#sensualpoetry - Hello Poetry

History writes itself, becoming like the sun; surrounded by stars, surround-sound chaos singing through all of us. Bodies built from utensils; food for thought the only menu we ever trusted. Claims of someone, feeling like magic on the tongue; sweet enough to make silence blush, warm enough to soften every cold place inside your ribs. Bones, muscle, presence— that’s all we are at first; until touch teaches the body another kind of language. Still waters in words, spring resting in a garden; to grow gently upon one's earth, like rain finally meeting their land; landing on soil tired of thirst. To learn somebody slowly, eye by eye, breath by breath; the scent of their soul opening up, like orchids after dark. Love, making history of us both; ploughing open guarded hearts, planting trust beneath skin, finding connection in the trembling bloom of being fully felt. And maybe that’s why history will always write itself— because human hearts have always longed to be touched deeply enough, to grow.

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May 14

May 14, 2026 at 4:17 PM UTC

OddOdysseyPoet

History Writes Itself

History writes itself, becoming like the sun; surrounded by stars, surround-sound chaos singing through all of us. Bodies built from utensils; food for thought the only menu we ever trusted. Claims of someone, feeling like magic on the tongue; sweet enough to make silence blush, warm enough to soften every cold place inside your ribs. Bones, muscle, presence— that’s all we are at first; until touch teaches the body another kind of language. Still waters in words, spring resting in a garden; to grow gently upon one's earth, like rain finally meeting their land; landing on soil tired of thirst. To learn somebody slowly, eye by eye, breath by breath; the scent of their soul opening up, like orchids after dark. Love, making history of us both; ploughing open guarded hearts, planting trust beneath skin, finding connection in the trembling bloom of being fully felt. And maybe that’s why history will always write itself— because human hearts have always longed to be touched deeply enough, to grow.

27

Broken strings, glass-tear eyes— where’s that smile from a distance? :been a bit distant— clapped back at feelings; can you hear the applause in the distance? You are my world in a world full of sin— seen as you are, sin as you are; I still let you in; for better, no worse— your cold, my warm…you don’t just feel— you are my poem.

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Mar 23

Mar 23, 2026 at 4:43 PM UTC

OddOdysseyPoet

Applause in the Distance

Broken strings, glass-tear eyes— where’s that smile from a distance? :been a bit distant— clapped back at feelings; can you hear the applause in the distance? You are my world in a world full of sin— seen as you are, sin as you are; I still let you in; for better, no worse— your cold, my warm…you don’t just feel— you are my poem.

10

Find someone to love you— name the place, the time, the situation; sweet times shared— as if forever forgot it's own ending. We don’t count the time while spending time; swiping with eyes half-closed, feeling the moment spend us back. Away from you, the day quickly turns night, and the night cries out for the day again. Each new morning asking, "what is left to be done," But to bury my vision in your chest— hearing that beat echo back into my mind. At this point I choose a side— loyalty breeds: “every man is a dog,” they say… maybe I’ll chance my collar— to prove I’m a different breed. Long walks like an animal excited for treats; treating you well enough to multiply the emotions we breed. A dog once lost on the street— now only looking for a safe home to live in… and eat.

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Mar 16

Mar 16, 2026 at 5:04 PM UTC

OddOdysseyPoet

LOYALTY BREEDS

Find someone to love you— name the place, the time, the situation; sweet times shared— as if forever forgot it's own ending. We don’t count the time while spending time; swiping with eyes half-closed, feeling the moment spend us back. Away from you, the day quickly turns night, and the night cries out for the day again. Each new morning asking, "what is left to be done," But to bury my vision in your chest— hearing that beat echo back into my mind. At this point I choose a side— loyalty breeds: “every man is a dog,” they say… maybe I’ll chance my collar— to prove I’m a different breed. Long walks like an animal excited for treats; treating you well enough to multiply the emotions we breed. A dog once lost on the street— now only looking for a safe home to live in… and eat.

26

Life isn’t really worthless— unless I’m trying to love less than the rhythm in my chest whispers when you’re close enough to feel it. There’s creation in your touch, every brushstroke of skin an art piece— unless the soul beneath my hands starts fearing it was birthless before you breathed warmth into it. You move through my silence like a verse I’d rehearsed with— turning quiet breaths into music, turning longing into purpose. Because love isn’t something we search for— it’s something our bodies remember when they finally meet the right pulse.

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Mar 15

Mar 15, 2026 at 2:59 PM UTC

OddOdysseyPoet

pulse

Life isn’t really worthless— unless I’m trying to love less than the rhythm in my chest whispers when you’re close enough to feel it. There’s creation in your touch, every brushstroke of skin an art piece— unless the soul beneath my hands starts fearing it was birthless before you breathed warmth into it. You move through my silence like a verse I’d rehearsed with— turning quiet breaths into music, turning longing into purpose. Because love isn’t something we search for— it’s something our bodies remember when they finally meet the right pulse.

