Poet's Corner

[Lilah]

Dressing Room Ballet

Watching her is refreshing, sexy.
It's a dance without music.
A bedroom ballet with easy
movement - so easy.

She's lithe with small pert breasts
and long, long slender legs.
Slowly she slides the dress
over her thighs -very slowly.

She steps into her black high heels.
Her long luxurious hair drapes down
around her beautiful face.
Her lips are full and pouty.

She lifts her turquoise eyes
and spies me in the mirror.
She smiles shyly as she whispers,
"Your wife is in dressing room three."

Lilah

 

[Lilah]

Amoureuse

Haloes glowed around streetlights
on that misty, magical evening.
My heart opened like a morning rose
intoxicating me with life's
most delicious pleasures
when you slipped your hand in mine.

Walking along the sparkling Seine
with you by my side
was like composing a symphony
using the feelings of love
instead of notes.

Your whispers were electric, provocative
causing my passion to rise
as never before.
It was like walking in a dream,
floating so close to the stars,
I felt I could reach up and touch one.

C'est merveilleux d'etre completement en amor

Lilah

 

[lg325]

Night rain.
Pounds roof, deafens.
Noise, ease to a softness.
Steady drumming calms stressed mind.
Sleep comes.

 

[Lilah]

Reaching For Their Hands

Underneath the midnight sun
it feels like I died
but there was no funeral,
no grave to visit.
My old life is as far away
as the stars.

Everything is absurd, distorted.
I'm traveling in the
wrong direction with
unwanted thoughts as my
companion.
It hurts here where I am.

My tears fall like vinyl rain.
I spend sleepless nights
with muted refrains.
There was a time when
life cradled me in a
butterfly's satin wings.

Now I'm crouched in darkness
reaching for the hands of my parents
no longer here.

Lilah

 

[Lilah]

Sadness

You spun for me a safe protected chrysalis
from where I could emerge as someone
different, someone extraordinary, to set
sail under an endless sun.

You left unexpectedly leaving me to
fall into sadness.
I move through it the way a person
moves through a sprained joint or
pulled muscle.

I try to put the sadness aside, shelve
it like a book no longer useful, but I
know its there.
Your loss feels like a slow pulling of
threads, like a tear in a fabric, a loosening,
widening along the sharp edges of my mind.

Lilah

 

[Lilah]

A Wildly Delicious Recipe

His was an unusual, insatiable recipe.
All other desserts fell short
to his sinfully rich and velvety
smooth charisma.

One glance from his eyes, the color of
Venezuelan chocolate and I was pulled
into a delicious confection that
would become my obsession.

He touched me with an absolute
absorption like an explorer who had
discovered a rare and fragile artifact.
I surrendered my heart and soul to him.

He was a one-of-a-kind sweet
experience, but alas, he had
a taster's club and my flavor
was not exclusive.

Lilah

 

[lg325]

Midnight
No moon, stillness
Smells of honeysuckle
Dark water ripples ,gator moving
Hunt starts

 

[Lilah]

Women of the Night

He stood transfixed;
fascinated by the vision.
Two extremes of women.
One shaded with more subtle
tones of softness, kindness,
compassion, and humility.
The other more aggressive,
artful, manipulative,
powerful, and sexy.
Kissing her husband
she asked, 'Which one
shall I be tonight?'

Lilah

 

[Lilah]

Mr. Perfect

So young and naive was I
to believe you were my prince.
My parents cradled me in quiet aplomb.
You broke their China pattern
like spun glass
with your volatile charisma.

Some say you were my Svengali.
I say you were my true love.
Your cunning smile cast a spell
as it enveloped my resolve.
You waltzed with me in
a realm of sensuality
touching me in that special place
where I reside, my heart.

You were Mr. Perfect in my eyes.
You were the quintessential pinot grape.
But, alas too many beauties
were sipping from my glass.

Lilah

 

[Lilah]

The Sweetness of Revenge

Your love song was a rousing rendition
permeating my heart as I listened.
Your soulful voice drew me in
rendering me helpless in your whirlwind.
Your strong arms held me in heat.
I was naive; easy to defeat.

You said my skin was the silkiest
you had ever felt.
Were you placing another notch in your belt?
You caressed my face as you stared into my eyes,
when suddenly you realized,
I'm the girl you will never win.
I'm the wife of your best friend.

You see, revenge can be sweet
when you rival girls whom you think are weak.
You broke my sister's heart into
and now it's time you paid your dues.
Watch my sexiness as I walk away
knowing you can never brag about today.

 

[Lilah]

Stay

Feelings unraveling
like the pearls on
my wedding gown.
Tears falling like the
sugarplums on our
seven tier cake.
Suffocated by fear;
paralyzed that you
will not stay here.
We never recognize
the moment love begins
but we know the exact
moment when it ends.
If only I could change
the polarity of the earth
so that compasses
would not work.
If I could roll in the fog
or orchestrate the storms
to rumble,
maybe you would stay
and not fly away.

