Apr 24, 2017
Ioana - Silvia Manea 

How do you taste a woman?
Do you let your breath
Take over her skin
Or do you,
Her treacherous,
Deceitful, delightful touch?

Do you take her sight for granted,
As if it was yours to own,
As if she would
Never vanish,
Or do you know
She's nothing more
Than a chimera on a wall,
Than Clotho's spinning thread
In an ancient story of forgiveness...

Do you trust her soft and humid body,
Like a silky cloth soaked in
Spicy peppermint oil,
Or do you fear
Her lips
As if they'll
Harm the pulse
Of your easily grown
Desire for all that she has enchanted?

Do you let her fingers linger
Somewhere in between
The locks of hair,
As they were
Her only to poses,
And make them come alive
Like serpents shadows on a desert's moonlight?

All in all, a woman cannot be
Taken for granted,
As she isn't there
Only because
You see her
A woman is
A passing shadow
For your mesmerized vision.

A woman is that summer rain
On your heated body,
Or that devastating
Storm on a
She is both
Dust and wind,
Love and hatred,
Hope and despair.
She is nothing more
Than clear, cold water.

So drink the woman
As you taste
Into good wine
And tell me, stranger...
How do you taste a woman?

 Apr 23, 2017

My Woman
the more
I try to understand,
the more
she fall into myth..
a tiredness in understanding
a clear confirmation
You never going to
hear the bell... that
you have understood her..

 Apr 22, 2017

So many lines and laments
scribed in ink and feeling,
for the girl who is the ocean

but she is a swell and surge
too dauntless and wild,
for a lover whose bones crave the shore.

She craves the squalls and gusts,
and cast iron skies,
a worldly drift to sate the salt in her skin,
the deep pull of currents in her blood.

She is chaotic but not reckless,
she is fickle, but not feckless.
Love her boldly or not at all
her bones belong to the sea
but she will always return to the shore.

Wow thankyou for the kind words everyone. Feels really good to know people enjoy my words, and my first Sun too!
 Apr 21, 2017
lonesome armadillo 

O blithe spirit,
Whither goest thou now?
Spellsinger golden,
Creator of worlds
Of thought and fancy, alit with Love's light
Through gentle words bright in hope and cheer.

O blithe spirit
What name go you by now?
How shall I call Thee
Back from Thy wanders?
Come back, Gentle Muse,
Bless me once more with Thy holy presence,
For the ink runs dry, inspiration, dear.

for her who will not be named
 Apr 19, 2017

It's a terrible feeling
the first time
you recognize your place
upon the pyramid

That first time you truly grasp
how big the world is,
how small and insignificantly  
your heart beats when standing
beside the infinity of the universe

Like the prom queen or king
of a school in the sticks
moving to the big city,
realizing they aren't shit

Like the kid with a basketball
and head full of fame,
going off to college
to have his dream go up in flames

So small and full of holes,
our expectations smashed
with the weight of everything
we thought we could be

But in that smallness lies potential,
a butterfly effect
A simple hello or a pleasant smile
could change the course
of another's lifetime of hate

Everything is contagious,
we're just diamonds cutting glass
The world is yours to manage,
your gift to neatly wrap

Give or take,
smile or hate
It's so much easier to love
than to be a waste of space

Whoa, the daily huh? I'm flattered and a bit confused. I guess there's a first time for everything. It ain't' easy bein' 'cheesy.

Thanks homies.
 Apr 18, 2017

It was the decay of long-ago spoken words that had hardened around her heart.
It was the blood of past loves that turned the whites of her eyes to crimson.
She dragged herself through the day wearing loneliness on her feet.
Shielded by solitude,
Clothed in dust.

Dried up tears grew as stale
As conversations she continually had with herself
She found her reflection in the most sombre of things:
Empty antique stores
Humdrum of steady rain,
A child's prayers that fell
On empty ears.

At night she went to bed
With eyelids made heavy by prescription pills and avoided eye-contact
Love was a shadow,
An echo heard only through intrusive thought.
A pitiful stare which consumed her dreams
And had her soul
Endlessly on its knees.

Just thoughts. Doesn't quite flow like I want it to.
Next page
Want to submit your work? Request an invite