Tag Archives: dVerse ~ Poets Pub

Look At Her

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9

Adipositivity image

Look at her…

A sea of creamy alabaster,
in quiet repose.

Sunlight dances along her features,
rays pirouette to touch her

Here!
The curve of her soft chin
As she raises her head to bask
in Sol’s warmth

No here!
On wonderfully cushioned arms
A comfort that can lull the most active mind
to quite solitude

No there!
Wrapping around her thighs,
so thick, supple, inviting
even as it protects there

Ah, there…
There even the light respects
the concealed yielding
that should always be
a tender secret

Beauty that would make
the likes of Reubens or Botero
simply wail in the dismal failure
to capture such

And I am blessed
blessed with the pleasure
to gaze upon her
to simply

Look at her…

<>==========<>==========<>dVerse ~ Poets Pub | OpenLinkNight : week 114

Life, Chance, Death, Pain, Faith

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LIFE
living
existence

one day at a time
for the rest of your time
trying to be at one’s best

‘because the alternative sucks’

<><><><><>

CHANCE
fortune
in fate’s hand

opportunity
it’s not in your control
what turns the wheel, guides the die

‘life, the moment your eyes open’

<><><><><>

DEATH
finite
infinite

it is what it is
for as long as we’re here
It’s not as long as we’re gone

‘it is the great equalizer’

<><><><><>

PAIN
anguish
agony

in body or soul
and oftentimes in both
you bear the unbearable

‘it’s what lets you know you’re alive’

<><><><><>

FAITH
belief
conviction

the ultimate trust
is the substance of hope
evidence of things not seen

‘all that I have left in me now’

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Today’s Form: Clarity Pyramid

dVerse ~ Poets Pub | OpenLinkNight : Week 83

Dessert

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19

As some know, I like to try hand at various poetic forms from time-to-time.  Today’s form is called a Super-Tanka. Hmm, I should probably explain a regular size Tanka form first. *dons professor cap and clears throat*

The Tanka, an Asian poetic form very similar to haiku, is a single stanza, 5 line, non-rhyming poem, with a 5-7-5-7-7 syllable count pattern per stanza. Thus a Super-Tanka is two Tanka poems where each can stand alone on its on merit, but when put together side-by-side create a complete poem. The greater the subject difference of the individual Tankas from each other, compared to the whole, the better.

/poetry class

That’s what I asked for, cherries jubilee
Because that’s what I wanted, the taste of heated brandy
Wanted to taste it, sweetness set ablaze
Feel it’s texture on my tongue, a most unique concoction
As it slides slow down my throat, dripping with the sweetest cream

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dVerse~ Poets Pub | Poetics– Foodloose

I Want You…

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12

.
.
I want you…

I want sapphire skies with diamond eyes
filled with guttural moans and satiated sighs
I want to feel the arc of the moon echoed
in the curve of your spine
I want to feel the breath of your whisper in my ear
screaming that its mine

I want you…

I want to love you with the rising of the sun
and start again when the day is done
I want you to rhyme me in a sonnet
a prose of your own
I want the words to vibrate on my skin
from the bass of your moan

I want you…

I want to run wild in the trap of your gaze
feel the slick of our bodies in a sweaty glaze
I want to hear you scream the words
that would make Mama blush
let the blood flow to your head in a heated rush,
then lick the burn on my abdomen from the carpet plush

I want you…

I want you to fill the void with a dip
then come down lick the cream from my lips
I want to feel us shiver,
feel us tremble, feel us shake
feel the crash to the floor in its wake
go deaf from the scream for its own sake

I want you…

I want you to take me to the brink, risk the cardiac
fuck me ’till I’m flatline,
then fuck me back
I want to feel your body pressed between me and the wall
dependent only on our strength to save us from the fall
Test the limits of our bodies, fight the spasms
roar against the ecstasy, then

  f
    a
      l
         l

into the chasms

I want you…

>========<

dVerse ~Poets Pub | OpenLinkNight

 

Somewhere…

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12

somewhere
(in the folds of lasts week’s)
(or maybe last year’s laundry)
the person
(when I’m not a mother)
who wrote poetry
(or being a lover )
drew still life
(balancing the checkbook)
designed clothes
(scrubbing a dirty collar)
and painted murals
(while vacuuming the carpets, again)
that did embroidery
(after the button is sewed on the shirt, again)
is in the mirror
(that needs to be cleaned, again)
trying to find herself
(after working overtime, again)
because she got lost
(showing someone else how)
somewhere…
(in the folds of last week’s)
(or maybe last years’ laundry)…

