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Old 03-04-2010, 10:04 PM   #101
lisa123414
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Old 03-04-2010, 11:27 PM   #102
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Quote:
Originally Posted by lisa123414 View Post
Take my mask
I will give it to you, if you ask nicely
Although, perhaps
There is another
Underneath
No matter my mask
My goal is to unmask you
So if I am unmasked
am I emasculated?
Perhaps we can switch masks
in mid stroke,
caught in the passion
of the moment
so as not to see clearly.
Not sure that you would,
could, should
see anything anyway.
Other than a hollow space.
No my head is not filled with straw.
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Writing poetry is kind of like being a husband. You have to learn when to shut up and call it done.
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Old 03-05-2010, 11:13 AM   #103
Handley_Page
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Are we all prisoners
behind the masks of our eyes ?
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Handley Page

"Incident at Cemetery Junction"
"Pest Control"
"Mavis's Car Trip"
"Norman-the-dragon "
"Stacy & the Angel "
" Earth Tremor on Stage ? "
" Charlie's Story "
http://www.literotica.com/stories/me...php?uid=883259
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Old 03-06-2010, 12:41 PM   #104
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Quote:
Originally Posted by Handley_Page View Post
Are we all prisoners
behind the masks of our eyes ?
Prisoner and jailkeeper both. I like to think that I take off the mask when writing, but then I never look at myself anyway. Amazing how one can shave, brush teeth, wash the face and never look in the mirror. I blurted that once. This is not a blurt, so I am going to shut up in this thread until I am blurting.
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Writing poetry is kind of like being a husband. You have to learn when to shut up and call it done.

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Old 03-07-2010, 04:15 PM   #105
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So I was thinking,
(strange concept for me
I’m sure you are thinking),
about movies and books and such.
And living out those fantasies,
vicarious life.
Remembering a phrase,
cliché maybe.
“Suspension of Disbelief.”
And how one should ignore
the obvious impossibilities
within the context
to appreciate the whole.
It’s only words
It’s all about the words
so let us twist some satire
and consider instead
“Suspension of Reality.”
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Writing poetry is kind of like being a husband. You have to learn when to shut up and call it done.
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Old 03-07-2010, 07:49 PM   #106
Handley_Page
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We all wear a mask.
One to protect from the world
and to hide our fears

(Little attempt at Haiku.)
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Handley Page

"Incident at Cemetery Junction"
"Pest Control"
"Mavis's Car Trip"
"Norman-the-dragon "
"Stacy & the Angel "
" Earth Tremor on Stage ? "
" Charlie's Story "
http://www.literotica.com/stories/me...php?uid=883259
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Old 03-13-2010, 06:56 PM   #107
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Old 03-13-2010, 07:43 PM   #108
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I don't wear a mask.
That's why everybody asking me
"Are you seriously?"
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Old 03-26-2010, 10:21 PM   #109
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She giggled a little,
talking about her new grandchild.
Until I broke her focus
and she said,
“Yes right there!”
Having done this with her for a year
or twenty,
that came as no surprise.
Then she giggled again,
(not quite so sweetly)
and I found the pillow
which I crushed into my groan.
But what’s a little foreplay
among friends.
No longer any others in this house
but us.
And I love it
when she walks naked
to the kitchen late at night
for a last drink of water
dragging my desire behind
her.
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Old 03-26-2010, 10:27 PM   #110
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Quote:
Originally Posted by The_Fool View Post
She giggled a little,
talking about her new grandchild.
Until I broke her focus
and she said,
“Yes right there!”
Having done this with her for a year
or twenty,
that came as no surprise.
Then she giggled again,
(not quite so sweetly)
and I found the pillow
which I crushed into my groan.
But what’s a little foreplay
among friends.
No longer any others in this house
but us.
And I love it
when she walks naked
to the kitchen late at night
for a last drink of water
dragging my desire behind
her.
Men who write poetry make me melt...
Fool, you are an artist!
And she is a lucky woman.
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-Rupert Smith, whose alter-ego is James Lear, is a novelist based in Britain.


