sapphicus68
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Nov 15, 2011
- Posts
- 585
hello MIC
chip you are the only judge present. let go
chip you are the only judge present. let go
writing live
- Thread starter smithpeter
- Start date
butters
High on a Hill
- Joined
- Jul 2, 2009
- Posts
- 81,517
*smiles*
butters
High on a Hill
- Joined
- Jul 2, 2009
- Posts
- 81,517
she said she was from aus
that great dry bitch of a continent
she loved with all her heart
roots deeper than a jarrah
humour mocking as a kookaburra's call
unable to cry
when firestorms have passed
and all lies blackened
but into dark silences
will silently weep
will silently weep
that great dry bitch of a continent
she loved with all her heart
roots deeper than a jarrah
humour mocking as a kookaburra's call
unable to cry
when firestorms have passed
and all lies blackened
but into dark silences
will silently weep
will silently weep
Black13
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Jan 26, 2011
- Posts
- 836
The arrows to a target hit or miss.
The archer, still a child, and still unsure
Will fumble all day long to see a kiss
Of young love, where intentions are still pure.
But stung by lust of which there is no cure
The smitten one will chase with primal drive
To keep the childish sting in him alive.
So many paths will cross and quickly fade
Through doors we cannot upen up so fast.
So many perfect couplings are not made
I gathered up the arrows of my past
To finally see the one which I shot last
You're were the closest miss I ever had.
I'm still not sure if that is good or bad.
The archer, still a child, and still unsure
Will fumble all day long to see a kiss
Of young love, where intentions are still pure.
But stung by lust of which there is no cure
The smitten one will chase with primal drive
To keep the childish sting in him alive.
So many paths will cross and quickly fade
Through doors we cannot upen up so fast.
So many perfect couplings are not made
I gathered up the arrows of my past
To finally see the one which I shot last
You're were the closest miss I ever had.
I'm still not sure if that is good or bad.
Black13
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Jan 26, 2011
- Posts
- 836
Eat, Horses!
Eat from the truck, from the tube
Pour it down and chug
While your friends cheer you on!
Take your fluid validation
To justify your directions
Until you are too old to remember where you're going!
Pull Horses!
Pull the cart on to a better land
Free from everyone who calls you out
On your bullshit!
Take your leather sofas,
purple swede throw pillows,
Your blatant pleas for mercy
Texting across the hall!
That message just ran three thousand marathons
And all you had to do
Was just speak louder.
Run Horses!
Kick onot your haunches at the next
Sight of opposition
And whinny like you didn't see it coming!
Youre getting put down, Seabiscuit.
The Scottsdale Fashion center has
Finally collapsed into a singularity,
And rests om the tip of the one bullet
In this gun.
Run Horses!
Pull up to the front display!
Read the next sale sign!
Join the peak of humanity in its last hurrah,
And be a Stallion for a little while longer!
Eat from the truck, from the tube
Pour it down and chug
While your friends cheer you on!
Take your fluid validation
To justify your directions
Until you are too old to remember where you're going!
Pull Horses!
Pull the cart on to a better land
Free from everyone who calls you out
On your bullshit!
Take your leather sofas,
purple swede throw pillows,
Your blatant pleas for mercy
Texting across the hall!
That message just ran three thousand marathons
And all you had to do
Was just speak louder.
Run Horses!
Kick onot your haunches at the next
Sight of opposition
And whinny like you didn't see it coming!
Youre getting put down, Seabiscuit.
The Scottsdale Fashion center has
Finally collapsed into a singularity,
And rests om the tip of the one bullet
In this gun.
Run Horses!
Pull up to the front display!
Read the next sale sign!
Join the peak of humanity in its last hurrah,
And be a Stallion for a little while longer!
Minalick
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Oct 13, 2011
- Posts
- 4,987
The wind blows through the leaves
Sighing it's song, moving as it pleases.
The sun shines, lighting the way
Playing with shadows and warming the day.
The flowers dancing wildly to the breezy song
Their heady scents filling the air, bringing in the throng.
The trees standing impassive, only a gentle sway given them away
Their memories etching their rings, their years ticking by.
Among these wonders my worries are trivial and inconsequential
Would anyone hear me, if I was in a forest and I fell?
Sighing it's song, moving as it pleases.
The sun shines, lighting the way
Playing with shadows and warming the day.
The flowers dancing wildly to the breezy song
Their heady scents filling the air, bringing in the throng.
The trees standing impassive, only a gentle sway given them away
Their memories etching their rings, their years ticking by.
