First poems

deliciously_naughty

One Sexy Mama
Joined
Feb 23, 2002
Posts
4,765
I will confess to thinking I would never post in this forum. I'm not a poet, although once in a VERY great while, I may burst forth with something that vaguely resembles poetry. However, I am in the survivor 03 contest and I have had to bite the bullet and write poetry. My first two poems are up, and below. I'm just curious to know what people think.

Before you read, I feel compelled to remind you that I am *not* a poet.

Free in the city (non-erotic)

In the big city I can feel alone more easily
The hundreds of people studiously ignore each other
I am not different here, merely background
I can be who I was told to be or rebel quietly
Or loudly if I want to, no one cares.
I am liberated by the glass towers and steel spires
I am imprisioned by the pace, faster and faster
I am caught in a whirlwind I can’t control
Am I free or am I so busy rushing around
That I can’t see my chains?

I say I’m liberated. I’m living that single girl life.
But at night my bed feels lonely and I wonder
Did I make the right choices? I could be a wife
I could be a mom by now, have a house and a dog
Instead a fifth floor walk up with sporadic heat
I could have a savings account instead of Ramen dinners
But the suburbs scare me; the uniformity, the SUV’s
The husbands and wives living their comfortable lives
And wondering if there was something they missed

So it’s better to risk it all, I suppose and endure the
Lonely nights and lonely weeks sometimes
Then to have conformed to the order and rules of back home
Where I’d have slowly died inside, knowing
I’d never taken a risk, taken a leap, a blind grasp at life
I have a life and even though sometimes it’s not the one
I envisioned, or wanted…it’s mine

A woman's touch (erotic)

The first time I saw you I craved
My confusion was surpassed by desire
Your skin, as soft as mine tempted
Your lips, full as mine enticed
Your long hair enflamed me
And though I’ve never done this
I know what the longing demands

I giggle nervously as your ruby red
Painted nails slide through my hair
My breath comes quicker as your eyes
Catch mine and I feel like I could drown in them
My lips tingle as yours hover over them
And I know I’m under your spell

Is this what men feel when I kiss them?
This helpless longing and uncertainty?
Are my lips this soft and smooth?
Does my lipstick taste like yours or…
Your hand has slid beneath my shirt
And my mind quiets and focuses on your
Ruby red nails pulling the cotton over my head
My bra is opened and my breasts spill out

Your soft smooth lips bend to caress me
I gasp at the tongue that seems to intuit
Where to touch and how much and how long
My eyes close and I lose myself in the feelings
Until I feel your lips move away from me and
Your breasts rub mine, our nipples meeting and flirting
I run my Passion Plum nails down your back
And pull you tight against me

Horizontal now, our jeans gone, our bodies
The same and different at once lay next to each other
I am nervous as I reach out to touch you, and
Nurturing, knowing, you guide me to the same
Hot liquid desire I feel when I touch myself
I touch you the way I’ve always wanted to be touched
And your responses make me bolder

I lean over you and kiss your breasts as my hand
Grows insistent, making you cry out, making you
Call out my name. I kiss your neck, your nipples, your
Stomach, your thighs, wanting, needing, knowing
Somehow just what to do to make your passion
And need awaken and burn for me
I kneel between your silky thighs and hesitate.
You know, and your gentle touch reassures me

I lean down and just look at the wet red flower
That is the essence of you, the center of you
Our eyes meet and desire knows desire
My tongue traces my lips, and then I bend to your
Lower lips, my tongue touching the burning
Hotness of you, tasting the sweetness of you,
Enflaming the senses, making you cry out

Confidence grows and I learn what you want
What you crave, what you need to explode
Your hand finds me, just as wet, just as ready
And your fingers stroke me, tease me, show me
The love that only a woman can give another woman
You come first, your hand trembling as you flood
My mouth with your juices, heightening my arousal
Your hand doesn’t stop until I’ve experienced the same
High as you, orgasm rushing over me, roaring in my head
Pounding in my heart until I am quiet again

Then you hold me, your ruby red fingers gentle,
Your skin as soft as mine, your lips as full
We hold each other and whisper our secrets
The soft covers over us, holding us
Until the desire comes again
This time, a frightened virgin no more, I am
Ready to touch you and be touched by you once again
 
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Suggestions upon first reading

I will leave the erotic poem to others. I do not write them. Below is my preliminary version of your non erotic submission. ( ) enclose changes; { } enclose exclusions. - Of course, these are just my thoughts on a first read, and I am only one reader.