16

Extra body language— just for us to read the room before the room reads us. First kisses always taste like strangers— sweet, but searching... Elaborate that spirit I adore, the way it moves freely each time my hands translate your skin. You're a free spirit— wild in the wind, yet kneeling in humbleness. To make you whole, to keep you whole— it feels selfish to promise I’ll love you wholeheartedly when I’m still mapping the hidden rooms of my own heart. Still— I see you whole. Divine sight, as if God blinked and left His light in your eyes. Pleasure, patient. Affirmation, never late. And when my lips meet yours— it’s honey spilling slow. Be sweet as my honey, and I’ll work your spirit like a blue-collar honeybee— faithful to the bloom, devoted to the nectar. stirring softness from sweetness. I am your honeybee.

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Feb 12

Feb 12, 2026 at 2:53 PM UTC

OddOdysseyPoet

Blue-Collar Honeybee

Extra body language— just for us to read the room before the room reads us. First kisses always taste like strangers— sweet, but searching... Elaborate that spirit I adore, the way it moves freely each time my hands translate your skin. You're a free spirit— wild in the wind, yet kneeling in humbleness. To make you whole, to keep you whole— it feels selfish to promise I’ll love you wholeheartedly when I’m still mapping the hidden rooms of my own heart. Still— I see you whole. Divine sight, as if God blinked and left His light in your eyes. Pleasure, patient. Affirmation, never late. And when my lips meet yours— it’s honey spilling slow. Be sweet as my honey, and I’ll work your spirit like a blue-collar honeybee— faithful to the bloom, devoted to the nectar. stirring softness from sweetness. I am your honeybee.

39

Hold onto a lover with deep devotion— Matching her currents like a soothing ocean. Blow away her tears like a vacuum in reverse, Then feed into her worthiness with a final verse. Next, take good aim with the shot you shot— Later-on, she’s the one calling all the shots. Unwrap slowly the fibres of her love box, Let her steps be warmed up like brand-new socks. Note: The biggest distraction; turning her back on you, But also, it stealing all the focus of your smile too. And if love’s just a feeling, am I wrong to want more? And if it disappears, how long do we have together? Learning to count to infinity—what’s the point of forever? Lover boys count it all, losing track of their own hearts.

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Feb 1

Feb 1, 2026 at 4:31 PM UTC

OddOdysseyPoet

Lover Boy Verse

Hold onto a lover with deep devotion— Matching her currents like a soothing ocean. Blow away her tears like a vacuum in reverse, Then feed into her worthiness with a final verse. Next, take good aim with the shot you shot— Later-on, she’s the one calling all the shots. Unwrap slowly the fibres of her love box, Let her steps be warmed up like brand-new socks. Note: The biggest distraction; turning her back on you, But also, it stealing all the focus of your smile too. And if love’s just a feeling, am I wrong to want more? And if it disappears, how long do we have together? Learning to count to infinity—what’s the point of forever? Lover boys count it all, losing track of their own hearts.

15

Dawn touches her brow Zucchini, silent lust grows Smile, desire aches Mattress whispers near Fingers crawl electric lines Breath cracks, deep sighs hum Hands roam, feral, raw Quiet pounded, moans and cries Time drips, sticky dew Eyes shut, heart’s ablaze Nerves awake, raw, wet, engorged Body hums fire Shivers jolt, thighs hot Lips part, screams stifled in throat Alone, burning hum

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Jan 7

Jan 7, 2026 at 7:22 AM UTC

thomas-w-case

Alone, Burning

Dawn touches her brow Zucchini, silent lust grows Smile, desire aches Mattress whispers near Fingers crawl electric lines Breath cracks, deep sighs hum Hands roam, feral, raw Quiet pounded, moans and cries Time drips, sticky dew Eyes shut, heart’s ablaze Nerves awake, raw, wet, engorged Body hums fire Shivers jolt, thighs hot Lips part, screams stifled in throat Alone, burning hum

15

Розочки нюхали кокс, Под наркозом колючки срывались, В лепестках из проверенных поз Они страстно в любви признавались. Из французского платья духи, Красный бархат закатом бледнеет. Я зашёл и снял сапоги — А ну, барышни, кто что умеет? 👉 Bloch-Bauer & Adele · 2020 · Signature Privée

