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Zywa Mar 2023
Drinking tea in the rain
in the smell of rain
plain tea, plain rain
but, the two of us, full
of expectation: touch me
touch me, feel me

Lips, hands, all
of you, dear darling
touch me, touch me
nicer much nicer
than dreaming
dreaming the past

If you like you can
silently shout a stick
into the sky, climb
and climb higher, higher
sliding looser, looser
down and up

higher higher up
colours around the sun
diving deep into them
wallowing and wrapping yourself
and sparking sparks
from my hands

But stay with me
want me, want to
see and feel me
keep me whole
see me, feel me
touch me, touch me
The closing song of "Tommy" (1969, Pete Townshend, The Who), "We're not gonna take it", ends with the exclamation "See me, feel me, / touch me, heal me"

For Maria Godschalk

Collection "On living on"
Himani Dhaka Apr 2022
Air making leaves dance
Do makes my earing ******
Birds hopping and popping on woods
Always ready to mingle

Down goes a labour
To steal every grain
Little lilliputs adorned as ants
Try to fill their banks before rain

Chubby caterpillar all set to fly
Effervescent butterflies auditing all flowers
A flower having opened their umbrella
Seeks out for their sun lover

This warm sunshine takes away my pain
Fulfils my body and enriches heart
Large white bubbles aimlessly float
And draw themselves up in vivacious art

A home so good
Is all I want
Where love is sown
In every being and plant
Mark Wanless Jan 2022
why is dog the best
friend we have so much in this
common mind touching
Glenn Currier Feb 2021
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
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

just a little
bit further,
sparks fly

and i
lay alone
in bed

you weren't
you didn't
for me

it was
just a dream
it was
just fake
also check out my other poems! :)
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