Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 Feb 2015
JM
Her skin is kissed by the stone lips of Luna; pale and cold are the curses between her legs.

My skin barely contains the poison underneath; the lies in my fingertips are centuries old.

She peels her skin off as I milk myself dry

Her breath is ancient flowers pressed between pages never meant to be opened; her ******* are polished granite, worn smooth by the bloodstained hands of old men who lost their souls
long before she
lost her virginity.

These dusty daydreams,
sun soaked and lazy thoughts
floating in the blue smoke
of an afternoon spent idling,
are the only way
I can drink your
milky skin
and not taste
blood.

*Scars taste better when you cry
 Feb 2015
Christopher Lowe
I am and will always be
if not blood and bones
at least echoing memories
an existence through not existing
and oh how fitting it is
that even in death we live
 Feb 2015
elizabeth
I woke up
thinking about that time
we stifled our movements
to keep from being heard
by your friend in the next room

The sun on your back,
I tried to wrap my fingers
around rays of light
and run them down your rib cage

Our lips hit like bolts of lightning
followed by thundering smiles
and streams of hot air

Your hands held me
as I wiped the hair
from your forehead
and laughed into your ear

As you try to peel your body
away from mine
I summon you back
with the taste of my tongue
until you have ingrained it
into your memory
and can remove yourself
without unanswered questions
 Feb 2015
slew
Platter platter, raindrops sink
as I breathe along.
Like time do clouds melt,
revealing the dark of the dawn.

Grey in the blue as dreams fly,
the clock haunts the night.
Memories, like a two legged throne,
feed some devils in disguise.

Cold, as the sleep ripes,
questions finally meet destiny.
The throne now sees no might,
light remains to be my darkest mystery.
 Feb 2015
Sara L Russell
Ch. 1.

1.

Behold, thou art dark and comely, my love;
richly hath the sun favoured thee,
delighting in thy presence.
Let me savour thy kisses of wine;
for in the gardens of the temple
the lotus furls open,
wild bees fall asleep on her face.


2.

Lilies and jasmine bloom
in the garden of my love;
falls of wisteria,
carpets of thyme.
Let us lie in the shade of the olives
to gaze on the sky.


3.

For many hours my love slept
  beneath the cedars,
couched on cool swathes of linen,
like the Lord of Midnight enthroned on a cloud.
Long tresses of willows shivered to cool his face.
I called his name but he heard me not,
being entranced in slumber,
deep in the thrall of dreams;
therefore I shall let him awaken when he please.




Ch. 2.

4.

A warm breath of nard is my master, my king,
A great golden deity haloed with stars.
Behold, the noble bearing of a king,
the finely-wrought body of a man.
In my dearest dreams he standeth before me
out of my reach, gesturing for me to follow,
calling unto me like the very embodiment of love.


5.

Night comes softly, o daughters of Jerusalem,
My king's desirous eyes have grown heavy with sleep.
His black hair ripples about his face
  like curtains of smoke,
gold bracelets entice my gaze to
the sinews of his arms.
Like roses unfurling, so open the lips of my love,
  I burn for their flavour,
yet awaken him not till he please.





Ch. 3.

6.

Out of the forest I came, with my
maidens and minions;
with carpets of hibiscus strewn at my feet.
Columns of frankincense curved into the air,
burning from lamps of copper and gold.
From the broad slopes of Edom
my soul's love stopped to observe us.
I felt his warm gaze upon me,
so soft a look as touched like caresses of hands.
I am weary with desire, my lord and king,
Bring me the looks of thine eyes, dark as midnight,
That regard me with touches of silk.


7.

Though I may stand with my legion before thee,
an army behind me,
The west wind roars to my left,
the east to my right,
a million strong with all my banners, warriors
and standard-bearers,
still my delight were only to serve thee,
see how I tremble with awe by thy side.


8.

Behold, my ladies, the noble bearing of a king,
the finely-wrought body of a man.
My king is a custodian of the sanctity of love,
see those arms with the strength to smite
yet full of the will to embrace.
Nightly cometh he to my chambers,
whispering of love,
with the stealth of a lion,
as meek as a lamb.




Ch. 4.

9.

Preparing for my beloved,
I have put on my mantle of midnight sky
garlanded with stars.
My black locks are hung with beads of gold,
my neck is anointed with sandalwood and rose.
Come, my ladies,
Bring me my white chargers,
my sedan lined with silks from Lebanon,
my heralds and cavalcades of guards;
My beloved king awaits my pleasure.






