Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Matthew Nov 2019
write to me in shadowy kisses
code your desire with over punctuation
pause me in the wink of your comma
dot your I's with little heart-*****

long hand me dark printed innuendos
quick to the ways of wickedness
showing off your double entendres 
making me lick between the lines
whilst ******* your tight margins

spilling the nights succulent obscenities
wet in vanishing ******* dry ink
letting your words drip me a fantasy
revealed in the fingerprint heat
of midnight edible ******* 

as your quill falls in free verse
aventures pulling your hair back
flower dancing me a peek-a-boo show
over indulge fonting me with calligraphy
your signature *** gripping graffiti

tagging my canvas as your ****** art
leaving me violated-satisfied
in black leather and lace
tied to every tongued soaked syllable
swaying your skimpy fairytale bent over ending
Canis Latrans Mar 2019
Smoldering, in a sea of cosmic smoke.
Burning, in a dazzling blaze of glory.
Dying, brightly.
For all the stars to see.
Kazalus Jul 2017
Your heat radiates from afar
Oh, your warmth like a blazing star.
Scorching me for who I am
You know it yet, you don't give a ****.

You claim to be burdened by material things
And yet you still have the time to burn my wings
Whenever I try to reach you to comfort thee
You send me down smoldering into the sea.

Whilst falling, I ask myself
Why have I lost this star- my only wealth
When I was the one who set it up the sky
To be able to see the world without lies.
traces of being Mar 2016
~ Moon Fire ~

de Luna climbs up
majestic fir brows
one rung at a time

to feel the shiver
of winter breeze
tickle higher
                         than treetops reach
.                                                          ­­                                            
where moonbeams
know the meaning
the shadows cast
upon the open palms
of nature’s hands

her halo encircles
a shapeless luster
beyond        
the faint whispers
in northern skies

wishing on
the nearest stars,
set ablaze
a smoldering heart
grown cold

as ...

the last winter moon
full and bright



wild is the wind © 2.22.2016
Fuego de Luna ~ Moon Fire
is a moment framed,
looking out my bedroom window
into the forest,
the final full moon rise
of winter
mesmerizing with a dreamful verve
percolating mercilessly within insomnia
The Willow Dec 2015
Look at me,
smoldering bones.
You are cooking inside yourself.
You refuse to let out your heat,
so you will burn up.
You will burn.
Open up,
smoldering bones.
you’re withering
wild.
why?


Come with me,
smoldering bones.
We’ll live in places
where your anxieties
die
it’ll be home for you and me.
give me the map for the
maze of your mind,
lonely soul.
I don’t care about the exit
as much as I care to wander
through your weeds
I have them too.


They’re dandelions.
children whose parents didn’t make them learn not to cry
call them wishes.

Let your wishes grow,
wayfaring one.
Your vagabond mind keeps you safe from all those
whose heads have never touched heaven’s eyebrows.


Allow me to love,
smoldering bones.
your eyes screened with your past
don’t block the color.
I understand your heart is out-of-order
at the moment,
but I’m not asking for anything.
Just that you’ll realize you’re worth
loving.
Let me love you, my dark dreamer.
And one day,
you’ll see those weeds as flowers,
as magic.
And then I know,
those smoldering bones
have stopped their smoking
for good.
Frank Ruland Oct 2014
Just what makes my pen so sharp?
What frayed the strings on my harp?
Some days, I can't help but wonder why
I'm plagued by this Smoldering Sky.

*******, if grit's just not ingrained,
and sickly sewn into my DNA.
Sometimes, my brain tells me ****
that onto these pages I must spit.

I can taste the dirt in my mouth
and feel the fires from the Deep South.
I don't always mean the things I say,
but when I do, stay out of my way.

They call me "Father," because I preach,
but it's just 'cause I feel besieged.
When you've got devils at your throat,
you really wish God would just smote.

NO MERCY is tattooed upon my back,
but it's not because the virtue's lacked.
All my life, I've had people attack
and leave me battered, blue and black.

Yes, upon poetic lines I bleed to death,
but I'm resurrected by life's regrets.
I've never wished I hadn't been born,
but on occasion I've felt forlorn.

I've had friends call me "Killjoy,"
but I'm not the Reaper's envoy.
Well, not unless I'm provoked--
in which case, you'll find I'm no joke.

Yeah, so you see I have some grit.
I can be refined, but I'd rather spit.
If you don't like the words I write,
well, I won't lose no sleep at night.
I had so much fun writing this.
Frank Ruland Oct 2014
It all starts with a rustling in the trees--
birds frantically take flight from a foul wind unknown.
Tremors shake mighty oaks to their knobby knees
as I feel upon my forlorn face, a wicked breeze.
My skies of Celeste start to lose their bluish hue,
and grimy grays consume the calm known, hitherto.

In the forest, I find myself standing all alone;
a presence, darkly, chills both blood and bone.
White, wispy clouds are swallowed whole
by ****** red gates that appear below!
My skies quickly turn a foreboding black,
and searing coals rain down upon my back.

The vengeance of thousand suns in my veins!
I cannot help but scream as trees burst into flames,
and the ground below becomes a barren plain.
Clawing away at rendered flesh--so much pain.
Up above, the sky erupts in a Hellish inferno
and now embers--like Devil's blood--now rain,

I find myself aghast with this fire in the sky!
I cry, "Please, God, I beg that you tell me why!"
Just what have I done so wrong in my life?
But alone, I find myself, as I writhe and die.
No redemption for the man whose out of time--
so now I suffer immolation **beneath a smoldering sky.
For those who pay special attention to my writing and see my many references to a "Smoldering Sky," this is the background. It's a reoccurring nightmare that I occasionally have, noticeably when I'm feeling guilty about something. It's pretty intense... I hope I managed to capture the essence of just how it makes me feel.
My feet burn hot
On the smoldering coals and ashes of
Other's sinful words and hopes.
We were made to walk this world of
Pain
With hopeful hearts and
Choice.
Will we succumb to this pain?
Will we give in?
We are not alone,
But tonight we sit by ourselves.
We are given a glass of failure.
Drinking,
Sipping and slipping to the point of no return.
Tonight I will pour the glass given me
Down the drain,
Where I hope my heart won't be.
I want to choose something more
Than bitter intoxication.
Give me trust,
Give me love,
Call me trust,
Call me love.
I will be trust,
I will be love.
I am what I need to be,
I will become who I am.
Yclept Definition: By name of; called.

— The End —