#mating
A penguin once walked up to me.
I thought he’d lost his sanity,
and could not understand for why
he'd choose to leave the colony,
which packs together, groom and bride,
beloved pairs, and side-by-side
they huddle close and all surround—
without each other, they’d have died,
but this one lingered at the bound
between the nests and feeding ground,
and for a moment, looked at home
one final time. He turned around
and shuffled past the camping zone
where I now stand. He clutched a stone—
the little hope that he held on,
as he approached the arctic dome.
Mar 3
Mar 3, 2026 at 3:57 AM UTC
i lust insist
tense under ruttish restraint and expectation
trussed
May 2, 2025
May 2, 2025 at 9:09 PM UTC
in pursuit of you
i put myself in harms way
something ‘teethy’ entered my bloodstream
and flooded i hoped for the best
we crashed and meddled and crashed
again
a fixed ache we were yanked back to
chairs, tables, sofas, beds
bending to the shapes and endurance levels
sounding off of their abilities to aid our act
even thrown over washings machines
tatting against their vibrations
tossed about in bathrooms
our clothing pulled from us outdoors
risking winter exposure
dragged to the gritty pavement
and hurled against solid public art
all very much in tune
with natures ludic intentions
and without a mote of embarrassment
on our part
Nov 4, 2024
Nov 4, 2024 at 1:41 PM UTC
Two ancient eagles often meet
free and high, celebration dancing our death spiral or mating dance.
Flying over this weeping willow forest lands we found
Our white willow tree bark healing properties own
salicylic acid relieving pains and inflammations.
Our beautiful pendular branches, the weeping willow trees of us, symbols of fertility are; out willow trees grow best by side roads by body of water rivers lakes, or ponds. And us special eagles, mate by the sea.
And like us our willows of life attract scary snakes, but also birds bees butterflies, cocoons moths many diverse birds make a home in us. Our willow trees seem to hide a fertil sadness within.
In our roots, creatures find habitat restauration erosion control and perfect ******** growth of 6 to 8 inches length.
Our willow trees filter poisons grows quickly and live longer with a human touch like ours.
Our weeping willow tree established root systems decontaminating water and soil.
Raindrops drip down our leaves. My weeping is called pillow P****y willow tree.
When our weeping tree grows largest it casts a grave size shadow and a family member goes supernovae or so it's written.
Thank you my weeping willow tree, sweet poet mine for placing baby blankets under our weeping willow tree.
Your invitation uncovered accepted loved and cherished eternally.
To the one poet Sonnet 75 my
True love, this one honors the day my smile captured thine heart, my weeping willow my everything beloved.
~~~
Inspired by a tree of life planted in my honor once upon a time.
~~~
By: Mr And Mrs Andrews
Dec 16, 2023
Dec 16, 2023 at 1:57 AM UTC
i've a plundering urge
to whom it is absurd,
the black teeth
the blood scribes
the woe, the whither,
the word
i felt seen from afar
telescoped warmth cups my right shoulder
and i expand from shrivel in your forgiving light
are you my soilmate ?
for you i prepare scents beading from my most sweaty regions
a moist sporing emits in nifty allium spritzes
i stammer to a standing position
and exercise my full height
sporting,
i swing and tap an annihilated aluminum bat
sounding out my specific code of fidelations
resonation through the ground
and suddenly you are near
receiving the humming
up the souls of your doughy bare feet
you shiver
i prance wildly and perfect kilter in my hips
i offer to preen you
i present you with a pyramid of spittle balloons
i **** myself a little
i sink my teeth into your side (it's not 'your jam'
but we recover the mood)
i give chase to you for you to be chased
and it's a wild kind of keen fun
and you are a madcap display of laughter and wide smiles
and within i feel a gordian nest
of some lust manoeuvre
(maybe we can copulate face-to-face ?)
pondering scars wounds that were much deserved
the white meat the bright stars delivered
who is rude to the rule of what is ours ?
i knew you
magnesium burn and unwholesomely dauntless
bold your portfolio always within an easy reach
your passionate simmering might you branded my eye
and now we're similar mites in a feather
simian partners surveying territory needs
and then you’re gone again
vanished
and we are distant minds that strike the hour together
like before
between our signals I am met with cross chatter
my hemispheres bicker
and retorting memories barrage
refunding the past
and taking you away from me
i am a mating dunce once more
i shrivel
May 31, 2023
May 31, 2023 at 9:00 PM UTC
Green violins and caramel wings
My heart shivers as the cricket call
For his love in midnight wings.
The cold moon sings a silver anthem
In tune with the cricket's howl
For his love who's writing this poem.
