"verandas" poems
ever standing
body lithe, strong
trained to strike
too dashing for peeling paint
old verandas
slow-paced hamlet
waiting in country town
place to whizz past
road to tourist hub
how does his tale read
did he pay
for assault
struck the frame
holder of *****
spawning breath
cold fury
for scenes of his mother
thrown down
stain his every stance
grabbing mail swiftly
ahead of arrival
panther muscles
no more the crouching lad
shuddering
her screams
bounce off walls
as mother's body slumps
broken bottle scars
left to clean up the mess
as he leaves for school
Feb 8, 2019
Feb 8, 2019 at 2:06 PM UTC
~
If you were mine…
If you were mine…our footsteps would
dance on moonlit verandas
while candle lit flickerings enticed my smiled reflections
with your arms tightly around me
symphonies would play to the rhythm of your charm
as we swayed in the essence of forever
on cloud soft concertos of affection’s melodic whispers
eternal echoes would sing in harmony to your eyes,
hauntingly dark invitations to my endless destination,
soothing reflections comforting weathered longings
If you were mine…satin beaches would
eclipse tan line passions
beneath glistening waves of aquamarine salt water bliss
gently caressing the depth of our love
palm leaf shadows of cooling design would weave embracing patterns
of ocean fed breezes tickling our naked forms
as sea foam fingers probe pearl smooth valleys
sunset tides would tease beneath star orchid heavens
blooming of every wished for fantasy…
lasting happily ever after upon sandcastles dreams
If you were mine…my life would
be a mosaic of delirious euphoric visions
in constant creative motion delivering sincerely
every ounce of joy your heart could desire
painted in the sweet essence of everything that is your spirit
vibrant in wonders of fragrant poetic offerings
versed in accordance with your every need
believing that happiness can begin with a smile,
walk along endless streams of worshiped blessings,
remaining satisfied and forevermore yours
If you were mine…oh, if you were mine
May 8, 2014
May 8, 2014 at 12:12 AM UTC
Verandas at supper time & plates without rain
cutlery placates the hands to the vein.
We watch our fingers as they feed upon air;
our bodies moulded into the normailty of chairs
nostalgic is the taste of ravenous affairs.
Our hands grow tired of non-essential shoots
As we remember that this ritual is just displacing air.
Now clawing the ceramic, reaching for instinctual roots
beyond our own edible malfunction of sought repute
growing trained eyes for gnathic refute.
Now beyond the slumber of western lands
knife and fork asunder; we eat with our hands
now beyond rituals of conservative man.
May 2, 2016
May 2, 2016 at 2:02 PM UTC
If you were mine…
If you were mine…our footsteps would
dance on moonlit verandas
while candle lit flickerings enticed my smiled reflections
with your arms tightly around me
symphonies would play to the rhythm of your charm
as we swayed in the essence of forever
on cloud soft concertos of affection’s melodic whispers
eternal echoes would sing in harmony to your eyes,
hauntingly dark invitations to my endless destination,
soothing reflections comforting weathered longings
If you were mine…satin beaches would
eclipse tan line passions
beneath glistening waves of aquamarine salt water bliss
gently caressing the depth of our love
palm leaf shadows of cooling design would weave embracing patterns
of ocean fed breezes tickling our naked forms
as sea foam fingers probe pearl smooth valleys
sunset tides would tease beneath star orchid heavens
blooming of every wished for fantasy…
lasting happily ever after upon sandcastles dreams
If you were mine…my life would
be a mosaic of delirious euphoric visions
in constant creative motion delivering sincerely
every ounce of joy your heart could desire
painted in the sweet essence of everything that is your spirit
vibrant in wonders of fragrant poetic offerings
versed in accordance with your every need
believing that happiness can begin with a smile,
walk along endless streams of worshiped blessings,
remaining satisfied and forevermore yours
If you were mine…oh, if you were mine
Feb 3, 2014
Feb 3, 2014 at 11:52 AM UTC
I close my eyes and dream of winters so pretty that even angels sigh at the scene
cascading snowflakes softly falling, in shapes of doilies and paper ruffle dollies
Winter hats and muffle mitts of red, snowman whispers as red sled rides go by
carnival rides and children full of chide, what a wonderful world of white...
A winter scent of magic, white deer and shadowed antlers of incandescent wood
log cabins with fireplaces and verandas with copper foot welcome matts, come in
make yourself comfortable while the kettle roars to life, tea toddler or coffee lover?
Enter into our little jovial cottage story and stay a while.
Jan 5, 2022
Jan 5, 2022 at 10:37 PM UTC
for the greater part of a year
mine has been a many (late) tears-
depths of sorrow founded below,
brain and mind swallow (thick pills)-
of which one is founded on (hate),
two others describe debts and (ill kills).
owed to an enslaved desire-
of which anxiety is a (vicious) liar.
a plantation of sharecropped (infatuation)-
hormones’ many (jubilations)
coughed up in personas, numerous (fictitious).
verandas of empty space and stoic (face)
wrap the cranium in venomous (lace).
bound dead without resurrecting (sound),
my 140 units six feet (underground).
Jan 4, 2018
Jan 4, 2018 at 11:11 PM UTC
Candle moon
Upon the verandas of fountains
And our love
Quiet beauty of midnight stars
With the sunflowers and roses
Sighing
Moonlit Iris hymns
Reynaldo Casison
Apr 14, 2025
Apr 14, 2025 at 12:14 AM UTC
Imperfection is exquisite beauty
It can love whatever it adores
And on rare and diamond occasions
It can even love itself
Sultry as candle sighs
Cool as evening breeze
It soothes the honey coves
It is a Spring sunrise
And the dew upon the morning glories
Goldenly blush
The moonlit caress is the caress of love
To make it through the day
The reveries make it more sublime
Solitude is the rose friend
When all has drifted like clouds
Tresses in the fur of breeze
Upon the verandas of loves gaze
There shall be rainbow bouquets
And things like stars sweetly ablaze
The rain sings
Its notes of jazz and comfort
Some like her sweet
And some like her sultry
The misty eyed fountains
feel her allure
Like a sunflower cure
Waves shimmering
And shimmering
Whether if its a fiesta or siesta
The rain has honey accents
Reynaldo Casison
Apr 10, 2025
Apr 10, 2025 at 9:26 AM UTC