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Your body is a vacation, the perfect
spot to getaway.
Over the mound of your thigh the sun is
high & the fun has yet to begin.
I love how your skin feels between my hands.
How small you make everything around feel.
I apologize for putting you off for so long.
A year or two from now, I won't regret
how fast I packed my bag & left to
come visit.
A year or two from now, I'll tell everyone my favorite place to vacate.
How easy the language was to learn,
To bathe in the sun of your smile &
splash in the ocean of your body.
The weather is always perfect,
The adventures that await beneath your dress.
I apologize for putting you off for so
A year or two from now, I'll still remember the smell of fresh peaches,
Served in thick nectar.
Compliments of being the perfect guest, the first to check in &
the last to leave.
Still viewing the sights, things that'll
last twenty years from now, without
hesitation or worry.
The only thing left to unpack is you
& Memories of you
She sprawled out across the sky, bored,
Perfectly sun-kissed.
From a distance she could fit
In my hands.
Day, the name we hold dearest
Day, the name of the memory I placed
her above all else.
I too, lay sprawled out, beneath her.
The intensity of how she makes me
A region I know well, sweltered &
Without walls or halls to contain the
effect she has on me.
She took my hand & gave me the gift of
her presence.
My heart but a burning bush from this
intense percussion, this rapid sensation spreading steadily, rapidly.
A giant in my eyes.
I've climbed the highest building &
collapsed beneath her.
Black & wilted,
I am the wick without promise of
Francie Lynch Dec 2020
I know I'm not alone
Knowing readers like good-feely poems;
Not poems on politics,
But on love and gnomes,
That offer happiness to you at home.
I'll forgo writing verses on death,
My lovely images will ****** your breath.
I'll ink lines about an old flame's door,
The hesitation to knock once more,
To see if she, like me, is free,
And re-ignite the flickering light
That rained down from our starry night.

People want to feel good more,
So I won't write about Civil War;
Or Armageddon on the horizon;
Millions dead with a final solution;
A leader devoid of absolution
For lies without resolutions:
For a sin that should not be.

I'll write about aging well,
Finding water in a dried out well,
Overcoming not feeling well,
Lifting a grandson with Well, well, well!

These be poems that one reads well.
Big Virge May 2020
Ya Know ...
These Days I'm Getting ... BETTER ...
When It Comes To Using Letters ... !!!

Letters From The Alphabet That I NOW Select ...

Through My Poems ...

Like THOSE Whose Agendas Incorporate Cellars ...
And ****** Men Just Like ... " Marcellus " ... !!!!!!

Now V's For ... " VIRGE " ...
And The Beginnings of Verse ...
That CLEARLY HURTS ****** PERVERTS ... !!!!!

To Cover And CONVERT Their Acts of DIRT ... !!!!!!!

Into CONFESSIONS In ... " PRIVATE Sessions " ... !?!

BETTER Known As COVERT... So it's BETTER NOT To Trust ...
Individuals Whose Residuals Resemble ... " COVER UPS " ... !!!!

The Type That Result In LOSS of Blood ... !!!!!!!!!
Whether On Foreign Shores Or In Local Street Wars ... !!!

To Walk With TOOLS And Act The Fool ... !!!

Because Their MOODS Are Far From .................. Cool ... !!!
When They Choose To INFUSE ABUSIVE Attitudes ... !!!!!!!!

Are You BETTER Than THEM Or ... Is That YOU ... !?!

An IGNORANT Being Who Causes PROBLEMS ...
And Leaves Folks ... SEETHING ... !!!

Right NOW I'm Better Than Being VIOLENT ...
But When I'm ................................. " Silent " ..........

It Means My INNER TYRANT Wants To Be An UPSETTER ...
But I'm BETTER Than The Guys And Deceitful Wives ...

Who Live Such ... " CONTRIVED LIVES " ... !?!

That They're FAKER Than LIES ... ?!!!?
Like Those FILLED With Opinions ...
SKEWED By Their RELIGION ... !!!

YEAH I'm Back To THEM ... !!!
Those Talkin' Bout' ... " They Human " ...
When Their RELIGION'S Vision ...
IS What DEFINES ... " ***-is-ion " ... ?!?!?

" Muslim, Jew or Christian ... "

of BETTER Forms of ... " Ism " ...
Than Those Like SEPARATISM ... !!!!!!!

WHOSE Book Is ... " TRUTH " ... ?!?
Whose GOD IS ...... " Good " ...... ?!?
Whose Religion's Confused ...
By ... DIVISIVE Crews .... !???!

It's BETTER To Me ...
To Be A SPIRITUAL Being ... !!!
Whose Spirit Is ... FREE ....................................

And SEES NO COLOUR And NO CREED ........ !!!!!

But Wants To See A Time of Peace And Unity ...

Something These ... " Factions " ...
DON'T Wanna See Happen ... ?!?

THAT DOESN'T Seem Right ... !?!
So I Wonder ... WHY ... ???
From Women to Guys ...
THESE People DENY ...

A VisIon That ... " DEFINES " ...
The Way THEY ... DON'T LIVE Like ... !?!

Their Visions FOLLOW Books ...
That SEPARATE Like BUSH ... !!!
Or Maybe Like .... " Obama " .... ?!?

