Write A Mystery poem about someone you have the hots for on Lit

[ewopper]

Don't give out any names just try to describe that person in your best poetic style and see if they can guess who you wrote it for winners get a great big Lit No Prize

 

[wildsweetone]

Don't give out any names just try to describe that person in your best poetic style and see if they can guess who you wrote it for winners get a great big Lit No Prize

oh now, this is going to be interesting to watch.

 

[annaswirls]

Don't give out any names just try to describe that person in your best poetic style and see if they can guess who you wrote it for winners get a great big Lit No Prize

hmmm....can I write a series?

 

[WickedEve]

I started writing one but it turned out to be about myself.

 

[Liar]

But I don't really have the hots for any Litster. Only a whole bunch of minor crushlets.

And I only wrote that to have an excuse to write the word crushlet, that I snapped up yesterday.

 

[Recidiva]

But I don't really have the hots for any Litster. Only a whole bunch of minor crushlets.

And I only wrote that to have an excuse to write the word crushlet, that I snapped up yesterday.

a crushlet couplet?

 

[annaswirls]

cold turkey

But I don't really have the hots for any Litster. Only a whole bunch of minor crushlets.

And I only wrote that to have an excuse to write the word crushlet, that I snapped up yesterday.

and here I was about to write a really hot one about you!

:harumph!:

you are not excused from the challenge just because you only have lukewarms towards litsters, so get writing, Mister.

 

[Recidiva]

Okay, I wrote this today "inspired by events" here at Lit.

Sweet Man

If I could do it again I’d choose moments to dip my mind into
Like fingers into a brook in summer.

I’d lie back on the cool stone and watch the clouds go by
I’d reach into all the times we touched and remember.

Knowing now what you were thinking then
Only makes it richer to me as time goes by.

Layer upon layer of love, turned and refolded upon itself
Each glance with secret meaning.

Sometimes on my face there’s nothing but a smile
But inside I’m remembering trembles and sighs

The time I spend missing you I replay each moment
And plan new ones, stacking carefree and careless with careful and wise.

When you’re gone I can imagine you the way I choose.
Until I can touch you and my imagination flies.

If I can’t show you, I’ll tell you, and if I can’t tell you, I’ll dream.
As the time slips through my fingers.

 

[clutching_calliope]

Who don't I have the hots for on Lit. is the question.

.....

 

[champagne1982]

It's a good thing he knows

Who He Is

There've been times when you've buzzed
round my hook like that fish
after a fly, hungry in the rain. Man,
I don't think you're a liar
and your truth makes me insane.
You carry my heart like a stevedore
or porter. There blows a wind hale
when I whisper your name. To catch sight
of you in eagle's eyes is to walk
an erotic trail into your arms
my love, my archangel.

 

[The_Fool]

Can I pull out my old ones? I'm too tired to think of anything new these days.

 

[annaswirls]

Can I pull out my old ones? I'm too tired to think of anything new these days.

ha! like an archeological dig through the hot zones?? I am sure we, the collective "we" could come up with quite a collection.

 

[RhymeFairy]

a thought ~

Where did he go, when
will he come back?
This mythical man, pulls
at my soul. Somber
nights spent spinning tails,
of spectacular suspense.

Shaking me to the ground,
while trembling terror takes
over titillating my senses
with rhythmical rhymes,
serenading my soul, again.

He breaths wantonness
into a willing body
of want. Whirling words
whispered in the night,
welcoming. Whitewashing
my need with lustful brush
of mouth upon lips ... tongue.

Hot heavenly haven hatches,
hills he climbs, my valleys
he parts. Pathways open
to him. Pulsating pulp trickles,
as he tickles my fancy.

Arrival of my phantom love
is imminent. Interesting my interior
of innocence as I am incomplete
without him. Aches of alleyway cat
forming in my nether region.

Nectars formulate, fantasy or phantom,
either is welcome into this dreamland
of devout dwelling, for him. He alone
can ease this accused, ache.


~ Me

 

[Liar]

beneficient through uncontested range
blooming rage to bridled brow
unbridled love to wanton wink

a careful connieseur of all things strange
kneeling where all small things grow
knowing what all small things think

opened an unconditional exchange
ideas like fireflies aglow
were caught in context, turned to ink

 

[bluerains]

this is grrreat..!

am inclined to admire most poets here...
heres a true champagne toast...

Who He Is

There've been times when you've buzzed
round my hook like that fish
after a fly, hungry in the rain. Man,
I don't think you're a liar
and your truth makes me insane.
You carry my heart like a stevedore
or porter. There blows a wind hale
when I whisper your name. To catch sight
of you in eagle's eyes is to walk
an erotic trail into your arms
my love, my archangel.

 

[Angeline]

No secrets.
Love is a mystery love
is plain as smiles. Words
once written speak aloud,
distant steps closed
every gap until we learned
morning coffee, midnght worries
and the cold miles fell away,
left us under a blanket
of sky, blue warmth in words
unspoken, arms around each
other always, always there
is no other. There are
no secrets.

 

[ewopper]

hmmm....can I write a series?

yes a series or mini series or a plethora

 

[ewopper]

ha! like an archeological dig through the hot zones?? I am sure we, the collective "we" could come up with quite a collection.

