Hannah 6d

to me love is like a rose garden
you walk down each row
admiring the individuality of each
every rose is beautiful
like love
they say not to pick the roses
what is everyone picked them
meant to be admired not touched
i am guilty of picking the roses
they sit in a vase in my room
i seem to pick the roses that remind me much of myself
usually delicate and light
not classic
light pink
you used to give me light pink
you knew who i was
not fulled bloomed
but exotic and beautiful
love is a rose garden
i want my own.

soul changing

I see beautiful photos of the changing Aspens online,
But it doesn't fascinate me that much.
I'm more interested in the Shrines and Temples of India
Or African Indigenous Tribes.
Then, there are lots of Nude, White, American Girls online,
But the African Women
And Israeli Sabras
Look a lot sexier to me.
I might not never make love to a Black Woman from South Africa
Or a Sabra from Israel,
But their swerving  curves
Are gentle on the eyes.
If I'm going to see a bony woman's rib cage in a nude photo,
I might as well just look at photos of starving people in refugee camps.
Beauty might be close at hand,
But I'm more Fascinated by the Exotic.
As an American,
I guess I'm no different from anyone on Earth.
Many people think that What is most Spiritual
And most sexy
Is right here in Colorado,
But it's hard for me to appreciate it
Because it's all so FAMILIAR
To me.

Beware the Anna Conda
of Boa Vista;
So easy to coil up
in those snakes for arms,
so deadly to be bitten
by those snakes for charms.

orchids exotic captured
the man's botanical eye
they were so beautiful
in display
with delicate petals
and a scent
of heady romance

the wheelchair bound New York
cop saw defining evidence
of the exquisite
his heart elated
by the flower's

there under his real
name of Raymond Burr
he established
an orchid garden
on a Fiji island
the climate perfect
for growing
and nurturing
the plant species
arresting of sight
so sublime
its vision's delight

Shofi Ahmed May 23

The sunset imbues its last glance
as molten lavas cool into exotic crimson
painting the colour of romance on the seabed.
What glance did you cast?
Stunned moon turns up a notch,
keeps looking over the ocean,
yet to drink a drop!
Ah, holy smoke,
what did you drop?

Here a mother nature stands in the trees, she sees dear animals and feeds them. She gives them tender and joy love.

Her name is unknown but she is someone who is head of this magical place.

She watches anyone and gives them her love and light holy care to them.

The people picture her as an angel or a beautiful goddess.

She tells them her name, her name is Luxshana.. goddess of love and nature. <3

Robin Carretti Dec 2016

Mean & smoked out the Divine joint
Darker then any smoke
What's the point??
Going to blow devil words 2 me
Do we have this planned out,
what do we see?
Cruel 2-B bloody life is dark
but damn good
Paint's it Graffiti hood
Careless sucked up 2 him
Reckless my lips played him hard
Smoked killed me off-guard
He sneaked around the fruit
Strawberry strange pursuit
My soul this is the last straw
Deadly strawberries left with black rose
All covered seductively posed
The song plays out strawberry Soprano
Intense smoking love incense cello
Strawberry sounds smothered
Good night dark strawberry moon
I grabbed him way 2 soon

madameber Nov 2016

you said i was exotic,
and i said ooo
what do you mean?, like
exotic like a fruit?, like
i don’t know what tropics
you think i came from, was
imported from, but you read
my skin like the label
on a flavour of coca-cola
you had never been
offered before and i
was refreshing, and
different. and you liked
the way my coke-bottle
curves felt beneath your
fingertips, said you’d never
tasted caramel
like me before,
you said i was exotic.
like i was a work
of west african art,
even though my mother’s
from the east, like
i was from a storybook like
1001 african nights, like,
you saw my cover and you were
hooked, never did think to
look beneath the jacket,
just wanted stories like the
ones scheherazade sold,
i was your sheba
and you my solomon.
we rode lions across
the sands, your kiss
was salt on my lips,
i needed to quench
my thirst and you offered
me the brand new flavour
of coca-cola.

you said i was exotic,
like a pretty foreign thing,
like just some thing,
some mail-order thing,
special delivery
just for you,
a flavour of coca-cola that you
had never tasted before.

it's not a compliment
Poetictunes Sep 2016

Can we start over again?
Can we be strangers again?
This time we'll start off as friends and not lovers.
Maybe we can see if there really is chemistry, and not just between the covers.
This time we can actually spend time talking?
We can laugh
And recreate memories
And give each other a second chance
Let me reintroduce myself

Haiku Hank Jun 2016

bird of paradise
magnificent creation
exotic beauty

Next page