A PEACE PRIZE Winner ...
Who Has BOMBS For Dinner ... !???!

I Guess I'm A SINNER To THINK These Things ... !?!

In MY Writings...
There Are NO KILLINGS Or LOVE For ... " Bling " ...

I LOVE ... The TRUTH ... !!!

When It's Used To Move And ELEVATE Moods ...
From Trying To Prove Who's BETTER Than Who ... ?!?

Am I BETTER Than ... YOU ... ?
Are You BETTER Than ME ... ???

What Does Being BETTER REALLY Mean .... !?!
I'M BETTER With Letters Than MOST ... BELIEVE ... !!!

But BELIEVE This TOO ... !!!
I'm BETTER For Being A Humble Dude ... !!!

A HYPOCRITE Well ... That's Up To You ... ?
But DON'T You Dwell On How I MOVE ... !!!

This Piece Is Called ... " BETTER " ...
So SHARES Some Views That Now Consume ...
My Rhyme FILLED Moods Through Use of Letters ...
That Become Words And ... BIG VIRGE Verse ... !!!

BEFORE You Attempt To JUDGE And Suggest ...

... "I'm An Arrogant Head !" ...

Arrogant YEAH ... Sometimes I Guess ... ?
But NOT ... ALL The Time ... !!!!

So DON'T You Try To CRITICISE Me ... !!!
Because I Deal In HONESTY Within My Speech ...

About UPSETTERS And IGNORANT Fellas ... !!!!!!!
Whose Form of AGENDA Deals In VENDETTAS ...
Brandishing ...... " TERROR " ...... !!!!!!!!

I'm Measured With The Letters ...
That I Now Write And TREASURE ... !!!!!

Cos' They Are HOT Like PEPPER ...
When I Put Them Together ... !!!!!!!!!!!

So I Suggest That You REMEMBER ...
That Virges' Words Are CENTRED ... !!!
To DENY What's TRITE So That What I Write ...
Could Be Defined As Being WELL DESIGNED ...

And One MORE Word ... YES ...

............ " BETTER " ............
There's no harm in a lil' self praise, from time to time ....
Jim Kirk Feb 2020
Is Poetry a Language of it’s own ?

Someone ask why I write poetry, Another poetry board I frequent had a contest, my first impression was they were lame. But each to his own.
When I’m inspired to write, it becomes a need to purge something deep within, in my subconscious or inner thoughts.
I always believe poetry is very personal to the poet. Poetry is not English or other national language. Poetry is its own Language, it allows you to express emotions, feelings, what We normally struggle with. Our heart, soul, subconscious, maybe a Quantum flash, write our real poems, and often you and others must search for what is being conveyed,  But always worth it.
May you be inspired and excited.
Jim Kirk-Wiggins (C) all rights reserved.
[i would be interested in your thoughts on what I said, pro and con] ?
Not poems. Marta  narrative about why poets write verse.
Aditya Gautam Jan 2020
Poetry is not written,
poetry is found.
And there’s a secret
to finding poetry,
and I’ll tell it to you,
but only to you,
and the secret is this:

When it is October,
wait for the rain,
and when it rains,
besides the rain,
and when you’ve sat,
for words and dreams
in the space between
the drops of rain,
and when you’ve searched,
for love and madness
in tiny streams that run
through the cobblestones,
and when you’ve looked,
hope and faith
in blurred reflections
of yellow-white lights
on the wet cement floors.

When you’ve done all this,
then, at last,
get up,
and walk into the rain,
hold out your tongue,
taste the world,
and let a little rain fall
on your paper too,
so that the ink runs
like tiny black streams
through paper-stones,
and the words blur
like the lights’ reflections,
and meaning melts,
like rainwater into mud,
and just so,
and only so,
Poetry is Found.
Ink wraps its arms around an idea,
Tracing letters that act as messengers
Of hope sent from some remote area,
With defiance towards its challengers.

The ink once it’s written speaks its own voice,
Like a child set free from its parent’s pen.
The pen having etched its lines made its choice
To have its intent not matter again.

Caring for all these children in my head,
They mature the moment that they are penned.
As confidently as they each have fled,
They don’t reflect on me as I intend.

Each word is a child that I have let go,
The ink no more under the pen’s control,
Out in the world seeing what I don’t know,
But into these children I wrote my soul.
When I write something, I feel like a parent sending a child into the world on his own. I know what I wanted to impart, I tried my best, and I poured my soul into it, but how they are perceived, how they act, and how they interact with the world is out of my control.
Instagram @insightshurt
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Tommy Randell Feb 2019
Dance to the music you're given
Your life has not yet been written

Read the poem you're writing
Each line a rhythm of lightning

Play the cards you're dealing
Cast the rhymes with your feelings

Risk all upon a moment of chance
Abandon yourself to the dance

That you are here in Free Fall
And Love & Life are a scrimshaw
Poetry instruction manual
Tommy Randell Jan 2019
She lays on my thigh
Sleeping gently as I type
My words are her dreams
For Caldey, my fox-red Labrador pup who is not yet half a year old.
Writing a poem is like
opening a can of pop
you hope has been shaken.
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