Free in the city

In the big city I can feel alone more easily
The (throngs) of people studiously ignore each other
I am not different here, merely background
I can be who I was told to be or rebel quietly
Or loudly if I want to, no one cares.
(Line space)
I am liberated by the glass towers and steel spires
I am (caught) by the pace, faster and faster
(Imprisoned) in a whirlwind I can’t control
Am I free or am I so busy rushing around
That I can’t see (the) chains?

I say I’m liberated(,){. I’m} living that single girl life.
But at night my bed feels lonely and I wonder
Did I make the right choices? I could be {a}wife
I could be a mom by now, have a house and {a} dog
(Line space)
Instead(,) a fifth floor walk up with sporadic heat
I could have a savings account instead of Ramen dinners
But the suburbs scare me; the uniformity, the SUV’s
The husbands and wives living their comfortable lives
And wondering if there (is) something they missed

So it’s better to risk it all, I suppose and endure the
Lonely nights and lonely weeks sometimes
Then to have conformed to the order and rules {of} back home
Where I’d have slowly died {inside}, knowing (inside)
I’d never taken (the) risk, (leaped) a leap, (grasped blindly) at life
I have a life and even though sometimes it’s not the one
I envisioned, or wanted…
(it is) mine

Something I recommend with a new poem is to put it aside for awhile, until the driving emotion of creation has passed. Then go read it objectively as if it were not your own work. If you still like it and do not wish to change anything, then you are ready for others to read it.

All of the above are just my own thoughts and are offered in the spirit of constructive critique and comment. Please keep writing, and also read the comments of posting poets relating to other poems. That is the way to learn and improve your own skills, both in reading and in composition. - And always remember, that what you like is what is important! (De gustibus non desputandum.)


Regards,                       Rybka
 
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Since the fish took the non erotic, I'll take the erotic. I feel like you slipped into story mode while you were writing this. I like some of the content. "Is this what men feel when I kiss them?" This is a good line. It shows that you're not only describing this scene but sharing thoughts at the same time. And the question is interesting.
I hope you spend some time here at the poetry board. I have a feeling you will soon develop into a poet if you participate. :)
 
DN -

I will come back with better critique for you to enjoy, but for now, don't try to lighten the effort be declaring you are not a poet, then taking credit for the above entries.

If you write it, you are. Simple as that.

;)
- Judo
 
JUDO said:
DN -

I will come back with better critique for you to enjoy, but for now, don't try to lighten the effort be declaring you are not a poet, then taking credit for the above entries.

If you write it, you are. Simple as that.

;)
- Judo
As in better than what I gave her?! Oh yeah, I guess I skipped the critique part. :eek: I'm being really bad. I'm sorry. :eek:
 
Don't worry, we'll be back. Think of us as sharks circling for the kill. heh-heh.

;)
- Judo
 
Something to watch out for (besides circling poetry sharks) are phrases like "ruby red." That's used so often that it's a little worn out.
By the way, I like this line too: "Does my lipstick taste like yours or…" I can imagine someone thinking of things like that during the intimate moment.
Back to ruby red... That and some other phrases could stand some freshening up. For example: "lose myself in the feelings" and "your passion and need awaken and burn for me."
 
My two cents on Free in the City

First impression, it's a bit wordy.
You have some very good images and points buried within that could be brought out with a brisk edit.

I think Rybka's revisions are a good start.
Even something as simple as inserting the line breaks helps the reader to focus.

While in prose, a "run-on" paragraph may be easily forgiven, in poetry it becomes a serious distraction. It's usually better to be a little more aggressive and anything that could go either way, err on the side of starting a new stanza.

Particularly during the editing process, by ruthless breaking it into stanzas (You can always rejoin later.) it becomes easier to focus on each point you are trying to make. One by one tighten up each piece and sometimes even toss it out. As you branch out into other forms of poetry, this method of editing can become a useful tool. With each point separate, it can more easily be morphed into a rhyme, or sonnet or something.
 
Re: My two cents on Free in the City

OT said:
First impression, it's a bit wordy.
You have some very good images and points buried within that could be brought out with a brisk edit.

I think Rybka's revisions are a good start.
Even something as simple as inserting the line breaks helps the reader to focus.