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Aug 1, 2025

Aug 1, 2025 at 11:42 PM UTC

BlochBauerandAdele

♠️ Розочки нюхали кокс

Розочки нюхали кокс, Под наркозом колючки срывались, В лепестках из проверенных поз Они страстно в любви признавались. Из французского платья духи, Красный бархат закатом бледнеет. Я зашёл и снял сапоги — А ну, барышни, кто что умеет? 👉 Bloch-Bauer & Adele · 2020 · Signature Privée

9

Зеленая, летняя, чистая, И спелые губы нагретые Кусают подушку душистую, Горячий предмет внутри. Ломает тебя спетую, Сминает тебя разогретую, Входит в тебя надетую — До самых глубин любви. 👉 Bloch-Bauer & Adele · 2020 · Signature Privée

0

Aug 1, 2025

Aug 1, 2025 at 8:26 PM UTC

BlochBauerandAdele

♠️ Зеленая, летняя, чистая

Зеленая, летняя, чистая, И спелые губы нагретые Кусают подушку душистую, Горячий предмет внутри. Ломает тебя спетую, Сминает тебя разогретую, Входит в тебя надетую — До самых глубин любви. 👉 Bloch-Bauer & Adele · 2020 · Signature Privée

9

My clear-skinned Cleopatra— you orchestrate pyramid schemes just to steal my heart, and I fall willingly into your empire of allure. ––– The notes of your lips compose a song I note in silence— the melody of your mouth lingering like red wine: mature, slow, intoxicating. ––– Each word you speak cups my hunger like a ritual. I sip from your wisdom like a man who’s parched, yet drinks only in restraint. ––– Your many faces of pleasure rise and fall like waves— I pause, mid-smile, just to witness the swell of yours. ––– Your touch brushes the most sensitive parts of me, as your silk-cloaked body glides—liquid, slow— guided by the current of your soul. ––– And here I am— washed for words, mouth half-open, trying not to drown in everything you make me feel.

0

Jun 18, 2025

Jun 18, 2025 at 5:40 PM UTC

OddOdysseyPoet

Cleopatra’s Current

My clear-skinned Cleopatra— you orchestrate pyramid schemes just to steal my heart, and I fall willingly into your empire of allure. ––– The notes of your lips compose a song I note in silence— the melody of your mouth lingering like red wine: mature, slow, intoxicating. ––– Each word you speak cups my hunger like a ritual. I sip from your wisdom like a man who’s parched, yet drinks only in restraint. ––– Your many faces of pleasure rise and fall like waves— I pause, mid-smile, just to witness the swell of yours. ––– Your touch brushes the most sensitive parts of me, as your silk-cloaked body glides—liquid, slow— guided by the current of your soul. ––– And here I am— washed for words, mouth half-open, trying not to drown in everything you make me feel.

45

Hopeless romantic—I want to cry. Feelings pressed so deep, they die quiet deaths between sighs. I don’t know what you see in this eye—a dim-lit portrait, painted in the bruises of love dye. Questions coil around my spine, but the heaviest one hisses: __“Who the **** am I?”__ When we kiss, let’s make it sacrament—a whispered heresy, tongues speaking in wet prophecy. But you don’t kneel for any father. You’ve made altars from broken men with daddy-issue blueprints. And I— just another one trying to fix what wasn’t mine to mend. My fingertip—a brushstroke on your bitten lip, painting the hunger before it slips. You wear love like fingerprints around your throat, scarred tender from where I once held your breath like a prayer. You're unsure of yourself, but I make you a shoreline—soft enough to land on, wild enough to drown in. You become my bay, my mouth’s favorite practice ground. _My wreckage. My beach._ Each kiss tastes like searching for sin between your teeth—warm, wet confessions we never speak. A shared gasp for air in the ache between moans, as if pleasure could ease the pressure clawing beneath our bones. Would we love longer, or be like everyone else, hoping to just **** better? Could your heart even measure what my hands now own? Your body echoes beneath sweat-glazed skin, like a haunted song I still hum. The feelings crawl, then collapse—pulling me under. Like a dream that bites back. One that begs to be real. But this love has only a few moments to taste that real.