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Old 03-26-2010, 10:34 PM   #111
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Quote:
Originally Posted by secretme View Post
Men who write poetry make me melt...
Fool, you are an artist!
And she is a lucky woman.
Thank you....
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Writing poetry is kind of like being a husband. You have to learn when to shut up and call it done.
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Old 03-26-2010, 10:50 PM   #112
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Quote:
Originally Posted by The_Fool View Post
Thank you....
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...as far as I can see, the only difference between a dirty book with literary bits and a literary book with dirty bits is the order of the words.
-Rupert Smith, whose alter-ego is James Lear, is a novelist based in Britain.


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Old 03-27-2010, 12:30 AM   #113
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Oooh! Pretty! Like this thread. Not up to poetry tonight but you guys are rocking it!
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Noble Author's Blog Tour April 5th to April 28th. Great Prizes. Visit my blog for more info.
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Old 04-12-2010, 01:21 PM   #114
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Quote:
Originally Posted by Gi_Venus View Post
talking to my ex this morning I asked her why she did not cry even though she felt like crying. Her reply was, "I am afraid if I start I will never stop" She always was smarter than I.

so I try
not to cry

I

linger
stay a little longer
so what if there are tears
so what if there are fears
tears find a familiar path
along my face
and smiles hide in shadows
but we can find the sun
chase away the darkness
if we try
never mind
I can see your thoughts
are elsewhere
you are right
it is time to go
we can say
see you next time
knowing
there is none
so see you when I see you

II

an illusion once
and again
she follows certain paths
in my dreams
and I follow
wishing she would turn back
too late for that
telling her that I love her
not sure she hears
not sure she cares
not sure I want her to hear
or care

III

passing time
time is passing
word plays
play on words
are I not so clever
sarcasm implied
south side of fifty
but not for long
I remember
the south side of forty
thirty
twenty not so much
thank goodness
I try not to cry
but the outside is inside
and tears run down the soul

IV

yesterday
just another Beatles song
or not
you will not hear me singing
sighing
crying
listen to my smile
watch the words carefully
I might not say what I mean
or mean what I say
or say what I say
with my eyes
and even kisses lie
sometimes
although I try not to make it so
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Old 04-25-2010, 09:04 PM   #115
lisa123414
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Old 04-26-2010, 11:58 PM   #116
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Nevermind, needs more work...
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Writing poetry is kind of like being a husband. You have to learn when to shut up and call it done.

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Old 04-27-2010, 11:52 PM   #117
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Is it the left side
or the right?
Does the front side
differ from the back?
So when she says
there is a soft side
to her,
and not to tell,
it makes me want to reach out,
touch her,
all of her,
and find what side is softest.
It may take awhile,
but I’m in no hurry.
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Old 04-27-2010, 11:53 PM   #118
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Flash bright whites,
smile for the customer.
Or is that a grimace.
Not to worry,
it’s all about the technicalities.
Ponder her anal nature
while you sift through the details.
The Devil is in the details.
The anal is in the lubrication.
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Old 04-27-2010, 11:56 PM   #119
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I’m not necessarily proud of it.
I have thoughts, sometimes,
of destroying clothes
and ravishing lips,
biting them even.
Wait.
I think I’ll save the bites
for perky pink nipples
peaking out of that utilitarian bra
I so recently attempted to destroy.
I have no interest in rape,
if she wants nothing to do with me,
I’ll leave.
Just don’t expect me back.
But no more talk of that,
I just look for a tiny bit of fear,
a molten flow of expectation,
then I’ll drop my pants
and take her there
in the hallway.
Wrapping her leg around my waist
as I force it in
until she’s wet enough take me.
Stark lights
illuminating the corridor.
Flickering out a final fluorescent death.
Love keeps its head down
as some darker passion holds its sway.
And sway we do
for that brief moment.
Until with a grunt
a hiss
I find release
and so does she as I lower her down
and walk away.
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Old 04-28-2010, 09:57 AM   #120
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Missed the words of The Fool
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Old 05-02-2010, 03:47 PM   #121
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I went to reply
to her reply.
A missive passed between lovers.
Casual lovers,
just a little more than friends
with benefits.
Except we haven’t really
found what the benefits are yet.
Sometimes I hope, though.
But I went to reply,
typing out my heart
making sure I edited in my desire,
checking the spelling
on my most decadent thoughts.
Then I hit delete,
to exorcise my remorse
and lost the message.
It was as if it never happened.
I never replied.
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Old 05-03-2010, 01:53 AM   #122
lisa123414
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reply deleted
*mischievous grin*
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Old 05-03-2010, 07:04 PM   #123
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Response for April Fools Poetry Challenge




Old Fool

Strange how the mirror ripples
ripples when I touch it.
Strange how my face triples
in the pain.
Wait. That should be pane.
Weary in the night.
Teary in the night.
No tears were shed
in making my mind up.
Turning my bed down.
Turning my life upside down.
Reaching to the right
for that pillow
that hit the floor.
Too late, to catch it
Too late, to catch her.
Sound of silence
rather than breathing
except my own
and someone crying.