Among these wonders my worries are trivial and inconsequential
Would anyone hear me, if I was in a forest and I fell?
butters
High on a Hill
- Joined
- Jul 2, 2009
- Posts
- 81,517
leaf-eaters grace the temple stones
sun-warmed and gentle-fingered
grooming in quiet reverence
this open-aired honoring
on rounded, softened stones
dappled with lichen
soft with moss
where prayer has no words but half-closed eyes and bowed heads spell peace
version2
leaf-eaters grace the temple
sun-warmed and gentle-fingered
grooming in quiet reverence
this open-aired honoring
on rounded, care-worn stones
dappled with lichen
cushioned with moss
where prayer has no words but half-closed eyes and bowed heads
spell peace
sun-warmed and gentle-fingered
grooming in quiet reverence
this open-aired honoring
on rounded, softened stones
dappled with lichen
soft with moss
where prayer has no words but half-closed eyes and bowed heads spell peace
version2
leaf-eaters grace the temple
sun-warmed and gentle-fingered
grooming in quiet reverence
this open-aired honoring
on rounded, care-worn stones
dappled with lichen
cushioned with moss
where prayer has no words but half-closed eyes and bowed heads
spell peace
Last edited:
butters
High on a Hill
- Joined
- Jul 2, 2009
- Posts
- 81,517
in my garden
when the sun's gone down
and the shadows pool
cool
ripe
the air waits
waits for the climbing of the moon
waits for her bone-white face to slip the purpled haze
waits for the last bird plumed in night to spill its liquid prayer
then smiles a smile of red brush and white whiskers
of neat and tapping claws and catch-light eyes
when the sun's gone down
and the shadows pool
cool
ripe
the air waits
waits for the climbing of the moon
waits for her bone-white face to slip the purpled haze
waits for the last bird plumed in night to spill its liquid prayer
then smiles a smile of red brush and white whiskers
of neat and tapping claws and catch-light eyes
butters
High on a Hill
- Joined
- Jul 2, 2009
- Posts
- 81,517
his lips caress the shaping of the word
cerveza
where liquid light all gold and beaded with chill enough to make a nipple rise
spills over tongues and seeks the deep pink path
involuntary swallow
an erection of pale, fine hairs
i stroke the cold and slender neck
taste the errant dribble
cerveza
where liquid light all gold and beaded with chill enough to make a nipple rise
spills over tongues and seeks the deep pink path
involuntary swallow
an erection of pale, fine hairs
i stroke the cold and slender neck
taste the errant dribble
sapphicus68
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Nov 15, 2011
- Posts
- 585
his kisses, spring rain
wet me, touch me heart and soul
i am lost in love
wet me, touch me heart and soul
i am lost in love
darkerdreamer
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Mar 4, 2007
- Posts
- 680
Mars in Repose
When the stars bend for your smile
a new constellation is no consolation
for the mystery you can weave into gas
a quadrillion miles from us.
I've still got a lot to learn.
I'm a child and my own pallbearer
since you've become the new
and the death of me.
When the stars bend for your smile
a new constellation is no consolation
for the mystery you can weave into gas
a quadrillion miles from us.
I've still got a lot to learn.
I'm a child and my own pallbearer
since you've become the new
and the death of me.
Tzara
Continental
- Joined
- Aug 2, 2005
- Posts
- 7,609
Hey, 2D. Good to see you again.
I like this but get a bit lost in the final S.
The language is lovely, though.
darkerdreamer
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Mar 4, 2007
- Posts
- 680
Thanks Tzar, it was two separate thoughts I tried to shoehorn together with an ill-conceived bridge. I still want them to be related, the gaseous light burning out in space and the death/rebirth that comes with being with someone for years and redefining your experience. I've gained no traction in this effort.
Tzara
Continental
- Joined
- Aug 2, 2005
- Posts
- 7,609
Well, I have a lot of expertise about "being with someone for years and [that] redefining your experience."
May not be helpful to you. Probably won't be. But I like to brag about it.
It is a very real thing, though. I'm really happy with it, but I know it's rare.
darkerdreamer
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Mar 4, 2007
- Posts
- 680
.....
Last edited:
darkerdreamer
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Mar 4, 2007
- Posts
- 680
I'm up-
four if I can believe the clock-
shredding evidence,
documents
documenting my auto-documentary
shot between my two lenses.
expenses imbalanced,
conclusion to story arc
unconcluded,
more unanswered questions
than modern series finales.
here i film,
one reel winds
while the next shreds.
four if I can believe the clock-
shredding evidence,
documents
documenting my auto-documentary
shot between my two lenses.
expenses imbalanced,
conclusion to story arc
unconcluded,
more unanswered questions
than modern series finales.
here i film,
one reel winds
while the next shreds.
Tzara
Continental
- Joined
- Aug 2, 2005
- Posts
- 7,609
Sorry, 2D, that you and someone else made me think of this:
Jersey Shore
An almost villanelle for Michael Sorrentino,
inspired by one I will not name,
as it might embarrass her, as it well should.
