Her skin, a velvet sin, a scripture I recite with the tip of my tongue,
melts like dark chocolate, bitter and sweet on my hungry lips,
pouring confessions in breathless whispers, a dance of endless desire.
I pull her closer, white-knuckled on silk sheets,
intoxicated by the ecstasy between her thighs, a paradise lost and found,
a pleasure so intense it hurts, an echo of unshared desires.
Let me worship, adore this altar of the senses,
let me destroy and be destroyed, lose myself in your depths,
for in this ruin I find rebirth, in this chaos, the sought-after peace.
To tell is prose to read you see
to show recite one's poetry
*** Kept Eternally ***
The causes for our weeping
— From hunger to grieving —
Occur — in whimpers to wailing.
However, our tears, we believe,
Are in themselves liquid, and, thus, silently
Flowing their sad running from our eyes
Along the crescents over reddenened cheeks to be
Wiped away…Although they go, those tears, each
Like a hologram, showing the whole of life
That brought them into being here. Similarly,
Just as our omnipotent God alone knows
Of the each and every hair on our heads,
The tears of all our yesterdays, with tomorrow’s,
Recite their poetry to our loving Father and
Comforter, who collects them, keeping them close
Beside Him in “Book of Life,” wherein the life stories
Of His of believing children are told.
———————————————————————————————————————(c) sally young eslinger 2/3/23
Thanks be to God…
A sweet memory of our school days
We walked to school everyday
With a light school bag
Under a blue sky
With rain or sunshine abound
Only a few books in the school bag
But many flowers pluck
Or junk food bought along the way
We only had to finished our homework
Before we're free to play
We memorised lessons for our tests
Which were simple and straight forward questions
Never got tuition
We're left to learn and recite ourselves
Till we remembered
A simple style of school life
But with confidence,independence and wisdom
A nature lover
A love for freedom
A love for a simple life
I love; I really love your voice and your diction
Recite me a poem in an unknown language
I don't give a darn about the pronunciation
Undress the words; I love them when they're naked.
Take your time; be loud, louder, harder, and then softer
Do not stop when you arrive at the top of the valleys
Increase the volume, drive me crazy and make gestures
I love the tone but I don't understand the vocabular.
Recite the poem in a language that I do not know
Bring controversial words into my brain, in my core
Force me to inhale the rhythm to the point of dying
I'm inebriated. The sly lyrics are tattooed on my skin.
It's okay to charm me, and to caress me with the words
Again and again. Read proficiently like a veteran actress
I'm heading to bed right now, to lay on my back unstressed
So I can dream like a genius in agony on the old docks.
Copyright © November 2018, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.
This is a translation of the poem 'Récite-Moi Un Poème Dans Une Langue Inconnue' by Hebert Logerie.
Nothing can be insured totally
Neither life, accident, disaster,
sickness nor epidermic
Surely
You pay and lose to receive
It is only a sort of compensation
A sort of condolence gift
Sadly to say
No one can insure Omicron
As no one can insure fate
Anyway
Recite a prayer
Do distancing, wearing mask,
washing hands and vaccination
For a narrow escape
The Poet's Condition
by Michael R. Burch
(for my mother, Christine Ena Burch)
The poet's condition
(bother tradition)
is whining contrition.
Supposedly sage,
his editor knows
his brain's in his toes
though he would suppose
to soon be the rage.
His readers are sure
his work's premature
or merely manure,
insipidly trite.
His mother alone
will answer the phone
(perhaps with a moan)
to hear him recite.
Alternate Title: "Poetry Slam: The Hangup"
Keywords/Tags: poet, poets, poems, poetry, poetic expression, rhyme, editor, publisher, mother, readers, recite, recitation, reciting, performance, writing, reading, rap, slam, phone, telephone
I wrote a Rose
And I read it to your heart
I embrace your anger
I threw it into the dark
I spoke of love
As I held your hair
Kiss your soul
And I called you dear
I love you for your soul first
Must I be so Cavalier
Challenging my Pleasant Flower
beautiful your heart desire
Gracious letters align to words
Arranged versus composed poem
To recite to you the Rose
9/28/19
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. ©2019
We had no piece to write
but a story to recite,
Of bricks and straws,
moulded to walls,
With springs of sweat
that soiled the earth,
And splashes of blood,
And tears we build.
We had no song to sing
but a dirge to raise,
Of filth and dung
Without a praise,
Darted at us
With hateful force
And mockery words
That kills our minds.
We had no clothes to wear
But scars and despair
That made us scared
On our burdened bed.
No sorrow for our blistered palms,
Ti's for our warfare arms
To wave our lovely ones
And fight for our eerie bones.
©Mathew Daniel
To the flow of a drum
They throw words like spears
To honour their culture with a side of a dance
They evoke the ancestors with voices that echo through the jungle
Animals have no choice but to bow down to the conquers of the jungle
They recite poetry to rejoice before the gods
They become poems that speaks to the dead
Their aura bring forth forest birds to lead the to the narrow light in the darkness
They sleep to the sound of a lion's roar
Fearless of the beast near their hut
Write and recite me a poem,
A poem about the abduction of them
They abducted themselves,
Please recite me all tale of that.
Write and recite me a poem,
A poem about the death of my brother
He found that he dead at campus.
Please, write and recite me a grim reaper.
Write and recite me a poem,
A poem about the corruption of the nation
It's taking a lion's share to your offices.
Please, write and recite me all that indiscretions.
Write and recite me a poem,
A poem about the peculators
They embezzled a lot in this nation.
Please, write and recite me all that Cashgatalism.
#EDM.
Nobody will survive
in this world for ever
Oneday I have to go silently
Then you have to follow me only…
One day your black hair
will turn into grey
Black pupils of your eyes
will become turbid
Tight and smooth skin
will become loose and lax….
Nobody will survive in this world
Neither a king nor a beggar
Neither an American nor an African…..
But my memory will survive for ever
My poems will survive to entertain you…..
I know I will not be here
even after one hundred years
but someone will recite
a poem from my book……..
Reading poetry is a lot like running in a race.
From the start to the finish, one must set a pace.
Read it, as if you were reading, to a great big crowd.
Do not be timid, read the piece and read it very loud!
A poem is a piece of art to which one may return.
Admire the beauty of the difference…forever you will learn
that poetry, within itself, is beauty self-expressed.
Within its words, find the meaning. You will then be blessed.
Focus on the punctuation to place emphasis on each word.
The sentences will be right and then not sound absurd.
When you’re reading, gather thoughts and maybe, too, believe.
Most of all, between each line, it is important that you breathe.