A blog to showcase the intricacies of poetry. To explore a little of the human condition and to highlight the poetry of Samantha Beardon.
Why do I cling on to things that have gone
If I sang it again, would the refrain be strong
Would my idealised memories really come true?
Or would it be just the same, a future taboo
I need to live in today find a new path
Yesterday has gone, it’s ashes in the hearth
Remember the good and learn from the rest
The past is gone it should never be the best.
He wants me to join him, in his fantasy land
Put my trust in him and take his hand
I wonder Is his fantasy false or true
Would to enter it, be something to rue
Is it a world of pain, or a world of pleasure
Something to avoid, or maybe treasure
Could he please my very core
Leaving me wanting ever more
Am I brave enough to take the plunge
These initial steps can still be expunged
Maybe enter and watch the play
But stand steadfast if my beliefs are betrayed
He wants me to join him in a cyber world
Give my trust sails unfurled.
I felt the lure , A feeling obscure
It was this feeling, I knew who you were
On the day that we met, I felt the lure
I moved towards you, A feeling so pure
Feeling connected, Emotions affected
I felt the lure, heart unprotected
Such a feeling, lust or amour?
Golf a new sport to try
Learn some new skills to satisfy
Learn to hit a ball with a club
How difficult can it be, unless I hit the scrub
Stand relaxed and swing from the hips
Practice the move, heck have to be a contortionist
Ready to try, they said go to tee
Not the drink I expected, but a plastic dinkie
Now I am worried, is golf really kinky
Is this T motorised and kind of pinky?
I take up my stance and swing at the ball
Manage to hit it no trouble at all
Just heard a comment that’s got up my nose
I know I am no vision in these odd clothes
But to mention my flanks is beyond the pale
They tried to change it to shanks, hah a likely tale
Some talk of an iron
Is it forefits to frighten?
If they bring out their smalls
They can keep their balls
Ah, now somebody just got a birdy
Thats really too much
Killing helpless creatures, that’s so out of touch
I think all this perversion
Is too much for me, is there another version
Maybe I just need a strong cup of tea.
Reblogged.
Restless
Romantic
Rapture
Sensual
Seductive
Smooth
Tantalising
Textured
Touch
Unbridled Passion
Unexpressed aching
Unquenchable thirst
Desires of the flesh
Deliciously naughty
Desperate need
Meet
Meld
Make love.
Release
Rapture
Roused.
I was introduced to this recently and what a joy. Whether he is calling a spade a shovel, hes being ironic or he’s using the unvarnished truth, it made me goggle a little and laugh out loud. Although if I was his love I would probably have smacked him!
My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips’ red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damasked, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress when she walks treads on the ground.
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum
Walk the plank, give it some
Hang on wait, its not that kind of plank
But if you mutiny, it’s you in the tank
You have different ways to warm your tums
Down on the floor, a line of ummm bums
Dressed in your best
Foreswear the rest
Push up straight
Don’t vegetate
Suck in your abs and remember to breath
Straight as an arrow, no, no you can’t leave
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum
At the end of this, you deserve a crumb
The sponsors will track
Your time on the rack
Straight as an arrow
Just don’t crack.
I quite like feet,
I think they are kind of neat,
If you believe in birth signs,
There might be a link,
Pisces like feet I think,
They should be our heroes,
In praise they get zeros,
They carry our weight,
Though they are a part, we might hate,
As erogenous zones go,
For many, they are a no go,
Sucking toes seems to induce shudders,
Not of desire, but outrage in others,
Poor little feet,
Can be quite sweet,
OK they can pong,
That is very wrong,
But still I have to repeat,
I quite like feet.
The bubble has been burst
Will that be the worst
Life gets in the way
Almost every day
Changes put a strain
On relationships normal chain
He/she can make you sad
Also make you mad
Love is but a guide
You cannot run and hide
What is this nebulous thing
The emotion that pulls our string
Attraction, sex and lust
May well just go bust
The underlying theme
That makes our eternal dream
Is a perfect symbosis
With absolutely no neurosis
Its a rare and perfect beast
Easy to become deceased.
I want to reach and touch your hand
In my mind, I almost can, in this world, fantasyland
You fill my soul with song and light
Add a dimension that meshes just right
We share some parts, of our lives
Though a full account will never arrive
I read your words and scour the lines
For meanings that are left behind
But you are oh so far away
Just a dream at the end of the day
This sharing brings some emotional pain
But equally an amount of gain
I accept the limitations of this world
It adds dimension sails unfurled
I close my eyes and all I see
Is a fantasy fading away from me.
Converging Lives. Sounds, Silence and Imagery