While in prose, a "run-on" paragraph may be easily forgiven, in poetry it becomes a serious distraction. It's usually better to be a little more aggressive and anything that could go either way, err on the side of starting a new stanza.

Particularly during the editing process, by ruthless breaking it into stanzas (You can always rejoin later.) it becomes easier to focus on each point you are trying to make. One by one tighten up each piece and sometimes even toss it out. As you branch out into other forms of poetry, this method of editing can become a useful tool. With each point separate, it can more easily be morphed into a rhyme, or sonnet or something.


Very good advice and certainly something I'll take into consideration for future work.

To be honest, I don't even have basic knowledge as to what or how poetry should look, except to know that any poem that I've ever tried to write with rhyming has ended up trite and embarasssing.

Are there any guidelines for this sort of thing?

Again, thanks everyone for taking the time and effort to critique! Esp Rybka!
 
Re: Re: My two cents on Free in the City

deliciously_naughty said:
... except to know that any poem that I've ever tried to write with rhyming has ended up trite and embarasssing.

Are there any guidelines for this sort of thing?

There are many books on poetry forms, but I don't know I've ever seen any "guidelines" for rhyme. (Note: I'm not an expert, I read much better than I write).

To play with rhyme, trite is probably a lesser sin than forced rhyming. People talk in cliche's and triteness all of the time. "Forcing" rhymes by talking in yoda-speak sounds just plain odd. (I think Judo may have coined the yada-speak phrase?)

For what it's worth, here is my "method".

For silly rhymes (like limericks and such) I usually write them in a linear fashion. Given line one, find a rhyme-end for line two, then fill in words around it, etc. etc. This is the method that often begets forced and goofy rhymes. It's working backwards from the end of the line.

For more serious rhyming "poetry", I try to write the poem first, with sort of an eye on rhyme, but mostly focussing on the prose and the message. Then edit and reword to bring out the rhyme scheme. At least to me, it's two very different approaches to the same problem.

Note again, that there are many around here who are better schooled in the art of poetry. I'm in the hacking stage.

Two examples where I tried the second method are:
Ugly Inside
and
Disbelief
 
deliciously_naughty said:
To be honest, I don't even have basic knowledge as to what or how poetry should look, except to know that any poem that I've ever tried to write with rhyming has ended up trite and embarasssing.

Are there any guidelines for this sort of thing?

One of the best things for your own self-awareness is to read poetry. Reading the 'new poems' list each day here is a great, quick exposure to what is commonly done by amatuer poets.

Reading that has taught me to always dig a little deeper for the imagery and words. I've started buying more reference books as a result.

I think that the suggestion that the communicated point, thought or idea seperates the stanzas is largely a good starting point.

As a writer, you should be trying to make a point, communicate an idea or image to your reader, or convince them. Think of what you want to say (this may be five or six points), and say it once, very well.

;)
- Judo
 
Delish, I have to start with a disclaimer: I am a bad poet. Anything I say after this has to be considered with that in mind. As with anyone's critique, you also have to consider that I'm speaking from my personal taste.

That said, I think both poems have some merit, but need brutal editing. Personally, I think the erotic poem has more potential. Free in the city sounds like you are telling me things rather than showing them. I feel like I'm being preached at rather than taught.

In the big city I can feel alone more easily
The hundreds of people studiously ignore each other
I am not different here, merely background
I can be who I was told to be or rebel quietly
Or loudly if I want to, no one cares.
I am liberated by the glass towers and steel spires
I am imprisioned by the pace, faster and faster
I am caught in a whirlwind I can’t control
Am I free or am I so busy rushing around
That I can’t see my chains?

Again, this is my own peeve, but count the 'I's' in this. For an exercise, try taking out every reference to yourself in this stanza while still communicating your meaning. You might not get a more powerful poem, but you'll probably have some ideas that will result in more powerful poetry.

Your erotic poem shows more of your gift for interesting language.

Is this what men feel when I kiss them?
This helpless longing and uncertainty?
Are my lips this soft and smooth?
I think this is easily the best, most interesting thing you show in these poems. You are open and vulnerable here. Still, I think the rest of the poem is weakened by the 'I'.

Can you find another way to show us what you feel and think?

By the way, I'm not so bothered by 'ruby red'. It may be overused, but I still love the way those words roll off my tongue. Ruby red. Yum. That's fun to say.

