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Andreas Simic Mar 2018
You scan the room
eyes meet
smiles are spawned

Blushes shared
sideways glances
embarrassment cascades

The dance has begun
awkward moments multiply
rituals are invoked

Stares become contests
flames of desire kindled
yearning turns to wanting

Time stokes the embers
into uncontrolled heat
that cannot be squelched

Days become longer
nights intolerable
until

That moment
where lips meet
and lust is born

Andreas Simic©
Everyone can remember theirs, yes?
Jen Snow Feb 2018
I
Love
The
Colors
And
Smells

Of
Warm
Cinnamon
And
Ground
Beans

Muffins
And
Green
Tea

The rustle
Of
A
Newspaper

The
Quiet
Clicking
Of
Keys

Gives my
Weary
Heart
A
Break

And
A
Safe
Place
To
Be
Akira Feb 2018
OCD
When I was thirteen,
I was anxious about my obsessive rituals,
Didn't expect that it was Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.
And once you have it, it will never leave you.
Even at night, when I go to bed.
My mind drowns in waves of questions.
Have I washed my hands?
Are these plates clean enough?
Did I close the door?
Have I drank enough water?
It was hard for me,
The repetitions,
The struggle of everything turning into endless cycles          

When I was fourteen, I said,
"Mom? I'm having these kind of rituals."
I said, "Mom? Am I getting better?"
Well, mom thinks it's normal. But it's not.      
Well, I feel something bad and I feel that the world was against me, that the rituals were indeed sempiternal.

When I was fifteen,
My Obsessive Compulsive Disorder had completely risen up to another level.
I feel anxious, I feel bad, I feel that I am slowly sinking into an ocean filled with unspoken mysteries.
And every time, I try not to listen to those voices, those voices seem unable for me to conquer, those voices become higher than my power.

So when I turned sixteen,
I wished the life of a genuinely normal teen.
Obsessive Compulsive Disorder is like a spell, a lifetime spell.
A spell that covers me, that controls me,
a spell with ***** hands that touch my soul.
And yet people think I'm crazy, I'm insane, that I'm hopeless, but the truth is I need help. I need people to stop the judgements and please understand my condition.
Seema Nov 2017
The sky split open
I'm ****** in a whirlpool
My body light as a feather
I am used as a tool
In another world or dimension
I not know the place
But it's too familiar
And I recognize that evil face
A demon of this world
A satanic being with filthy evil powers
Sapping my energy, draining
And this forces me to be awake for hours
Lying on my bed, praying hard
To prevail, evil forces from destroying my spirituality
Alas, I get pinned down most days
Like that of a nasty shaman practising ***** sexuality
Hitting on my chakras, stealing my energry
For somehow, I feel this person is attached to me
Please believe me, I am not insane
I feel his presence around me
And then I am left dealing with my pain
I am a spiritual person and used to feel my positive auras
Now that I am draining from my so called sickness
And feel my energy used by another for astral travel
A thief, in shadows, I can't even sketch coz of weakness
I wish to get well, I wish to live fully again
But seems, all my tries are going in vain
Hell, seems to be cracked open to let its beings out
To crawl and survive on the energies of high spirituals
Sometimes I wake up sweating with a shout
May be that's the time, this person performs the rituals
From another place unknown to me
Stealing from my meditation vault, my energies
And I am too blinded to believe and see
Coz I feel I'm in mercurial abyss, with some alienetic synergies...
Kim Johanna Baker, this poems is dedicated to you my dear poetess friend. May you get well soon :)
Ma Cherie Mar 2017
Death may come,
to some sweet souls
we know this -
much too quickly
there in a flash,
- in a heightened dash-
perhaps not even sickly,

Oh how that fate-
so mercurial,
it doesn't tell us -
so often why,
as we gaze in daze,
upon our solemn dead,,
an throw our hands up to the sky,
we ask of our dear stars above,
just why'd they have to go an die?

As we are really sad for only just ourselves,
we're just not ready to be done,
so stuck there in our bad goodbye,
still looking for the shining sun,
parting is such sweet sorrow
when it's with the only "one",

To leave the lovely Earth,
a blinking eye,
before to grasp a changing thought,
to look up in a changing sky,
for the answers dearly sought,
or even only wonder why,
it wiped away a life so fast,
and suddenly-
it seems for naught,

Her people they not with her now,
as she lay so broken and forlorn,
until the strangers come to call,
her death-
it was perhaps just a chance to warn,

To expire in a cul-de-sac,
as they circle 'round her now to grieve,
watching as they march as one,
to see the only way -believe,
believe me,
they come to only bid farewell,
not to punish or a bone to cleave,
as the body fails,
gone away - a binding heave,

As a rolling tube of rubber brings
about the ugly severed end,
and a hard black inflated reality,
it comes around the final bend,
barreling down on a tiny female life,
no hand to hold-
not one to lend,
but the birds they came,
with a message we should send,

Harbingers come in the quietus here,
they come to dance in sacred feather,
an some say rare and very strange,
and predictors of the coming weather,

I think that might be true, I do,
but what do circling wild birds
really tell?
circumnavigating the dead of Earth,
while in the sadness do not dwell,
and still I'm sure they are afraid of those tires,
but those fears they only quell,

They circle round to pay respect,
an she an enemy in their eye,
still they only ferry her,
an wish her home
a last goodbye,

A ritual of death and life,
performed before the alter,
a spirit sighs -a soul she dies,
her body could only falter,
death may come,
they fear it - not,
and I believe they still-
believe no hell is hot,

How?
How do these wild wild birds,
understand better than we,
some how?

Ma Cherie© 2017
Not going to add comments I'm going to see what happens if someone can guess what this is about course it's very metaphorical. Still very busy and  unable to be here much very sorry poets thank you so much for all the love muah -Ma Cherie ❤❤❤
Rachael hays Oct 2015
mating behavior
pushes the limits
forgets boundaries

tall
dark
eyes like a canyon
pulling you into them

hands
length
soothing sounds
vibrations

mating rituals
dances with wolves
edge of the feather
periscope vision

~ rachael hays 9O15
Chestina N Craig Apr 2015
Muscle memory has made our movements
so cyclical

we
tangle ourselves up monthly

entering  each others presences
with our
amens

your back an altar
that I worship at,
your arms the extent of the world that I acknowledge exits
for now

but the sunlight will always find its way
between us on your pillows
and will always rise
sure of its self
that is has picked the right moment because,
it is the golden boy of the family

and you
will always rise sure of the fact
that you must leave
because it is your ritual
to never expose enough to be a full picture

and I will allow myself to learn again
that the sun
is the brighter star here.
love relationships heartbreak boys life heart sunshine sun rituals
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