Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
onlylovepoetry Jun 2019
head to toe kissing


I   the mundane

moonlight madnesses, a possessive noun,
commissions gravitational pulls that disobey and obey
laws of interstellar loving. The antique modalities once and forever, forever laying still, stilled in places of antiquities and historical need, are thundershower and hail rudely reawakened, the undertow of
pull and push, the yanking hands  of need for others, for others,
it’s the explosive-knowledge, the opening of the old kitbag of perpetual principles, that crazy head to toe kissing is no less necessary, more so, than the computation of the total breaths mundane, unnoticed even now as I write of them, that we will count from that very first, in deed, they are one and the same, like the same
kisses given from head to toe

II   the profane

at the first, the body insists, I am but a long haul trailer, no taxi me,
cargo and passengers, are my quatrain accompaniments,
traveling companions boon, my own toons, too soon disembarked,
songs of parents and lovers, children and others, your visage passed
without your permission, but with your happy encouragement,
to generations that will see things that futurists dare not
even mention, but the profane urge to warn them all, kisses from head to toe, elevates, and overcomes...so when most of my names dusted with forgetfulness, lost in the waves, my scorching soft lips will be recalled just as an airy flight of light brushing upon a newborn’s eyelids just at the moment of birth.  A rustling more felt than heard, the ****** and bruised carrying body will sensate and instantly forget, but nonetheless transmit genetically, that the profane of birth and life renewing can be only washed away, when past and future, recalled and recreated, kisses from head to toes, dripping with softening saltwater tears, a chemical organic reagent of creation,
inside the histories of head to toe kissing

III  the insane

so when, somewhere, some place, a man’s body prepares  
tous ses adieux, his memory foolishly sane and strong,
his wasted paper bag container ship, rust bucketed,
crinkled and wrinkled, skin folding in on itself, hanging to bones
by stretched sinews and tendons that no longer tend to business,
loosened and gangly, they hang on barely to the bare nakedness of
evolutionary processes, mostly not, offset, by the tenderizing effects of kisses, from invisible attendees,  unconscious they,
willingly and unwillingly, offering farewells in actuality...
head to toes, noses to belly buttons, tatted, tattered, and still tasted by dying cells.  It’s insane to think it’s even possible  one retains each and all, but he does, those few given, those few  millions he gave away for cheap belly laughs and poems, decade upon decade accumulated are the totality of him, all of them free and sealed in kisses from head to toes
a perfect fare thee well love poem to add to the pastures lying fallow on mountain ranges of kisses from heads to toes...June 3, 2019
Paula Swanson Jun 2010
I have always seen the world on a.... tilt.
A little off kilter, as if spilt.
Where some see a dozen rose's glory before they wilt
I see a lover's unforgiven guilt.

They may see a cemetary sad and forlorn.
I see a peacefulness that I mourn.
Some look upon the homeless with scorn.
I can see their potential unborn.

Many folks see the city as a gilded flower.
All I can see is smog and rush hours.
Where some cower from the thundershower.
I stand within it, feeling power.

For folks who say they always get the raw deals.
I see it they never learned to yield
Some women want their man to be made of steel.
I love my man, as he is, because he kneels.
I have been told that I see the world an varied angles.  I do believe, thankfully,  that they are right.
Cold , clear water from that hand dug well could break a spell of thirst
faster than a July thundershower , quick as a swamp rabbit running Camp Creek , swift as a Bobcat scurrying to the top of a Sycamore Tree ...
Cool as a November morning , clear as Dad's list of chores , smooth as a
fresh brushed Quarter Horse , as welcoming as the evening view of home ...
Copyright February 17 , 2016 by Randolph L Wilson * All Rights Reserved
David Ehrgott Feb 2016
emasculated
charred thundershower lush romps
mountaintops chomp first
Easter Sunday three piece suits and ***** Hush Puppies , daffodils for a first crush , the power of affection come to call ..
Evening walks around the lake on Star Brothers dairy , nighttime lanterns reflect across West Point Lake ..
Hand in hand on South River Road , across the highway into Franklin , very much in love ..
A sudden thundershower that cooled the parched streets quickly faded , the intensity of first romance and brief Spring storms are tragically related ..
Copyright December 3 , 2015 by Randolph L Wilson * All Rights Reserved

— The End —