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dabble Jun 2019
your eyes belong
to my undeniable stare that has infinite meanings and thousand thoughts
your lips belong
to my unbounded lust that flows out as a lovable kiss
your chest belongs
to my irresistible touch that tattoos my name and marks my reign
your ears belong
to my moans and bites from our night bed fights under full moon light

your hands belong to me to hold
I'll want them even when I grow old
your shoulders belong to me to lean
and I, forever want to be your queen
your heart that's beating
that's mine
only mine
no... I would never share
for this whole world, I swear.
sir humbug Jul 2018
one more for Joni and the one who accuses me of
"owning the courage to care so blatantly."

<:>
accused of writing with blatant courage,
a  4 credit requirement for caring

blatant is a word of merger -
open obvious unsubtle and unashamed

and a dissembling misleading one!

it is all of these  and yet can be a contradictory mask of
opposing, differing faces

my blatant is none of these
but appearance only

**** muses keep me coming back
to a particular lyric,
keeps seeking me out, so successfully, wherever I go,
I hear it
it’s invading my both sides now

the dizzy dancing way you feel

you think I have my own blatant courage, untrue!
so oft you mistook my dizzy dancing,
all fluff all humbug so obvious so ashamed,
a cover up, a most subtle cosmetic pretense of the truth -
  of
no courage at all
and yet (they mock)
you do care...

just another of my peculiar
life’s illusions
(self-delusions)

  I really don’t have blatant courage at all
Aidan Derocher Apr 2018
when you write a poem, you own it
you give it your life, you give it meaning
it is your thoughts; it is you

yet as soon as that poem is read by another
it is no longer yours
your meaning — gone

its a redefinition
for the one who reads
it is their work
Rick Warr Mar 2017
the merry chase
is not a waste
if love and passion
are to your taste
the gifts you gave
are now shared
and I am now
to be compared
we went to places
now special and ours
they are sacred
in memory bowers
we freed each other
making love more true
especially when it
doesn't own you
better to have loved and lost because it is a gift

— The End —