Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Emma Watson Jun 2016
Your father was raised in Panama. I can imagine him vividly... The floral silk shirt with velvety red cravat, tan leather loafers, waxed-to-perfection moustache, and a big cigar. It was the late sixties and he was beautiful. I've never seen a photo but I can tell by the way you talked about him. His joi de vivre oozed into your stories and I recognized it: the distilled essence of his elegance was passed to you, and you shared it with me.

We met by our mutual attraction for showing off... I wanted to be treated like a delicate porcelain treasure - you wanted a plastic toy with the price tag of an heirloom. Twenty five years my senior and you still hadn't learned your lesson about girls like me... I may have broken your heart, but you should've known a tryst between the free-spirited edge of seventeen and a businessman with dreams of Panama would burn out in the end, just like your father's cigar.
Meet me where the rising sun won't glow on our faces
When the hour strikes time aghast as hurried hands tie laces
Meet me at the scraggly wharf by the river
Where lips whisper on each others breath and trembling tongues quiver
Take me in the darkest corner of the the old abandoned shed
Love me like no other man or I shall have your head
Akhil Bhadwal May 2015
Was doing something, never did, before
Assignment, it was
Wasn't expecting, something, it happened for sure
Meet, that was

Unexpectedly, not knowing, suddenly
Whatever, it was
A familiar, face, glowing
There, she was

Enchantment, attraction, infatuation
Magic, it was
She asked, I agreed, we meet
Love tryst, that was
This prose describes the first love tryst of my life at our college library. Awesome moments. Rhyme scheme for the poem is a b a b.
Äŧül Feb 2015
I am here
You are there
Yet we both are near
Come that one bit closer
Let all distances disappear

Just bear it with me
We will synchronize
Come respire with me
Let both our lips meet
Hips moving to the beat
My HP Poem #765
©Atul Kaushal
miss pie Oct 2014
with heated threads entwined
clanging heartbeats besiege
the arm's length outside scatters
his inside invitation unlocks

dulcet roaming tiptoes
tumultuous tango treasure
a lover's lift, a balanced swerve
a thousand steamed up sways

liquid strands of quiet breath
stirring steps between
caught carrying commotion
it's a 10 step sociable program
10 lesson package .. it's a kick
K Balachandran May 2014
Wanton lad, tamed a bit by time, is still game for anything,
the girl, sober and cool decided she too for once will fall in line,
the waterfall, a quaint sight, foamy, milky flow gushing,
ecstatic, they melted in  the pool at the  fall where waves  are churning
Martin Narrod May 2014
Hallucinating Bureaucracies and auditory Hallucinations : When the voice in your head speaks when you don't want it to, to head's of State not present. I could snuggle in bed if I wanted to, but I've got to orchestrate and reorganize the Clinton dowry. It started outright with trying on a purple, yellow, and blue button down shirt that had Scabies in the sleeve- and now you're all going to know why Mr. and Mrs. Obama don't want to talk to me about potentially increasing livestock traffic across the Americas. I think could practice will follow from such a manure, I mean maneuver. I pick up 10 or so bottles of plastic single-serve water for consumption in my apartheid room. It's awful in here. The gold disappears from the mines, and even the hands I used to work with are blurring up in the twister, and as much as you call or don't call I have no business managing your intentions- only mine. Some barrge of women over thirty. But still there isn't a problem. The river is beginning to flood, and the fishery's stockpile is running low. Maybe we ought to empty out an African mass grave and fill it with blacklists of co-conspirators and then make a drake or a flume out of the narrow walkways between the cities. Then maybe we'll have water to last us through the dry season.----------------------------------------------------------­--------------------------------- Where in the world is Sam in Hammond, Can Diego? Forklifting pillars, bribing monkeys, playing with his Mickey Mouse and Michelob, catching the taller, eighteen and up crowd catch the last car riding the rapid drop from Space Mountain through, "It's a Small World After All:"  

It's a world of laughter a world of tears, it's a world of hopes and a world of fears. There's so much that we share, that it's time we're aware- it's a small world after all."  

And then he takes the biggest gulp of water into his mouth that I've ever seen the man take, and he puts it in a small cooler that's strapped to the back of his calf, and he swears to me that the aeroplanes are going to come loop around, and when they do their glorious water-landing, he and I, or rather, the both of us, will be saved. Saved, hm? I don't even bother sharing insights or my insides. I quickly flash him the most-pod horrific a tryst that irons down a photo of Egon and I back in the Old City, what was it, Chicago, or something that very much sounded like Chicago. Could be totally awesome and I'll chime in that now is the time when we do our work best. That's all. Intrepid,
Mw Apr 2014
when winter thaws
and our delicate red noses
turn to gold
Again.
After years of solace
might you entreat a glance
from bewildered eyes
that sing songs of stolen years
and seasons past
and unrealized summers
ripe with ifs and
Suns,
and overgrown fields
to shield us from the world
and shiver in the wandering breeze
with that hands brush upon your
cheeks and long, summer arms
to whisk your hair about
in strained fits
to hearken lovers lips;
an entire tryst
In the ascendency of summer...
Next page