Poeticity - feel the noize...

Intense?  I hope so!

 

NEW!!!

 

let the wind flow through your hair
let the sun lighten the skies
feel the heat upon your skin
as tonight you feast your eyes
on new temptations and fresh sensations
more than words can say...
as from the power of the written word
and from those simple incantations
I hope to bring new things to be heard
to share our inspirations
new start, new days...  

 

 

 

STEPPING STONES...

 

You burst...
from the waters of life
into this world of strife
innocent and naked, unable to walk
you crawl before you fall
everything you try makes you cry
pain or pleasure, can't talk...

then understanding, you stand
at first with a guiding hand
tip-toeing, then showing, a glowing smile
formative and tentative, each hurdle a stile
crossed as each step, a stone is cast
across the river so vast
of life...

then comes the yearning for learning
with disappointment and enhancement
is it all really meant?
this time spent
under the battering of knowledge
from pre-school to college
examinations and frustrations
growth and private sensations
to grow, to know, yourself to flow
slipping then the slide
as mind and body opens wide
you fall, before the call
of subtle sea sounds
and see rebuttal rebounds
of intimate relations, teasing explorations
a tidal wave of hormonic symphonies
resounding in bombastic tympani
fumbling and tumbling to seek
the plug for the leak
of the dripping tap of time as it passes
short-sighted without glasses
blind to the world as it fatally unfurls
without you...

time then to step in positivity
from stone to stone
throw away the negativity
oceans to cross, never alone
ride the waves and implore
with love to explore
experience the challenge of seeing
then challenge the experience of being
so dip your toe in the water and exhale
the first breath of life cannot fail
cross that rippling stream
step by step to your dream.....

 

 

 

RIPPLING WATERS...


A flood flows from peaked extraction
tempered temperance in tortured refraction
as it glistens with fluid speculation
rippling with accrued sensual imagination
dipping and diving, slipping to survive
ripping then arriving, becoming alive
purple incandescance with deep blued hues
green with irrelevance of envy accused
foaming felicitudes of love and ire
screaming waves of intimate desire
just pounding the shore to be sure
surrounding the need for amour
a crashing crescendo, invigored ascent
to the peak from the trough, never relent
ride the waves with me, crave with me
intimate passion, just ours to fashion
to our needs, that bleed
to suck seed, to succeed, then read
in each ones eyes we survive
in each ones soul we've arrived
unabashed, we splash, our heated pool
unwrapped, still rapt, we play the fool
to fool around in the tides of the swim
with waters bursting as we confide our vim
entranced, enhanced by fluid expression
which leads us to, mutual love confession...

 

 

 

SPLASH...A MOMENT...



That stone you've thrown...drops
into the pool, simply plops
a subtle splash, momental crash
to rippling ascension
without intervention
from anything...
thus it sings...
so the ring that flow from epicentral power
expand and sing, then grow to a glower
to spark the interest from circular readings
as would the lark of mirkular bleedings
enhance the advance of mental fluidity
askance from a revised true intimidity
entwined, confined, in trust
of our continuity, and fluidity, of lust
so the ripples expand...
as we unite in hand...

 

 

 

WATERFALLS...?


Drowning out the sound
of lifes own expectancy
the crashing crescendo of teeming water
abashing innuendo of teasing unaltered
from tempting touches that tingle so much
to pre-empting such as mingling acrotch
tight browsing then carousing
under the streaming flow
fluid lucidity, gleaming head to toe
that sentient blush, that amourous flush
a sensual flush, an expectant crush
closer with devotion, a poser of emotion
drowned in the flourish of lustful tide
crowned to be nourished, mounted to ride
on the rhythmic shooting of the falls
heated sin within, from bountiful balls
love from the depths to creaming delight
my waterfall, resplendant, flowing upright.  

 

 

 

...THE SILENT STREAM...



And thus from flourishing water now stilled
peace entrusted as love is fulfilled
suspense envelopes each letter written
silence drowns each debt of the smitten
we pool to pull
the tide of derision to anull
our heart is full
the ride of indecision to cull
stormy waters now becalmed of powers
what we sought without qualm is ours...

 

THE THIRST...


I drink at your fountains of living love
proffering the fuel in liquid lucidity
resplendent in dual explicity
they feed...

my need for the quenching
opalescence a drenching
of vibrant resolution
from intimate seclusion
wrapped, enrapt in this capture
momentary, a life lived in rapture

oh bliss...
these kisses I expend
never wanting to end
milk as silk to dress the soul
ribbons streamed to unfold
untying the tide of deprivation
tongue proud for salivation
song sung, allowed from a kiss?
to breathe, infuse the infusion
see the moistness, to use a collusion
of enervation in sensation
of entwined escalation
then the food of life will flow
as waters energise to grow
new life.....

 

 

 

THE CRESCENDO...!

 

A thunderous ring resounds

across such vast a vision now found

once feared then speared through the heart

true power glowering filled to impart

loud and proud

 

 

 

(For a friend of a friend...)

