Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Winnalynn Wood Mar 2021
Touch the stars tarnished with ancient dust
Gaze at the moon, round with the suns love

Of reflections thousands of miles away
As the incandescent comets fly and sway

And the planets hovering still around
Towards the suns rays they chance a bow

In the frigid darkness, silent in space
The stillness frosts the air like the most delicate lace
Nolan Willett Sep 2020
You say you hate the human race
I say you have a lovely face
You think you’ll never reach the place
I think that you would miss the chase
So I unlace
And you embrace
And with the world we keep pace
‘Til the day we disappear
And leave without a trace
Savio Fonseca Jun 2020
I was holding Her Hands,
as We walked the Talk.
The Moon in the Sky,
watched Us like a Hawk.
Her natural beauty shone,
all over the Place.
My Woman was draped,
in a German Gown of Lace.
It was on the Silver Beach,
Our Romance got Lit.
Slowly and Steadily,
Our Midnight Passions got Hit.
I Unwrapped Her Desires,
as the Cold Wind kept Blowing.
As She wrapped around  My Arms,
My Endless Love kept Flowing.
Anastasia Jun 2020
dancing on a moonless night
the air is cold
stars the only light
a lacy white dress
flowing with her movement
is she porcelain
or is she human
a music box plays
while she slowly spins
her limbs held together
with staples and pins
sweet tinklings and chimes
while she closes her eyes
trapped in a hell
a soft gentle demise
winding down
the music slows
to staccato notes
there is no flow
just jerky beats
eventually

silence

my hands reach for the key
Michael R Burch Apr 2020
To a Louse
by Robert Burns
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Hey! Where're you going, you crawling hair-fly?
Your impudence protects you, barely;
I can only say that you swagger rarely
Over gauze and lace.
Though faith! I fear you dine but sparely
In such a place.

You ugly, creeping, blasted wonder,
Detested, shunned by both saint and sinner,
How dare you set your feet upon her—
So fine a lady!
Go somewhere else to seek your dinner
On some poor body.

Off! around some beggar's temple shamble:
There you may creep, and sprawl, and scramble,
With other kindred, jumping cattle,
In shoals and nations;
Where horn nor bone never dare unsettle
Your thick plantations.

Now hold you there! You're out of sight,
Below the folderols, snug and tight;
No, faith just yet! You'll not be right,
Till you've got on it:
The very topmost, towering height
Of miss's bonnet.

My word! right bold you root, contrary,
As plump and gray as any gooseberry.
Oh, for some rank, mercurial resin,
Or dread red poison;
I'd give you such a hearty dose, flea,
It'd dress your noggin!

I wouldn't be surprised to spy
You on some housewife's flannel tie:
Or maybe on some ragged boy's
Pale undervest;
But Miss's finest bonnet! Fie!
How dare you jest?

Oh Jenny, do not toss your head,
And lash your lovely braids abroad!
You hardly know what cursed speed
The creature's making!
Those winks and finger-ends, I dread,
Are notice-taking!

O would some Power with vision teach us
To see ourselves as others see us!
It would from many a blunder free us,
And foolish notions:
What airs in dress and carriage would leave us,
And even devotion!

One Sunday while sitting behind a young lady in church, Robert Burns noticed a louse roaming through the bows and ribbons of her bonnet. The poem "To a Louse" resulted from his observations. The poor woman had no idea that she would be the subject of one of Burns' best poems about how we see ourselves, compared to how other people see us at our worst moments. Keywords/Tags: Robert Burns, louse, church, bonnet, lace, Scotland, Scots, dialect, translation
Michael R Burch Apr 2020
The Secret of Her Clothes
by Michael R. Burch

The secret of her clothes
is that they whisper a little mysteriously
of things unseen

in the language of nylon and cotton,
so that when she walks
to her amorous drawers

to rummage among the embroidered hearts
and rumors of pastel slips
for a white wisp of Victorian lace,

the delicate rustle of fabric on fabric,
the slightest whisper of telltale static,
electrifies me.

Published by Erosha, Velvet Avalanche (Anthology) and Poetry Life & Times

Keywords/Tags: clothes, lingerie, nylon, cotton, amorous, drawers, slips, lace, static, electricity, mystery, mysterious
Michael R Burch Mar 2020
Are You the Thief
by Michael R. Burch

for Beth

When I touch you now,
O sweet lover,
full of fire,
melting like ice
in my embrace . . .

when I part the delicate white lace,
baring pale flesh,
and your face
is so close
that I breathe your breath
and your hair surrounds me like a wreath . . .

tell me now,
O sweet, sweet lover,
in good faith . . .
are you the thief
who has stolen my heart?

Originally published as “Baring Pale Flesh” by Poetic License/Monumental Moments

Keywords/Tags: Love, lover, touch, fire, ice, melting, embrace, white, lace, flesh, face, breath, hair, wreath, faith, thief, heart, ******, erotica
trf Mar 2020
sewing time together,
we scribe our narrative,
your lace stitches leather,
like a seamstress.

failures don't forget me,
i'm their stone to engrave,
designed imperfections
and a chiseled face.

close enough to notice,
constellations are yarn,
unthreading in the distance,
these days seam apart.
Next page