A Pocketful of Poesy was and is again a Poem-a-Day(-on-Average) Blog! For 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, and now for 2017 and going forward, you may expect to see 365 poems every year, 366 for leap years.

but aren't they all random?

Tuesday, July 23, 2024

I Feel Like I Do Right Now

"I feel like I do right now," 

You said. To the question:
could you ever want me?
More than him, instead?

Like some hymn revealed,
how you could never harm
in golden ruled miles trod
by skin and charm, streaming
balls in play, jounced round
by our wiles?

What a joint and a mutual affair
stood forth! Frothing rampant
as all, on all sides concoursed! 
In the white, angel spew of
our oars, so to speak,

how we rowed our backs
so lost in the peek. 

In the glimpse by 
two eyes, and the mind's
behind. In the afterglows
too soon to come, such
tomes by such pout
of yours! And smiles 
of ours. All mine 
for forever and days 
by says combined

...and imbibed! 

Such gasping grunts!
Such grasping hands 
seized here and now,
on hunts! Such immaculate
size, where Gojira holds
forth: Japan sighs, so wise.

It was all groan too long
in the smooth, curly shorts.

In our minds it was all.

Balled-up like twine, like 
bread with the wine we'd
swilled so fine, wished,
swished round
in our round
mouths

to pass: each
to each, twinned lips
through teeth 'til at least,
at last, we soured, and 
exploded release! 

One
of us,
anyhow:
let you 
please,
please, oh-or you

always do? Always did?
And did I? Was it fine, by
each? Someone came now
high in gushers down south
by and by, no tricks: and so
through downy Southland pass,
some fix.

Let us raise our vessels
and click: to peace!

In a secret, safe place.

Some sculpture of ease:
thine, tucked in all-hallowed
garden nestled and slick as time.

Where myth stands erased 
to replace for good: truth 
with beauty unscored. 

So pure! So wait-what, whoops! 

HEY! WRONG WAY you

ass

Oh shit. Whoooops, I
done fucked up at last
there, for goodness 
or sake.

It was sure 
a bad slip
for me 
ever to take. 

Forgive. Blame
culture? OK.

Pity, shame. 

On us? No, me,
mine all of this fault:

blown dust, if you
once could forgive
bad aim. But

(and it's a fine, fair 
and rounded but, you
've) If/Than Only  

to touch! Your nose 
or ear by some special 
signed tell for the good
to appear! But
If 
And...
You Know? 

I would never want
to.

It's unnatural
to me to so 

conquer

just

you

No comments: