COVID-19 RESOURCES
LIT CAMS (200 Free Tokens)ADULT TOYSVOD MOVIES

all of a sudden passion suddenly

Status
Not open for further replies.
voici mon âme
il prend
il est trop lourd dans
sa vacuité - sans toi
chaque contact est de l'os
chaque caresse que d'un grave chuchota

give me words of your love
and break me thereby
this heart long ago beaten, bruised
the fruit of my self-punishment
exiled from you
voluntarily

to give you freedom
pour te donner la liberté
 
wanting2 said:
voici mon âme
il prend
il est trop lourd dans
sa vacuité - sans toi
chaque contact est de l'os
chaque caresse que d'un grave chuchota

give me words of your love
and break me thereby
this heart long ago beaten, bruised
the fruit of my self-punishment
exiled from you
voluntarily

to give you freedom
pour te donner la liberté
Click to expand...

I enjoyed this, wanting2. I hope to read more of your work.
 
There is no free will on the sea
We tug on a rudder, ask humbly for bearings,
and time upon time we perfected our prayers.
But we go where we go, travel where taken.
Where are you taking me?
 
The bounce and swing
of blooded pulse a tap
then fingersnap a dip
and leap, plié jeté
a pas du chat a stompin
cat tingle that foot pattin
thing in samba rhythm
woo and hula hips that whirl
the swirl of waltz of dervish
danse macabre a moving
mouth of chant whispered
on steps Kyomai or brash
the ranting crash and call
in rap. It's corny gosh
as do si do negotiates
the square and jazz drags
sticky gutbucket slow
its mashed potatoes
and everybody loco
motion.

It's even pavement scrape
the wind among the trees
that sway the willow wrists
or blow the sunset chasing
down the eaves. Axis spin
and days that rat a tat
to weeks and years, joy
of time unfurling slowed
to each sweet breath against
my ear the twitch and ride
of bones the world alive
and sliding on your lips.
 
sliver and crumbs
skyward scattered
filling milkwhite daylight's
loss of time

expensive checque
for moments forgotten
not lost: they won't be refound
tics and tocs restless

in inches, mountainslides soft
walk the dogs and cut the grass
while i watch the sky
and remember
 
A woman closes a door
you can’t see
what’s behind it maybe
a room or an ocean
of chaos pages leaves
torn from books and thrown.
A woman

closes
a door and a window
is open. The sun is shining
leaves have collided
whispers the afternoon
has passed and a woman

closes a book distant traffic
at the window nearly tells
the time she hears and looks
down at the ticking leaves
the room a woman

closes the door.
 
Angeline said:
A woman closes a door
you can’t see
what’s behind it maybe
a room or an ocean
of chaos pages leaves
torn from books and thrown.
A woman

closes
a door and a window
is open. The sun is shining
leaves have collided
whispers the afternoon
has passed and a woman

closes a book distant traffic
at the window nearly tells
the time she hears and looks
down at the ticking leaves
the room a woman

closes the door.
Click to expand...

This is wonderful. I've been saying it over and over several times, enjoying the different ways it can be said. :rose:
 
I made a pact with you
________________but can not recall your face
________________and must come to you as mother
________________twice a family won and gone
________________deep and quietly
________________or roaring in the under
________________slope of not to be,
________________knotted and enmeshed
________________in weeds and memory.

________________Still I am
________________hopeful yet old friends deceive.
________________They’ve cast away my shadow,
________________cut me off like an old sleeve.
________________I am inauspicious I am
________________lusterless and gray a sin
________________too pale for reckoning
________________still I am a
_____________ one
________________act play.
 
Been awhile.
boots still fit;
direction
has changed.

Enough wind
to blow the dust off.

Broken bones
in between.
Understanding,
confusion,
belief.


Strength in all it holds
can prove weak.
 
Angeline said:
I made a pact with you
________________but can not recall your face
________________and must come to you as mother
________________twice a family won and gone
________________deep and quietly
________________or roaring in the under
________________slope of not to be,
________________knotted and enmeshed
________________in weeds and memory.

________________Still I am
________________hopeful yet old friends deceive.
________________They’ve cast away my shadow,
________________cut me off like an old sleeve.
________________I am inauspicious I am
________________lusterless and gray a sin
________________too pale for reckoning
________________still I am a
_____________ one
________________act play.
Click to expand...
omg this is wonderful!

absolutely wonderful!


roaring in the under
slope of not to be


? i am blown away by that line alone, nevermind the rest of this.
 
Sabina_Tolchovsky said:
Been awhile.
boots still fit;
direction
has changed.

Enough wind
to blow the dust off.

Broken bones
in between.
Understanding,
confusion,
belief.


Strength in all it holds
can prove weak.
Click to expand...

Holy smokes! Welcome back. :kiss::rose:

chipbutty said:
omg this is wonderful!

absolutely wonderful!


roaring in the under
slope of not to be


? i am blown away by that line alone, nevermind the rest of this.
Click to expand...

Thanks. I was not sure what to make of it myself. :D
 
Sabina_Tolchovsky said:
Been awhile.
boots still fit;
direction
has changed.

Enough wind
to blow the dust off.

Broken bones
in between.
Understanding,
confusion,
belief.


Strength in all it holds
can prove weak.
Click to expand...

This is lovely. I hope to read more of your new work.
 
Angeline said:
I made a pact with you
________________but can not recall your face
________________and must come to you as mother
________________twice a family won and gone
________________deep and quietly
________________or roaring in the under
________________slope of not to be,
________________knotted and enmeshed
________________in weeds and memory.

________________Still I am
________________hopeful yet old friends deceive.
________________They’ve cast away my shadow,
________________cut me off like an old sleeve.
________________I am inauspicious I am
________________lusterless and gray a sin
________________too pale for reckoning
________________still I am a
_____________ one
________________act play.
Click to expand...

Angeline, I felt this rather than read it. The end is clever but is it right? I love the metaphor of the one-act play: perhaps it is the build up to it that doesn't work for me, or maybe it is just the word "still" in the 3rd to last line. Lovely :rose:
 
Hot coffee pulls out my tongue
I spilled you on the floor as if
My skin burned, as if golden sand
Pressed against my eyeballs
As if, as if I ever knew you
tears are not an option
opting out of emotion
abandoning feelings knowing
of their nothingness
My door swings open and shut
Revolving around the past, dreaming
The black and blue ink would
Come alive, as if I never died
As if I couldn't recall
As if the coffee and the roll
Of the tide, rolling and boiling
And knowing of everlasting weakness
Bite my tongue and spit
Blood on the dancefloor
It is the blueprint and the treasure map
Blinded by the glitter
Sucking up a sadness that lies
in my soul, at the bottom like silt
It smells of sandalwood and
Feels like rusty barb wire
Like a dull scalpel as it
Scratches the name of never
Across a page of notions and ghosts.
 
4degrees said:
Hot coffee pulls out my tongue
I spilled you on the floor as if
My skin burned, as if golden sand
Pressed against my eyeballs
As if, as if I ever knew you
tears are not an option
opting out of emotion
abandoning feelings knowing
of their nothingness
My door swings open and shut
Revolving around the past, dreaming
The black and blue ink would
Come alive, as if I never died
As if I couldn't recall
As if the coffee and the roll
Of the tide, rolling and boiling
And knowing of everlasting weakness
Bite my tongue and spit
Blood on the dancefloor
It is the blueprint and the treasure map
Blinded by the glitter
Sucking up a sadness that lies
in my soul, at the bottom like silt
It smells of sandalwood and
Feels like rusty barb wire
Like a dull scalpel as it
Scratches the name of never
Across a page of notions and ghosts.
Click to expand...

And welcome back to you, stranger. Wonderful poem. :)
 
Throw the quatrain out
the window.
Take the A train
and pat your feet
before me

on the moving height
of sugar street the curb
that shines in blinking
beats langorous stride
and steampipe jangle

Here's a nickel flipping
hell rolling on the dice
tip tap snap, the swell
is simply vice. It crumbles
shrinking in the aftermath

and some one counts it twice,
rhythm wanes but for breath
which never sleeps.
 
Status
Not open for further replies.

Similar threads

Bigtitsbitch1000x
Surrealism 1: Eroticization of a City
Replies
0
Views
38
Bigtitsbitch1000x
Bigtitsbitch1000x
Socock98
Is it stealing, or is it my own story?
2 3
Replies
66
Views
1K
CarmineBlancheJr
C
StillStunned
Getting sick of my own moaning
Replies
12
Views
249
nice90sguy
nice90sguy
J
I went back to a forum I had been banned from, but...
Replies
10
Views
689
sparklejumpropequeenn
sparklejumpropequeenn
I
Is this really a plot hole?
Replies
21
Views
175
intim8
I
Back
Top