I hope this didn't sound harsh. I don't mean it to be. Regardless of what I said, you still managed to create some strong images and feelings. Your erotic poem was actually erotic, and that is not easy to do. So keep writing poetry. Any way you look at it, you're still more gifted than many.

edited to say that I am also buzzed at the moment. I can't tell you if that means what I say is more true or less true, but perhaps you should know that I am.
 
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Thanks karmadog

for me, I rarely if ever write poetry, so that would be my first disclaimer.

Because the urge is so rare, my poems tend to be intensely personal.

Free in the city was born out of my moving from New York back to massachusetts to live with my parents while I finish grad school so I can get out of debt. My parents live in the burbs, which I fought hard and long to get out of. And beyond that, I've been having a lot of...wasn't I supposed to be somewhere else by now? moments in my life, so the poem is something of introspective discussion with myself about whether I'm kidding myself thinking I have a good life or if I'm just to busy to realize I'm lonely. I could prolly edit it (although I haven't a freaking clue how...like I said, I average less than 10 poems in a year, and some years manage to pass without any poems, so....) but I think I would have a difficult time making something that is so intensely person less so.

My rampant "first personism" is something I need to work on not only in poetry but in my fiction as well. If you read my stories you'll discover they're largely first person as well. :) Definitely something I'm working on, although I find it difficult :)
 
deliciously_naughty said:
Thanks karmadog

My rampant "first personism" is something I need to work on not only in poetry but in my fiction as well. If you read my stories you'll discover they're largely first person as well. :) Definitely something I'm working on, although I find it difficult :)

There's a problem with writing in first person...? Since when...?

HomerPindar
 
HomerPindar said:
There's a problem with writing in first person...? Since when...?

HomerPindar


fiction-wise, very very few first person stories get published. The majority of published fiction is third person omniscient.
 
Perhaps, that's true for prose, but I didn't think it so for poetry.
 
The idea that little first person fiction is published is a commonly, but mistakenly, held belief on the author's board. I suspect this is result of reading very few short story anthologies. A while ago, I consulted my Best American Short Stories anthologies and found that first and third person stories were about evenly distributed.

Second, I wasn't objecting to the poems being in the first person at all. I was saying that the word 'I' was used too indiscriminately for my taste.
 
Words

I really like both your poems dn for two main reasons: 1) you have something thoughtful to say, and 2) you say it with memorable words and images. Maybe that doesn't seem like much but, to me, it's about what you need for a poem. There is also alot in each piece that is not part of the poem. That stuff is prose and it's good prose, but it's not poetry.

Have you noticed I'm verbose? :) (Eve or JUDO could say this more succinctly, trust me.) However, I have learned, talky thing that I am, how to prune back my writing to let the the poem emerge from the prose. I am still learning, lol.

To me, prose, even narrative prose, contains a fair amount of information, of explaining. Poems, on the other hand are language distilled. When you think about the best poems you've read they probably--even if they're long poems--don't have sentences or much explanation. They work because the words used are precise and the images are strong enough to take the place of explanation.

I think your poems can emerge by this distillation. I'll take a shot at trying this on the second piece. Be back with it soon.
 
deliciously_naughty said:
Free in the city (non-erotic)

In the big city I can feel alone more easily
The hundreds of people studiously ignore each other
I am not different here, merely background
I can be who I was told to be or rebel quietly
Or loudly if I want to, no one cares.
Here is an example of how you can rewrite the first part:

Big city lonliness comes easier,
hundreds studiously ignoring each other.
I can be who I was told to be
or rebel quietly or loudly -
no one cares.
I'm merely background.

If I get time and you're interested, I'll do some more. Either way, I'm sure Angeline and others will give you some ideas for some excellent revisions.
 
My Revisions

d_n girlfriend you wrote a looooong poem lol! I did about two-thirds of it to illustrate my point in the earlier post. It still needs work--even if you were to change it in this way--probably including taking some of the detail out to shorten it overall.

Here 'tis. Let me know what you think.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
.
A Woman's Touch

Confusion overpowered desire

to crave skin soft as mine
tempt lips full as mine and
enticed by long hair be

enflamed.

(I’ve never done this.
I know what longing demands.)

Nails slide red rubies in my hair
breath giggles faster our eyes
are drowning my lips tingle
in anticipation of you so close

and I am under your spell.

(Is this what men feel when I kiss them?
This helpless longing and uncertainty?
Are my lips so soft and smooth?)

