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Aaron Combs Dec 2016
My beloved, tonight it is more than perfect, the zephyr winds sing
sweetly your name and the crystal stars shine like your earrings.
As the White Mountains glint gracefully, and the wind speaks
over our fingers, upon our balcony, let’s dance, my beloved.

Now over the thousand streams and star crystals in the air,
You can see our prayers fill up the milky rivers in the sky.
Below the lights of Christmas, before the blue rivers of stars,
let’s dance like the shadows and the circles of the moonlight.

Now dreams rise over like the wind and shine so easily
But time falls quickly, and worries fall away so slowly.
So let the rage of your fears dance around and under your legs.
For the world is falling asleep, calling for the colors of their dreams.

So let the tresses of your hair fall freely,
And the wind of your perfume
Soak up the flames of your heart.
Spinning like the starlight, tasting every feeling,
Let the steel blue sky and its stars fall all around you.

Dance wildly, my beloved, let's dance like the songbird who sings,
let’s dance forever, until we wash into the skyline of our dreams.
A Daily Poem
kevin hamilton Jun 2018
i woke up next to fire
and the fountainhead
callous boy
seduced by distended memories
of moonlight's tresses
pooled in syrupy puddles
like spoiled milk

i woke up on west queen west
wild witch kissing me
and ever tighter
grew her spider fingers
around my throat

i swore if she was killing me
she would surely know
Shifting, sand underfoot
and the moon bent
in reflected splendor, up from the sea, and from the
tresses of your hair;

black, in that time
of dreaming.

The stars,
innumerable in their glory,
wink down at
us gently as we walk,

their mysteries
disregarded.

for in your eyes
lie the sum of
their light.
This is a draft I put together in 2016 and promptly forgot about. I've edited it some, but I'm pretty sure I've just polished it up a little, meaning intact. Figured its about time it got some air.
ryn Feb 2015
He rubbed his weary eyes...
What trickery could this be?
Was it a signboard draped in disguise
Or the reflection of light off a tree?

Seconds ticked as he drew closer.
The lady materialised to rule out prior suspicions.
His fingers wrestled over the rusty brake lever,
Wheels squealed their futile objections.

The lady wore a face he could barely see...
She had long tresses that bore an alluring fragrance.
Her beauty tipped the scales allowing him bravery,
Unafraid he asked, "Miss, may I be of assistance?"

Her voice seemed to ride the subtle night breeze,
Coating his ears like sugar laden candy.
Soft and demure... Yet laced with a hint of tease,
She had said, "I'm stranded in the dark as you can see..."

"What luck!", he thought, seizing the opportunity
He removed his sack to make space for her.
His heart raced being in the damsel's good company,
The lady slid herself onto the rack before they both rode together.

As he pedalled hard, he felt a tap on his shoulder.
Her voice came again, a tender little whisper,
*"I live rather close... Not far off from here...
A little over the hill... Just over yonder..."
To be continued...

Based on a story I heard.
K Balachandran May 2013
1
Backwater nymph,
queen of serpentine black tresses
flaunting its coconut oil gleam;
envy of  leggy girls from the Western ghat mountains,
and lissome  maidens from the plains,
who can never eat as much fish, even if they wish.
Wearing hibiscus flowers,
on coiffure like hood of a king cobra,
your coral lips  silently speak
of hot peppery kisses,
waiting for me at shaded corners.
Your sultry body in me arouses desires,
that could only be whispered in your ears.
2
On a coconut lagoon when we met,
for the first time and spoke,
non stop, as if we knew each other life long,
I heard music in your words.
Oh! in the tongue you spoke,
I heard the cadence of a nightingale
ecstatic, on its wings above the clouds,
love had prompted us to fly above the storms.
Your  gleaming coal black eyes,
like silver hooks, tug at my heart strings,
that makes music, only I can hear,
you are a free flying lark,
above Kerala's lush coconut coast,
that extends from sea shore to the mountains.
3
*When we relished steaming brown rice,
mixed with clarified butter,
with spicy tuna curry, tasting so dainty,
cooked in bubbling sweet coconut milk,
my eyes like two crazy butterflies
circled your face, a blossomed Champak
.

