"svelte" poems
there is a
moon sole
in the blue
night
amorous of waters
tremulous,
blinded with silence the
undulous heaven yearns where
in tense starlessness
anoint with ardor
the yellow lover
stands in the dumb dark
svelte
and
urgent
(again
love i slowly
gather
of thy languorous mouth the
thrilling
flower)
15.2k
A comely rainbow
spanning the wet, sobbing sky;
colours showering
mesmeric pearls of teardrops on earth.
Many subtle shades of marvel
unfolded that day.
Elegance of burning splendour in sun’s soul -
earth treasuring the seed of the first rain
in its womb for a new birth -
Spring’s svelte fingers
painting brilliance across the droning vale -
mist of radiance of a gorgeous moon -
stars sparkling to a melody
flowing from the divine harp -
sea breeze carving
shifting sculptures on sands of gold -
amorous mirth of sea waves
rushing to the hug of a waiting shore.
I stood there,
a trance benumbing my senses
to an hypnotic bliss.
Sep 18, 2018
Sep 18, 2018 at 12:45 PM UTC
god pity me whom(god distinctly has)
the weightless svelte drifting ****** feather
of your shall i say body?follows
truly through a dribbling moan of jazz
whose arched occasional stepped youth swallows
curvingly the keeness of my hips;
or,your first twitch of crisp boy flesh dips
my height in a firm fragile stinging weather,
(breathless with sharp necessary lips)kid
female cracksman of the nifty,ruffian-rogue,
laughing body with wise ******* half-grown,
lisping flesh quick to thread the fattish drone
of I Want a Doll,
wispish-agile feet with slid
steps parting the tousle of saxophonic brogue.
8k
A follow on poem to 'In the Sunroom (Suicide)" (1)
writ many years later...
~For MWK~
<>
A stray thought. a burring burrowing, thorny tawny:
A wish, yet to get, but vetted for each of us.
*This within, this redoubt, a contemplative oasis,
my indoor poet's nookery rookery sanctuary
each one, each is, deserves, all, one such,
a place holy filled, with lice and dirt of a life,
strained and trained for emission and transmission
of the best of the worst, and the triumphant emergent commission of
our individualized most excellent fresh best
where crumbs of apple crisp pie solidify, vanilla bean ice cream
melt offsets the oven heated warmth, and from this interactive
contrasts combative,
a poem pie reborn, newly disguised, familiar words,
yet unheard and before this very never,
went unspoken and now goes forth
svelte and unbroken
*rhymes of yore, forgot from a before, but making up the walls
of the here and now,
a sunroom to spread out the lit lights of egress and entrance,
of fire door no exits that now are chiseled closed,
lock in, lock up, and somehow, one, stills to learn from
the stilling quiet solitude.
to penetrate the prostrate kneeling grinning grief,
how to expel and spell the words
that grant
relief
visit my sunroom, though no fiction.
the sun rays *********** create the friction
of that which cannot ever be withered nor contained,
and your mouth opens wide and a poem birthed and delivered,
pastiche paste composted of truth and dreams of fiction, fine diction,
with a shrug, a smile, a satisfaction extracted extraordinary,
you garner moments of satisfaction but cloud cover returns,
and the process of sunrise exposition recommences,
and one revisits the elemental sequencing of
all the predecessor pain, but this time,
for gain, for gain,
<>
written this sabbath Saturday
12:38am EST
Sat Aug 2
2025
in the sunroom,
on Shelter Island
Aug 2, 2025
Aug 2, 2025 at 12:59 AM UTC
Mas mabuti pang ilibing
Kaysa maligaw
Mas mabuti pa nakikita ang sarili sa ilalim
Kaysa hindi makita ang sarili kahit kailan
Oo nga't ako ang naghukay ng lupa,
Ako itong kusang pumasok.
Ako ang naglibing sa sarili ko.
Ngunit sinipa mo ako paloob.