What passes for dreams,
dreams of schemes
and sorrows,
borrowing sorrow and sight
from her eyes,
wondering what she sees.


Doesn’t matter the day.
Two converse in silence,
if at all.
Either finishing each other’s sentences
or not hearing a word
spoken. Heated frame of reference
limited to a hot kitchen stove,
Sunday dinner with smiles,
especially during holidays.
But after that excuse,
all is quiet.
Arid emotion and sensible shoes.

I dreamed of sex last night
in summer fields and pools
of water and blue eyes.
“Trust me,” they said,
“and love me always.”
So what if blue turns green or gray?


Foolish pride and forgetting to ask
for directions.
Losing the way or lost along the way.
Needing to stop and forgetting
where I put the brake.
I have forgotten where I put a lot of things.
Others I know where they are,
but a day becomes a week
becomes a year.
And still I forget to take them out.
But I haven’t forgotten how to say,
“I love you.”
Sometimes I think I have forgotten
when to say it.
Other times, I wonder if anyone cares
if I say it.
I must,
just be a fool,
because I still remember why I say it.
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Old 05-05-2010, 11:09 AM   #124
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Quote:
Originally Posted by The_Fool View Post
breathe in

not thinking
of how I want
I want to throw her
against the wall
and taste her lips
feel the air inside her
brush past my face
from the impact
following up with my body
before her heart beats
against me one more time
lifting her up
forcing her legs
around my waist
hoping someone is watching
something sinful
wanton wicked ways
to find myself inside her
not lasting very long
not this time

breathe out

smile at the pretty lady

So I am playing around with audio. I recorded this one and posted as Poetry with Audio. If you are interesting in listening, you can find the posting here.
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Old 05-10-2010, 12:02 PM   #125
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Housecleaning post.


Quote:
Originally Posted by The_Fool View Post

I think there is a pill for that cerebral feeling.


so wicked is as wicked does
or doesn't
yes you may find me
just another daydream dilettante
dabbling in the moments
of his dementia
rustic hue upon the words
that canter across the page
canted to one side
or the other
sequenced by synchronicity
into something that almost
but not quite
makes sense
Quote:
Originally Posted by The_Fool View Post

closer
till lips touch
and tongues tantalize
the smiles shared and laughter
as he finds that spot
that tickles
laughter melts into moans
as he tastes her nudity
and groans
as he nibbles her desire
bringing them closer together
melding their bodies
bound together by sheets
devastating what once
was a pristine bed
Quote:
Originally Posted by The_Fool View Post

I'm not sure she understands the contrast

sheets bound loosely
around her nude form
offering topography
that any adventurer
would desire
to explore
in fullest measure
a world apart
separated by emotion
and desire
Quote:
Originally Posted by The_Fool View Post

so it's all about tomorrow
and tomorrow
and the sorrow that it brings
when the warmth is fading
from the bed we've shared
compared to the dissonance
we face day to day
and day by day
the warmth is our respite
and our bed becomes an island
separate from the main
land that is out there
beyond our door
arid and dry
from sighs and sorrows
Quote:
Originally Posted by The_Fool View Post

So is it all one kiss
if it lasts forever
or at least all night
breathing with sighs
and moans
but never breaking contact
either with lips
or sweat slicked bodies
or wanton desire
Quote:
Originally Posted by The_Fool View Post

slouched upon a couch
as she sits oblivious
or not
drawing her hair out
one strand at a time
peering at him
with seeming casual interest
he wonders at her secrets
legs crossed primly
He wonders at her desires
contoured curves on display
she wonders
how to break the ice
and smiles
Quote:
Originally Posted by The_Fool View Post

