Demure
I brood on comely thoughts,
With feelings of bungalow;
I sought the demure boy
Living with his house and stone -
A bucolic home, full of mystery.
This hounded this demesne,
Demure friendship with godly work.
I conflate the desultory times
With special times of the year.
I see a boy who had dalliances,
In the very use of the sun and stars.
My ebullience for his shame to prevail
Was astounding and supreme.
I brood on these attractive and comely
Thoughts,
Ones of the reality in this demure boy.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Cats Loved
My heart loves cats, their demure sense entices
The day with a dominion called country;
Desultory affairs sweetly decide me in the cat,
Comely thoughts from the cat entice me.
This cat, that cat and those worst objects
Become elixirs, of cleverness and clarity.
The signs of ebullience from the feline animals
Are so daily and suddenly rich, that they must be clever.
Life from these feline creatures is ephemeral.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Wise Potion
A demure man asks no thoughts from me,
An effervescent potion of knowledge includes me
As a starting package for more solutions to life.
Wisdom evokes sympathy and dread, too fine points.
My drums collect dew from the air
And I hear such beautiful maths;
A desultory tune starts to be sensed,
Fulfilling the felicity of life itself.
I am your actual epiphany,
I am a seeing man of intellect if subdued
And outwitted enough for the arts
Of collections and the models of property.
Demure men and women seek self-knowledge
When ripe fruit plucks and transgressions flee
From us and the battlefield, a most tragic site
For the wicked and brave - a bravery lies in store.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Flibbertigibbets
He stalks in verdant Green
Treads in sharp acrimony
Pretenses left seen
Obnoxious Jealousy.
She basks in demure shame
Turns to vermillion Red
Embarassment is her name
She comes in times we dread.
That inevitable White visitor
Unwelcomed but received
Mostly when in terror
His name is Fear perceived.
And obviously we know
When times are of unease
He always turns to Yellow
His name is Cowardice.
But always this is true
When Sadness comes around
He is the color Blue
For Joy cannot be found.
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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Back To Square One
back to square one
my dear
making life more
interesting for us
both now
we pretend
we first meet
and you are
so naive and
i am so brusque
and so
attractive and
you are so
demure and
so seductive
love is sweeter in town
the second time around.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Beleaguered Army
An assemblage of characters worked below,
Brooding on remorse and sin as a graveyard;
Beleaguered by death, it had dissembled the enemy,
A comely thought for the comely soldier.
The soldier’s demesne cast the whole world aside,
An elixir of youth was imbibed.
It was the denouement of youth and age,
It was dulcet, never abhorrent to see you drum your life.
Furtive glances kept them awake with hurry,
The glamour of a man was in full demonstration.
Now the war had its felicity, but ephemeral.
poem by Naveed Akram
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The Daisy Picker
Sometimes I have feelings;
Sometimes I have thoughts.
Sometimes I have
Thoughts about feelings;
Sometimes I even have
Feelings about thoughts.
When these things happen,
Sometimes I write a poem;
But then again,
Other times
I don’t.
poem by Robert Graber
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Facts Sown
My assemblage of facts sowed the seeds of this nation,
To feed the hundreds we come with fence and wire;
Demure thoughts are achieved once the flats of heaven dive,
And we admire the fire of conspiracy, an expiration of the soul.
Let retired generals be with gunfire, the opposing force,
This sense of oneness is a quagmire for any warrior
To be green in a land of trees, inspiring me tonight.
This day is a night of the slightest fellows.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Where sexy meets demure in a place called trim
In the seat opposite in the underground
in the off-peak afternoon,
neat shoes, nice legs, skirt just the exact right length
where demure meets sexy in a place called trim;
well-chosen outfit; wasn’t her face
vaguely familiar in some other context?
Had we met, in Tahiti, Cuba, Necker Island,
or on some other sandy shore?
Met, yet not spoken? She offered me no clue..
Ah yes – for several years,
come January grey but promise of a summer sun,
the TV infomercials fill our screens
with this year’s new holiday destinations
for the single girl who’s demure to sexy,
late thirties, but still trim.. writing her own script
but with all the real life edited out..
How often had we seen her on a sunny beach,
her swimsuit just where sexy meets demure in trim,
about to enter a blue blue sea
with no-one else about…
such the conventions of the travel film,
she too often in the shot…
or at the table, glowing in her evening outfit,
bronzed, relaxed; but still alone;
filling us in with details and the sights to see
over the lavish fruit cup on the table
before the smiling waiter brings the laden plate -
after the waterfall where we’d seen her laughing,
the market where she’d handled exotic fruit,
the boat ride, she in the stern, her hair blown back.. or
riding in safe open car through crowds of exotic natives?
did she choose her invisible cameraman on these trips?
Were they an item? Or did his compensation
begin with the local talent when he put his camera down?
Did she queue at airports, fluster over overcharging,
wait for days for thunderclouds to clear?
Arise dishevelled from an ill-advised fling with a local,
which remained unspoken as the background
to travel for the single girl?
Sitting there, ex-travel correspondent, professional,
dressed where sexy meets demure in trim,
the camera and the sound were off; she
did not meet my eyes; but if I’d had
a travel brochure with me, I could have played
a merry game with her across the way..