Tinabunan mo ng lupang mas marami pa kaysa nararapat.
Sila itong nagpatong ng limang malalaking bato.
Paniguradong wala na akong aahunan.
Paniguradong hindi na ako makakabangon s apagkakamatay.
Hindi pa napanatag at may ahas na pinagpilitan.
Ipasok, gumapang, pinagsiksikan.
Tinabihan ako, hinalikan
Inikot ang ulo at dahan dahang pinalibutan ang aking leeg.
Hindi ako lumalaban, hindi ako pumalag.
Hanggang kailan niyo papatayin ang namatay na?
Hanggang kailan niyo didiligan ng dugo ang lupang basa?
Hanggang kailan ako mamamatay?
Svelte Rogue
Apr 30, 2016
Apr 30, 2016 at 6:55 AM UTC
The mannequin faceless,
Clothed in gold
With hands pandering svelte,
Remains an admired inanimate,
Albeit, atop whispers to a girl,
A 4-foot flower 3-feet my right,
Fretting and stumped;
Extrinsic a label – “undesirable.”
The mannequin faceless,
Her and hollow –
A towering nose above, stands
Opaque ivory, scarred come
Synonymous eyes with a symmetrical
Soul, assumed plastic perfection
And more importantly,
Soon to be sale.
The mannequin faceless
Convinced her new friend,
Her lesser, lopsided,
And natural not-so counterpart
To consume,
“Eat me, “eat me,” “eat it all,”
And then, “binge some more.”
The mannequin faceless
SCREAMS,
“BUY!” Amongst the other torments –
Born both fingers that can’t move and
The thumbs that shuffle, “One’s,”
To the girl that was never,
“Good enough;” so shared the
Tabloid’s mouth.
The mannequin faceless demands
And DEMANDS nothing less than to
Buy, starve, suffer and sacrifice
So that every “broken body,”
May embody polymer, and for a price,
A not so fair trade whilst
Considering old man gold,
The curator of conundrum
And the plastic he’s created.
Jul 31, 2015
Jul 31, 2015 at 8:59 AM UTC
Petals of paper
for a stature svelte.
An opxum core.
Swindling willow
waltz upon a stage.
Tethered by the same roots.
A ***** moon,
an ascending tide.
Longing lovers without passports.
Army of emerald soldiers
seduced by ruby gypsies.
Ashen by a kiss.
Clumsy hearts vitrified -
never worn on sleeves.
Await a hummingbird.
Apr 18, 2016
Apr 18, 2016 at 3:13 AM UTC
*song shadows
soul and mirrors
will we ever see clearer
sweet life
oh the fragrance
the righteous mind
un-sees the danger
so many soldiers
so many women
are all of our fathers
really little children
move swiftly
into the windy recesses
the mind regresses
all the time
damp and wet
the owl cries
so long tomorrow
farewell goodbye
dunk your head
in liquid splendor
i am tender as the snow
pouring down from heaven’s fiefdom
morning's hunger is dissipated
by moonlight kisses and salty lovers
salves of calendula upon our skin
swim in juicy wonder
listen and dance with thunder
the fireflies swim through burning skies
making arcs and triumphant cries
what a silly blunder
all the noise and all the cover
hiding your heart in violet garments
streams of satin in your slumber
stroke the liberated arrow
weave the gardenia’s shadow
streams of consciousness and beauty
looking into eyes of human strategy
human shadows
start to suffocate us
instruct the timber
plundered
strumming humid arias
looms of butter start to melt
svelte and spelt
slews of wealth
heaven's belt is loosely tied
striated like the mind
grinding hind legs
selves neglect entry fees
sleeves of grass
embrace strands of ice
with a lover or two
on the side*
Apr 30, 2017
Apr 30, 2017 at 9:55 AM UTC
Snuggy ****** of a curled up cat by
the fire
Furry faced, smiley headed, svelte
purveyor of the big meow
Purring away like a Geiger counter,
If you seek Nirvana then seek no
more, it's here
The Cat, she knows.
