Temptation…


…Is playing the flirt
To your coy
Secret smiles masked
Behind casual shrugs
Double Innuendo
With bold inclinations.

One hears the indifference
In the chat
One sees the fire
Of the eyes
Recognizable only by one
Who has long since given in
To the abandon of passion.

Can I but wonder
Do the heat of your eyes
Extend to your touch?

Tell me,

Better yet
Don’t tell me.

Let me feel for myself …

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dVerse Meeting the Bar

Le Petite Mort

You take me
With skill,
With strength
With the power of lust

Knowing what you want
And how to get it

To feel the power of your body
Against mine

Head thrown back, body arched
I feel your warm breath
Against my thighs

Just before your lips
Reach the ridge of mine
I watched you
gently blow
Like a too hot cup of coffee

Your hot breath sliding over me
Feeling like soft silk exposed
Making my body respond with abandon

I sense nothing
But you and the promise
Of your body to mine, taunting me
To think of nothing but

The moment

The moment when my body meets yours
In a crashing wave of exquisite pleasure

The kind that rips
The satiated breath from our chests
Sweet reminders
Of all that was said and done

Making us feel so alive
We could die

Le Petite Mort

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dVerse ~ Poets Pub : OpenLinkNight Week 74

 

The Storyteller

He imagines
So many things
Cabbage and kings
Of shoes and ships

And with a wink
Easily slips
Poetic blips
Of the arcane

Rivers auburn
A mind insane
The odd bloodstain
Can sometimes scare

So he spins words
With utmost care
and takes me there
On crescent waves

Triumphant tales
From birth to grave
And each I save
I know their worth

It’s in his sphere
Of cosmic girth
Welkin and earth
The tales he’s had

And more to come
Verbal nomad
I call him Dad
And my hero

Household legend
But he does know
The seeds he sow
It’s my award

Gaze of rapture
He looks forward
To his reward
When it’s my turn

To tell such tales
Old or modern
Aubades, nocturnes
The moods I’ll bring

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Today’s Form? The Pathya Vat

dVerse ~ Poets Pub | OpenLinkNight Week 73

Start Somewhere

 I run my days in such haste
No one thought has time to land
Barely having time to care
I must start somewhere

A still pool of water calls
With a dare to simply glance
A tired me shimmers there
I must start somewhere

Natural needs pushed aside
My all to all but me
For the sake of my welfare
I must start somewhere

I free my mind of clutter
Donate a moment to peace
In awe find a moment spare
I will start with prayer

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Today’s Form:  The Kouta

Kouta – KOH-OU-TA (Japanese: little song) A broad classification for several varieties of short songs from traditional to popular which is most often associated with the songs made popular in the pleasure quarters of Edo (old Tokyo) where they were often composed and sung by geisha to the accompaniment of the shamisen.

Kouta has two forms, both four lines. The first has a syllable count of 7-5-7-5, and the other has a count of 7-7-7-5.

dVerse ~ Poets Pub | OpenLinkNight Week: 71

In The Company of Heroes

When you cried I’d wipe away all of your tears
When you’d scream I’d fight away all of your fears
And I held your hand through all of these years
But you still have all of me all of me

Evanescence – My Immortal / Fallen

In the company of heroes is how I often feel
Your lives forced into a world tipsy and surreal
A struggle from the moment your first breath premiers
Clotho’s newest thread in life’s ongoing tapestry
I ignore the naysayers of your tough chances to be
I’m among the first to get to know your excellence my dears
As I engage in the daily wait of a hope and a prayer:
For quick release from the terrors that constrict your air
Trying to balance a life already in arrears
When you cried I’d wipe away all of your tears

What the world needs now is to see you fight against death
See you working towards the next small but tantalizing breath
That every morning you live to see is a cause for cheers
All the world’s a stage and you are its most promising star
And my job is behind the wings to get you that far
For the world is a tunnel vision until your sight clears
You’re just too young to know all that you go through
That I’m there holding your tiny hand smiling at you
Or if in your vexing sleep, a nightmare appears;
When you’d scream I’d fight away all of your fears

Even in the quietest moments sometimes your bodies shake
The wretched fevers your young bodies try to break
Or in the wee twilight hours how your pleas reach my ears
I’m grateful for your screams, their justice I seek
The thousand of cries are promises of a life not weak
I like to think that some small value of my Zen adheres
Though it’s a wisdom felt with absolute prudence
Thus uttered only in moments of complete silence
Though gone from me, you’ll remember in life’s jeers
I held your hand through all of these years

I hide among the simple, among the small select
Just doing a job, my soul chooses to elect
Having a temperance for each and every special baby
But the generosity of my spirit is always short-lived
When unto the new guardians of you I must give
One way or another you’re taken away from types like me
My neonatal babies that fight just to survive each day
Your headlong courage always holding such sway
As you live you won’t remember any of this I now see
But you still have all of me

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Just a few days ago I was listening to Evanescence’s My Immortal from their Fallen CD and the refrain reminded me of an older friend of mine who worked in a neonatal care unit.  She would occasionally speak of some of the babies that crossed her path.  Holding their tiny, trembling hands. The ones that screamed until exhaustion took them only to wake and scream again. They didn’t all reach it, but the goal was always to help them survive to the point they can survive on their own. Every now and again she would be lucky enough to see  them grow throughout their childhood years and on rare occasion to adulthood. Even though very few would ever know of her existence in their lives in those very early days.

