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Zywa Oct 16
He's a beauty, like

a flower, I pick and stick --


him between my teeth.
Novel "the ground beneath her feet" (1999, Salman Rushdie), chapter 1 The Keeper of Bees

Collection "Low gear"
Trefild Sep 24
****, bruh! call a bo[ɑ]mb squa[ɑ]d
'cause she's a bomb—
—shell, whose rear evokes a somewha[ʌ]t
unholy, wro[ɑ]ng thou[ɑ]ght
reminds him of a jihadi-done job
'cause this ***'s (boom) banging; this honey's dancing
boldly & lewdly, got his ja[ɑ]w dro[ɑ]pped
she's beyo[ɑ]nd "**[ɑ]t"
this gA̲l's freaking blazing
his hand's in offensive motion for her hind part
a haptic invasion
she moves on from wining to fondling, she's eager
like someone punished by dI̲nt of
a guillotine, his head's lost as she seductively strI̲ps her—
—self naked; she says: "make me
high as a rooftO̲[ɑ]p nearly reaching
the sky; give me a tI̲me so exquisite
that I̲'ll be left speechless
when this ro[ɑ]mp's over"
she's none short o'... a mind-blower, like a gun-toter
blowing a brain of a nazissistic hound wrongdoing
————————————————————————————————
she goes O̲U̲t like jU̲I̲ce in
["juice" in the sense of "electricity"; the "out like a light [electricity]" expression]
the wake of their energetic bout of nookie
he instead can't co[ɑ]p a fE̲w z's
still awake af—ter more than ane half
of ane twenty-fourth of day passed
his mind's got diverse thou[ɑ]ghts
going one after another, like a race track
occupied by sport cars
he's a nobo[ɑ]dy who's ended
up having a great tI̲me with a splendid
woman, which he now li̲es in the bed with
with his existence being nO̲ne but pathetic
he's been, like a person with whom O̲ne isn't ca[ɛ]ndid
in the dark &, processing the world as highly offensive
from a sociopolitical point, wa[ɑ]nting a vengeance
just li̲ke vigila[ɛ]ntes
he's up in arms, due to pieces of vI̲ce-ridden dreck with
their eyes blinded with pelf &
power; a hE̲A̲rt-damaged a[ɛ]nti—
—hero with little avE̲nues to spout the
anger, who seems to have found a
source of light he doesn't wish to be outta
he hopes she won't slyly desert him
the subsequent morning
if she arises before him
"a night out rhyme tale, part II" by TREF1LD (TRFLD) is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (to view a copy of this license, visit creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/4.0)

"a night out rhyme tale, part I":
hellopoetry.com/poem/4708772

"a night out rhyme tale, part III":
hellopoetry.com/poem/4883684
Zywa Sep 16
In the dressing room

I have seen smooth-shaven girls --


I've seen what you want.
Poem "Ik weet niet *** je me graag ziet" ("I don't know how you like me", 2008, Wineke de Boer)
Collection "Loves Tricks Gains Pains in the 0s"
На всем свете Л. одна,
Чьи прелестные глаза
Повседневно радуют меня,
Хочу, чтобы чаще рядом ты была!
Я люблю тебя страстно, люблю тебя нежно!
И ты люби меня так же прилежно…

Все мысли только о тебе:
Ты мною желанна!
В моей судьбе
Не бывало такого романа!

Когда тебя нет, я скучаю, страдаю,
Во сне о ночи страстной с тобой я мечтаю,
И самые неприличные мысли
В стихи превращаю!

Я хочу ощутить твои губы манящие,
В глаза взглянуть блестящие,
Лежать с тобой в одной постели,
И верить, что чувства настоящие!
Вдруг раздаются птичьи трели,
И солнце восходящее…

Мои глаза заблестели в предвкушении встречи с тобой.
Я знаю, как никто другой,
Что любовь эта вечна,
А кто-то лишь мечтает о такой.
Для меня ты безупречна!
Пусть наша жизнь и скоротечна,
Ценить я буду вечно
Волшебный миг, когда
Поцеловала ты меня!
Солнышко мое,
Как сладко я тебя люблю!
И день и ночь я думаю о ней,
Ведь без нее и жизнь моя была б скучней.

Я помню этот дивный взгляд... Глаза,
Которые сквозь радость смотрят на меня!
И в эти чудные мгновенья
Я чувствую приливы вдохновенья...
Стихи пишу,
Ведь больше не могу
Держать в себе все эти чувства!
Во мне бушуют страсти,
И в любое ненастье я знаю, что она
Придет на помощь всегда!
Улыбка, кудри и глаза - всё это вечно буду помнить я!

Так сладок миг среди тех дней обыкновенных...
Миг встречи наших глаз, друг другом вдохновенных.

