Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Ki Danshaku Sep 17
She...she responds to a soothing bath.
He...he prefers a different path.

They each disrobe from the day's affairs,
the formal restraints they each do share.

Their clothes lay scattered about the floor,
both stand naked at a tiled shore.

She eases herself into this sleeve,
a temperate knitted liquid weave.

He guides the stream from it’s perched spout,
the water finding the perfect route.

His face is wet, his eyes are shut tight.
She prefers ambient candle-light.

She gently sponges her supple skin.
He grips the soap...oh, so masculine.

She contemplates his rugged terrain,
he puts his hands out to feel the rain.

His caress yields a lathery foam,
her fingers begin a downward roam.

He too diverges, or so rather,
deviates from the task to lather.

Much attention in just one region,
cleaning can’t motivate this legion.

His thoughts of her, and her thoughts of him,
nothing stops what’s about to begin.

Tremors start from her head to her toes,
a smile blossoms as she plateaus.

He feels the pressure stiffly increase,
it brings to him an immense release.

She savours the last rippling quiver.
His knees weak from such an endeavour.

They catch their breath, and resume their chores,
have they been remiss in these detours?

Excuse the news they misuse shampoos,
they choose to amuse with such taboos.

One can’t ignore in the aftermath: he takes showers
... and she takes a bath.
Written by request for an anthology of like-topic stories.
This poem is dedicated to the molar mass of 18, and is 18 syllables wide and 18 sentences tall.
This is my one and only poem.

'One is the loneliest number that you'll ever do
Two can be as bad as one
It's the loneliest number since the number one'
ALesiach Jul 24
Warm days
Heavy nights
Mosquito bites

Dancing bees
Delicious honey
Sweet tea,
Yummy, yummy

Swimming pools
Shade trees
Staying cool
Ice cream

Summer showers
Juicy peaches
Budding flowers
Warm beaches

Vacation's over
School begins
Time's slower
Summer ends

ALesiach © 8/2016
The plastic mat that my mother placed on the bottom of the bathtub
To keep my brother and I from slipping in the shower
Prints circular patterns into my shins as I force up the first
Home cooked meal she’s made in months.
The music plays at full volume and the vent hums its disheartening song,
Drowning out the retching sounds coming from my lungs, and I start to shiver beneath
The river of steaming water drumming against my back.
Water is infinitely more comforting than any human touch has ever been.
The heat on my back sends goosebumps down my arms and I think about
How it would feel to be held by something other than
Warm water and moonlight.
Am I so damaged that the only sensations I would feel are
My heart in my throat and a tsunami of fear that would rush over me
Like the water washes over my back?
I sit in the bottom of the tub staring into my ***** as it stares up at me.
The pattering of the water hitting my flesh whispers softly
You are not enough.
You will never
Be enough.
I rest my head against the chilling tiles of the wall
And the words soak into my skin before I can think to wash them away.
Aeryn May 13
the air smells of crisp pale pink flowers
dappled by a gentle pitter patter of April showers
glittering, smiling white lightning crowing hello,
tonight nature is gentle with her babies.

the sweetest storm you've ever seen,
and the flora and fauna seem to exhale in relief
soaking up the fertile juices to grow strong,
as the birds silence their chirps to listen to her voice,
as the fawns lick and nuzzle their fellow deer,
and I've got to wonder,

is the spirit of my mother here?
this is why i love spring.
martha May 11
I inhabit my silent cave with soft ease
welcome it's embrace
to mould its temporary shell
encased around my shape
leaks seep through with the ceiling cracks
from too many layers of alabaster

hide buckets and bowls inconspicuous
the lakes dare reflect their hits and misses
the floor a constant magma
and the sky too low to stretch steps on a spine

tracking the navigation of a falling sliver
always seemed so simple
now all they do is pool
on barren cheeked horizons
tips of icebergs
on frozen stranger
Ek Apr 10
By door
You see more
Than the spring drizzle
That cleans your lawn
That lets the scents out of your yard.
You see an opening
Through the drops
That lets you escape the drapes
To April
DM00 Apr 4
Wash me clean of this feeling,
left over from a frost, half thawed.
I am slow and clunky
tension and heavy
my head is empty, but

there’s so much pressure.
Building up, holding itself up.
Let the pressure break,
water me into serenity.
Maria Apr 2
I see your eyes flicker as droplets on our skins dance to the ground.
Your smile widens as the water clicks the cement our heels tread on.
For a moment I am suspended in your love.
My soul expands to the sky, the earth, and the water in between.
Perhaps April will be my favorite moment between us.
Mark Boschi Apr 2
at night you can find me
planted onto the tile floor
the shower water gushing against my hunched back feels like a hug
each trickle resembles your fingers
- i'm trying to erase you,
scrub away the marks you've left on my wrists,
the bruised knees
but your threatening undertone
rings in my head
stings the sterile lights,
they will always flicker.

Mark Boschi
abigail j s Feb 20
You are found in the sound
of raindrops dripping
sprinkling, storming,
coming down in sheets.
Next page