He yearned to conquer her fort,
she resisted and gave a good fight
it ended with exhausted tired breathless souls
resting on messy spoiled sheets all nite.

It stains like blood,
Your touch.
Like wine,
It stays,

It frees.

Envelope me.
Paint me with your colours,
Your fingers, tinted brushes.
Draw over my scars.
Embellish me.

The artist, a lover.

The lover, an artist.

My smooth vermin, you inspire me to write.
How I hate the way you infest,
Invading my mind day and through the night,
Always dreaming about the wicked rest.

Let me compare you to a contender?
You are more ugly and more disgusting.
Hot frost nips the robins of December,
And wintertime has the shocking busting.

How do I hate you? Let me count the ways.
I hate your intriguing infestations.
Thinking of your many legs fills my days.
My hate for you is the implications.

Now I must away with a loathsome heart,
Remember my fast words whilst we're apart.

please leave feedback and coomens below! :) :)
Timothy Daly Nov 26

lady in red
in my head
“someone said,
in a book I read,
that men are misled:
beauty kills us dead.”
get out of my head!
“To where shall we head?”
“my creaky twin
or a hotel bed?”
our minds are led
by hurried legs
as her lips, red,
push me to the bed
tinged with dread

Mary Kate Nov 20

That fiery flash
A stomach falls
The electric charge of shared breath
Lips just a brush away
Yearning for unpermitted closure
A symphony
In frenetic bridging


Sweet release
And the universe flips itself once more

Lyn-Purcell Nov 17

How it picks and plucks a perfect rose.
How it cups and embraces the life of death.

And I thought for a moment.
With all the anxiety that goes on in the world.
Lay with me for a moment so that we'll both know all that ills.
The insecurities we dress ourselves with that reveal only what we want to show.
Soon remembered when were all alone.
For what you truly define as a moment without rush.
Fill a void that isn't easily removed without first knowing a strangers name.
That ensues unanswered phones and a loss track of time.
The beginning of fear, the turmoil of new habit.
Step into the unknown.
Meaning total comfort in your own skin without a means of being judged.
A spontaneous eruption of minutes that burst into hours, oozed into the rhyme of songs played on repeat
Until we forget entirely what it was that we were planning on doing next.
And I thought for a moment.
This is complete and utterly insane.
Moving from the bed to the floor.
Finding what's been on the edge of our fingertips this whole time

Lyn-Purcell Nov 14

Dreaming intertwined
We lose ourselves in the clouds
Spread our wings of love

It’s been three months since I last,
And I thought I wouldn’t mind, I sufficed
My hands engaging, writing delicate words
Overwhelming spirit only craving,

Transcendence of my thoughts
To the esoteric demesne of the unknown.

Yet I now find myself, dreaming carnal dreams
At night, unwilling to wake up to indulge
A little more, in the arms of faceless fantasy
Seducing me in warmth. A lover’s touch,

Rolling under covers in the mist
Of vapours exhaling from intensifying breaths,
Whimpering over painful delights
Of pleasure, eyes closed

Until they open to discover
It was sun beams caressing, not a body
Nor a smile, sensual gaze disappearing
In consciousness arousal as I strive,

To return to sub realms lost in REM
As fast as they flashed before me
Seven seconds of intimacy I thought,
I did not need.

Untranscending anatomy rooted
In the corporeal demesne of the known.

On sensual dreams
Lyn-Purcell Nov 11

Resting redly in an ocean of shadows
is Scarborough Fair.
With sweet and cardinal scent of the roses clinging to the air.
A woman of cherries, potential untapped.
With a harsh fate upon her as well as a pact.
A child born to parents star-crossed.
A love that was denied and a high cost.
I see her there
Fair-skinned, dark-haired.
Lips of rosed sin
And slinks the world prepared.

And with this woman walks the four,
Weapons of mass destruction that
the Devil would kill for.
The sass of Parsley
The wisdom of Sage
The touch of Rosemary
The passage of Thyme

A rewrite of my poem 'Umbra Witch' dedicated to Bayonetta 1.
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