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This poem is actually a little over 12 years old.  We were in the process of packing to move into our house and my then fiance, now late-husband, had found my composition book from high school with poetry. We had living together over thirteen years and he had never known that about me. He asked one thing: What happened? I did not have an answer for him. Nor did I know how to pick-up my pen again.  One day I was looking at my reflection in the mirror, asking myself the same question.  I was depressed to realize, though it been a of couple years since he had asked, I still did not have an answer.

Whenever I was upset I would write my feelings to sort them out. Usually, I would write it, read it and toss it.  This time I did not toss it because something in those words had reached me.  What reached me became the first three/last three lines of the above poem. It was perhaps only the third poem I had written in a nearly twenty year span at that point.  Granted, it was one small sad little poem, but it was the first big crack in the wall of the dam blocking my creativity. A dam I was only just beginning to realize I had built and now needed to tear it down.

dVerse Poets Pub |  Poetics – Poetically Evolving

A Good Girl Who Does

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15

As a thinker I excelled in science and chess
Bright in my other academics, I gave no less
Could mentally match just about whatever you bring
Daunted only by my emotional state, a very different thing
Ever curious, I took a shine to coition with ambition
Female born, however held a certain restriction
Gracious model of virtue? Hah! I never tried to be
Held back within all the rules of social complicity

Inquisitive, I felt it more honest than being just a tease
Justly stated, I would pursue my desires as I would please
Knowing that the names for me were much closer to ‘whore’
Love was but a word as the males I knew were free to ‘score’

Mainly, I felt you can’t grow a garden by reading a book
Negating convention I dared to do more than just look
Oh guys can easily convey how often they go to bat
Privately the girls aren’t ever to admit knowing any of that
Quietly I learned to hide how I came to know so much
Raging that a male is never asked to hide knowledge of such
So, I could hum the foulest limerick and still be called quaint
Talk knowledge of a hummer when I was barely twenty ain’t

Understanding people I had known only one or two
Vicious rumors and some cruel truths I muddled through
Watching eyebrows rise as double-standards reared its head
X-rated knowledge in a g-rated world was a hard path to tread

Years went by before I felt I wasn’t a freak
Zeroing in that I’m a rarity someone unique
Allowed myself to enjoy it all in its various forms
Because I refuse to stilted by social world’s norms
Carnal knowledge once bane, I’m now admired for
Day or night, finally happy, I don’t care any more

Every now and then I’ll get outrageous with a verbal gush
Freaking people out on purpose just to watch them blush

<>==========<>==========<>

And today’s form is an Abecedarius which is an alphabetic acrostic or a poem in which each line or stanza begins with a successive letter of the alphabet. Historically, it was widely used in religious aspects as the beginning of prayers, hymns and oracles. As time progressed, variations of the method developed and new types of acrostics appeared. Some methods included using the first letter of the first word (as I have done above), the first letter of the stanza or the first letter of the first word and last letter of the last word in each line.

dVerse Poets Pub – Poetics: The Art Of Rebellion

Caught Between

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8

Woman crouching back against wal

I was with friends clubbing, at the bar sipping wine
Wearing the hell out of my Prada, I knew I was looking fine
You walked in, looking as good as you know what
Your hair so sharp, your barber must have been cut
My anchor slipped as we talked jobs as steps to empires
Like the smoky haze, our interest rose along with our desire

Yes, sometimes a woman can let sex lead her by the nose
Caught between the best of nothing and anything goes

We were together for weeks, just living the life
And then by accident, I found out about your wife
I can’t even lie and say I kept my cool that day
Once again the anchor, slipped and I began to sway
I careened into a wall so hard, the pictures on it shook
But even as I was regained breath, I knew I was hooked

And I had no one but myself to blame for all my sudden woes
Caught between the best of nothing and anything goes

With your secret fully out, your love slowed to a dribble
You promised me a feast of your love, I barely got a nibble
Each time I said no, your so sweet whispers break through
And wanting so much to be in love, I know that I let you
One day I saw you both together and I just wanted to cry
Not for you, but for me and the time I wasted in the lie

How did it come this? What was this is crazy life I chose?
Caught between the best of nothing and anything goes

As I stood at the latest hotel door, cardkey in midair
Knowing that I have no business to be standing there
I finally find the nerve to back away, but then
The door’s open and you’re standing there, calling me in
My heart is screaming “No, baby! No baby! No!”
But my body’s screaming “Go, baby! Go baby! Go!”