Mar 13, 2018
Mar 13, 2018 at 6:14 PM UTC
Mas vueno pa enterrar
Contra perde
Mas vueno mira mi cuerpo abajo
Contra mira mi cuerpo perdido
Si, iyo ya cavar con el tierra,
Iyo ya entera complaciente
Iyo ya entera na mi cuerpo
Pero tu ya dale patada pa adrento
Ya basha tierra mas manada na suficiente
Ellos ya poner cinco grande piedra ariba
Seguro ya yo subir
Seguro hinde ya yo vivir
Hinde pa campante, ya pone pa colebra
Ya entra, yan camang, ya porsa
Yan junto comigo, ya besa
Ya bira na cabeza y pescuezo
No hay iyo luchar y defenderse
Hasta cuando kamo mata con el muerto?
Hasta cuando kam derramar sangre con el tierra mojado?
Hasta cuando yo muri?
Svelte Rogue, ACS
Apr 30, 2016
Apr 30, 2016 at 4:24 AM UTC
i have held with
fascination, when i was young,
all of my toys.
a parallel universe of
marvels. imperial is the mood
of these ecstasies!
i remember my cheap svelte revolver
back in 1998 bought from
the festive bazaar in the marketplace at the dreary heart of Bocaue when i was
consumed by the thought of brutal force and how swiftly, in the hands of men meant for twisting open
the doors, welcome death
or the metallurgy of it.
i used to run off into the sunset
toting my gun high with pride
shunning the Sun, and the
reprise of my carousals is my mother
soldering in her white hands
a "walis tambo" and summoning me
homeward with a churlish grin
on my face, triumphantly ecstatic
over my rendezvous.
now my gun has withstood the
tatterdemalion of dog days
and in one corner i felt its
brokenness as it yearns to
be retired early in the peak
of my youth. happiness wears down like a chip on the old linoleumed floor and i tinker with
it to unsheathe the grime
of the unspoken stucco concrete.
i placed it in a box, my black revolver, together with the toys
that i once laughed with
when only bliss is as simple as a juvenile love, or the easy picking
of a santan over the fields
where i ran off into
the viridian laughing with the verdure of the world that i once knew as something so beautiful
and intricate.
i heard my black revolver went
somewhere behind the macadamized wall where i dreamt of having a basketball ring nailed to.
only i knew how to play
my revolver, and now that i am
caught within the heaviness
of all things that mean greater
than all other joys,
no other days could ever
surpass how
i made
a hero in myself
mighty with the tales
that i keep.
good ole black revolver, 1998.
Sep 16, 2015
Sep 16, 2015 at 8:53 AM UTC
In the 2nd grade
a puppy love
crush on the
teacher steeped
deep in me
to my delight
her clear eyes
recognized the
promise of a
chubby boy
in all of his
quaint simplicity
her gentle
voice, friendly
and firm, filled
with caring instruction
the giddy class
attuned to her fresh
brunette bouffant, bunned
and perfectly coiffed,
speaking style and
youthful whimsy,
not a strand of hair
out of place
her svelte figure
flowed through
classroom isles
filling the space
with scented graces
of prescient carnations
that afternoon she
was abruptly called
from the class
when she returned
our beautiful princess
was sobbing
she concealed her face
then turned her back
on the class, crying
in a corner to dismayed
blushing blackboards
regaining composure
she turned
exposing her tear
stained cheeks
and dissheveled hair
to an unsettled class
“the President
hurt his back” she
announced. “He’s
in the hospital.”