Sometimes I wondered
where she put her desire.
Here,
there,
perched upon her shoulder,
a flamboyant bird
feathers on display.
Until I kissed her
and found her desire
was married to where my kisses
last departed.
Quote:
Originally Posted by The_Fool View Post

so she mounted him
with her desire
bridle between his teeth
was her underwear
as she wore him
with a leering look
he had eyes only
for her breast on display
which she used
to hide the spurs
of his guilt
streaking his flanks
red
with nails dragging
to make him buck harder
ridding him hard
putting him away still wet
Quote:
Originally Posted by The_Fool View Post

Sequenced step,
casual sway of her hips
and I am leering my desire.
Not caring if we are on exhibit,
thinking only of how she feels.
Not just the curves
that yield to caresses,
but also the desire
that ebbs and flows
with kisses in sequence
with sighs.
Pulling her hair
exposes her throat
and I want just one taste,
one kiss upon her pulse.
Heartbeat speeding
beyond light
dark in the night
pressing us back into darkness.
Although the shadows
give illusions sway
to our bodies in motion.
Quote:
Originally Posted by The_Fool View Post

I just mimic Ange for the irritation value...




So was it yesterday
I could hardly wait
for that once a week call?
Feeding coins into a machine
as I listened to your tinny voice
so many thousands of miles away.
Hearing the sound of children,
my children,
as we spoke quickly,
of what was,
what is,
and what we want to be.
Compressing images
into minutes,
sorrow into seconds
and love into words
spoke frantically.
Handset hard
and cold in my hand,
against my cheek,
offered metaphor for the trials
of long ago.
Opening the door to the phone booth,
entering a world so far away from mine.
Quote:
Originally Posted by The_Fool View Post

Memory is everything.
I sit silent with my thoughts
and drift in time.
No regrets.
Okay maybe an occasional sigh,
or wistful thought.
But she deserves that,
we deserve that.
Although there never was a we
to speak of.
Not that I didn't try,
but not hard enough
and not so long
before I moved on.
I lied.
There was a we,
but that was decades ago.
Decades ago
that I whispered into long blonde hair.
Quote:
Originally Posted by The_Fool View Post

Does she want to speak of innocence,
or innocents?
Warp my mind around the thought,
filled with the detritus
of carnal imagery.
Seeing her again,
hand-cupped breast,
thoughtful look
as she considered me
contemplating her
reflection.
Full-length mirror,
muted light and sound
and sighs.
But the sighs came later
with the kisses.
Dark eyes consider me
as if newly awakened by a thought.
Slightly puzzled
by my lips pursed
waiting to kiss.
wanting her.
And that did come later.
Quote:
Originally Posted by The_Fool View Post

lips slide sideways
against her lips
taste sweet
thinking, soft, soft, so soft
energizing touch
wanting more
savouring her scent
her warmth
that comes from being close
head on my shoulder
deep breath, sigh
both of use
twining fingers
no sorrow
no tomorrow
startled exclamation
questioning look
she sighs as I carry her to bed
Quote:
Originally Posted by The_Fool View Post

mesmeric
tv drones in the background
eyes unfocused
(I'd say my brain was disengaged
if I had one)
marveling at the sensual moment
tactile conversation
of my hand touching hers
touching mine
softness of the hair against
my cheek
knowing her smile
without seeing it
as she leans comfortable against me
tasting her tears, her fears
with every kiss
just timeless in the time
no tomorrow
Quote:
Originally Posted by The_Fool View Post

I was just thinking.
I know you hate it when I do.
Thinking about the phrase,
"ravishingly beautiful."
Repeated so often
that it has lost meaning.
So instead,
I think I will just call you beautiful,
while doing my best
to ravish you.
Quote:
Originally Posted by The_Fool View Post

So can one smile
and kiss
at the same time?
Smiling with eyes is simple.
Smiling with lips pressed tight,
more difficult.
Laughter comes easy
when kissing
someone familiar.
Must be careful not to laugh
when kissing a stranger.
But the best kisses
come with moans.
That means she likes
how I am touching her.
Quote:
Originally Posted by The_Fool View Post

fit, form, function
packaged precisely to scale
tolerance taken into account
lubrication provided as needed
sequence programmed to repeat
some assembly required
two person lift desired
fabricated for fit
self-test enabled
just press go
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