10.

When I am in the embrace of my beloved,
He is worlds of landscapes of desire,
he is all the earth, air and sky to me.
His eyes shineth as my sun and moon,
his broad chest becometh as the
cool desert dunes by night,
where I may rest my head.
Go safely in thy dreams, beloved king,
with sentinel angels, to roost with the doves.




Ch. 5.

11.

Such a turmoil of a dream
hath troubled me, my sisters,
I dreamed that my love approached my window,
Calling unto me through the
rosewood trefoils of the lattice.
Forgetful of our tryst I answered him not,
all oils and fine trappings were put away,
mine eyes were full of slumber.
When finally I rose from my bed
   he had gone.


12.

Overwrought and afraid,
I went out in the streets,
  calling unto my beloved,
receiving no answer and calling again.
  The night watchmen came and found me,
they smote me and denounced me as pagan,
calling me harlot and worshipper of false idols,
harshly they beat me with flails
and threw me into the darkest cellars
of the palace of Solomon.


13.

Awakening at last,
I felt a warm breeze,
It was my love's breath upon my face.
Let all the world suspend in time,
let hate, rage and darkness flee as a shadow,
otherwise let me die here in the arms of my king.
There is but this one hour, one place,
in one lingering moment,
When my soul's love and I are conjoined
in the petals of love.




Ch. 6.

14.

Midnight has fallen in the gardens
  of the temple of Solomon.
The moon communes with her sister in the lake,
painting the magnolias with mother-of-pearl,
turning her buds into silver doves.
Passion and beauty intertwine in my love's garden,
Like the twisted trunks of the fig trees of Judea.
Behold, my beloved,
thou art more comely even than the moon.
Come and walk with me
in the balmy air of night.


15.

Only through the love of another may
a soul come to know of itself.
My king is mine and I am his;
The sun and moon each taketh their
turn in the sky,
the shepherds go sure-footed
over their hills and valleys,
the merchants go their ways in the
spice markets of Lebanon,
while he and I are lost in one another's eyes.




Ch. 7.

16.

Love's weariness hath overcome me,
beloved lord and king.
Bring me thy pleasant fruits, thy tender words,
Lie betwixt my *******; my hair shall
be thy curtain,
these arms shall be as thy cocoon.
Let the tides cease their turning
and the winds give pause to hold their breath.
Awaken not my dearest love, until he please.


17.

Even in sleep,
such beautiful eyes hath my beloved;
his eyelashes rest upon his cheek
like the feet of a butterfly on a lily.
Come, my sisters, we shall make him
a bed of hemp and poppies,
with fruit of the lotus,
that he may languish beside me
for many days and nights.




Ch. 8.

18.

Filling my days and dreams,
here is a man with the grace of a young hart,
whose honeyed voice speaketh mantras of desire.
Arise and follow me, beloved, for my vineyards
are ripe with luscious fruits,
the doves beat their wings and fly from the cots.
Emerging from the amber of sunrise,
with a swirling of veils,
summer dances into the season of our love.


19.

Lying amid the twisting vines
My love and I are deep in each other's embrace
and his lips taste of roses heavy with dew.
I am a queen of the Red Sea,
an orchid from a sacred garden,
and my kingdom reacheth to the farthest hills.
None but my love shall pass the boundary
where my vines bear the sweetest fruit,
nor taste their heady wine.


20.

The gates of my vineyard are wrought of
iron clad with gold,
taller than cedars, decorated with
the royal insignia,
guarded by three score watchmen,
by day and night.
While other men are kept without
and the foxes are driven back by dogs,
see how swiftly they open for thee.




Ch. 9.

21.