Whoa… I thought,
the President hurt
his back. That's
terrible I surmised.
our beloved teacher
dismissed us
and resumed her
tearful grief
when I arrived home
my mother was
sitting on the bed
weeping. “President
Kennedy is dead”
she blared.
my mother’s rumpled
housecoat and
tousled hair flattered
her flowing tears and
anguished sobs.
the tears of women
marked the end
of many puppy loves that day
Bob Marley & The Wailers
No Woman No Cry
Oakland
10/15/13
jbm
Oct 16, 2013
Oct 16, 2013 at 1:13 AM UTC
In preserving Hugo Chavez,
every method will be tried.
If stuffing Hugo doesn’t work,
They’ll try Formaldehyde.
Madam Tussaud’s was consulted
But their wax was doomed to melt.
It is steamy in Caracas
And Hugo’s not exactly svelte.
A corpse in a glass coffin
Like Snow White on display
The late lamented Hugo
Was a saint some peasants say.
What is it with these communists
Who all faiths do decry?
They long to be like Lenin;
To be worshiped, deified.
In the end they'll use McDonald's
secret sauce to tan his hide.
Their burgers last forever
don't get me started on their fries.
If you go to Venezuela
Be sure and say hello for me
To the carcass of Caracas
preserved for posterity.
Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 11:06 PM UTC
Sometimes when you read a verse
The words hit your soul hard
They make you wonder all night
“How can someone fabricate such a piece of art?”
The feeling each syllable holds
Gets carved into your heart
Words inspiring you to weave some of your own
Which might cause the ordinary populace to feel your warmth
With excitement flooding
You pick the quill only to wonder
Would your quill succeed in
Re-creating the magic
You recently witnessed?
You drop the quill
Not because of self-doubt
But because you just know
That some magic tricks only belong
With svelte magicians
And sometimes you yield sweet joy
In being touched by others
Just witnessing greatness…
Aug 31, 2015
Aug 31, 2015 at 11:56 AM UTC
They say there's plenty other flower
But you're the one that matter
Should i want another?
This flower meant more than a lover
The last few petals are still there
Making it hard for me to stare
Inevitable, i still care
But who's to say all is fair
You fought well hard & true
I guess i did so, too
I'm trying to save you, really i do
Tulips are weak, like us two.
Svelte Rogue, ACS
Apr 20, 2016
Apr 20, 2016 at 4:57 AM UTC
A made up 16-year old in red - laid
atop crawled sheets mustered in a smell of midnight sweat.
A man of brows knitted ready to devour the **** sparkling naked and wet.
His crooked smile, svelte lines illuminated dimly under the shade of a cheap block
waiting, ready eager excited motivated in all a man's natural hunger
And a ***** -
legs apart, eyes closed;
her skin warm and tanned, untouched
aching to be severely loved.
Feb 9, 2015
Feb 9, 2015 at 3:02 AM UTC
Well, I've been working out
With my doctor's written blessing
I had to make a real big change
I was having trouble dressing
He said to take it slowly
Try walking then move on from that
So, I did as he suggested
And you know, I still feel fat
I walked on past McDonalds
On past Wendy's , Burger King
I walked right up to Dairy Queen
You know, there's something in this thing
I hid all my remote controls
Now I get off from the couch
I WALK the ...oh say, 'bout 5 feet
see...I'm no longer a couch slouch
I looked into the mirror
About three weeks into this
And although I'm not impressive
I'm sure something was amiss
I looked down at my stomach
Where I thought my abs should be
And you know, I saw a dent
Yes a dent, looking back at me
Why the hell's a dent down there
I called and asked the doc
He said keep doing what you're doing
You'll get a stomach like a rock
I said, 'I want muscles....doc"
I want those abs of steel
He said it will not happen overnight
Just think how good you feel
I thought, you know he's got it
I felt better with my dent
I guess maybe this doctor
and his ideas were heaven sent
I went back to the mirror
You know...I was feeling rather fine
But, beside my new found dent..
I looked and saw a line
A line, a ****** line
Is this good or is it bad
In two days I've found two body marks
That in my life I'd never had
I eat the things I'm told to
I've added holes to all my belts
I've added dents and lines and marks
And I'm looking rather svelte
It only took persistence
Just one step to get on board
It's nerve wracking getting healthy
I hope I make it ...praise the lord.