Lilah

 

[lg325]

Party!
Mom can I go?
Pick out the right outfit!
She left the party with some guy!
Missing!

 

[Lilah]

Lost In Wonderland

Longing for the sensual
touch of his skin,
I close my eyes to
drift in ecstasy.

His hands gently
unzip my soul
as pleasure cascades
down my equilibrium.

Shivering like a leaf
atop a balmy breeze,
I await our tantalizing
encounter.

His love song ricochets
off the walls of my heart.
I find refuge in his
soft whispers.

I'm lost in Wonderland.


Lilah

 

[Lilah]

My Souffle Fell

He invited me to experience
the ritual of his dance
underneath an umbrella of
chicanery.

Accompanied by
invisible flutes,
yellow daffodils were
falling like wedding sparks
as this engaging man tried
to steal my patina of refinement.

One kiss from his melon
sweet lips and my pristine
eloquence fell like an
eggless souffle.

No longer am I a tray
of decadent chocolate mousse,
I'm just another
gilded lily.

Lilah

 

[lg325]

Do not go gentle into that good night. Died this day 4/25/1953
Dylan Thomas - 1914-1953



Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
From The Poems of Dylan Thomas, published by New Directions. Copyright © 1952, 1953 Dylan Thomas. Copyright © 1937, 1945, 1955, 1962, 1966, 1967 the Trustees for the Copyrights of Dylan Thomas. Copyright © 1938, 1939, 1943, 1946, 1971 New Directions Publishing Corp. Used with permission.

 

[lg325]

Just found this . A video of Dylan Thomas and others reading his poem .Do not go gentle into that good night

 

[Lilah]

Springtime In My Soul

Today I saw tulips unfurling,
grinning into bloom, reaching
skyward with cupped hands
unable to stay in their pants.

Peonies, stuffed with little balls
of pink fluff, were bursting out
of their tight green jackets,
pulling up like fat Easter chicks.

Birds were rehearsing in the trees,
orchestrating music to mimic
the sound of the soothing breeze.

Bees were stripping one blossom
at a time, rolling in the powder
like addicts.

The air was pregnant with life,
filling me with joy.
Breathing in the splendor,
the atmosphere seemed to vibrate.

Springtime is nourishing me
with intoxicating wisps of stardust,
ruffling my spirit, allowing me to
luxuriate in moments of
resolute optimism.

Lilah

 

[lg325]

River
Silent witness
Dark waters hold secrets
Suwanee's ancient history
Concealed

 

[Mindful]

 

[lg325]

Freedom's Plow​

Langston Hughes 1902 (Joplin) – 1967 (New York City)​

• Friendship
• Life
• Love
• Nature
• Religion
• War

When a man starts out with nothing,
When a man starts out with his hands
Empty, but clean,
When a man starts to build a world,
He starts first with himself
And the faith that is in his heart-
The strength there,
The will there to build.

First in the heart is the dream-
Then the mind starts seeking a way.
His eyes look out on the world,
On the great wooded world,
On the rich soil of the world,
On the rivers of the world.

The eyes see there materials for building,
See the difficulties, too, and the obstacles.
The mind seeks a way to overcome these obstacles.
The hand seeks tools to cut the wood,
To till the soil, and harness the power of the waters.
Then the hand seeks other hands to help,
A community of hands to help-
Thus the dream becomes not one man’s dream alone,
But a community dream.
Not my dream alone, but our dream.
Not my world alone,
But your world and my world,
Belonging to all the hands who build.

A long time ago, but not too long ago,
Ships came from across the sea
Bringing the Pilgrims and prayer-makers,
Adventurers and booty seekers,
Free men and indentured servants,
Slave men and slave masters, all new-
To a new world, America!

With billowing sails the galleons came
Bringing men and dreams, women and dreams.
In little bands together,
Heart reaching out to heart,
Hand reaching out to hand,
They began to build our land.
Some were free hands
Seeking a greater freedom,
Some were indentured hands
Hoping to find their freedom,
Some were slave hands
Guarding in their hearts the seed of freedom,
But the word was there always:
Freedom.

Down into the earth went the plow
In the free hands and the slave hands,
In indentured hands and adventurous hands,
Turning the rich soil went the plow in many hands
That planted and harvested the food that fed
And the cotton that clothed America.
Clang against the trees went the ax into many hands
That hewed and shaped the rooftops of America.
Splash into the rivers and the seas went the boat-hulls
That moved and transported America.
Crack went the whips that drove the horses
Across the plains of America.
Free hands and slave hands,
Indentured hands, adventurous hands,
White hands and black hands
Held the plow handles,
Ax handles, hammer handles,
Launched the boats and whipped the horses
That fed and housed and moved America.
Thus together through labor,
All these hands made America.

