"I will take you higher," he had said.
"Where will you take me," she demanded.
"Beyond the stars & nebulae," he professed.
"How will you take me there," she whispered.
"Come down on me as I sleep," he paused.
"And what will you do," she continued.
"Then I will take you higher," he gabbled.
"What is going to be your next move," she moaned.
"Land on me subtly, my lover," he invited.
"Oh sure, my fomenter," she groaned.
"As my rocket will launch," he gibbered.
"Oh yeah, my crazy tormentor," she cried.
"On a higher level our happiness will be." he splattered.

My HP Poem #1536
©Atul Kaushal

Long Lean Legs
          wrapped in black patterned stockings,
Calling to all
          To look upon her long lines and admire
Ready to take her
          boldly where ever she needs to go
The questions is
          can her mind make the bold choice
To finally use those legs
          and run?

©LadyofRavenhill 4/18/17

Bellowed, cried, screamed boldly.
Whisper, titter, hush softly.
How we speak of love.

Dog Years Feb 17

I'll have a large coffee please.
Give it to me black,
give it to me bitter.
Let the beans do their thing
let the coffee keep it's zing.
No need to make it sweeter,
I want
what most people consider
a one hitter quitter.
Unadulterated,
unaltered,
night colored coffee at it's best.
I want to feel my heart beat out of my chest,­
stay up all night long
with the taste of the earth on the tip of my tongue­
I want  it darker,
I want it bolder.
Flavor stays long,
the coffee bites strong.
Do not kill my coffee
with sugar and spice
or anything nice.
You sweet-toothed zombie.
Haven't you heard?
Truth be told,
when it comes to coffee...
fortune flavors the bold.

Afiqah Jan 25

be dauntlessly bold
don't let those eyelids turn visibly cold
for them to see
let those chains down and fight them like hell
the next time they tell you
that when you get older
your heart dies,
pluck that little grit from your bones
and leaf out those wounds and say,

"I have stayed, thus far, to behold the pretty things
against all other
who made it grew unnoticed"


-a.

Prathipa Nair Jan 25

Had a lonely walk on a silent afternoon
Followed by the whistling of an eve teaser wind
Without a second thought moved my legs fore with a smile
Wind alluring me with its delicate touch
A trial of making me fall for him
With an unshaken heart walked towards my home
Taking deep breath giving a teddy hug
To my mother standing in the gate

IrieSide Jan 11

Oh,

to fall in love with a poet.

How strange it would be

writers of darkness who share their nonsense

in passionate form.

I'd fall in love with a poet

to dream with her

of what could be.

Oh to dream,

of one who understands me.

Is it you miss poet,

is it you

who understands me?

(Before you continue reading I ask that you read all of it and thats all I ask)



They
Said my behavior was unacceptable;
"Unbelievable!" The words I would say.
If not for daydreaming all day\ then,
I wouldn't be breathing today;
Not in the course of current time,
Subsequential nine fortnights ago;
Although it feels like a memory to me reoccurring  when I struggle More like powering through quizzes packed full of questions of why I'm always sleep deprived and late to school just down the street from me but not only is my trouble staying awake during quizzes,
forget'about classes;
Conferences with my parents called in to figure  out a time back When  A.D.H.D   couldn't help me find a seat assigned for  me
or when my parents hug me at the therapist office hearing me repeat teachers voices in enmity\ replay  in my head without thinking they would grow old someday;
Definitely knowing they weren't holding back when they would get Together and get to saying I would never reemerge from the curiosity to be a ratio out of the minority of the environment I grew up in;
It was either steal, flex or receive the opposed for standing around observing ,
I was Always too quick to say curses although I was never called for it and the bluffs  conjured in a thought  mossies on top of my Tongue like the lies that slip out when I'm not thinking about who it Would it hurt hereafter whom ever would hear me I wouldn't mind.
l1lB

Relief
Mark Ipil Dec 2016

I have story to be told,
I have passion to be bold,
The power may be old,
But the truth must unfold.

I don’t want you to tell,
The story of how I fell,
It’s my reality to sell,
No need for you to yell.

No matter what you say,
I’m always here to stay,
Let everything be gray,
Let me be the one to pay.

In the end of this long sail,
The curse must be sealed,
No one is allowed to feel,
The great power I conceal.

P.S. This is my curse.

I carry wind with addendum as though a seed has thought
only such food she'll shine again with a shore repository

as a companion in foot massage deeper inside
if mistaken identity may press her soul
that spice up this time does visit one bellwether chore of making love

yet still time those players melt their ardor and repose their splatter
in a kingdom yet found in traces of love those denizens wild cat demands so taboo again that heat with detraction of Liberty.

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