0

Jun 17, 2025

Jun 17, 2025 at 8:53 AM UTC

OddOdysseyPoet

Litany of a Kiss

Hopeless romantic—I want to cry. Feelings pressed so deep, they die quiet deaths between sighs. I don’t know what you see in this eye—a dim-lit portrait, painted in the bruises of love dye. Questions coil around my spine, but the heaviest one hisses: __“Who the **** am I?”__ When we kiss, let’s make it sacrament—a whispered heresy, tongues speaking in wet prophecy. But you don’t kneel for any father. You’ve made altars from broken men with daddy-issue blueprints. And I— just another one trying to fix what wasn’t mine to mend. My fingertip—a brushstroke on your bitten lip, painting the hunger before it slips. You wear love like fingerprints around your throat, scarred tender from where I once held your breath like a prayer. You're unsure of yourself, but I make you a shoreline—soft enough to land on, wild enough to drown in. You become my bay, my mouth’s favorite practice ground. _My wreckage. My beach._ Each kiss tastes like searching for sin between your teeth—warm, wet confessions we never speak. A shared gasp for air in the ache between moans, as if pleasure could ease the pressure clawing beneath our bones. Would we love longer, or be like everyone else, hoping to just **** better? Could your heart even measure what my hands now own? Your body echoes beneath sweat-glazed skin, like a haunted song I still hum. The feelings crawl, then collapse—pulling me under. Like a dream that bites back. One that begs to be real. But this love has only a few moments to taste that real.

25

Fever painted me all over the body with its warm kisses of love for a duration unknown Taking everything aside of my own being it was a marvelous feel to be cocooned into the grip of this thin frenzy from head to toes it was immensely ecstatic to feel the passionate warmth over the skin and was delirious to be caressed by its softness beneath the shell. I want the fever to grab me forever and want YOU to be MY fever. ..................................

0

Jun 4, 2025

Jun 4, 2025 at 10:09 PM UTC

sumanpokhrel

Fever

Fever painted me all over the body with its warm kisses of love for a duration unknown Taking everything aside of my own being it was a marvelous feel to be cocooned into the grip of this thin frenzy from head to toes it was immensely ecstatic to feel the passionate warmth over the skin and was delirious to be caressed by its softness beneath the shell. I want the fever to grab me forever and want YOU to be MY fever. ..................................

15

Your fingers begin where words are lost, tracing slow fire along my skin, like a whisper, like a promise, like a prayer only my body understands. The night hums between us, heavy, electric, breath tangled with breath, heat curling at the edges of restraint, a war we no longer wish to fight. You taste me like sin, like surrender, lips parting against mine, pulling me deeper into the gravity of you, where the world ceases, where nothing else matters. Your hands speak in languages older than time, lifting, pressing, claiming, drawing sighs from the depths of me that only you have ever known. And then— bodies collide, slow and aching, hips meeting in a rhythm carved into the universe, moans swallowed by open mouths, by shuddering breath, by the urgency of need. You bury yourself where I am soft, where I am fire, where I am yours. And I let you in, deeper, deeper, until I no longer know where I end and you begin. And when we fall—together, undone— it is not an ending, but a beginning, a creation, a devotion, a worship, where love is made, and souls are bound.

0

Mar 30, 2025

Mar 30, 2025 at 7:48 AM UTC

Kuch_baatein_khud_se

When You Touch Me

Your fingers begin where words are lost, tracing slow fire along my skin, like a whisper, like a promise, like a prayer only my body understands. The night hums between us, heavy, electric, breath tangled with breath, heat curling at the edges of restraint, a war we no longer wish to fight. You taste me like sin, like surrender, lips parting against mine, pulling me deeper into the gravity of you, where the world ceases, where nothing else matters. Your hands speak in languages older than time, lifting, pressing, claiming, drawing sighs from the depths of me that only you have ever known. And then— bodies collide, slow and aching, hips meeting in a rhythm carved into the universe, moans swallowed by open mouths, by shuddering breath, by the urgency of need. You bury yourself where I am soft, where I am fire, where I am yours. And I let you in, deeper, deeper, until I no longer know where I end and you begin. And when we fall—together, undone— it is not an ending, but a beginning, a creation, a devotion, a worship, where love is made, and souls are bound.

30

I need your heat upon my lips For you’ve set my soul on fire I can't wait, I am drowning in passion And all I can think of is a night full of desire. When I will look you in the eye and touch your naked soul I promise you will get a shiver down your spine I will then grab your waist and kiss you from the neck down, Melting away all your desires whilst sipping red wine Your body will be in the state of ecstasy And you will fail to resist the aroused sensations I will tickle and touch the most sacred corners of your body, And you will realize, making love is too great a temptation.

0

Jul 23, 2020

Jul 23, 2020 at 3:12 PM UTC

Kashish

'Making love'

I need your heat upon my lips For you’ve set my soul on fire I can't wait, I am drowning in passion And all I can think of is a night full of desire. When I will look you in the eye and touch your naked soul I promise you will get a shiver down your spine I will then grab your waist and kiss you from the neck down, Melting away all your desires whilst sipping red wine Your body will be in the state of ecstasy And you will fail to resist the aroused sensations I will tickle and touch the most sacred corners of your body, And you will realize, making love is too great a temptation.

12