Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Angela Liyanto Nov 2018
He popped her button sleeve
She kissed his giant hand,
O how her feet felt strained,
As Fiery pleasure plays unplanned

Holy goodness!
He started to kiss her neck
Oh, the world stops right now
She leans for gasps, o heck, o hell

He toppled on her little body
“Come I’ll show you darling”
The fundamentals, We’re such of love…
And white love tapping comes jarred

O don’t get us caught now
Her body’s too tender!
With his eyes closed,
She gave him a joy to keep

How does he charm her?
What eternity does he promise?
A listless love!
An unbinding joy for us

But the rain pulls faces on us
Milky moons come close to our charm
She’s lays forever a whirlwind
But still he loves, he loves

The levelled play kills her to yawn
Gorging tongues eat her delicate soul
She is a beautiful lover
That walks by his side.
Angela Liyanto Nov 2018
Dear sister unmatching your youth may be,
But let it grow spectre over yonder years will make true
Of Beauty’s wrappings over weighted wrinkled see
Till seventy summers be enriched by life’s long cue
I bumped to girl-hood between acoy numbers,
Fostered strong arms, and dubious holy head as well
To think of youthful misery in part for me, I  must
stroke young beauty’s cursed cheek, signed less of love
Than more of tender amiss, to see beauty-havens
What more does my jealous heating know?
Which sister’s beauty lays shaky as glassware,
If you look at your mirror, witn hazed heart droop,
     You’ll see old company, as stable bliss as she
     Soon to be distant fate for due time’s tender agony
Angela Liyanto Oct 2018
How can I, poesied writer, articulate Love?
Whoever loves, whatever loves, that soft-cheeked gentle Love,
That drives rhubarb spring into song, at Her sight
And melted passion seeps through chocolate thoughts
As self-giving women comforted in blossomed words,
Men find long ways to bring her dreams true,
As destined tune to conflict, rambles of thought & silent gestures
Remain to their nurture-kinds, from back as young lovers
Be familiar to the red-stained aroma endured til age,
Till Spring reaches its flower-cycle,  near sweet sway of doves
Of Father’s scared entwined, between heroic mundanity
Which brings clearest example of practise of Love,
     Near transparency developed to undefined great tender touch,
     Inside the burning case find treasure in Love’s safe.
Angela Liyanto Oct 2018
I feel lonesome at seventeen,
To think too much of the giddy past
During golden times of juggling laughs in
Full classrooms and challenge food for thought
Where disappointment lays flat and thin, we wait
In angst, in delight, for our charging marks,
But that was then, now this is life.

The damning weight and press of the times,
Where treasured mind lacks youthful extempore,
We write on the brief paper, hoping
The ink will write us golden words & slow the beat,
We will sooner fail than to reach the top
We hope to Triumph- breed in our scratching minds!
Until its over, the humming invite to the world ticks

After, we decide to leave to the frolicsome universities,
Ten thousand men and women sit,
Gaze at the attended paper, silenced to daydream
And professors Bleed the last strain of knowledge,
Youth is spectre and her song will best be on her way,
To a gushing point of cherished memories, and
conquests of teen-humour, loved tenderly.
Angela Liyanto Oct 2018
The bitter blueness of melancholy hit and kissed me,
That beastal mood, who vouches in burdened pity,
It wraps me in sickly heart-strings & closed me tight,
Longing for breath, I near choked in agony streams,
How passive is this music, while trembling Venus sparks Love,
With long beams of hope declared, but little is there for me!
I so wish my heart will collapse, that suns of silver
Teach me to seek her Light, but with my endeavours lost,
I sit by holy castings of dying babels and their mothers
And weep with them, soon to replay their parts,
Should I suffer these heating cries or leave my place?
The invisible lashings of Melancholy has wounded me,
     Forlorn music plays His beating, and he will not leave me,
     Nor can he be tamed, even by the flaming might of Nike.
Angela Liyanto Oct 2018
As I was standing under the dropping rain,
I talked to a girl
& light as corked nades
She spoke softly
And I
hummed and awkward
To her love for poetry
where her eyes smiled with her speech…
Nowhere else could I find more of a love sweet thing.
We talked for two minutes under the drizzle
While we waited for the rustic buses to come
to pick up our tidy loads
I thanked her
She smiled like how Kindness would have smiled
I beat curses
& thought I near found a lover to be loved
But she said good-bye
And in my sunken mood
the pale cloud drops sank into my shoes.
Would love your feedback <3
Angela Liyanto Oct 2018
If song be the source of comfort, listen while it lasts
Of mere countenance shows the pleasing suffered mind
And young Pan will turn to his plaid bagpipe,
The pastel rhythms bring blissful evergreen song
As I look outside, I find the ranched moon hollow
From the empty inhales of notes so high-reached
It popped the moon & bleeded moonlight the more
Like the sippings of hard apples is sweetness of the tune
Brought to near tears, and woven crescendo crisps,
The wavelengths as exponential boughs and troughs,
Stolen her breath as I listen to Music’s golden swings,
And the pickings of a more fitting song, Make a woman
     Slighted and bent in emotion at music’s touch,
     Bending time to a halt, as surrendered passion seized.
Next page