Citatepedia^®.com

My Name in Sleep (Birthday poem for Helen)

I wash her hair
for her.

She loves the ritual
of suds & lather.

The hide & seek
of boo & peep!

I shape different shapes
build up swans & castles upon her head

show her my creations
laugh at her laughter.

Heap hats
upon her

crown her
call her

[...] Read more

poem by Dónall Dempsey
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Erotic Lullaby For Bedding, After Roethke

Belly belly the hard boiled egg.
I map out of a dream.
Love a long necked boy.

Dance lips! Leaves of legion.
Jelly, yard dog! Leap to June.

Suckle me, honey,
long necked, boney onion.
Why cry when peeled?

Count the rings of a tree,
the circles of a breath.
The nose is a love.
Press me, press me.
Iron me soft.

A breath leans,
nape of jeans falling.

[...] Read more

poem by Warren Falcon
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Aardwolf in The Void

blackberry trimmings and catkins shuffled to the roadside
to join maple and alder branches snapped by a hard rain
it is hollow
full with many
yet hollow
it confuses time with calendars
it sings of green pines
it is hollow
full with many
and yet hollow
another year
and another
it is a writhing chrysalis
as the nautilus makes its spiraling rounds
periwinkles sing the softer shades of blue
dance with the glories of a hypnoplasmic morning
greet the sun in a seriocomic western sky
waiting
another year
and another

[...] Read more

poem by that's how I intended to ... delilah contrapunctal
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Looking Forward to Death

Give me your cloak!
Give it to me!
Give me your poison anniversary.
Now load me up with all you know and love,
Give me the tears below
And the abyss above.

Come shake my hand,
You can lather mine
With the eerie stench of another time.
Take my torment
And cut it down to size,
Now push these pieces
Into someone else's eyes.

Release me
But don't wave goodbye,
You will see me again
In the velvet sky.
Reverse my name and swallow it whole,

[...] Read more

poem by Neil Solan
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Rondeau at the Train Stop

It bothers me: the genital smell of the bay
drifting toward me on the T stop, the train
circling the city like a dingy, year-round
Christmas display. The Puritans were right! Sin
is everywhere in Massachusetts, hell-bound

in the population. it bothers me
because it's summer now and sticky - no rain
to cool things down; heat like a wound
that will not close. Too hot, these shameful
percolations of the body that bloom
between strangers on a train. It bothers me

now that I'm alone and singles foam
around the city, bothered by the lather, the rings
of sweat. Know this bay's a watery animal, hind-end
perpetually raised: a wanting posture, pain
so apparent, wanting so much that it bothers me.

poem by Erin Belieu
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Treading Lightly

I lather up all my memories
and shave my face at its edges
utilizing blade and steel
to cut tiny hair stalks
away
underneath to
reveal
a new me
with perhaps also
tiny blood stains
etched into that new face
and braced
in the mirror-glow
I look at the new me

there
making my daily vow

to make the newly-shaven me
shine this day

[...] Read more

poem by Lonnie Hicks
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Four Letter 'Work' Song

Work me up, work me out, work me flip side down.
Work me here, work me there, work me with renown.
Work me hot, work me greedy,
work me through and through.
Work me to the very marrow,
work me just like I'd work you.
Work me proud, work me late,
work me do not hesitate.
Won't you let me work for you?
Work me til I'm black and blue.
Work me steady, work me needy, work me to a lather.
Work me til my backbone breaks, and the buzzards gather.
Work me in, work me under, work me til I bleed,
Work me over red hot coals, work me like a boss in need.
Work me nasty, work me silly, work me through the clover.
Up down, 'n' in between, into a slipknot sweet Jehovah.
Work me, work me, go ahead.
Work me, work me, til I'm dead.

Buddy Bee Anthony

poem by Buddy Bee Anthony
Added by Poetry Lover
1 comment - Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Gauzy Friends and Youth

Add to me slithered hope
lather on time telescoped:
I aspire to grow
larger than I am.

Piece together small achievements;
test my dreams against cubicle worlds
and gauzy friends
shadow boxing.

I cannot yet define who I am
so I invent pieces of me
to fill in the gaps reality leaves
in between
traces of my apartment life.

How can I mature
in these panoplies
where I never see
experience full-scoped?

[...] Read more

poem by Lonnie Hicks
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Its The 60's Baby

Let's go chase some rabbits
in our shiny boots of leather,
get whiplash from the merman
While catching Lucy in the Ether (in bad weather)

Its the 60's Baby
thats where I want to live

Emily won't let us play
in our interstellar overdrive
But if we pick up Lather and Prudence
We can see the white room with black curtains

It's always been a strange trip
When we are Californian Dreaming
Just tell the smoking caterpillar
Were chasing castles made of sand

[...] Read more

poem by Kevin Patrick
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Holding on

I do not want to die on a Monday with rain raging down on my pain
my mind drifting back through a lather of dreams and fear grabbing hold of my name.

I do not want to die on a Tuesday it's the least of my favourite days
like the start of New Year there's little to cheer unless I change my ways.

I do not want to die on a Wednesday in sight of the weekend fair
too much to remember and much more to do - would be easier to finish off there.

I do not want to die on a Thursday for it's my favourite day of the week
the cheque in the door the wine on the floor - do not want to go anymore.

I do not want to die on a Friday because my father did
fallen, alone, by a railway line just as I started to live.

I do not want to die on a Saturday with people rushing around
voices that laugh in the sun in the park and footballers pounding the ground.

I think I'll go on a Sunday when my summers have no more to give and children play by the Great Lucan weir unaware that I ever had lived.

poem by Alan Halford
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!