The front door is open
waiting for love to peek
Apr 13, 2021
Apr 13, 2021 at 5:12 AM UTC
Let men burn stars out from innocuous lightyears pulled through the vortex
Like needle and thread, sown by centuries of sparked, graceful union
(Their strength and vigor found in the cross-stitching)
And ever gently unfolding like outer reach, like inner *****
In the garden of our senses, flowing with milk and honey, by means of forethought or afterglow
One thought of ecstasy, one thought of infinite parable taking new light to bed
The sacred beams bending to form a crescent, a lunula of utmost happiness
Oct 15, 2020
Oct 15, 2020 at 10:41 AM UTC
I hear the call of the animals
through the darkness
their piercing need
Searching
Searching
For one another
in the black
stony night.
Jan 20, 2020
Jan 20, 2020 at 11:53 AM UTC
stern King of days and
sensuous Queen of nights
of Heavenly kingdoms
mating in the sky
staring above is not wise -
as they may get shy
Dec 29, 2019
Dec 29, 2019 at 12:10 AM UTC
The bait is set.
All I do is wait...
For someone to bite,
Waist deep in water, still not wet.
I will go hungry again...tonight.
Wonder what's wrong, the world's unfair.
So many fish in rivers and lakes...
Wonder, Why me? look down in despair,
The fish is all plastic, the scales are all fake.
The rod is tense.
All I do is pull....
All I want is flesh....
The pain is intense...
The fish is a fool.
Mar 30, 2019
Mar 30, 2019 at 1:05 AM UTC
The faded beauty,
a desiccated blush
Still seen by you and me
was evidence of
a scarlet flush.
But the season is over
And the mating done.
Splendor still hovers
Until the two are one.
But who are we to stand and gawk,
Though they rest in shade and know us not?
Their hour is spent in the maiden sun,
And we arrive after the race is won.
Stoop low to gather useless information
about magnetism and procreation.
We are nothing more than nature's shields
And the guardians of whatever she yields.
Aug 30, 2018
Aug 30, 2018 at 4:12 PM UTC
My monsters mate then they duplicate
I offer contraception; but it's too late.
They wish to reproduce, I only wish they'd reduce,
and it would be truly perfection if we could call a truce.
And my demons dance, what a sweet romance,
I turn off the music but they move to chants.
They wish to cause a stir, but I would prefer
if they wouldn't abuse it; it's meant to deter.
Play a song and put on a show,
they wish to belong but I want them to go.
There's no escape, there's no debating
that they're in great shape and the monsters are mating.
My monsters mate after their date,
I provide protection but they won't take the bait.
They crave sweet intimacy, just like me,
but the affection is laced with toxicity.
And my demons dance almost in a trance,
now I'm going deaf from my own rants.
They wish to cause a scene and I'm not too keen,
turn right cause on the left the grass could always be more green.
They sway to a loving bloom,
and they're banging hard in my head.
So I tell them to just get a room
and they say I should go to bed.
Play a song and put on a show,
their love might be wrong but atleast it creates a glow.
There's no end in sight and my nerves are grating,
day always turns to night and the monsters are mating.
Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 11:07 PM UTC
Her sun-kissed face was painted shy.
Closed eyed, her lashes shimmer.
Redden lips pucker,
our feelings glimmer.
Limbs brush, grind then speak.
I place my hand under cheak
and spank the skin with my own.
Our cloaks of royal stitching
mingle exposing, panels of flesh
Twined minds wrapped
a couple meshed.
Mar 23, 2018
Mar 23, 2018 at 5:28 PM UTC
What's a Soulmate?
A soul is complete and forever
There is no mating amongst the soul
It doesn't need the mating-cantalever
Mating is like the fillet of sole
For senses of the perishable flesh n bone
For a body that needs to procreate
A soul doesn't replicate ......
Jul 30, 2017
Jul 30, 2017 at 3:58 AM UTC
When you touch
I feel the sudden rush...
To feel your mouth
on top of my mouth...
Your succulent lips
pressed onto my lips...
Feeling the weight of your body
pressing down against my body...
Feeling each other
we dissolve into one another...
As you spread my legs apart
you are playing your part...
Surrendering myself to you
I am just ready for you...
Souls mating forever
hope this feeling ends never!!
Jul 28, 2017
Jul 28, 2017 at 4:45 PM UTC
Two serpents
in a frenzied
mating ritual,
we coil,
one around
the other
within and
outside
winding and
unwinding
heeding to a
command,
mysteriously
received,
ears open to a
music,that play
in a plane
beyond the
realm of mortals.