 

 For An Angel With A Broken Wing...

Take courage and time
to learn, to yearn
to fly again...
that broken wing can mend
with the love that all will send
so you will soar above the clouds
an angel with more to espound
to all that you love and care
be lifted from this moment of despair
rise up without fear
fly again to appear
around us all
an angel in life and truth
hear them call
the angels that drive you are the proof
that recovery from pain
will see you rise again
to live in happiness and peace
an angel soaring for release
and you will find that way
surrounded by angels every day....

 

 

 

RAMBLINGS OF A ROSE

 

every rose has its thorn
love lingers once sworn
but every true rose is heaven scent
aroma arousing a roused once spent
sweet perfume now to intoxicate...
loves blood spent,to which we can all relate
it's not a sin, just breathe in.....
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
ASHEN PASSION
 
 
 
yet ashen fruits may aspire
to be released frae burning pyre
whilst still the juices of desire
are still spent tween light and fire
sparking passion in twinned compassion
harking fashion from sole soul ration
feasting on the food finger fed
ceasing what once was lingered and led
surviving then diving into the feast
rampantly reviving the lust lest deceased
so live and frolic in all that is proffered
for love is the peak of everything offered
dive in and swim through each tidal blast
arriving in sin, becomes love meant to last

 

 

 

Why Is Happiness Not Appreciated...
Til It's Gone... ?


What we had was fun
what we has was one to one
that simple intimation a mutual appreciation
seemingly ignored
no matter how much I implored
so we lost
at what cost?
We loved for a moment in time
we spent hours counting in rhyme
but no reason ever flowed
as our love tried ever to grow
your words were expressive
but never confessive
so I, knew it was time to go
even tho' I never could show
what you meant to me
as time flew past insanities
feathered then severed our time
we never spoke out truly
ever choked or cried purely
in a season of reason unhintered
summers quickly became winter
spring fell flat in the fall
our love flattened from rush to a crawl
then it stopped, flatlined
mutually declined
lost forever?
now trying not to be clever
missed opportunities become regrets
dissed impunities one on one now select
momentarily we argued so blind
eventually our love lost was defined
we once had it so well
now our heartbreak still swells
as we relate our hate
we divine out fate
then realise to despise
that what we've both missed
is that moment when we first kissed.....

 

 

 

A POETIC PALETTE...

 

Words are but colours described with strokes

brushed aside, painted to evoke

emotioned expression or fluid confession

caressed on the canvas of life...

deep ochres from the darkest moments of thought

silken patinas flourished and sought

rhythmic exultations in heartfelt release

mixtures of pure liquidity to taunt and tease

rampant vermillion oiled to perfection

knife-drawn blood to stiff peaks of erection...

hues effused with subtle variation

art shared with soulful creation

you are my muse to praise and capture

passion effused, a moment of rapture

glazed in glossy adornment to view

painting a picture of loving you...

 

 

 

BRUSHSTROKES...

I brush, stroke to evoke
every pliant brushstroke
on your canvas so naked before me...
soft caresses with gilt effervescence
hairs tingle, oils mingle
with heated linseed resplendence
multiple lashes to colour clashes single
vibrant echoes, repeated treats
alliant deco, completed suites
calm enbellishment to frenzied filling
enbalmed in oils with envied spilling
prominent peaks of tactile expression
dominance is seeked through every session
as you pose in repose
my rhyme becomes prose
of single satisfying strokes...

 

 

 

THE CRADLE OF LIFE...

 

Slumbered, swinging, wrapped in linen, all encompassing eyes

Cuddled, embraced, cherubic faced, a giggle then a sigh...

Sweetly innocent, completely heaven sent

As a babe in arms, protected from harm

With love...

 

Mother and father gaze intensely down

Warm tears of joy at baby girl or boy

Subtle lingering reflection, as momentary recollection

Induces memories of the moment of unity and joy

In love...

 

Shared teachings with simplistic seeking

Of learning and yearning shared

When the love of two, adds one anew

There is nothing in this world compared

As love...

 

Through the tears of pain to tears of laughter

Shared, compared and confessed

As the cradle rocks with loving hands

A family as purity idyll  true expressed

Of love...

 

 

 

For my Knights Lady...

 

how I'd truly love
to unlock your treasure box
to bury my face
'tween your luscious locks
with rampant sword
available to strike
this Knight so proud
to bring you delight
from sweet jelly-baby
to sweeter desires
let me burn for you
afor your funeral pyre
and in that moment
of conjoined passion
I'll bring you to life
in exhuberant fashion
so that you'll never
have a wish to die
the Lord will have risen
and death thus be denied
for giving a most simple
pleasurable caress
over body and soul
this Knight will you bless...

 

 

Oh dear...it's cricket time!

 

 ALL WHITES NOW!

In my dreams...
all cricket is played in creams
no emblazoned added ad
or name and number so sad
just 'whites'...

On my screen...
test matches reign supreme
a battle of wits and skill
not a formulated drill
five-day delights...