Your hand beneath my shirt quiets
my mind focusing red shell nails
pull away the cotton of my bra
to loose an offering of breasts.

Your lips are soft caresses bend to me
the knowing intuition of your tongue.

I did not know this gasping till
you moved your breasts to mine
flirting nipples touch and stop and

running my own nails
my Passion Plum along your back,

I pull you to me.

I lay with you our bodies different
and the same but nervous reaching
out you nurture guiding me to
hot desire flowing in us both I know
then I can touch you as I want touch.

And your response emboldens me
and you cry out, you call out name.

I kiss your neck, your nipples,
stomach, thighs, I know your
wanting, needing, I know passion
awakes and burns in me
to kneel between your thighs.

Still I hesitate but you know.
You reassures in gentle touch

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And so on. Maybe not the best effort, but i think it should be moving more in this direction.
 
DN -

Well, as you by now see, each of us will give you our own take on what is good or not about your first works. Probably a good thing. In that way, you can begin to find the ideals and concepts for your poetry that you agree with.

Your lines get longer and longer with each passing stanza -- that should probably not happen. Try to communicate the same imagery and feelings that you've created, but in as few words as possible.

My thoughts.
;)
- Judo


Free in the city (non-erotic)

Changes, line-by-line:
In the big city I can feel alone more easily
I'm easily alone in big cities.
The hundreds of people studiously ignore each other
Everyone studiously ignores the others.
I am not different here, merely background
Just another person, I blend in.
I can be who I was told to be or rebel quietly
Or loudly if I want to, no one cares.

Saint, rebel matters not -- no one cares.
I am liberated by the glass towers and steel spires
I am imprisioned by the pace, faster and faster

Liberated by space, imprisoned by pace --
I am caught in a whirlwind I can’t control
Caught in a whirlwind, uncontrolled.
Am I free or am I so busy rushing around
That I can’t see my chains?

Am I free or blinded to my chains?

I say I’m liberated. I’m living that single girl life.
My single girl life is liberated.
But at night my bed feels lonely and I wonder
In my night's cold bed, I wonder -- choices.
Did I make the right choices? I could be a wife
I could be a mom by now, have a house and a dog

Wife? Mom? House? Dog?
Instead a fifth floor walk up with sporadic heat
I could have a savings account instead of Ramen dinners

Instead... Apartment. Sporadic heat. No savings. Ramen dinners.

But the suburbs scare me; the uniformity, the SUV’s
The husbands and wives living their comfortable lives
And wondering if there was something they missed


But the suburbs scare me --
Uniformity, SUVs, Country Clubs,
husband and wives' comfortable lives.
What have they missed?

So it’s better to risk it all, I suppose, and endure the
Better to risk it all and endure
Lonely nights and lonely weeks sometimes
Lonely nights to longely weeks
Than to have conformed to the order and rules of back home
Where I’d have slowly died inside,

Than to slowly die inside --
knowing
I’d never taken a risk, taken a leap, a blind grasp at life

knowing no risks, no faith, no desire.
I have a life and even though sometimes it’s not the one I envisioned, or wanted…it’s mine.
I have a life.
Not safe, not planned, not warm --
But it's mine.

With my edits:

Changes, line-by-line:

I'm easily alone in big cities.
Everyone studiously ignores the other.
Just another person, I blend in.
Saint, rebel matters not -- no one cares.

Liberated by space, imprisoned by pace --
Caught in a whirlwind, uncontrolled.
Am I free or blinded to my chains?
My single girl life is liberated.

In my city's cold bed, I wonder.
Choices -- Wife? Mom? House? Dog?
Instead -- Apartment. Sporadic heat. No savings. Ramen dinners.

But the suburbs scare me --
Uniformity, SUVs, County Clubs,
Husbands' and wives' comfortable lives.
What have they missed?

Better to risk it all and endure
Lonely nights to lonely weeks
Than to slowly die inside --
Knowing no risks, no faith, no desire.

I have a life --
Not safe, not planned, not warm,
But it's mine.

---------------------------------------------------

I like the subject matter. Certainly, it's universal that we all wonder about our choices and where those other roads might have taken us.

Good poem -- brewing.

