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Glenn Currier Feb 27
Above the hardened world I see a cloud
white edges soft but dark pervades its heart
beside the brook a stone so bright and proud
her striking beauty makes her stand apart
I bow my fingers wrap around her waist
I lift her from her lesser comrades there
I touch the smoothness of her face
her sheen and curving lines without compare
I want to take her home with me to keep
I pause and hear the moving gurgling brook
and cast her back into the liquid deep
I hear her splash and take a final look
     And with her loss I feel a tiny grief
     but smile I touched her being oh so brief
My first try at an English or Shakespearean sonnet.
M E Ronan Dec 2020
Line of charcoal running along,
On the surface of the paper,

Same lines follows your index finger,
On the surface of my skin,

Twirling, looping,
Continuing patterns,

Outlines of my life
On both,
the paper and the skin,

One owns the body,
The other one is mine,

But both are
Wrinkled and trashed.
Alek Mielnikow Nov 2020
We meet on a
a crowded street
and stand still,
like a pair of boulders
caught in a river
surrounded by salmon
as they swim upriver,
flowing by and
paying us no mind.
Off to the side two men
share a meal al fresco,
laughing into wine glasses.

After what seems a lifetime
you touch my face,
and I touch yours.
And I remember
every minutia.
We've been apart
for so long,
and yet it's like
a garden revealed
when the snow melts.
The freckles,
the spots,
the creases
beside your lips.
And I watch with glee
your goosebumps
rise and can tell
by your smile
you can see mine.

"Get a ******* room!"
One of the men hollers
with a chuckle
as the other guffaws
and nearly chokes
on his bread.

We look to them
and laugh,
a laugh shared
by strangers
knowing love
when they see it;
of a shared humanity.


-
By Aleksander Mielnikow | Alek the Poet
I'm going to miss longing to be close to someone...


If you liked this poem, make sure to check out my Instagram @alekthepoet for extra content.
Mark Wanless Nov 2020
why is dog the best
friend   we have so much in this
common mind touching
Bhill Sep 2020
enlighten my lips without touching my soul
seize the moment and commit
take me by storm and submit yourself to the sensation
leave me wanting for what has been forgotten
what has been forgotten
forgotten
enlighten me.....

Brian Hill - 2020 # 248
Emma Torp Sep 2020
Moans of ecstasy at your caress
Gaping sighs at you sliding your finger under my dress
Soaring across all the right places
And stimulating my pleasure at the right places
Making you wait until at least a year
Who know my pleasure
It’s only you who would hear
You made me wet that i true
But who can hear my pleasure
It was still only you
For your reading pleasure
Mrs Anybody Aug 2020
reaching out,
our fingers
nearly
touch

just a little
bit further,
sparks fly


and i
lay alone
in bed

you weren't
there
you didn't
reach
for me

it was
just a dream
it was
just fake
also check out my other poems! :)
Alexandra Eames Aug 2020
...like i do to me,
fingers flickering, thighs electrical quivering,
*******, stiffening, hearts a-pounding,
sighs & cries sounding, orange flashes,
glistening gashes, girlish squeals throughout the night,
you touching yourself, like i'm touching myself
just so very right.

-By Alexandra Eames
Jessica Duru Jul 2020
Her smile,
that smile
Her beauty that yonder shines,
and her love which doth strengthens me
Like the wind blowing unceasingly
Across the White Eastern sea
Shall it forever be?
Oh,I wish...
If only wishes do come true

I feel the longing pile up
With each day that goes by,
Shall it ever pass?
Oh,I doubt
Love is really hard like they say

Everything seems so broken
Even from afar,
One could still see
Can it ever be fixed?
Oh,I know not...
Nor the royal empress herself
For the rust will forever go on...

Ciara
1-BROKEN
A Forever Rust
The poem centers on a man who loves his treasure so dear; A woman born with a fine, white skin like that of a newborn, and an exotic beauty which the beholder never seems to overlook. But then, the tragic wind came blowing in their path, seperating them, and leaving the poet personae broken and void. He fears he'll never be healed of the damage caused and doubts there will ever be an end to his aching pain.....
Felicity Paris Apr 2020
the tap tap tap of your leg on the chair
the bombardment of sound on my ears
you touching my arm
your head touching my arm
one minute after one minute
second after second
you touch me

but I stay silent

until you wrap your arm around my back
wrap your arm around me
and I break
the tap tap tap of your leg on my chair
on my ears, on my arm, on my back
tap tap tap
you touch me
and I scream
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