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one day these hungry eyes of yours
will disappear in others:

that's what I count with –

potential pain is a gate to peace
when you'll go through wisely
you can find out
that a man is on the world
primarily alone
than in a company

such knowledge is dignified
it has courage, determination
humor
style too –

and after all
there are too many wars
to take care
of these little ones

you bet anyway, I'll keep trying to keep you
what a woman you are
Maybe there is a grammar/meaning mistakes in my poems as English is my second language. Glad if you'll warn me. Thank you.
blake Feb 3
the more you use it
the smaller it gets

while you're clean,
it gets ***** while it dries you

while it takes away,
you must take away from it
to keep it clean
Jonathan Moya Sep 2019
The lightness of paper
soft enough to crumble
to a chirping palm ball
released into the air,
an imagined perfect pitch,  
too gossamer to float
to its ultimate arch,
unfolding in the web  
of alluring sunshine

aspiring to be
in its unfolding angles
a thread of silk
caught into the patterns
of a spun handkerchief,
flapping finely down to dirt,
flagging to human desires,
a reverse puff tucked black
into a left back corner pocket.

In its extending it is
****** wood pulp
culled and hewn
from rings of fine pine,
rising in its descent
to barely glimpsed evolving
beaks, talons, feathers
caught in the spider’s web
and shook down by thundering axe.
Flagging or the handkerchief code (also known as the hanky code, the bandana code,) is a color-coded system, employed usually among the gay male casual-*** seekers or **** practitioners in the United States, Canada, Australia and Europe, to indicate preferred ****** fetishes, what kind of *** they are seeking, and whether they are a top/dominant or bottom/submissive.

If you wore your hanky in your left pocket, you were deemed as more submissive, or a "bottom," whereas the right pocket meant that you were a "top" or more dominant.  A black handkerchief meant that you were into S&M- sadomasochism.

Reverse puff refers to a type of handkerchief pocket fold where the puff or pointed ends fold out like the petals of a flower.
Cana Apr 2019
The blue and white woven thread
Sits comfortably close
tasseled ends exotic
clinging seductively
Falling too easily.
Who needs pants?
Liz May 2014
I swirl the loose skin
of my forehead like the swirls
of stars, in weariness of the world.
My lashes beaded with drops,
from the shower that I was to tired
to dry, blur my vision like the floating boat clouds which blur
the moon to a
wisp
of smoke.
I lie, wet in my towel uncaring that
my body is forming a silhouette
of shadowed dampness on
my bed.
Can't be bothered to change after my shower so wrote a poem about it instead :)
hypotheses Feb 2018
i am a bath towel i am
always fresh and clean
and ready for your use
you hold me up close to your
unblemished skin
dry it
and take in the scent of the
lavender soap
that you used to wash me yesterday

i am a bath towel i am
never out of place
forever on your rack
when i am *****
you soak me with water
twist it dry
repeat until done
fresh
crisp and clean
on your body
soaking in your intimacy
soak, twist, repeat

i am a bath towel i am
always listening
never speaking
cleansing your anguish and your
worries
with my sanitary
i have seen all your scars
and oh!
i wish i could rinse them from you
like i do with the lipstick on your cheek
given from your last lover

i am a bath towel i am
always going to be
at your side
there to cleanse
there to wash
but will you ever let
my soft fabric
wrap around your heart
so full of spring blossoms and
summer skies
and keep it as my own?
I basically wrote this at 2 in the morning when I couldn't sleep, and I'm not even sure if I did this right and all that. So I would really appreciate it if you have any advice for me on this one!
The Napkin Poet Oct 2017
I  grabbed the teal towel
Your naked body had been wrapped in last
Used your slimming bar of soap
Conditioned my armpit hair like you do

I even swirled shampoo in the palm of my hand
Because today is my first shower without you

My back will not get washed
Your wash cloths will stay folded
Still on top of the glazed porcelain
And only one lofa will get sudsy and wet

I think i'd rather ferment in my own sweat
Lady Bird Oct 2016
like an old used
dish towel tossed aside
like nothing at all
just hanging there
waiting to fall
stripped from love
rinsed with pain
absorbing the hurt
out comes the rain
what happened to just
leave me behind
there is no answer
to comprehend this
residue I find
Martin Narrod Aug 2015
Luke warm bath verse. Can your fingers live on my thumb peninsula forever I hope. You groom me and I'll dump the water over your head. Sit in front of me, I like the way it feels when it pokes your back awkwardly. It's weird to me, only your toes wrinkle. I can be the hot towel and kisses on your eyelids. The morphine calls my veins, while you don't call my name. Ours was unlike anyones. It still is to me and the trailing cries of women who I tried to **** my heart out of your hands. Like shucking emptiness from already emptied containers. I'm living for the day I feel your hands on my face again. Again.
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