We are there
on the verge
of liberation.
Dec 10, 2016
Dec 10, 2016 at 1:26 PM UTC
You say you’ll give me everything
But all I get from you
Is a lot of promises
And kitchy kitchy koo.
You said I’d get a diamond ring
Before the week was through.
Then you said you lost your job
And wanted kitchy koo.
The washing machine
No longer works
And neither do you.
I wish I was exaggerating,
But every word is true.
All I get to look forward to
Is kitchy Kitchy Koo.
Kitchy kitchy koo
When it all begins.
It’s a lot of fun till when
All the kitchy koo ends
You best start out as friends.
Our love life is super hot
But there are other things to do.
Life involves so much more
Than kitchy kitchy koo.
Groceries and cleaning matter
Though not that much to you.
It’s too bad you don’t get paid
For kitchy kitchy koo.
I never thought I would complain
About making love with you.
It isn’t that part that bothers me
So, let me drop the other shoe.
There are seven days every week
And things we adults must do.
And only a tiny percent of that
Involves kitchy kitchy koo.
Kitchy kitchy koo
It’s a catchy rhyme
Just have fun all the time.
When the kitchy koo ends
We may just part as friends.
Feb 12, 2016
Feb 12, 2016 at 11:03 PM UTC
mating behavior
pushes the limits
forgets boundaries
tall
dark
eyes like a canyon
pulling you into them
hands
length
soothing sounds
vibrations
mating rituals
dances with wolves
edge of the feather
periscope vision
~ rachael hays 9O15
Oct 9, 2015
Oct 9, 2015 at 4:12 PM UTC
I want to say things
About me and about you
That are beautiful words
But they really aren’t true.
The person I fell for
Was really a total stranger
And I let myself go too far
Into a love full of danger.
I was falling for looks
And the classy way you dress
And didn’t understand
That underneath was a mess.
Your charm was all surface
And your plans were unmade.
You were like the grasshopper
Lazing around in the shade.
Everything you wanted
Was on a short term basis.
You saw someone cute
And you were off to the races.
And I was the cute one
For just that little while.
Falling for the pretty words.
Swept off my feet by a smile.
Then suddenly we were
A couple for many years,
Through disappointments
And way too many tears.
Oh, I don’t blame you.
I was not being truthful.
I was going on the needs
Of the naïve and the youthful.
I think we were afraid to
Just let things fall apart.
Afraid we might be guilty
Of breaking the other’s heart.
But doing that we missed
The life we might have had
If we weren’t so afraid
To make each other mad.
Sep 30, 2015
Sep 30, 2015 at 12:04 AM UTC
~~~^♡^~~~
a flash of red
in verdant trees
a cardinal!
bright
within its leaves!
the telltale call
and flirt of tail
announces love
in the plain
female!
gentle nature
touches the pair
to bless my
*heart
yes!
spring
is
HERE!!!*
~~~^♡^~~~
Mar 18, 2015
Mar 18, 2015 at 12:00 PM UTC
Dragon flight, and dragon fire
Dragon fight, and dragon desire
Soaring on their wings of flame
They are impossible to tame
Dragons fly in the skies
Shrieking their horrible ear piercing cries
Dragons winging in the air
Make us wish we could be there
Gliding gracefully up above
They live and die, despair and love
Flaming breath upon the tongue
Is passed along down to their young
The souls in which their flames enfold
When breathed upon become dragon gold
Sires of the mating age
Rise up in an awful rage.
Battling the other great males
Searing hot their necks and tails.
They are grateful for every breath
For dragon males fight to the death!
© Crystal Erickson
Dec 23, 2014
Dec 23, 2014 at 10:13 PM UTC
Last night
I heard the tap and hum
of haddock mating in the deep.
They dive,
it seems, to distant depths
as if the atmospheric weight
could tense
their roe to spasm forth
and in the sport of lowly spawn
they beat
the rattle of a drum
as baritone cicadas might.
In lust,
with rhythms from the flesh,
they thread the needled cloth of night
Jul 1, 2014
Jul 1, 2014 at 7:53 PM UTC
Choson dynasty,
you utter from a stub
on the stand's neck,
your eyes admiring
pimpled spaces or
the bulging curves
of the moon jar.
It is imperfect like
papier-mâché,
the hollow centre
surrounded by
a slumped figure:
two bodies thrown
as lovers, where,
noticing a crease
stretch the belly,
the mating halves
fuse to function
a wholeness like
the moon we make
when we hold hands.
May 17, 2014
May 17, 2014 at 11:02 PM UTC