My favored glosa form, designed to used the words of another, was the perfect vehicle for today’s prompt. This write is for her and all the countless others like her simply doing their job.

dVerse ~ Poets Pub | Meeting the Bar: Literary Allusion

Big Montana Sky


As I lay on my duster, watching the big Montana sky
Like I have so many nights before, watching the time carve by
I know that this cattle drive, was worth all the time of the run
But on nights likes these, no nights like these are never any fun

The ambiance of a crystal clear night, I cannot deny
As I lay on my duster, watching the big Montana sky
But all my thoughts now turn to you, as I watch the campfire
Each flame a flimsy copy, of you when filled with desire

Those jolts of emerald flashes, which herald your fluid moods
How well I’ve learned to read them, the bad, the ugly  and the good
As I lay on my duster, watching the big Montana sky
My longing for your touch is so deep, I damn well want to cry

I squeak out a prayer to the heavens, that you still feel the same
Upon my return to you, I shall ask you to share my name
In the meantime, the thoughts of your dew soft skin just get me by
As I lay on my duster, watching the big Montana sky

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Welcome students! – Today’s form is the Quartern.

The quatern is yet another French form. It consists of four stanzas of four lines, or sixteen total lines. The quatern is a syllabic form, meaning that there are a required number of syllables per line. Traditionally there are eight (8) syllables per line (or tetrameter, to those who want to get all technical), but it does NOT have to be iambic!!  (Yes, I took very creative license by using fifteen syllables in  my example above.)

The other trait of the quatern is that there is a repeating refrain, similar to a kyrielle. In this case, the refrain is repeated one line lower in the poem in each stanza until in the fourth stanza it’s the fourth line, like below…

Line 1 (refrain)
Line 2
Line 3
Line 4

Line 5
Line 1 again (Line 6)
Line 7
Line 8

Line 9
Line 10
Line 1 again (Line 11)
Line 12

Line 13
Line 14
Line 15
Line 1 again (Line 16)

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dVerse Poets Pub | OpenLinkNight Week 70

My Than-ks Bauk To You

I know some curse
This perverse form
dVerse I smile.

For all the while
Poets style, words
Beguile, they do!

Sweet Pub ‘tis true
My thanks due, yes
To you in verse.

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Because I just know the widget will expire if I try to wait until much later to post this, I do so now.  My sincere thanks to all of you who attempted this week’s Form For All the Than Bauk.  I have enjoyed these past two days reading all the fun, poignant, dark, wonderful and deliciously interesting takes on the form.

dVerse Poets Pub | Form For All – Than Bauk

Arlington

I walk the rows of the garden
Whispering voices the only sound
Passing by the stark white blooms
Rising from the hallowed ground

And I gaze upon all the blossoms
Row upon row to infinity unknown
Fingers lightly touch this newest bloom
Here in the garden, garden of stone

Each bloom marking lives young and old
Lives that eventually have stilled
Some blooms have seen many an age
Some are as fresh this grave just tilled

A flag waves softly in the wind
Today at half-mast flown
Standing for the one who no longer can
Here in the garden, garden of stone

Scattered about these many blooms
Are others who are here like me
Honoring their own seeds fallen
Into these blooms for eternity

Hand slanted to brow, we are all together
Hand held over heart, yet each all alone
In laughter and tears and memories
Here in the garden, garden of stone

For they are children far too short
To appreciate their own youth
Their spirits grow old far too fast
To live and die with that cold truth

Thus mourning comes, as sure as dawn
In the 21 guns of honor shone
For we who are left behind still grieve
Here in the garden, garden of stone

Arlington Memorial Day

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dVerse ~ Poets Pub | OpenLinkNight Week 69

Cycle

Gleam in His eye

A Memory
Ashes to Ashes
Longevity?

With blessings well aged
With blessings well saged

A many decade writer
Hopefully equal giver and receiver
Always a friend
And of course a Diva

At the beginning of my world-travels
Patient when a holiday light unravels

A Home Owner
An Amorous Wife
Luckily better at inciting passion
Sometimes the cause of strife

Professional at Work
Part-time Jerk

Occasional Fighter
Mother of another
Mother
Poetess

A Daughter
Alive
Me

Gleam in His eye

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dVerse ~ Poets Pub | Poetics: Self-Portrait

Psyche’s Lament

While yet I find you waiting in my dreams
It’s though we’re not meant for the light of day
The sunlight hides your face from me it seems

I have no idea just what all this means
This haunt my subconscious has wont to play
While yet I find you waiting in my dreams

Your face so near yet blinded by moonbeams
Your face so gone when lords of light hold sway
The sunlight hides your face from me it seems

A hapless pawn I am in these grand schemes
You hide at the first hint of sun’s display
While yet I find you waiting in my dreams

Or do you have a hand in these extremes
These rules I have no choice but to obey
The sunlight hides your face from me it seems

You’re here at Nox’s whims but yet it deems
That Eos equally keeps you at bay
The sunlight hides your face from me it seems
While yet I find you waiting in my dreams

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dVerse ~ Poets Pub | Form for All: Physics and the Art of the Villanelle