Mashed cassava and roasted squid,
melted on our tongues,
in a perfect culinary language
any one would understand without effort.
4
Your lips had cinnamon scent,
spice land's boons,
when we kissed we touched heaven
of scents and spicy tastes.
When our eyes fell on each other,
near the ancient synagogue,
the hay days of which is over,
a long jasmine garland coiling your hair,
    marked you different,
from the  the ladies of your neighborhood,
                                          surroundi­ng you.
How well you did pretend
that you have never seen my face before!

You have mastered love's cunning,
and all the wily tricks to cheat
the enemies of our fiery love
my Freudian mind perfectly understood.
Just imagine the brouhaha we would invite,
when we elope, in the last boat,
to *Alappuzha, stealthily at midnight.
Cochin----(Now Cochi) ancient sea port in south western sea board of India, in the state of Kerala, South India,where,Greeks, Romans, Phoenicians, Arabs, Jews and Chinese used to frequent even before 1000 BCE,seeking black pepper and other spices. Cochi, it  is said had one of the earliest emporiums of Greeks,showcasing their best of  wares including wine in  containers called amphoras.
**Champak---A plant of Magnolia family with musky fragrented flowers(Michelia champaca)
*** Alappuzha--The lake district of Kerala
Arianna Jan 21
"... pelt to pelt, gentle caresses
flow in streams
over gold and silver-spotted tresses.

The stars drown,
a radiant blur,
in their reflections,
shattering the face of Night
against the warmth of feathery skins
and the softness of rosy tongues
collapsing into dream..."
Unburied
   from Christian metanarratives
the mid-winter solstice:
   tomorrow
December 21;
   the shortest day
over the longest night.

Two lovers
               are by the Channel
                    divided
                         to different beds
                                to tongue tastes
                                        to timed beats
                                                     to unfamiliar scents
                                          as Yuletide days
                     burn twelfths to gray ash;
              their bodies
         sea
cleaved.

Come!
closer
and release
with lively touch
tresses thick
and winter's dew,
unctuous on the crag;
the timely solar orb
will stir the frozen ground
on rocky shelves
and chopped bowels.

On 25th,
Christ's star risen bright:
the king's gifts dispersed
   in lengthening days
   in opened flesh
   in loosening chords untied
   in sinews gnawed through
   in desire's wanting flayed!

60 seconds added,
to when
in the 100,  
love to know,
would in solstice
ultimately lay.
For now as then,
our emboldened play
in days delayed
has been
love's lacerating torment!
In this poem the Christmas period is informed by a BBC Radio 4 programme on the mid-winter solstice. Two events are conflated, a lover's yearning to be with his absent lover and the solstice drawing out the long nights and lengthening days.
Terry O'Leary Feb 2017
Awaking blithe each morning,
with eyes upon the World,
I wonder, are we mourning
with ebon flags unfurled –
or are they but a warning,
some draped like snakes and curled,
stray stars and stripes adorning,
sent from the netherworld.

I wander through the garden
with nothing on my mind
and say 'I beg your pardon'
alarmed at what I find
as winds begin to harden
and fate begins to grind.

Confused, I watch my neighbours,
they're wide-eyed, unafraid
to halt all useful labours
and join the death brigade;
the ritters rattle sabres,
the frail and fragile fade,
morticians tap on tabors,
the potentates parade.

The military blesses
(in tunics somewhat browned)
its crimson-stained successes,
**** bent and heaven bound.
Such scenes no more distress us:
a ****** battleground,
dissevered heads with tresses
and arms and legs abound;
the fourth estate suppresses
the heaps of bodies  found
(collateral excesses
discarded in a mound).

Society regresses,
now living by the sword,
with torture and its stresses
upon a waterboard;
a captive kid confesses,
his innocence ignored -
fallacious facts and guesses,
the guts of justice gored!

With canting vindication
a big brass bully brags
(with pearls of perspiration
and swollen tongue that gags)
of third world  subjugation
for gelt and oily swags,
of human rights' castration,
and on and on it drags.

