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Tender Only To One

Tender only to one
Tender and true
The petals swing
To my fingering
Is it you, or you, or you?

Tender only to one
I do not know his name
And the friends who fall
To the petals’ call
May think my love to blame.

Tender only to one
This petal holds a clue
The face it shows
But too well knows
Who I am tender to.

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poem by Stevie Smith
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Making a Memory

Languishing prostrate
Sultry sun melding our senses
We lay, and we talked
My daughter and I
Under a summer's evening sky.

Whispering secrets
Exchanging ludicrous viewpoints
On freedom to love.
My daughter and I
Under a waning twight sky.

Skipping out seawards
Through late lazy wavelets, swimming
midst wet girlish glee.
My daughter and I
Under that memorable sky.

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poem by Fay Slimm
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Having Been Happy.

Having been happy in touching metallic skies
Or fingering the moon for its dusty overlay
Having been happy in moving orbs and the shores
Or spreading the sunshine to the burrowed moles.

Watching a lonely planet amid reluctant universe
Communications with eyelids in retinues of mankind
Having been happy in sweeping the volcanic dust
From a cold planet cast under the Brahma’s curse.

Having been happy in holding that repose
Which contained hidden geometry of the universe
Having been happy in consoling the suppressed cries
Of the shoring waves under the moonlit skies.

poem by Durlabh Singh
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Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

Grey is the color of cloudy skies
and they can turn black, angry,
white the color round my eyes
and red after a sangri,
but though some rinse like heaven to blue
and purple on occasions,
I'm earthbound, brown, rich soil, a hue
most lustful in persuasions.

Yet grey, red, black, brown, purple, blue
all crown a head with features
like cheeks that blanche when love's not true
or blush at lustful creatures
who like a snake with tasty fruit
ensnare the dormouse lingering
within it's cosy cave tree root
aroused by brilliant fingering!

8.18.08

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poem by Linda Hepner
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To Fancy

Most delicate Ariel! submissive thing,
Won by the mind's high magic to its hest—
Invisible embassy, or secret guest,—
Weighing the light air on a lighter wing;—
Whether into the midnight moon, to bring
Illuminate visions to the eye of rest,—
Or rich romances from the florid West,—
Or to the sea, for mystic whispering,—
Still by thy charm'd allegiance to the will,
The fruitful wishes prosper in the brain,
As by the fingering of fairy skill,—
Moonlight, and waters, and soft music's strain,
Odors, and blooms, and my Miranda's smile,
Making this dull world an enchanted isle.

poem by Thomas Hood
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Mummifiers Two

A winds veil is tangled
into the tops of those trees,
and the ashen clouds roll in then.

The alfalfa receives white powderstep makeup,
while gymnasts hang there tights on swolen branchs.
and Crooners hide in bunches behind the maidens lilly white reps
their Trumpets burried nose over tail wailing frenetic-like bop.

The mummifires and the widow;
touching the soil were the jackle once hid,
fingering the sea where the ship once lay
tongue and cheek sailors whisper in purity, rings of blood diamond
off love lost horizons and bitter clandestined nights.
The plague of being this.
Lost at dark in the growling infinity.

poem by Jerome Moore
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Mistrust of Sex.

Ginny had a mistrust of sex,
It led into dark corners
she didn’t want to recall,
didn’t want to explore,
didn’t want to know.

Mother’d just died,
Father was too cut up
to notice the fingering and pokering
in shadowy places
out of sight of others.

Her husband tried,
years later,
in a gentle manner,
to open her up
to the joys of sex,
but she closed him up
and shut him down,
after kissing moved on

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poem by Terry Collett
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In Tuolumne Meadows

I Love to sit in the sun
And watch the foaming Lyell
Leap over its granite bed.
I love these days that run
On a burnished golden dial
With the blue sky overhead.

I love to waken at night
And whisper the stars above me,
And feel the fingering breeze.
So still is the world, so right,
Where even the black pines love me,
And the white moon guards my ease.

I love the upward ways
To the sun-tipped crest of the mountains
High over the billowy world;
Where the wind sings hymns of praise,
And the snows break into fountains,
And life is a flag unfurled.

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poem by Harriet Monroe
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A Seduction of Ada

It was his hand
as we sat side by side;
he waved it
as a flag
waves in a breeze.

The fingers arched
and flowed
up
down
and up again;

pausing at one time
then moving again.

I looked into his eyes
and his eyes slanted
to his hand
saying look again.

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poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Smell

Come, snuggle, smell
The nooks, crannies
Corners – the pits
In my arms.

You’ll sniff the whiff
Of the Fragrant
Shower gel that I use
And the Talcum that
Keeps the ‘feel’ of my
Skin, soft and smooth.

But, my darling,
If you be late
In coming to me
Let me not hesitate
In telling you of that
‘bonus’ that you might
Get - of smelling me
In my erotic sweat.

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poem by Aparna Chatterjee
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