which restrict and keep you from joy,
the one's you constructed,
behind this foolish ploy.
So grow the **** up,
and recognize your faults,
or grow on up,
and dance alone in this waltz.
Jun 15, 2014
Jun 15, 2014 at 12:34 AM UTC