The manifold migration
of refugees in rags
while searching for salvation
soon finds compassion lags;
uprooted populations
are fleeing from their flags
else dying of starvation
as ***** hunger nags.

With trump cards politicking,
two little hands (all thumbs)
may send the Mad Dog siccing.
Insane! All sense succumbs.

Atomic timepiece ticking
until the Reaper comes
as Geiger counters clicking
drown out the droning drums.

Cast out for not conforming,
I wander day by day
to find the earth deforming
as nature wastes away,
with bees no longer swarming
(expunged with garden spray)
and ocean depths transforming
(neath plastic overlay).

With CO2 performing
the climate's led astray,
the atmosphere's been warming,
the grasses ashen gray,
eternal tempest storming
while permafrosts decay,
and ozone holes are forming
in deadly disarray.

The people profiteering
descend a slip'ry *****
destroying, never fearing        
of running out of rope;
instead they sit back sneering
“our wealth’s your only hope”.

Yes, Armageddon's nearing,
it's doubtful that we'll cope,
for Evolution's jeering,
she's scanned our horoscope:
we'll soon be disappearing
with whale and antelope.


           Epitaph

The multitudes were jumbled,
some milling ’round the mall,
while politicians bumbled
when bracing for the brawl.

The World around us rumbled,
our backs against the wall,
as bombs were tossed and tumbled
across our broken ball.

My kneecaps creaked and crumbled
but I, too proud to crawl,
took but a step and stumbled  
yet found no place to fall.

And no one heard me grumble
although I tried to call,
or maybe I just mumbled,
as strength began to pall.

Well now the World’s been humbled
I seek an urban sprawl,
but since the feuds were fumbled
there’s nothing left at all.
ryn Jul 2014
My life isn't much, save for bleakness that had lasted long
It was dark time that made every right seem wrong
Finally a day came when everything was altered
It was the height of period when I would surely have faltered.

Like rays breaking through the thickest of clouds
Like blades ripping through the heaviest shrouds
The rays they illuminate and allowed me to see
The blades they cut and slash, to reveal so desperately.

With the light shining bright, hand up ready to shield
Out of the shrouds arms open, welcoming what it may yield
In between my fingers, through the gaps I squinted
I find myself in awe with my feet firmly planted.

A beautiful vision that is worthy of an artist's canvas
Bewitching blue eyes, face framed by streams of golden tresses
Releasing a gasp, I could hardly believe what I'm seeing
It was a moment where beauty had lost it's original meaning.

This moment I wish to have the word hastily redefined
For our eyes have connected with rare magics that bind
She smiled with the promise of freedom that I yearn
She embraced with love that caused my fire to brightly burn.

"Burn forever", I said to my heart's raging fire
"For she has love in abundance that'll never ever tire"
She spoke, "I have come as the answer to your mournful cries"
"I have come to be steadfast and wipe the tears from your eyes".

'Twas a moment that I felt grateful, she had found me
'Twas a moment that I felt, I will never be lonely
'Twas a moment that I felt as if time had stood still
'Twas a moment that I've been granted the freedom of will.

Such liberation I felt was worth waiting all these years
Such anxious relief I felt, that had washed away all my fears
I can finally breathe and through new eyes I clearly see
That you came into my universe, you rescued, accepted and set me free.
Arianna Dec 2018
Breathing deeply
Of the heat
Rising
In tidal rushes
From the velvet of
Your skin
Cascading
Over mine,
Entireties
Enveloping
Melting, us together,
Suspended in this
Pulsing plane
Of pleasure and pain,
As
The warmth of wine
Hits the blood
Wherein
La chaleur de nous-mêmes
Indistinguishable

HEART

Reunites
Inside-outside­
At once,
At one
In a carnal


SYMPOSIUM


Pomegranate cheeks
Pressed, rouge
Into wine,
Flowing
Ambrosia
Of sweat,
Honey,
And the Hunger
Of



