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Salmabanu Hatim Aug 2019
Mum communicated with us with her eyes and gestures,
When we interrupted her,
Her eyes would be in slits and a scowl told us to leave,
An angry stare and a cough was a signal, "no second helping".
To the guests,"They are full".
And if we dared her,
She would bite her lips, with an angry glare that meant, no pocket money for a week".
If we did something to the visitors' child who messed with us she would  hold us lovingly,
But tightly, a sharp pinch from behind and sweetly ask us to apologise,
Lord Mighty! If we argued the pinch would be sharper meaning,"they are our guests".
Nowadays mummies have their eyes burdened with mascara, and long eyelashes,
Their faces covered with heavy make-up,
They are so busy with their own lives and to ease their conscience  they think their children are gems.
23/8/2019
Anastasia Jun 2019
i feel like
uncertainty
is pinching my flesh.
pinching my elbows
my ears
on my neck
my ankles
my stomach
my nose
my toes
this
uncertainty
won't leave me alone.
Though reading horror stories (macabre),
     an only every now and again
     genre crazy wave
washing over me like
     a killer tsunami,
     (subsequently fueling
     desperation) to save
thine scrawny ****,

     (a derriere laughing stock,
     and hence cheeky of me to rave),
those rare occasions satiated, when
     hung over insomnia heavily bulging,
     rheumy myopic blood shot eyes
     nonetheless lock into
     critical opening sentence determining,
     whether adroit kingly author

     nimbly setting the stage and pave
ving what thenceforth, pro
     misses tubby a cell out ace
in the hole captive audience
     (me, this apt pupil), doth brace
himself (by all counts once
     a bad little kid) deserving, well...now...
just a bag of bones,

     who fiendishly cackles
     when leaning in (Sheryl Sandberg like),
whereat after opening sentence, an instantaneous
     possessive gnarly hand
     forcibly grabs my attention
     presaging and frightening
     yours truly (juiced in case
ye did not know),

     where within the bazaar
     of bad dreams epic,
     which seems like forever,
     when I finally erase
and exorcise the bogeyman who,
     masterfully, immediately,
     dramatically got woven
     lady chattery teeth and all

     withering wicked warp and woof
     establishing (proof positive),
     an excellently crafted
    Chiral Mad heavily shades
     of night are falling
     gussying haunting place,
where the color of evil permeates
     every cerebral space
with darkness, said

     sub rosa prime evil punctuates
     the mind this dream catcher,
     whence after four past midnight
the reaper's image appears
sending adrenaline rush,
     viz flight or fight blind

did, when firestarter alarm didst grind
passage of time manifesting dark forces
     blaze zing atavistic fear itself lined
     up battleground formation
     from the borderlands of my mind
this even before turning
     the first page where the eyes
     of drag'n my afterlife shined!
Ryan Holden Aug 2017
Pinches on my skin
Remind me I am still caught,
In grips of your love.
Äŧül Jun 2017
I still waste my tears in your memory,
I still miss the romance in my poetry...

In your company I was carefree,
And you bit your fingers naughtily.
You used to meet me often secretly,
A lot of time is gone but I still miss it.

I used to pull the corner of the curtains suddenly,
And I remember how you veiled your face behind the scarf.
Those sunlit hot afternoons when I used to call you,
And I still miss how you used to run barefoot onto the terrace to romance with me.
But now those memories pinch me.
My HP Poem #1581
©Atul Kaushal
Maria Etre Jul 2016
An encounter
that shook the stars
made them shoot across
the sky, urging lovers
to throw wishes
here and there
with no hope in mind

She time-traveled at  his "hello"
he shook at her reply
what happened to the cosmos?
could they have re-arranged?
what magical power took over the Earth
to make gravity none-existent?

She felt weightless
but heavy with her past
he sweat out all his mistakes
or was his body too close to her sun
that he melted at her sight

He wanted to speak almanacs of his years past
but choked at the dense night sky
his lungs shrunk in capacity
his mind forgot the ability to verbalize
vocalize,
his mind forgot all sense of language
except that of none-verbal nature

She wanted to strangle him
with the chains that left marks on her heart
the wounds that she turned to beautiful tattoos
the pickled emotions she had left on that shelf
in a desolate basement
She wanted to give him a taste
of what "hurt" felt like back then
and how it morphed her into a beautiful
thick skinned creature, fearless of rollercoasters
who's highs are intoxicating and who's lows
are deadly
But..

He...
Her...
Hell visited Earth that day
all its fires burned all sense of logic
turned emotions to ashes
it anesthetized what drives the heart
into overdrive

The universe confused its laws of physics
gravity lost, oxygen reduced, weightlessness ruled
everyone was high

Something was wrong
it didn't feel like it was happening
She had her taste of inception
a dream within a dream within
a mind diluted with nothing but sobriety
how could this be?
He was speaking in intervals
cut with silences that caused earthquakes in meaning
intercepted with glares that burned the wildest of wild fires  

Life you threw one hell of a curveball
that changed the orbit of her being
Turning her the other way
slowing down time
or so it felt

What the hell is happening
She has this under control
When her schizophrenic selves
came out to play
they failed miserably
She gawked at
his jittery hands
eyes
dilated with confusion
glazed with hesitation
filled with questions


surreal
ethereal
not happening
pinch me
Please
JayceeJellies Feb 2016
I've been scratched and pinched and bruised
but none of those things came from you.
Ciel Nov 2015
Searing pain,
Flaring,
Pins and needles.
Pinch
Gone
Pinch
Gone
Pinch
Never ending cycle
Of stitching,
Like horrid embroidery
Embedded in my skin
That will forever be
Tattooed
Against my bones
Nessa dieR May 2015
It was a pinch of*  Insanity
*That saved the world.
Meteo Apr 2015
Many blessings upon you as you settle into your new address.

Since that workshop of yours I attended many moons ago, I have been in the practice of what you call "kiss poems". Though this exercise comes as gracefully for me as to be almost involuntary, I disagree with its name, how it implies temporary as fleeting;

the breadth of time allowed for a kiss
should supercede that of a pair of lips pinching each other
it should be amnesia breaking like a fever
it should be dodging bullets
and finding forgiveness
capturing the sun
a spinning panorama centered around two people in a busy train station
we get closer as the universe drops away with every revolution
it's William Blake standing in line at MPI
it's long lost friendships
it's fond acquaintances reintroduced in a museum after a thousand years
it's the accumulating caress of cresting tides
it's finding out what's on the other side and staying awhile
it's a lazy afternoon to make up for a lifetime
it's your song on the radio
it's an unyielding hand on a shoulder as a foot leaves a precipice
it's, "I'm sorry"
it's, "I know"
all this said as read should allow for the breadth of a kiss
for more, for less

dear Mr. Wint,

the breadth of time allowing for a kiss
should leave a pair of what was once previously anomalous,
identified indefinitely as a singularity

lips like fingerprints
forever evident

At the risk of being contentious, I just wanted you to know I wrote a poem, and you're to blame.

Thank you.
"MPI" - Manitoba Public Insurance
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