Behold, the noble stature of a king,
the finely-wrought body of a man.
In the sanctity of love
we may walk in the realm of paradise,
undisturbed by the foibles of men.
Come beloved, awaken,
the new dawn opens as wide and fresh
as infant eyes.
Come run with me through the spice hills
  and gardens of Lebanon.
 Feb 2015
Molly
Please understand that when I say these things it's not really me talking, it's the concrete in my stomach, it's the staples in between my toes, it's the zip ties around my wrists, it's the scars around my wrists, it's the coals in my throat, it's the liquor in my throat, it's the liquor in the cabinet my mom never had to put a lock on until I started hiding in it, it's the noose around my neck, it's the smoke in my eyes, it's the bullet in the barrel, it's the gun in my dad's closet, it's the gun in my hand, in my mouth, when I say these things it's not really me talking, it's all these things trying to get out.
 Feb 2015
Francie Lynch
Inside,
I'm naked
And warm,
Where our hearts
Beat
Despite the storm
Of whirling air
And pulsing blood,
Digestive growls
And umbilic crud.
I snuggle in
Fetal bliss,
Where I await
My first kiss
And first cuddle;
Safe
From elemental muddle
Of outside harms.
I see a light,
I'm being torn,
No going back,
I'm reborn.
 Feb 2015
Molly
Sometimes I wake up in the morning without the knot in my chest but I feel off balance so I try to put it back there, feel off balance like tilted bottles of triple sec sliding down my throat, feel off balance like waking up in a place I don't recognize.
Sometimes I smile when I'm sad but I'm scared my demons will feel betrayed so I try to hide it, scared to stare into the sun for too long, scared I'm not going to be able to feel anything anymore if I lose that.
Sometimes I decide I want to love myself again but I remember how I broke my heart before and I put walls up so I don't get hurt again, put walls up so I won't be surprised when I'm still lonely this time next year, put walls up so when I fail I can at least say I was never really trying.
Sometimes I think I'm getting better but I don't know where that leaves me so I think myself out of it, think myself into watercolor guilt, think myself into dying.
 Feb 2015
NuurSeraph
Immaculate moments of Mystery,
be my thoughts for me as
I stay motionless in
your Magnificence,
Invisible in your Absence

Please guide my hands
to soothe and to heal,
my heart to know and to feel
with great Capacity
for the Totality in
the Essence of your Presence.

May I live with purposeful intent
beyond the confines of the self
to grasp with great intensity
the gravity of Eternal Love,
binding order in the Chaos,
Cohesion of the One....
Omnipresent Mind....
Incomprehensible Thought,
into You I swear to forever seek,
until Dual is undone and
the Heart shall rejoin,
before the beginning and
back to the One.*

Ishq Noor ~
Namaste.
 Feb 2015
Phoenix Rising
death is life

when a star dies, it falls inwards
following a miraculous explosion

death isn't life because
life ends in death

death is a spark
of a beginning,
a push...
towards being
what you were meant to be

life isn't unknown, a mystery
it is just hidden, child's play
and those equipped with a childlike fascination
will disobey norms and willingly search for
and crawl through the rabbit hole

while coming to the conclusion
'logic' has been taught
to work around only physicality

expand
like the universe
 Feb 2015
Molly
Sustenance for my frail body
contained in gel-coated pills
split into thirds,
one for morning,
one for night,
one to slip beneath my tongue.

A glass of water
–or milk, with breakfast–
rumbles through my throat,
resists peristalsis,
hits stomach.

The heater clicks on
as the thermostat flashes 68 degrees,
then shuts off at night,
replaced by
one sheet,
one throw blanket,
one quilt.

Your hand, inches from
my fingertips,
not yet near enough
for electricity to jump between,
will go unacknowledged;
one feeble attempt at loving within my means.
 Feb 2015
eunsung aka Silas
my thoughts wander and meander
into wistful daydreams of days longs past

would I still be me, if my choices lead me down
other paths?

would I still be writing these words on a page,
if I was born into a different family?

then like an ice cold water to my face,
I awake to the reality of my life.
wistful dreams are nice to wonder about,
but I'd rather live in here and now.
 Feb 2015
Paul Butters
Prose is writing that goes right across the page. It rolls on, sentence after sentence, usually about things mundane.
But Verse is where you yourself
Decide the length of
Line.

Or stanza indeed. Some call lines “verses”. They can be very long.
Or short.
Iambic metre may be used
And other metres too.
You can write anapaests if you wish.

Yet Poetry is neither prose nor verse
As such.
It is about skyscraper forests looming large,
Trees spiking though mysterious mists.
Poetry is sunshine, filling your heart
With radiant joy.
Black nights of deep depression
Give way to a golden dawn.
The lonely
Find Love.
That’s Poetry.

Paul Butters
Retitled after a suggestion from Francie Lynch. Never say I don't listen! Instructive I hope...
Next page