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Dream on, O naked fish
Show me your carcass
And I'll show you my
Watch. Time is my ally
Here and you can't
Swallow him whole
 
cward2 said:
Dream on, O naked fish
Show me your carcass
And I'll show you my
Watch. Time is my ally
Here and you can't
Swallow him whole
Click to expand...

Oral and Rybka?
 
there it was
a stone thought
heavy in it's own mass
dropping through me like I was water
sinking
increasing the mass of the orginal
spilling the contents over the rim
it settled within
 
Above my sill
a leaf moves - no wind
then another soon
a pattering spatters them
all moving as if dancing
to a silent song
it's raining again
gurgling in gutters laughing
down spouts to the street
filling pot-holes and spilling
down streets splashing
cars that leave
rainbows in their wake
washing away collections
of fallen leaves in flotillas
I'm dry at my window
listening to the rain.
 
Last edited by a moderator:
Dreams ...

alone he sits
waiting.
wishing for a dream
to wish him away.
fairies of night,
sprinkling love dust
carrying him away
into dreams
within dreams.
his dreams,
dreaming
of timeless days
cascading waterfalls
with icicles dripping.
mountain air, catches
his breath.
just smile, look at me
smile. picture perfect day
receiving his present
in the past. his
most cherished one,
his, and his alone.
his dream ...
 
smithpeter said:
~no cheating allowed~
take all the time you want but start and finish your piece without leaving.
Don't edit either. Seeing your typos is like seeing your underwear when you did not want it to show. All the more delightful.
It must be erotic. Need not be disgusting, but what the hell, why not if that is your cup of tea or coffee.

rules: Don't pull it in from someplace else. Write now and spontaneously combust.

Don't be afraid to be a fool. I know about that stuff.
:devil:
Click to expand...

What happened to erotic?
Won't someone come,
won't someone come
to fuck me with words?

Let me read your filthy minds.
I'm blank myself,
but you could try a little harder,
so I can leave this place,
go masturbate
to come back
and type again
with pussy scented hands
left on my lovers keyboard.
He's away.
 
early morning muddle

Why do I come to you
looking for the words that escape
me elsewhere
if it is so, let me tell you
it's a waste of time because
in here they're just a jumble
masking emotions and covering rubbish
the detritus if my life
you answer my question
with another reply
with illusions of depth
breadth and food
for thought distracting me
from my original mission.
 
I said it could be
the South Bronx if only
the grill were
a 50-gallon drum
and you wearing fingerless
gloves. The flame is low
enough not to catch
the edge of moon which
unlike a hangnail
is painlessly cold
behind the pines which
unlike my gloveless hands
does not carry the weight
of the evening sky
with all its empty possibility
shaded to worry.

No words. Weeks fall
into winter, no words
nor gloves and snow
whispering yes.

It doesn't matter.

My lover's warm hands
turned my shoulders
east to Venus, pointed me
to the brightest pin
of night.
 
evening cuddle

do not attempt to analyse, compartmentalise, a cuddle
to make it something different than just a simple cuddle
whether its written in a letter as "Hugs and cuddles!"
or in RL, in physical form, as an evening full of cuddles
real Love can be expressed in any old form of cuddle
 
Last edited:
Man Ray said:
do not attempt to analyse, compartmentalise, a cuddle
to make it something different than just a simple cuddle
whether its written in a letter as "Hugs and cuddles!"
or in RL, in physical form, as an evening full of cuddles
real Love can be expressed in any old form of cuddle
Click to expand...

compartmentalised
oooooooofor private touches
simply analysed
ooooooooemotional crutches
couched in cuddles
oooooooohidden phrases
heart-felt muddles
oooooooodamned faint praises
 
wishing away
tha time tha comes
before, after
if only
if only

coming home
into his arms
showering together
snuggling close
toe tickles
bootie smacks.
gotcha again, we laugh
as we chase n run
together we fall

hot tub bubbles
steamy bodies unite
over
n over
jack n jill
was never
so funny

can you feel me
yes, I know
it's hard
so damn hard
come along now
no tears permitted
just share baby
share it all.

remember us
remember,
you have my heart
always have
always will
always ... remember~

:heart:
 
We are such stuff as dreams are made on

We were sitting on a couch,
burgundy velvet, locked in eyes,
our ankles crossed. We were nodding,
so engaged in lightly lifting china cups,
then setting them on knees, discreetly
pointing manicured pinkies. Oh
we were prim as Posts and yet

a Wilde ghost, absurdity, importuned
so I confessed, dear Tess,
that I had written you a poem
about a certain windy practice
best expressed outside the frame
of nicety within a miller's tale.

I can not for the life of me explain
why I might tootle such a rumbling
refrain for you. Even my most free
verse is typically rehearsed
beyond the shadow of such ribald
doubt, but dreams rehash our days
in unexpected ways, what can I say?

It just came out.

And you were gracious, cool
as cucumbers on toast, sweet
as petit fours when I admitted
I could say no more of this,
not here among the rustled silk
of such a proper afternoon.

~for Tess
 
WickedEve said:
it is my inclination,
perhaps duty,
as a poet,
to sow a good scrap of paper.

there's more than a handful--
unbearable seeds--
inside my head.
i could not unhear his words.

they did not bungee from utterance
to ear.
instead they dropped from his mouth
like a hanged man,
and i was air,

space,
there to accept whatever came into me.

for me,
it is dictionary
and history--

defined in one
and not separated from the other.

he spoke of contentment.

"there were black,
white rows
down by tracks,
thin lips
drinking from the same
thick, dark openings.

they were content
to come together
when days were lulled by separation."

and now,
for me,
segregation is a poem.
Click to expand...


top shelf.

:rose:
 
Tathagata said:
the air thin and sharp
paper cut breathing
careless moonlight appears to wait
in ragged patches
revealing the perfect stillness
of undefiled snow

looking out from
beside the fireplace
a log snaps
and the snow and I
share a moment
of synchronicity
Click to expand...

sometimes I wish the snow
would blanket me, bury me
in forgetfulness, cover me
with the purity I need
from that frozen quietude,
but I keep moving
even though I'm not sure
which way is forward
anymore. The trees
bend with sugary weight
and I bend not
with bitterness
but hope
and cheesecake.

:kiss:
 
glass snakes
hiss in empty winds
amongst shelves
of ceramic pigs and
old crockery
waiting for a new owner
to use and throw
them away

life
is so
much
more than
this
 
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