Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Sumairupoetry Jun 18
Her eyes were like bold sunflowers, so beautiful to admire when the golden rays of  light breached her eyelids.

I laid her down and whispered pretty nothings in her ear, sending chilling waves of arousal down her spine activating her senses creating goosebumps.

I could lay here with her forever as time slips away just admiring her picturesque sunflowers.

Her eyes contained beautiful greens and yellow as if nature hand crafted them herself.

Her eyes where like exquisite sunflowers, so beautiful to admire when the golden rays of light breached her eyelids.
Anya Jun 12
When I start to write a poem my initial reaction is to
Purse my lips, brush aside my hair, twiddle my toes, try to feel
Where I am write down, who
I am write now, equal measures physically and mentally
In the case that the tap is on, my thoughts flowing in a steady stream I greedily clutch at them
Some are caught successfully in a bucket but more than I realize slip through
The cracks in my fingers

The times when the **** seems firmly shut I’m left
For an opening in my mind that seems to have dried up,
Not a drop left

So, I start digging. A scratch, two, eventually like a dog frantic for his treasure
I usually hit something
But as to whether it’s my prize is another matter
I’m more often hit with a rock
A very hard unmoving rock

Although, sometimes the rock is gold
Or pyrite and I can pass it off as such
It still glitters and shines
And that’s fine, isn’t it?
Evie Apr 20
i am aware my poems are not high quality

i am not a very high quality person

i just need to empty my mind out somewhere

poetry has become the unfortunate victim
False Poets Aug 2014
the quality of quantity is unmerciful,
prodigious production of
wine improperly aged,
pours soiled drops
spilled without craft,
care or taste,
poured too quick to be
nothing more than
less than waste

born in reckless unrestrained
than every thought a golden gift,
bestowed upon the masses,
droppeth like the harshest hurricane rains,
gives no moisture sustenance to the world,
only floods and lays waste in dazed hazes

blesses none but the one who
cannot but cant,
measures his own demeanor in the mirror,
unsuspecting the mirror mirrors
the ides of ego,
seeds of self destruction

the throned monarch
who giveth
but does not take,
thinking the king he is,
his own best,
even better than his creator
and tho he carvo's his retno critiques
upon the brows of his subjects,
he cares not,
for it boring brings
more mastubatory page views
his addition of success,
his edition of self congratulatory
of writs and snits,
which adds up to a whole lot of

but you may put you pen down now,
for the world needs only
need one poet,
and it ain't me,
and it certainly ain't

For Crumble
Khoi-San Apr 9
highly rated
well recommended
nothing to do with size and much to do with depth and quality of a relationship that is
Curtis Owens Jan 2
One more shot
before I Stop.
One last line of vitality
accepting that Finality.
Mixed up my realities  
Finding myself lost.
Swapping years of life for  
of Ecstasy.
And he said to me “I know I'm going to die if I go on.”
I thought that meant he would stop.
I guess not.
Johnny walker Dec 2018
My girl was all to me
very wicked laugh a
**** voice
Eyes that
could undress me with
just a glance
Eyes that could take
me to
Her passionate kiss
to take my breath away
leave me gasping for
air, body and very soul
she put Into
Beauty on the outside
and beauty most Importantly that came from deep within
All Helen was to me but most Importantly she had a beauty
that shone from deep within a rare quality
Makenzie Marie Nov 2018
Time runs away from me
As I dash to be in your company.
You are worth a lack of sleep.
Next page