TIME



Grapes bursting
Forth from vines
Of bordeaux kisses
Devoured,
Plucked ravenously
With tongues,
Flowing
In leaf-winged abundance
Over humming, desiring
Stomachs
Bursting with
Crimson cabernet
And the drunkenness of roses,
Blooming scarlet
And savage
Between thighs, and
Strewn back
Up the ripening
Raspberry vines
Now entwining,
All-compelling,
.
.
.
.
                                               T                                                       
                    R                                                  

A                         ­         I          
                              N                  M  ­  
N                                                
                     G.....         R
                    S                              ­                          
                     O
                                                     F                                                          ­  
               .
               .
               .
               .
Between skins,
Garlands
Of laurel caresses
Woven
‘Round necks,
Braided through shady
Willow tresses
By rose-stained
Fingertips
Hovering

D
O
W
N

To alight
Upon strawberry lips:
Inhaling
Hymns
From the depths beneath them:
Lush,
Flowing
Harmonies of


FEELING


Echoing,
As the tambourines
Chime louder
In breaths
Amidst the swaying
Of hips and

IMMOLATING

Free of form,
The dance



REVERBERATING



In the ardor
Of souls bared
Whole.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i4qePY2Wdss
faith Aug 2017
i hear the rushing water,
i feel the soft breeze blowing my tresses out behind me,
i see the water falling in slow motion,
every drop has light reflecting through it,
casting the world in a blanket of rainbows.

i hear the roar of the mighty waterfall,
i feel the spray as the water splashes on the jagged rocks,
i see the light cast a heavenly glow on my body,
and on the water in a pattern i cannot understand.

i hear the wind whistling in my ears,
i feel the cool water running over my bare feet,
i see birds dancing in the air like ice skaters on ice,
the clouds above are colored with the vibrant paintbrush of god, the strokes lighting up the world around me.

the waterfall is beautiful, stunning, majestic, breath-taking,
a wonder of god.
Tryst Jul 2018
And like a bride when all the guests had flown –
Unto her Quarter Master, veil upraised
And corsage strewn atop her lily gown,
The ****** MOON stood humble and unphased

A boon of SUN's light nestled in her tresses,
And HEAVEN's gift, bright star-born chandeliers –
COUTURIER, The Wind, bestowed caresses –
CENTAURUS brought an honour guard of spears

The MOON, her dimples pale, her mood unblemished,
Fell silent as a petal on a flower –
Her slender frame looked ever the more diminished
And wanton as she lay upon her bower

She watched the constellations rearranging
To mark this passing day across the skies,
And full aware that things were ever changing
The MOON laid down her guard and closed her eyes.
JB Claywell Jan 10
In the midst of a memory
that is not much more
than a wisp of smoke
after the candle has
been blown out.

The scent of the candle,
once extinguished,
is pallid compared to
its acrid brethren whose
tendrils ache for the ceiling.

As the exhalation
escapes the lips,
the small
flame winks into nothingness,

the smoke reminds us all
what a monstrous adversary
fire can be.  

Fire,
like the pain of this
incendiary,
if fleeting memory:

The raven-haired
librarian,
her tresses now streaked
with fine, silver filaments,
spoke of children
long ago buried.

(mine)


“You know, your daughters hold a special place in my heart.
I think of them often”, she says.

It is easy to speak truths,
when they are so honest and real
that they hang in the air like smoke
or cause a minor burn
like a palm held over a candle
for too long.

“I named one of them after Holden Caulfield’s sister”, I say.

“But, her middle name is all yours.”

That second sentence may have been a spark
in my mind,
that never was combustible enough to
issue forth as spoken,

but it remains true nonetheless,
librarian,

as true as smoke,
as true as fire,
as true as…

you.


*
-JBClaywell
© P&Z Publications 2019
For my friend Misty.

She’s let me borrow her middle name,
some wonderful memories,
and books from the library where she works.
Prabhu Iyer Feb 1
Hold your palm to my *****
warmth of the stars
concealed under the tresses
this vast night, where my heart
will beat with yours;
In the stillness of the desert
lone song of the dune,
an arrow shot in the sky,
Here we erase the imprints
of jagged paths that led
us far from this haven;
Your dimpled smile,
ripples that rise slow
and commingle end to end
will settle - placid this
lake on the scale of love
that transcends time
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