Sure.... whatever you think would be appropriate

 

[ewopper]

Does She Know?

Sunshine strands of gold enhance
that lovely, lovely face
her every movement speaks romance
this lady of style and grace

golden strands swirls in the wind
creating an image of beauty rare
causing strong feeings within
as i watch her standing there

this vessel of loveliness and so much more
captivating my heart and mind
this beautiful lady I've come to adore
through no fault of hers or mine

does she know how she makes me feel
does she even have a clue
this earthly vessel of love so ideal
what do I have to do

to extract the sweet nectar from the lips
of this mystery lady fair
as I stroke the lovely hips
in an effort to enter her

love gate of femininity
penetrating the veil
of her last bastion of vulnerability
as on love's voyage we set sail

does she have the slightest hint
of what i feel for her
and would she honor but a brief stint
of love we two can share

does she know?

 

[Lauren Hynde]

Berlin - Los Angeles


Quickened pace betrays my careful plans
and a shiver crawls up my spine. I ought to have gone back, retraced my steps.

Awake at 9:32
A warm bath
A light dress, it's summer
Out the door at 9:53
Down eight flights of stairs, the lift is broken
Out the door at 9:55

I ought to have gone back to the corner bakery and to another strawberry pie,
and miss the 10:05 train, the Brandenburg Gate, the night walk along the Spree.

And by now I'd be home, in our bed, sipping your lips and gliding down the surface of your naked body, tasting your skin, inebriated by the soft scent of your sex, the subdued song of your heartbeat.

But then the smoke, the melody, the overwhelming sense of possibility.

Even so, if only I had ordered my own drink,
if only I had steered the conversation back to the strum of the bass,
if only I had smiled and said goodnight instead of ever noticing the exact shade of light the rising sun makes against the ceiling of a 3rd floor in Friedrichstraβe,
if only,
I wouldn't be here now on this train station 50
kilometres north of Frankfurt, mentally writing to you.

But things, baby, things
have a perspective in Berlin and another in our hearts.
And everything is as easy as waiting
for the next train and finding the night in any
forgotten corner of a city.

I have a bowie knife and a pistol.

I will steal until the end of the world
just to find you. I will undoubtedly catch
the direct plane to L.A. and stand in the middle of the avenue
underneath the giant billboard of the movie theatre
where Providence was last shown.

I won't drink white wine until that day.

I'll eat your lips until they bleed.
I won't be arrested. I'll keep an extra bullet, concealed.

It will be at 5:45. It's your posterity.

Mine.

I'll untie me
from your cerebellum.

 

[vampiredust]

Portofino

I always pictured you there,
your image buried in unravelling
alleyways and ancient cobblestones;
standing next to pastel colored
houses and timeless piazzas, watching
the sea wash away this years memories.

We'd have trouble understanding one
another, and the Italian would be another
thing all together. We'd be painting two
different paintings and never watch them
come together. That would always be like
life for us, an image floating on the sea -
always out of reach, always floating further away.

 

[Guest]

Our ships passeth in cruel seas
of trough and crest
thine high as mine drops
mine raised as thine falls
I long for calmer seas
where voices are not drowned
in the spume and crash of storms
currents pull us hither
sends us spinning thither
A port where we might moor
our battered barques and take
time to learn the truth.

 

[GypsyMystik]

Masters changing child

As evening comes and I begin to rest at last, I look back
over my day. There thoughts of you come unbidden to stay.

Each night I look forward to meeting you here,and like a child
I curl up in your arms. Reflecting back upon the events of
of this day,and somehow knowing you are here for me.

While I slumber I listen to you. Your gentle warnings,your kind
praise, your utter forgivness of all my foolishness.

All of these are as incense to my soul. I offer up my essence.
May ours mix yours to mine and accend to the heavens.

Soon lover like an evenings sacrafice we will present
ourselves before this tribunal of gods and godesses.

I rest now enveloped in your loving embrace looking forward
to a new day with you. Dreams of you lie in wait for this
your changing child.

 

[ewopper]

Sunshine strands of gold enhance
that lovely, lovely face
her every movement speaks romance
this lady of style and grace

golden strands swirls in the wind
creating an image of beauty rare
causing strong feeings within
as i watch her standing there

this vessel of loveliness and so much more
captivating my heart and mind
this beautiful lady I've come to adore
through no fault of hers or mine

does she know how she makes me feel
does she even have a clue
this earthly vessel of love so ideal
what do I have to do

to extract the sweet nectar from the lips
of this mystery lady fair
as I stroke the lovely hips
in an effort to enter her

love gate of femininity
penetrating the veil
of her last bastion of vulnerability
as on love's voyage we set sail

does she have the slightest hint
of what i feel for her
and would she honor but a brief stint
of love we two can share

does she know?

And not One Minute More

I guess she hasn't recognized
despite my every clue
or maybe she has closed her eyes
not wanting anything to do

with this humble one for whatever reason
her emotions or mind has devised
and so has decided to sit out this season
heart closed to my emotional cries

hopefully one day she'll see
it is she that I adore
and so I shall wait patientlyly
forever and not one minute more

 

[cherries_on_snow]

I started writing one but it turned out to be about myself.

hah!