Aug 2, 2012
Aug 2, 2012 at 6:54 PM UTC
"Don't drink that coffee," my friend shouted at me,
"That caffeine will **** you!"
he said impatiently!
Drinking water is bad for your health,
the feds put fluorine in it
to **** you by stealth."
Paternally he whispered,
"Whatever you do, don't drink cows' milk.
the sucklings its made for
aren't close to our ilk.
The consumption of pigs and animals that ****
most certainly will keep you
from obtaining sweet bliss.
And stay away from creatures that swim in the sea,
their svelte tasty bodies are filled
with deadly mercury."
And then he looked aghast at my plate,
"Tell me you're not eating that excrement," he sighed,
"Do you really want to die...
from eating french fries?
Don't you know that fried things are the scourge of the planet,
cooked in hydrogenated fats by
some woman named Janet?
Avoid eggs, if you can, and by no means eat the yolks,
your cholesterol will rise,
that's no funny joke."
Then, with a scowl in his voice he said,
"Avoid plants grown in this country,
sprayed with pesticides and poisons
by corporate monkeys.
And stay away from foods grown in the East,
they're probably fertilized by
humans, dragons and beasts.
Potatoes, tomatoes have starch and acid,
that eats up your guts and
make you grow flaccid.
Lemons and limes will ruin your pretty white teeth,
making you go snaggle
right in your sleep."
With a superior air he ended his harangue,
"Beer, wine, and all forms of liquor,
Can you think of anything that
will **** you quicker?
Don't eat rich chocolate--it'll make you a ****
humping everything in sight
like a mad deer in rut.
Cakes, breads and cookies too,
contain sugars and flours that's
sooooo baaaaad for you.
~~~
I'm hungry and starving and don't know what to do,
I want to eat something
but afraid to give it a chew.
Though all of this leaves me feeling quite uneasy and queasy,
I'm closing the door and
doing as I pleasey!
Jul 19, 2010
Jul 19, 2010 at 7:58 AM UTC
1
**I like your light makeup,
mangled logic that never
served its intended purpose,
the svelte figure that creates
an awareness indelible on proportion,
and the intelligence you have
to keep it just as petite
all through the years
the out law male chauvinist, that lurks in me is pleased,
lopsided analysis of contemporary affairs
you make, allows me
to intervene, put you back to the track.
I dig the coiffure that makes the birds think,
its their nest, newly built.
Your purple prose I learned to like,
as it gets more and more evocative.
Syrupy songs you write, and sing
used to get one bored easily
no more, your emotions now are
more rooted and move me very much.
you know better than any one, how much I love bitter concoctions you cook.
2
But then
I realize that the cadence you create is unique,
you look life at its *** and frown,
your poems though rare, show plenty of evidence
of quirky charm, which I like.
Your weepy stories and convoluted plots too
I learned to like, all these are just habits, right?
They bear a stamp of your originality I can vouch,
love your starry eyes when each is filled with admiration,
for me in those special moments,
when I pull you out of quagmires
time after time.
3
I can't take eyes off your face,
exuding such innocence,
that vouches your genuineness,
each time that assures me that
you cannot ever be bad,
unless you want to portray
yourself that way cleverly.
Though not my cup of tea,
I love the gizmo culture you love,
your craze for computer games,
(though bit bizarre at this age!)
I enjoy it and get fascinated when you go too far.
You love to make love in the dark,
I later learned to appreciate its tactile advantages,
and encouraged you unleash the panther in you, on me
though I love to do it with lights on
so that we can see the rainbow
the moment it spreads on ,
till it dissipates and we dive deep in to sleep.