Before I know it, there we were again and again curling toes
Caught between the best of nothing and anything goes

It was a summer night we met and love began to soar
It was near summer again when I finally said no more
It took so long not to be sad, for the lack of a phone’s ring
I made a promise to myself, my love is for all or nothing
Another summer blazes, and once again I’m on my own
But if my only choice is to share, well, I’d rather be alone

When will my empty heart fill again? Only heaven knows
Caught between the best of nothing and anything goes

>==========<

Entered in
dVerse Poets Pub | OpenLinkNight – Week 36

November 18, 1978

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26

April is National Poetry Month. Today is a not so gentle reminder of why we should not forget out past. So I won’t end with “Enjoy!” as I usually do. This time I’ll say “Remember!”

November 18, 1978

Morning dawns anew upon a utopia time
A place filled with fluffy white cloud skies
No poverty or hunger or the slightest crime
Where no one ever hurts and no one ever cries

A special place where all can belong
Where God is followed and faith so strong

Built on the words of a charming teacher
Very few noticed beneath the sheen
Of the dashing, dark-haired preacher
Was the susurrus of something mean

A ‘Peoples Temple’ built for equality, tranquility
Headed by a monster of no comparability

But just as all seems right in the dawn
Utopia shatters and blood falls like rain
Sweet cyanide sips are over 900 gone
Bodies die writhing and screaming in pain

In the end the ugly truth is passed
among all the dead bodies amassed

Many simply drank if their faith was true
Or were met with murderous fusillade
But why did the babies have to die to
In the service of this monster’s façade?

Some survived to find their own truth
Forever scarred by the ashes of youth

All they wanted was an earthly paradise
With races coexisting side by side
Who could have ever known the price
Would be one of genocide

Nearly forgotten shadows of a madman’s fate
Jonestown, November 18, 1978

Jonestown massacre 1978
[Bodies at the Jonestown compound under a sign that reads:
‘Those who do not remember the past are condemned to repeat it’]

In case some forgot, never heard of, or were not old enough to know about, the Rev. Jim Jones and the horror of what happened in Jonestown, Guyana, November of 1978, don’t worry; man definitely finds a way of letting bad history repeat. David Koresh and the Branch Davidian massacre in Waco, Texas, was twenty years ago in 1993. If you don’t know/remember either event, tick…tick…tick….
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dVerse ~ Poets Pub | Meeting the Bar: The Unfathomable

I Imagine A Day

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18

.

You may say I’m a dreamer
But I’m not the only one
I hope someday you’ll join us
And the world will be as one
“Imagine” – John Lennon/Imagine

We walk down these busy roads
Each step met with some disdain
Yet we move along through the goad
For we’re still walking harsh terrain
We’ve made a choice in this workload
Not for the grind of the office screamer
We work with those whose hands lay
In not hiding what is during the day
Some may say I’m a schemer,
You may say I’m a dreamer

I was once completely battered
By words that should have been balm
Stung as my feelings hardly mattered
And all along I felt as tender
As a crystal ready to be shattered
Feels like I’m living a life undone
Pieces of my soul I imagine crying
With the all senseless lying
Built upon the company jargon
But I’m not the only one

Feeling the need to get it in gear,
Tired of being the ones just waiting
Let us get a few things clear
It’s time for action, no more debating,
Who else has had it up to here?
What’s with our happiness being zealous?
Why can’t we spread word of our joy?
Just another face as love’s envoy?
Yes, we’re causing more than a fuss,
I hope someday you’ll join us

Even knowing it’s a hard road to tread
I rather be weary with the fight for reason
For the company line leaves me emotionally dead
And I just can’t live with the social treason,
So, tell me, where do you wish this world to head?
Someday we’ll walk in peace under the sun
When the seeds of tolerance to bloom into reality
And there is a fighting chance for us you’ll see
For only then we’ll say our work is done
And the world will be as one

(For those still afraid to open the closet door, have faith, we’re working on it )

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dVerse ~ Poets Pub | Form for All: Paying Tribute, Page and the Glosa