patrick wakefield
patrick wakefield
Apr 22, 2010

you are a:
you
her
she
a
an
i
it

but, w
i
shi
ng
;

i hope
(someday)
you might be a

mine

brooke
brooke
Oct 22, 2012      Oct 23, 2012

I want you to make me feel naked everywhere

saying things that make necks hot, face hot

don't have to be so sexual, don't have to touch

Want to? Do so, though, don't be so mechanical

swim on, flow on, spill on, no pushing

the things said should tear open, pop seams

wonder what's inside,  beating

running, ebbing, draining, no inspecting, no prodding

a thorough investigation with  eyes, words

make the most difference, words dig the farthest

fill the fastest, reach to ends that previously had

no end

the end

(c) Brooke Otto
DieingEmbers
Mar 1, 2013

Copulation of the minds...

as word play
leads innuendos to fornicate
upon the poets tongue...

unrestrained
his fingers give voice to wanton
carnal desires

laying the reader bare
to writhe
helplessly beneath his hands

with ink stained kisses
he forces
words into their mouths

a breathless sigh
resonating his ache to be heard

as he stands naked before them
offering himself
to their voyeuristic gaze

before taking them upon the sheets
in punctuated passionate
embraces

leading them toward the climax

they so

cried out for...




Jesus I'm Good.


~<3~

Just teasing
linda
linda
Sep 12, 2013

Angel torches
filter sunlight          
                 across a vast                                  
                          horizon of sea foam                                    
              petticoats. Where                         
 topaz  touches         
                    glittering                  
              cyan         
                             &                    
                             spirals                 
                            downwards             
                          through the              
             deepest dark      
                  blues - no body            
             can exist within            
      jewelled sapidity.    

Not an 'I' in sight :)
Gauntlet challenge completed, Mr Lipstadt ...
Darrell Wade Elverum
Darrell Wade Elverum
Sep 12, 2013      Sep 13, 2013

Seasonal construction
Path of destruction and rebuild,
Traffic crazy, in the car ahead,
Face yelling at a speaker phone,
Zig-zag path like the road owner,
3:05 late so a five o'clock date,
And a seagull sits right on the line,
Patient Mockery so sublime,
The seagull "walks the line"
Waiting can be a hating game,
That would be a vacation shame,
shame,
Shame.
So now the seagull is not alone on the line.


©DWE092013

So did   do right?  No personal pronouns?
You're a pronoun,
Perig3e
Perig3e
Jan 17, 2011

You're a pronoun,
I'm a pronoun.
Let's say we grab a verb
and conjugalate ;-)

All rights reserved by the author.
the wrong pronoun
Caroline Spooner
Oct 4, 2013

words can sear and brand
leaving scars
the shape of bad memories

the marks are read each day
scrutinized in the hope
they've been misread

a spelling mistake
the wrong pronoun
anything different to what was said

Was a proper pronoun
Timothy Mooney
Jun 13, 2011

You always insisted
That
"You"
Was a proper pronoun
But
That
"We"
was not

This clears up
Much of the
Mis-identification
I had
Mistakenly
Believed
About
Love

about the pronoun
robert martin

It’s cold she said
and I said
it’s on the temperature we set it on
which started the dispute
about the pronoun
we
she placed upon me
certain pressures
and then posted a marker
not unlike the one  
on Market Street and Third
when in 1765 the stamp master
William Houston was forced to resign.

Robert Martin, Copyright 2014
my pronoun to perfection—‘he jumps’. Yes,
Jim Kleinhenz
Apr 18, 2010

A hollow ‘hello’ from Hell! Yes, from Hell.
Where do names come from? This Hell is
a sleepy fishing village and the best
spot that we’ve found on Hollow Head,
a Sleepy Hollows, so to speak.
We are in the ‘Bridegroom’, a little Bed
and Breakfast, run by a Rip Van Winkle
wise enough to know it was Empedocles
who jumped into Mount Etna. Empedocles!
Is my face red! Yet it will glorify
my pronoun to perfection—‘he jumps’. Yes,
both poetry and philosophy ought
to have the same antecedent. They forge
a world that’s capable of consciousness.
The self, per se, remains vestigial—
the voice of the volcano, not its source.
Your pronoun is the antecedent, not
your noun. Problematic resolved. Perhaps
I will go for a walk in Hell, perhaps
I will take the air, take the breezes.
A wonderful day in Hell! Ha-ha!

©Jim Kleinhenz
 
To comment on this poem, please log in or create a free account
Log in or register to comment