4
You touched my depth in a way different,
made it possible to love the woman you are-
the way you are, I love it
because, you are unique,with all imperfections
together we are complete.**
Jul 21, 2013
Jul 21, 2013 at 2:18 PM UTC
Sliding from the silky, satin sheets
Slowly she saunters to the terrace
And scans the sparkling, star-sprinkled sky
As slender arms loosely clasp her svelte, ******** swathed silhouette
So too her thoughts encircle her sweetheart
She smiles as she recalls their tryst...
*His strong embrace holding her safe and secure
Lips that tease with nearness
At last bestowing passion-soaked kisses
Whilst hands slide up to her soft, supple breast
And trace circles around her sensitive, cerise *******
She is lost now
Caught in the exquisite snare of sinfully-sweet reminiscences
Of two lovers seeking to please
And thirsting to be satisfied...
*Slow, tantalizing caresses gracefully ****** their souls
Hearts, minds and bodies of two lovers now aroused
Suspended over the precipice
Oh, yes, such blissful anticipation
And then … surrender
Surrender to sweet, sweet ecstasy!*
As she stands now on the circumference of sensual abyss
She sways slightly
A soft breeze strokes her sun-kissed skin
It whispers to her spirit and begins to sing a song
A song so enticing
So stirring
That small goosebumps rise and glisten
So once more she slips betwixt silky, satin sheets
Jul 6, 2011
Jul 6, 2011 at 9:21 PM UTC
I wish I could greet death
Like a svelte Russian KGB agent
With bright red lipstick and a menthol
Dangling from my mouth
Leaning against a brick wall
So casually
But in reality
I will greet death like a newborn infant
Alone in the world until it meets the eyes
Of its mother
I will greet death
Hiding under a desk
With the barrel of a gun pointed at my face
Wondering when was the last time I told my mother I loved her.
I will greet death like a naïve university student
Learning about entropy
Did you know,
There’s a law of thermodynamics which states entropy is
What the universe is constantly moving towards
Energy resolving itself into a more probable arrangement
Like the moment it all clicked together
My universe, my body, my system
All shifting to a more probable arrangement,
that is Death.
Aug 5, 2013
Aug 5, 2013 at 1:00 AM UTC
And I am tortured by regret,
things I've not done yet.
Thinking this defines me.
And I cannot deny
that I'm terrified
of fading to black.
I used to cherish every doubt--
now unsure in what I've found:
my instability was transparent
and now it's apparent...
And I now keep the lights on,
lay in a cold bath until warm.
My lips, so purple and svelte,
have sealed all I have felt.
And I stay a static transplant,
a homely nomadic infant,
stumbling towards the abyss,
thinking it's what I've missed.
I used to utilize the past,
stretching time, but at last,
the only fire I've consumed
will soon fade to black...
Apr 16, 2016
Apr 16, 2016 at 5:02 AM UTC
We're always days apart.
Quite not the best way to start.
Didn't have an exciting forepart,
How I wish we could restart.
The days we're not together,
Sometimes makes me wonder.
Do you miss me or am I just eager,
To feel you again like yester.
I touch your face, I feel you glow.
Time seems so slow.
I'm with you that's all I know.
I won't leave you like your shadow.
The way you talk, way you smile.
Your touch, its too fragile.
Won't let go an inch or a mile.
'Til I walk with you down the aisle.
Of all that we've been through
All else may seem untrue.
All I know is I'd love to say "I do"
Every time I look at you.
Svelte Rogue, ACS
Apr 21, 2016
Apr 21, 2016 at 7:12 AM UTC
***** summer(deeply1st)on edge
season, bonny, svelte and croons
with wide cheek rouge splashed
damson thick eve: muscled up
thick little back splayed fitness
invites sin(2ndnever)body the
white heather, comely fragranced,
dew weeping lilies are hushed
coolly at petals crush, the stem
carries 'pon winsome morn
and
the faintly murdered, caving rush
Jul 25, 2012
Jul 25, 2012 at 12:15 AM UTC