Hold the camera on me, all day.
I am the story, after all.
My life is filmable cliché.
I’m young, I’m cut, I’m dumb. OK?
I’m in the frame and, though banal,
The camera holds on me today,
As well it should; my dossier
Is my defined abdominals:
My body’s filmable cliché.
I work those muscles like sorbet:
Raspberry Crunch is just jump ball.
Put the camera on me today—
And I’ll be interesting, portray
Someone who cares for the Transvaal
(That seems a filmable cliché).
What is this shit about Jwoww?
She had her takes in Montreal.
My body’s filmable, cliché.
That camera’s mine—today, all day.
An almost villanelle for Michael Sorrentino,
inspired by one I will not name,
as it might embarrass her, as it well should.
Hold the camera on me, all day.
I am the story, after all.
My life is filmable cliché.
I’m young, I’m cut, I’m dumb. OK?
I’m in the frame and, though banal,
The camera holds on me today,
As well it should; my dossier
Is my defined abdominals:
My body’s filmable cliché.
I work those muscles like sorbet:
Raspberry Crunch is just jump ball.
Put the camera on me today—
And I’ll be interesting, portray
Someone who cares for the Transvaal
(That seems a filmable cliché).
What is this shit about Jwoww?
She had her takes in Montreal.
My body’s filmable, cliché.
That camera’s mine—today, all day.
Tzara
Continental
- Joined
- Aug 2, 2005
- Posts
- 7,609
Trust
The whole thing is about
talk,
where we sweat
words together, wonder
how we match
over cocktails, family, but
your kids, my mother,
her home, their school, as if
I could ever be a parent
(I would so want to)
join,
and if that meant
whatever in our bedroom—
blindfolds, gags, pheromones,
could we still walk
along the path
that traces
our thin river?
I would so hold your hand,
even as your nails cut deep into my palm.
The whole thing is about
talk,
where we sweat
words together, wonder
how we match
over cocktails, family, but
your kids, my mother,
her home, their school, as if
I could ever be a parent
(I would so want to)
join,
and if that meant
whatever in our bedroom—
blindfolds, gags, pheromones,
could we still walk
along the path
that traces
our thin river?
I would so hold your hand,
even as your nails cut deep into my palm.
bogusagain
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Feb 18, 2009
- Posts
- 844
paranoia
there are times
the feeling rises
like an ogre
out of the swamp
or zombies
huddle in on me
stilted and expressionless
radiating malice
or you not arriving
like the last bus home
it's a calculated slight
to ruin my day
I hate you
my new infatuation
stirring the mud
in the pit of my stomach
you could have phoned
but no, you want revenge
in advance, like credit
just in case, just in case
the long walk home
through the streets
of mocking crowds
and...oh shit...you texted!
there are times
the feeling rises
like an ogre
out of the swamp
or zombies
huddle in on me
stilted and expressionless
radiating malice
or you not arriving
like the last bus home
it's a calculated slight
to ruin my day
I hate you
my new infatuation
stirring the mud
in the pit of my stomach
you could have phoned
but no, you want revenge
in advance, like credit
just in case, just in case
the long walk home
through the streets
of mocking crowds
and...oh shit...you texted!
Minalick
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Oct 13, 2011
- Posts
- 4,987
Oh what the hell woe is this?
Like an unanswered kiss.
I think one thing and then the other
Wishing the other would be the closer.
How to be pissed at one and accept the second?
My head isn't on right, I want to be beckoned.
Logic is out and so, clearly, is reason
I feel like a bird flying out of season.
For now I am status quo
Pretending to be apropos.
Not sure for how long this can last
Before I blow up and make of myself an ass.
Like an unanswered kiss.
I think one thing and then the other
Wishing the other would be the closer.
How to be pissed at one and accept the second?
My head isn't on right, I want to be beckoned.
Logic is out and so, clearly, is reason
I feel like a bird flying out of season.
For now I am status quo
Pretending to be apropos.
Not sure for how long this can last
Before I blow up and make of myself an ass.
HarryHill
Hairy fucker
- Joined
- Jul 13, 2012
- Posts
- 14,866
Laying flowers before the tomb
of one who has gone before
Dead vegatation soon
fodder for mushroom spores
Placing all before the all
bowing under leaden sky
when comes masters call
then away from here go I
So I bid you fond farewell
before I leave this place
poetry's such living hell
words vanish like my face
of one who has gone before
Dead vegatation soon
fodder for mushroom spores
Placing all before the all
bowing under leaden sky
when comes masters call
then away from here go I
So I bid you fond farewell
before I leave this place
poetry's such living hell
words vanish like my face
