Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Feb 2014 Wolf
William A Poppen
Poems about women,
spills of passion
flow from anger,
burst from love,
fill libraries,
find homes in billfolds,
back pockets,
or bulletin boards.

Counting poems
composed about women,
for women,
by women
becomes one futile task
for this list is endless.
Reams of new works
billow forth
from crazed minds of men
hourly,
daily.

Small wonder
for this gentle ***
is incomprehensible,
enticing, enchanting.
Fill pages with thoughts of her
and dreams that dampen cotton sheets
Ease all tension,
write tonight.
Comments appreciated
 Feb 2014 Wolf
b for short
Nevermind the obvious quirks in my physique—
the thick thighs,
short legs,
t-rex arms,
and that ample, curvaceous figure of mine
which I own and work every day.

[Listen,
I'm certain I could get into the glitter—
no doubt I would have a killer stage name—
I figure I’d get pretty used to the instant gratification—
and there's no doubt in my mind
that whatever I lack in grace and *** appeal,
I could make up for in
charm, wit,
and a cuteness that I'm still growing into.]


But see, I have a slight fear of wearing heels.
It's safer for everyone if I stick close to the ground.
And although swinging around a pole
seems like a good time,
my motion sickness would probably kick in
and I'd ralph hard
on at least one of my investors.

Aside from the faulty mechanics I'd bring to the profession,
I've got my own rationale.

I like knowing
that when my clothes come off,
it's for reasons larger than money.
I like knowing
that I've left a little to the imagination
and can unleash it at my leisure.
I like knowing
that my secret weapons of mass seduction
are, in fact, secrets.
I like knowing
that I still have something to blush about
when I think about how I spent my Saturday night.

Nah,
I could never be a stripper,
but hot ****,
do I enjoy perfecting the art
of smiling while naked.
© Bitsy Sanders, February 2014
 Feb 2014 Wolf
Charles Bukowski
little dark girl with
kind eyes
when it comes time to
use the knife
I won't flinch and
i won't blame
you,
as I drive along the shore alone
as the palms wave,
the ugly heavy palms,
as the living does not arrive
as the dead do not leave,
i won't blame you,
instead
i will remember the kisses
our lips raw with love
and how you gave me
everything you had
and how I
offered you what was left of
me,
and I will remember your small room
the feel of you
the light in the window
your records
your books
our morning coffee
our noons our nights
our bodies spilled together
sleeping
the tiny flowing currents
immediate and forever
your leg my leg
your arm my arm
your smile and the warmth
of you
who made me laugh
again.
little dark girl with kind eyes
you have no
knife. the knife is
mine and i won't use it
yet.
 Feb 2014 Wolf
Frisk
kitchen knives
 Feb 2014 Wolf
Frisk
you are so delicate, like feather pillows and angel wings
yet you offered me the knife to cut you off from me, and
autumn happens in each season where leaves fall like
pinned up pictures on your wall tumbles to the dusty
corners of the bed or hides in the closets like skeletons
and happiness is hard to find, but it's so much easier
finding new ways to miss you when remainders of
reminders are hidden in the nooks and crannies of
my endless jumble of miswired thoughts, and the
inside of your soul is just a house of mirrors for every
personality you perfect on your face with such ease
i wish the mirrors would shatter, and i would throw
the knives at all of them already and see the truth

- kra
 Jan 2014 Wolf
Ingrid Ohls
History
 Jan 2014 Wolf
Ingrid Ohls
How did I know that a half assed apology would make my way this morning?
How did I know that it wouldn't mean a thing, and that nothing would change?
History I suppose.
This history also shows, just how many nights I fought my own head to stay strong.
While you, lied, cheated, had no thought of my inner battle.
The battle you started.

I became weak as a kitten, with every passing day I yearned for the support from you.
I would scream "Please, I Just want you to hold me till I can face the world again!"
The screaming, you would just say would hurt your ears.
So, you'd walk away, or hang up the phone.
And the knife would go in deeper, through to the other side how many times?

If everyone else can see the pain in my eyes?
Are you the blind one? Or, do you just  see your own?
Am I just a mirror, and now that I am broken in pieces, not valued that much?
A little "****, I'm sorry" text.

After I tell you, you never run to me, so I give up.
I said you wouldn't do anything for me, and I deserve that.
I told you goodbye cause I was never worth that much to you.
and that you had every chance to prove the love I so desperately fought for,
you ignored me last night.

For the last time, you hung up on my pain.
For the last time, I let you, whom didn't care how hopeless I felt,
control the direction of my life.
You, were supposed to the man, the strong one protecting what you loved.
Yet, Battered, bruised, beat down by the world, and alone.
That's all I am.

You will read what I write, give up, and live on without me.
And that is why I choose to do the same.
History shows we weren't meant to  be.
And now I close the book, the pain.
And say Good Bye.
 Jan 2014 Wolf
Brittany Leigh
There was  a dark angel
waving me down
a pathway to Hell
but then I realized
the dark was light
Hell was Heaven
and everything was fine

I was just standing on my head.
 Jan 2014 Wolf
Orville
Wow.
 Jan 2014 Wolf
Orville
“Wow,” I said.

That snarky smile with her newly adorned thick glasses gazed up at me,

gingerly sipping on that grande caramel latte with soy milk and no whipped cream, obviously

“What?” she replied

Staring as her red cup graced the gentlest lips I’ve seen

I was speechless

Even after 17 short months I get like this

Like the first date oh-****-what-do-I-say speechless

How wow is that?

To share your Sunday mornings with

those glasses, that smile, and that **** latte without the slightest of cares

but to enjoy the upcoming breakfast and morning sunshine together

“Nothing,” I smiled

Watching as she returned to her menu deciding which sides to go with her toast

A daunting decision, indeed.
 Jan 2014 Wolf
Lysander Gray
The suicidal optimist with his noisesome breath
watches the moon for shooting stars.

He talks a lot about it;
but everyone's seen Christ in the clouds.

Picks his way to an early death
with romantic subtitles
and a continental breakfast.

He halts his noisesome breath
and checks for excitement -

"Darling..." he whispers
"I must have you."

Your sob was like a thunderclap

Your sob was like a thunderclap
in the deep and ancient night.

And the stars did sigh
For servitude
in the deep and ancient night.

Clearing his head
whilst muddying the meter
He realises :

Jesus was an astronaut
Smoking zen by the fire.

And everything makes sense
in an unexpected moment
That he thought
would never come

And all our yesterday's lighted fools
the way to dusty death.
Next page