"swelt" poems
Honey-flowing rivulets of jazz-beaten syncope,
Trumpets blowing smoke across the room,
‘Curveball’ Sammy hustles bass behind the bar,
Snares his songbird in a played back loop.
Harlem shufflers work the floor, breaking safe,
Clave rhythm scufflers with a New York twist,
Black keys write with borrowed brass on iv’ry walls,
Pick the lock on a swelt’ring southern riff.
Jun 12, 2019
Jun 12, 2019 at 10:39 PM UTC
Moment by moment,
the miles melt,
In a fire unknown,
the dew drops swelt.
Desires deepen
as the dusk darkens,
The eyes tell all
As the moon brightens!
The signal sent by
the series of sighs,
Fans the faint flames,
The hope revives!
Arousing the long
laid back longing,
**Be mine!
Says the intoxicating evening!**
A carvan of dream
passed the past night,
The setting sun says,
"Realize it tonight!"
Enchanting evening,
makes the hearts sing,
Forgetting everything,
Let's loosen the string!
Aug 9, 2017
Aug 9, 2017 at 9:07 AM UTC
*Youths overheated
In the swelt of late summer
Lovers become cool*
Sep 5, 2015
Sep 5, 2015 at 11:34 PM UTC
Want to tell you how I feel, but to myself i ask my dear.
How will you react? is that what you really want to hear?
So much i want to say, it is hard to have restraint.
But I wonder why should I, is your heart that faint?
What is there in my heart, even if you already know.
Let me say it still, of my feelings don’t stem the flow.
The candle that just got lit, in just a moment shouldn’t melt.
The flower which bloomed after aeons, must never swelt.
Whenever you are with me, you make my mind numb.
Make me say something stupid, please don’t think i am dumb.
Life it too short they say, and it might get over tomorrow,
If I don’t say what i want to, there will be no end to my sorrow.
I have no choice but to say it, you ignored my every clue.
My words may not be perfect, but I swear that they’re true.
I am no expert in romance, but I do know that we,
Are the closest thing to love as I imagine it to be.
Jan 23, 2010
Jan 23, 2010 at 11:16 PM UTC
I know it to be a romantic notion,
that deciduous trees in winter
should be wearing leafy clothes,
but to see them so naked against the Carolina cold
gives me cause to shiver
and change my thoughts to the heat 'n swelt of summer,
where, I imagine, the trees would be more content
were they down to bark and bone.
Feb 11, 2011
Feb 11, 2011 at 4:27 AM UTC
Scored to a throne
On apex exalted
The bull flares its steel heat
To my clefted rib
Its twist swift on its steer
Cures its kind to nerve ascending
L'etric red ushers its drench oer my clay swelt
Naked on the bone
Its death
My dawn
Jun 30, 2020
Jun 30, 2020 at 2:20 PM UTC