И милый образ твой —
Всегда любим он будет мной!
Весь мир тебе я подарю,
Ведь я тебя люблю! Люблю...
Под весенним чистым небом
Нежно обнимались мы,
И на нас светили ярко
Алые лучи.

Вдруг рука моя скользнула ловко
По её бедру,
И в глазах я вижу дивно
Изумрудную искру…

Взгляд её так мил и нежен,
Губы мягкие блестят,
Словно гроздь сочных черешен,
И меня они манят!

Как приятно целоваться,
Быть в объятиях её!
Не хочу я расставаться,
Теряя наслаждение своё.

Ах, как же ты прекрасна:
Пленишь своею красотой,
И люблю тебя я страстно
Всей доверчивой душой!

Позволь же мне опять
Взглянуть в твои глаза,
За руку бархатную взять,
Прижать к себе тебя,
Восторга не тая,
Поцеловать…
И радость испытать, когда
Коснешься ты меня
Горячими губами,
И буду думать я ночами
О том, что было между нами…

А были поцелуи, страсть, любовь!
Всё это, к счастью, повторится вновь
И будет длиться вечно наяву
При каждой нашей встрече под деревом в саду…
In the world where passion ignites,
There lived a love that reached new heights.
A. and E., souls intertwined,
Their connection was rare and love was so kind.

No bound of rules could hold them apart,
Their adoration united each fragment and part.
Whispers of affection, tender and true,
The bond was so magic between the two.

****** harmonies played a wonderful tune,
A symphony of pleasure under the moon.
Together they would intertwine, hearts beating as one,
In the rhythm of passion, their souls had begun.

With whispered words, they kindled desire,
Exploring each other's deepest attire.
While secrets are shared, their bodies connect,
Lost in the pleasures that feelings direct.

A.'s touch evoked pure ecstasy,
E.'s kiss - the taste of serenity.
In E.'s eyes, A. found her soul,
The love like theirs, can never be stole.

In dreams of blissful love's embrace,
A. and E. found their place.
Unveiling desires with fierce fervent bliss,
Not just in ***, but in love's gentle kiss.

In the world of love's sweet embrace,
A. and E. found solace and grace.

Their love was more than just physical lust,
It was a deep connection, a love they could trust.
Their bodies entwined, in a dance of desire,
A. and E., their love was a blazing fire.

In a world of norms and narrow views,
Two hearts beat strong, defying the rules.
In each other's arms, they found their peace,
Their love’s a rebellion that will never cease.

Hand in hand, they were walking with pride,
“Love knows no boundaries!” – they bravely replied.

In a cruel world, their love stood tall,
Two lesbians, defying it all.
The lesbians in love, disobeying the norm,
Struggling against the society's scorn.

A. and E., their love was so true,
A timeless tale, forever anew.
Breaking the rules society laid,
Yet in each other's hugs, they found their aid.
Whispers of judgment, stares of disdain,
But in their affection, they found no shame…
In the classroom where I learn,
Her elegant beauty I discern.
Words of love like poetry flow,
Inspiring me to study and grow.

With passion, devotion and heart so kind,
This gorgeous girlfriend opens up my mind.
Through hazel eyes I find my way,
And near her I long to stay.

With every word and every glance,
She leads me in a passionate dance.
Dazzled by shiny dandelion hair,
I’m strongly looking for a chair
Because I can hardly stand on my feet!

I’m falling,
Falling in love indeed…
My girlfriend and I met at school.
Glenn Currier Jun 24
Thinking of him flings me from these plains
to the nearest body
of water whose mist smells of salt and life
the unrestrained passion
and ****** of sea.

The book, Odes to Common Things,
a gift of a dear friend
who knew not the arousal,
the seed of near sensual desire
it would plant in me
like the buttery aroma of a woman’s hair
or the taste of her moist lips.

Even a thought of Neruda
takes me to the stormy stirrings
wrought from the ***** of the Pacific.
and sounding on the shores of Chile.

How could the writing of a man
a continent away
foment in my chest
a fervor akin
to a spiritual awakening?

I read him in English
but feel the thump
of his Latin heart
in my body.
I read that his book, translated into English as Residence on Earth, was born of Neruda’s feelings of alienation. It seems that a large part of me feels as if I have been on the margins of society and maybe that is why I feel that thumping of Neruda’s heart within me. Spanish poet Garcia Lorca calls Pablo “a poet closer to death than to philosophy, closer to pain that to insight, closer to blood than to ink. “A poet filled with mysterious voices that fortunately he himself does not know how to decipher.” * I thank oldpoet MK https://hellopoetry.com/MK/  and his poem Broadcasting the Seed of Poems https://hellopoetry.com/poem/4845320/broadcasting-the-seed-of-poems/  for the inspiration for this poem.

“The Thumping of a Latin Heart,” Copyright 2024 by Glenn Currier
Written 6-23-24


*From: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/pablo-neruda
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