What a joyous disaster film her memories could have made,
what a chance the infomercials cannot take…
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Father To His Little Girl
When you grow my little girl
before you give your life a whirl
come to me if I'm still around
so I may help you
keep your feet on the ground.
For boys grow quickly into men
and thoughts of girls have no end.
They do not see you as I do,
still my little girl of two,
innocent and sweet and quite demure
with a heart that is always pure.
What they see
are outward signs.
That is all that's
on their minds.
And what's to become of you my sweet
if I am gone and you do meet
one who cannot bring you love?
Will I look down from up above
and cry?
I pray my girl that I shan't die
until you are wrapped
in the arms of love,
just as I'm doing now.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Truth is a demure lady, much too ladylike to knock you on your head and drag you to her cave. She is there, but people must want her, and seek her out.
quote by William F. Buckley, Jr.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Some Importance
Thoughts are of some importance
They may invade often or at once
May not have any weight or relevance
Still it has powerful impact with some substance
Where does they come from and compel?
Why we go impatient and not feel well?
The think tank roll on marsh land
To distinguish the foe from real friend
Not always thoughts may prevail
But may grant the opportunity to avail
Will battle for future course of action
Take care of all aspects including the reaction
It is how the wise people sit in isolation
Give serious thoughts to existing relations
How to strengthen it with concrete proposals
And stay in race with quick disposals
Individual must give in to serious thinking
It may help or prevent you from sinking
There is second thought for coming out of crisis
The thoughts are simply working on this basis
You may negative thoughts too
Not all the times they may prove true
Yet they are to be weight with pro and cons
As they may differ from place and zones
Not one strategy may work all the times
It may fail and land you in trouble sometimes
You have maneuvered it with thoughts this before
You will come out of it when silently explore
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Happier Days
I’m in love with memories
Of times that were better,
But remembering these times
Makes me wish I was dead.
I remember no actions,
Just thoughts and feelings,
And I think about these
To get out of my head.
And I’m not sure why
I get feelings of sorrow
From the happiest times
In my short, empty life.
But I still love those memories
Of times I was happy,
Times when I begged
For sorrow and strife.
poem by Solomon Markson
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My Love
SHE has tender eyes that tell
All her prim, set lips suppress—
Daring thoughts that ever dwell
Prisoned in her bashfulness;
Hints of sudden tenderness
That within her breast rebel.
Till her bosom's fall and swell
Tell her meaning all too well,
To her heart's demure distress.
She has soft, smooth cheeks that flame
As she nestles close, so close,
With the new half-joy, half-shame,
That within her bosom glows,
And each fevered feature shows.
Her hot pulses beat acclaim
Of the hopes she dare not tame,
Fervid thoughts she cannot name—
Till I kiss her, and she knows.
She has clinging arms of white,
Little hands and fingers fine,
And she holds me tight, so tight;
While her eager arms entwine
Deep I drink her kisses' wine.
Hush! I feel through all her slight,
Trembling figure love's delight,
And she knows that all is right,
And her bosom beats with mine.
poem by Arthur Henry Adams
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Remembering This Summer Of Mermaids
Walking along the beach
I'm lost in my thoughts
I'm lost in my memories
Just thinking about them all
I know summer's about over
But my thoughts continue to go over
what happened to me over this time
span
My thoughts also go back to special times
that I spent with many of them
Yes, to me
It was a summer of mermaids
The many times we shared
The friendship you all gave to me
It showed you all truly cared
I'll always remember those moments
in time
As we shared them on land and sea
The sun is starting to set
But you all, I'll never forget
Swimming somewhere or swimming
far away
I know you all will always remember
As I'll always remember you all
Remembering this summer of mermaids
I'll never forget it
As I know I was truly blessed
poem by Justin Gildow
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MARCIA Le MAGNIFIQUE
'Flies thru the air with the greatest of ease'
Like a Peregrine falcon…I’m quite sure
She's mastered the art of the flying trapeze
Though petite, pixie-like, and a bit demure
ROTMS
poem by Ray Lucero
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Negative To Positive
In everyone’s life, we go through times
when it seems full with turbulence
and the negative feelings take hold.
Sometimes they don’t last long,
while other times they stay for quite a while.
Then we will do something quite out of the ordinary
and those feeling
turn from negative to positive almost overnight.
The mountains we thought we could never climb
become climbable now
and those distant dreams we had
now become reality.
We feel there isn’t anything
that we cannot do,
until the next time the negative thoughts break through,
and once again,
we try to make the positives ones come back.
30 January 2009
poem by David Harris
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A little girl can be sweeter (and badder) oftener than anyone else in the world. She can jitter around, and stomp, and make funny noises that frazzle your nerves, yet just when you open your mouth she stands there demure with that special look in her eyes. A girl is Innocence playing in the mud, Beauty standing on its head, and Motherhood dragging a doll by the foot.
quote by Alan Marshall Beck
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Thunderstorms
My mind has thunderstorms,
That brood for heavy hours:
Until they rain me words,
My thoughts are drooping flowers
And sulking, silent birds.
Yet come, dark thunderstorms,
And brood your heavy hours;
For when you rain me words,
My thoughts are dancing flowers
And joyful singing birds.
poem by William Henry Davies
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Petals graced with dew
demure in simplicity,
sprightly fiery hues
catching one's sight perfectly,
Oh, the magical daisy!
tanka by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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