Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Butterfly May 2019
Grab my waist and pull me slowly  body.
While we are dancing to music that's forgotten and will only exist in our memories.
Hay babe
This is kinda for you idk
Love you so much fruithapje
Gonna be a series
You are like a dream, your face has a beautiful sheen.
If I were to see you again, I'd love the way you seem.
You look just like a goddess, sent from the skies.
Your love has begun to open my eyes.
My heart will always sink to the bottom of my chest.
I'm glad that with you, I'll never have to guess.
I'll love you til my days are gone, please know that's true.
Baby let me be your love and I will be your knight.
Just let me hold you close and kiss your neck tonight.
Thanks for everyone who has been checking out my poems, I'll try to keep them coming!
By M May 2019
What is a *******?
But a woman
Who partakes in joy with another
A person who provides acceptance and pleasure:
Both emotional and physical
Despite being called "*****"

What is a *******
But a woman
Who nurtures and loves another
A person who provides pain and pleasure
For those in need for a strong hand to the light
Despite being called "crazy *****"

What is a pornstar?
But a woman
Who has the courage to bare her body to the world
A person who provides guidance and desire
To those exploring their sexualities
Despite being called "****"

What is a *** worker?
But a woman
Who breaks society's taboos
A person who does what she loves
For those who love her for what she does
Despite being called "disgusting"
"*****"
"****"
"sloppy"
And so much more


What is a *** worker?
But a woman
Who is beautiful,
strong,
empowered,
and a truly liberated woman.
I am obviously aware of women being coerced into ****** jobs or doing them because they have no other options but there are women all around the world who love their jobs as *** workers and I think we should respect them and give them the right they deserve.
Kay-Rosa May 2019
The simple things in life, flowers, kisses on children's noses;
Everyone says, "stop and smell the roses".
I prefer a lilac, a sweet, soft aroma;
The color of the wax insignia on my high school diploma.
Or maybe a honeysuckle, sweeter than day.
Singing songs on stage, a heart meant for Broadway.
Then, possibly a gardenia, a white multi-petal;
Floral smell, like jasmine tea in a copper kettle.
But never a rose, the smell sharp and acrid;
Red, pink or white, all color refracted.
So, can I stop and watch the sunset, slow into the night,
Instead of pricking my fingers, Mr. Fahrenheit?
rk Apr 2019
you see my darkness as a burden;
he helped me wear it like a crown.
- i hope this helps you understand.
starstrike Apr 2019
Hell.
Fire and brimstone.
Smoke, ravaging sweet oxygen, clouding eyes, suffocating lungs.
And there you stand in the middle of it all.
Eyes ablaze, a grin that could drop a king to his knees.
There’s something else in you:
A liveliness I’ve never seen before.

All at once there is dark.
Then, light.
And you, a shimmering ethereal figure:
A pinpoint, billowing out to encompass all.
Blinding.
Magnificent.
Rebirth is the only word I have for it.
I stare, because what else is there to do?

Who are you? A Queen?

….

No, my dear, I am a God.
Brittany Hall Apr 2019
Fragile, yet, unbreakable.
Rattled, but, unshakable.

Taking the **** and I'm dealing with it.
Taking these hits 'cause I'm feeling with it.

Out of my mind, but I'm cool with it.
I still walk a straight line, I don't fool with it.

Tired, but I still stay woke.
Fired up; what a ******* joke.

Still respectful, I don't hope you choke..
I'll just let you make someone else go broke.

Anyway, back to the point.
I'm doing fine, want a hit of this joint?

I'm ******* funny, I'm free, wouldn't you like to be me?
Just kidding. I'm humble, trapped, and you don't wanna be me.

It doesn't matter what anybody else believes.
The only one that can judge Me, is Me.

Me, me,
Me, me, me, me,

One lesson you taught me,
Is to care about me, me, me, me.

Thank you, really.
I hope that you agree.

I'll never again forget,
That I, am Queen Bee.
Naked arms extended to heaven
resembling monks of infinite patience.
The scrawny trees waiting the ravens
missing the joy, enduring the silence.

The bluest blue the sky can wear
the coldest breeze of cleanest air.
Whim genius artist who painted there
the purest white the eyes can bear.

The king of stars with dimmed power
hidden behind the hills and meadows.
The queen of night rules longer hours
dresses the field on fearsome shadows.

The time will come to end your blue
your dark realm made of white silence.
The sprouts of life are coming through
beneath your blanket, thriving with patience.
Winter takes a lot of space in Canadian's lifes. It comes full of strong feelings and sensations.
Next page