Labor! Out of labor came villages
And the towns that grew cities.
Labor! Out of labor came the rowboats
And the sailboats and the steamboats,
Came the wagons, and the coaches,
Covered wagons, stage coaches,
Out of labor came the factories,
Came the foundries, came the railroads.
Came the marts and markets, shops and stores,
Came the mighty products moulded, manufactured,
Sold in shops, piled in warehouses,
Shipped the wide world over:
Out of labor-white hands and black hands-
Came the dream, the strength, the will,
And the way to build America.
Now it is Me here, and You there.
Now it’s Manhattan, Chicago,
Seattle, New Orleans,
Boston and El Paso-
Now it’s the U.S.A.

A long time ago, but not too long ago, a man said:
ALL MEN ARE CREATED EQUAL-
ENDOWED BY THEIR CREATOR
WITH CERTAIN UNALIENABLE RIGHTS-
AMONG THESE LIFE, LIBERTY
AND THE PURSUIT OF HAPPINESS.
His name was Jefferson. There were slaves then,
But in their hearts the slaves believed him, too,
And silently took for granted
That what he said was also meant for them.
It was a long time ago,
But not so long ago at that, Lincoln said:
NO MAN IS GOOD ENOUGH
TO GOVERN ANOTHER MAN
WITHOUT THAT OTHER’S CONSENT.
There were slaves then, too,
But in their hearts the slaves knew
What he said must be meant for every human being-
Else it had no meaning for anyone.
Then a man said:
BETTER TO DIE FREE
THAN TO LIVE SLAVES
He was a colored man who had been a slave
But had run away to freedom.
And the slaves knew
What Frederick Douglass said was true.

With John Brown at Harper’s Ferry, Negroes died.
John Brown was hung.
Before the Civil War, days were dark,
And nobody knew for sure
When freedom would triumph
'Or if it would,' thought some.
But others new it had to triumph.
In those dark days of slavery,
Guarding in their hearts the seed of freedom,
The slaves made up a song:
Keep Your Hand On The Plow! Hold On!
That song meant just what it said: Hold On!
Freedom will come!
Keep Your Hand On The Plow! Hold On!
Out of war it came, bloody and terrible!
But it came!
Some there were, as always,
Who doubted that the war would end right,
That the slaves would be free,
Or that the union would stand,
But now we know how it all came out.
Out of the darkest days for people and a nation,
We know now how it came out.
There was light when the battle clouds rolled away.
There was a great wooded land,
And men united as a nation.

America is a dream.
The poet says it was promises.
The people say it is promises-that will come true.
The people do not always say things out loud,
Nor write them down on paper.
The people often hold
Great thoughts in their deepest hearts
And sometimes only blunderingly express them,
Haltingly and stumblingly say them,
And faultily put them into practice.
The people do not always understand each other.
But there is, somewhere there,
Always the trying to understand,
And the trying to say,
'You are a man. Together we are building our land.'

America!
Land created in common,
Dream nourished in common,
Keep your hand on the plow! Hold on!
If the house is not yet finished,
Don’t be discouraged, builder!
If the fight is not yet won,
Don’t be weary, soldier!
The plan and the pattern is here,
Woven from the beginning
Into the warp and woof of America:
ALL MEN ARE CREATED EQUAL.
NO MAN IS GOOD ENOUGH
TO GOVERN ANOTHER MAN
WITHOUT HIS CONSENT.
BETTER DIE FREE,
THAN TO LIVE SLAVES.
Who said those things? Americans!
Who owns those words? America!
Who is America? You, me!
We are America!
To the enemy who would conquer us from without,
We say, NO!
To the enemy who would divide
And conquer us from within,
We say, NO!
FREEDOM!
BROTHERHOOD!
DEMOCRACY!
To all the enemies of these great words:
We say, NO!

A long time ago,
An enslaved people heading toward freedom
Made up a song:
Keep Your Hand On The Plow! Hold On!
The plow plowed a new furrow
Across the field of history.
Into that furrow the freedom seed was dropped.
From that seed a tree grew, is growing, will ever grow.
That tree is for everybody,
For all America, for all the world.
May its branches spread and shelter grow
Until all races and all peoples know its shade.
KEEP YOUR HAND ON THE PLOW! HOLD ON!
Rate this poem:(0.00 / 0 votes)

Font size:
COLLECTION EDIT
Submitted by ChloeHills on April 20, 2020
5:58 min read 319 Views

Langston Hughes
James Mercer Langston Hughes was an American poet, social activist, novelist, playwright, and columnist. He was one of the earliest innovators of the then-n