On boundary I'm sat...
watching intrigue 'tween ball and bat
how I desperately yearn
for pace and turn
not flat-track bullying and all that...

On my mind...
supreme contests of skill and thought
unrefined
every game within a game
no two, ever the same
mind games and beauty combined...

On the field...
chances taken then some spilled
with boundaries and dot-balls
loud silence then some roars
intensities follow being bestilled...

then it rains, on come the covers
no duckworth-lewis to smother
still time for a result here...
for the brave to advance
with skills true and askance
final over, final ball, we cheer...

a draw...(wow! - what a game!)

 

 

 

 CAPTAIN COOK

Captain Cook sailed away
with his motley crue
past the horn and Zimbabwe
to the Indian Ocean view
and alighted
somewhat undelighted
for one-dayers and tests
against Bangladesh...
twenty-twenty, not be his forte to bat
he sat aside for Colly to sort out that
then he let loose in the ODI's
playing a game still fresh in his eyes
gotta couple of scores at about run a ball
had a couple of newbies on which to call
as well a colly, his master at arms
ensuring Cookie, never came to no harm
and soon the attention will turn to the
tests
and Cookie will return to what he does best
aiming for a plodding fifty or more
playing the part of the scoring bore
perhaps trying to bat through the innings
never a thought of a KP dimissal type
sinning
and all around will be words of advice
which he'll accept, cos he's so nice
and once England sneak, a hard-fought series
win
he'll sneak away under a mascara'd grin
safe in the knowledge that the boss, climbing
out of his sack
Admiral Strauss, now rested, will be back
to England victoriously led
in the difficult summer ahead
against Bangla again...time for more
ZZZZZZZZZ's

 

 

 

...for a T20 saddo...

Oh dear albie, timespan of a gnat
only excited by a sixty metre slog with a
bat
no time for nuances or skill refined
only interested for a minute in time
and thus it follows that remembering the
scores
of one days, T20's, all insignificant game
bores
when lucky dips and a baseball slog
are only remembered by long lost blogs
of IPL money and this years clothing
leaves true cricket fans in laughter and
loathing
of the corruption of the true game
now bereft of its once special name
now it's sold to the highest bidder
when the only thing left to consider
is which group, of dancing girls-a-bouncing
is better than, this incessant boundary
trouncing
only to realise that off-field delights
are more interesting than T20 slog-fights
and once the Warnes and Afridis have left
then the 'entertainment' will pall, as skills
become bereft
to become a yankee form of sporting porn
with no expression beyond a bucket of
popcorn
so with this rhyme I do urge ya
feast on fillet steak not a death-bed
burger...

 

 

 

 

expecTENcy... for kim 


your soul is swollen
your lustre is golden
full bloom as spring arrives
bulbous sprouting held by the kick inside
of life...

awaiting the moment of pure joy
natures effigy in reality buoyed
extant curves resplendent with new being
shape conversed with words and seeing...
oh to be there to care! to share the strife!

my hand is in yours
my heart is with you
my love is for you three
a lifebirth poem awaits the moment
just for thee...

for when the waters break
life flows to the sacred lake
of new music and poetry...
and tho' the miles are many in truth
I'll be with you the pain to soothe
in mind, if not in body...


and then the fruitbowl will hath ripened
and the succulence can be savoured
for one such wondrous to become
the mother of one so favoured...

bless...xxx

 

 

 

A WEE DRAM...

 

the elixir of life, poured gently and slow

to give ones lifeblood, a heart-warming glow

wi' water or straight, alone or shared

there is nothing so vibrant as whisky compared...

a smokey resonance in fluid transaction

the heated fire with radiant satisfaction

frae malt ta grain to proffered refill refrain

in its fumescent tumescence, insanity keeps one sane...

the rough with the smooth for drunken forsooth

the guilded gold, tippled from casks of distant truth

romanced in the memories of aged single malt

to blended splendour twisted by fault...

that tingle that mingles deep down and further

relates to the palate of flavoursome fervour

and be it northern isle or mainland in making

or sweet smoothness of added 'e' Irish undertaking

to grasp the rasp of such sweet an infusion

just raise a wee dram together in collusion!

 

 

 

 NECTAR...

you warm my throat in liquid silence
you burn my soul with illicit fire
you rampage pure through my existence
you reach my heart with fragrant desire...

you fill my glass with years of love
you empty my bottle so fast
you send me to places of mind unknown
I taste you 'til the very last...

 

 

 'The Flamimg Green Fairy'

With a while to wile
in the wastes of Bohemia
I'm absent on Absinthe
with it's concordant euphoria...
a need for anise
a sugared cube looms
inspired then fired
atop a slotted spoon...
burning then yearning
for dousing within
then drizzled with water
to absolve from sin...
would you wrest or squirm?
or simply douse your mind
from la grande woodworm
in dreams obscurely refined...
from tragedy to majesty
with a simple shot-glass
imbibed almost biblically
with imaginations unsurpassed...