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Horizons traced with trembling hands
breathe darkest depths aglow
bring pinkest rose to scarlet hues
all innocence be thrown
dew forming now on swollen bud
sweet nectar old as time
as shaking limbs cry out in bliss
to you, sweet love of mine.

Or....


Rut me, **** me, kiss me, **** me
take me on all fours
throw my back against the wall
then roll me on the floor
Abuse me, use me, wear me out
and make me scream your name
then have a swig of bedside beer
and do it all again.
This challenge was born of conversation, I prefer to write in a traditional style, so my buddy Ryan challenged me to write a traditional verse, with *** as it's theme followed by, as he put it, a translation. There ya go Ry! :-) x
On crowded streets they meet
stealing warmth and kisses
as the hubbub melts away
leaving only them
alone in their misdeeds
together in their longing
for a different ending that cannot be.
The poet sits in lamplit gloom
alone in ebb and flow
how strange it seems to write of love
but never feel it's glow

A sigh, a lie, a broken heart,
a kiss on untouched skin
yet still this writers heart it sits
uncharted deep within.

The poet sits in lamplit gloom
and stares at paper bare,
then puts to it her broken heart
and leaves it bleeding there.
Do not poke the sleeping beast
that hides behind another's mask
his words not written to inspire
but to wound and belittle.
He crows for attention, 
this loathesome creature,
with boundless ego
and tongue firmly 
rotting in pustuled cheek
he will not be the thief of confidence
he will not be the silencer of hope
for he is the keeper of bitter misery
the captain of a sinking ship
not one will touch his heart
as it sits within it's cavern of disdain.
I sometimes stand alone and stare
at time worn face and wayward hair
that frames green eyes with brightest red 
and do not recognise myself

Where is the girl that once belonged
to laughter, dancing, love and song
who always saw with lovers eyes
and sugar coated all her lies

She lingers somewhere far from here
a memory vague to those held dear
too long she has been kept apart
from you, the captor of her heart.
The trouble with Hello Poetry
Is that I fall in love daily
Held under so many captivating spells
moulded and crafted by all walks of life
I find myself longing for all of you
the broken, the fallen, the bruised
the saints, the sinners
the righteous, the dispossessed
the holy, the unholy
all meet here
to speak of life
as they feel it
as only we know it.
Onwards, upwards
Downward spirals
kindness, cruelty
crashing through boundaries
bounding across oceans
carried on wistful sighs and broken dreams
The trouble with Hello Poetry
Is that it breaks my heart
Then brings me back to love again
All within an hour.
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