---------------------------------------------------
Your first words:

A woman's touch (erotic)

The first time I saw you I craved
My confusion was surpassed by desire
Your skin, as soft as mine tempted
Your lips, full as mine enticed
Your long hair enflamed me
And though I’ve never done this
I know what the longing demands

I giggle nervously as your ruby red
Painted nails slide through my hair
My breath comes quicker as your eyes
Catch mine and I feel like I could drown in them
My lips tingle as yours hover over them
And I know I’m under your spell

Is this what men feel when I kiss them?
This helpless longing and uncertainty?
Are my lips this soft and smooth?
Does my lipstick taste like yours or…
Your hand has slid beneath my shirt
And my mind quiets and focuses on your
Ruby red nails pulling the cotton over my head
My bra is opened and my breasts spill out

Your soft smooth lips bend to caress me
I gasp at the tongue that seems to intuit
Where to touch and how much and how long
My eyes close and I lose myself in the feelings
Until I feel your lips move away from me and
Your breasts rub mine, our nipples meeting and flirting
I run my Passion Plum nails down your back
And pull you tight against me

Horizontal now, our jeans gone, our bodies
The same and different at once lay next to each other
I am nervous as I reach out to touch you, and
Nurturing, knowing, you guide me to the same
Hot liquid desire I feel when I touch myself
I touch you the way I’ve always wanted to be touched
And your responses make me bolder

I lean over you and kiss your breasts as my hand
Grows insistent, making you cry out, making you
Call out my name. I kiss your neck, your nipples, your
Stomach, your thighs, wanting, needing, knowing
Somehow just what to do to make your passion
And need awaken and burn for me
I kneel between your silky thighs and hesitate.
You know, and your gentle touch reassures me

I lean down and just look at the wet red flower
That is the essence of you, the center of you
Our eyes meet and desire knows desire
My tongue traces my lips, and then I bend to your
Lower lips, my tongue touching the burning
Hotness of you, tasting the sweetness of you,
Enflaming the senses, making you cry out

Confidence grows and I learn what you want
What you crave, what you need to explode
Your hand finds me, just as wet, just as ready
And your fingers stroke me, tease me, show me
The love that only a woman can give another woman
You come first, your hand trembling as you flood
My mouth with your juices, heightening my arousal
Your hand doesn’t stop until I’ve experienced the same
High as you, orgasm rushing over me, roaring in my head
Pounding in my heart until I am quiet again

Then you hold me, your ruby red fingers gentle,
Your skin as soft as mine, your lips as full
We hold each other and whisper our secrets
The soft covers over us, holding us
Until the desire comes again
This time, a frightened virgin no more, I am
Ready to touch you and be touched by you once again



My changes below:

A woman's touch (erotic)


The first time,
Desire surpassed confusion.
Skin, soft as mine, tempted.
Lips, full as mine, enticed.
Your long hair, enflamed.

The first time,
The longing demands.

I giggled nervously as
Painted nails brushed my hair.
My breath, quick
My eyes, drown
My lips, tingle.
I was under your spell.

Is this the helpless longing men feel?
Does my lipstick taste like yours?

My mind quiets, focused.
Blouse over my head, bra open
My breasts spill out.

Lips caress me.
Intuitive tongue knows --
Where? How much? How long? How hard?

Lost, my eyes close.
Your breasts rub mine.
Our nipples flirt,
And I want more.

Our bodies, same and different.
My turn to touch.
Nervous, you guide me
To the same hot liquid desire
I know too well.

Emboldened, kissing your breasts
My hands grow insistent.
You cry out my name
As I lick your
Neck, nipples, stomach, thighs...

Instinctively, I drive your passion
To awaken and burn -- for me.
At the threshold, your touch
Reassures my want.

Your essence, your center --
The red wet blossom before me.
My tongue traces the petals,
Burning hot, tasting sweet.

Your hand finds me.
Your fingers tease me,
Showing the love that
We can have, ours alone.

You tremble and cry.
My mouth flows with sugar.
My eyes clench shut
As the roar makes me deaf

Then you hold me.
Gentle fingers
Skin, soft as mine.
Lips, full as mine.

Under the covers,
We whisper secrets
Until desire comes again.

The next time,
A virgin no more.

---------------------------------------------------
I like this poem for obvious reasons. Try to get to the essence of the thought and make it more succinct. Leave out the obvious. It's not necessary to pound an idea into the read, like it might be in an essay -- once is enough. Don't repeat yourself and make certain every word is necessary.

My thoughts.
;)
- Judo
 
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