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vanessa fonseca Mar 2016
i scratch my *** in school and disgust myself
im sexualized
i stand in church
listening to the priest
AMEN AMEN AMEN!!!
everybody repeats mindlessly
im thinking to myself,
everybody in here probably masturbates
i wonder if the priest watches ****
i bet
i bet they all watch childporn
r  Jul 2014
Pome inna bottle
r Jul 2014
Rolled tight and sealed
with my lips this pome
I wrote for you
and placed inside a bottle
Tide is going out
as the sun is setting
with a pome inside a bottle
and you still on my mind
Blue winds and waves
will bring it to you
This pome inside a bottle
Just another love song
like the ones we used to listen to
as the moon rose o'er the ocean
watching the tide come in.

r ~ 7/25/14
\¥/\
  |     Ebb and flow
/ \
Kopter Zero Nov 2014
I used to think a
Poem was something
Out of reach, unattainable,
Difficult to create; I now
Believe it is a
Drawing out, a
Melding together, a
Composition reflecting what already
Exists, that needs only expression in
Words.
r  Mar 2015
put(in) pome
r Mar 2015
you have to be careful
what you put in your pomes
and how you word your critiques

some poets are unique
and their retorts
are silenced

like their critics.
r ~ 3-1-15
It would tie your brain up in a knot,
the clink of glasses on the barman's grate,
and the tones of creaky Dublin croaking,
In darkness, mourning the death, of the daytime light.  

It would I say, to grasp the slender neck,
and to lift it, smiling, glancing beyond the glass,
at winking eyes and clinking pints of plain,
My brain is in a knot, when I think of you.  

I held you on the banks, of the  royal canal,
knew then what all the bards and lovers mean,
say it was the light reflected in their eye,
I never did hear tell, of eyes to rival glass

Yet confound revealing daytime light,
you are liquid of the night, stout and dark,
rebuke me not, till your own brain too,
Has been left in knots, by the dark slender boy.
In me line of work you could get in trouble for publishing this saart of thing.  It's a kind of extended meta(what)phor?  I understand that is a popular and devilish class of device.
r Oct 2015
Hello Poets.
I received a copy yesterday of my good friend Timothy's new book "Reflections in Short Poetry". An excellent book with some of Timothy's finest poems.  Many of you are already familiar with his work. The book is very affordable and now available at lulu.com (by Timothy Salter). I highly recommend it. Congrats to Timothy for getting off of his **** and doing what many of us would like to do. Check his work out here at HP, too, if you aren't already familiar with his writing.

r
Reflections in Short Poetry, by Timothy Salter, at lulu.com
jessiah  Jun 2014
mobile pome
jessiah Jun 2014
responsive wordplay resizes
double entendre to single line
call blocked the writers
got more out by dialing 9

touch screens to text readers
read text and seem touched
the ringing in your ears
was from a cellular punch

I plan to limit my data
but I always over share
mastering dastardly dactyls
pushes my meter to bare

if you only think 1x
you might struggle to get the picture
take a 4G dose to flex
your brain with crack and fissures

lithium ironic that my low battery
turns hyperbole to hypo
I got you charged with flattery
alas, you're not my typo
I got carried away with my excitement about being able to create poems on the go with my cellphone
Mikel  Sep 2014
Pome
Mikel Sep 2014
When a poem becomes a pome
Are the letters to blame
Or has it been the fruit of life all along
A L Davies Feb 2012
i heard your clear deep
                           voice     (singin’)
last year in
                 evening san antone
bleeding from truckstop P.A.
where i                                  bought cactus burritos &
                  1 basket
                                  heavensent peaches &
thanked you
for ev’ry one b/c only
someone like you could                              send a gift

so humble
    .
R.I.P.
Mike Essig  Mar 2017
Love Pome
Mike Essig Mar 2017
tis pity she's no more*

A redolence of musk pervades the evening's air.
Take situation in hand. Sweat and perfume. Lubricious.
Teasing digits. Pressures applied. Tense of touch.
An opening of skirts. A parting of lips. A portal.
Brush of thumb she begins to writhe. Early moaning.
Damp, wet, moist, oozing, dripping, slippy. Fruition.
Coming to. A dance of desire. So many ups and downs.
Withdraw slowly. Enter with alacrity. More is not less.
Hollows of legs on shoulders. Depth charges. Grasp of gasps.
Muscles massage. Internal grip. External eruption.
Bear down. Press your case. Silent screams. Everything ends.
Simply collapse into delight. Smooth texture. Fine night.

— The End —