"alexandra" poems
*Intimate surprises
spun
from thin air.
Precious metals
forged
to last an eternity.
Unwavering.
Uncompromising.
Unapologetically bold.
Unlike anything else.
The incomparable thrill
of one-of-a-kind.*
/ Alexandra Mor
Mar 5, 2015
Mar 5, 2015 at 12:10 PM UTC
Lover
I come to you on my knees
tonight
I’m feeling out of my place
I have a need that only you
can understand
this slave begs for your control
I need your absolute power
eclipse my soul with it
to remind me
I am your possession
I need you to cleanse me
of these feelings of insolence
Take your whip
and together we will go back
back to where we live
where I need to be
hear me scream
and know that its for you
lead me into your fire
I will come and join you there
I want you to make me worthy
of you
the whip and the pain
they always bring me home
I need to be bound
completely lost
use my body
fill my every opening
burn out my improper thoughts
fill me completely with you
I need you to give me pain
to make me beg
taste my tears
let me pay the price for
belonging to you
take it out in my flesh
to remind me
take me to your edge
and then lead me farther
where we live together
I go there for us.
Alexandra F. © 1997
Mar 14, 2015
Mar 14, 2015 at 2:49 PM UTC
you know exactly what you
are doing
to me
every day, of every week,
us at work
together,
knowing so little of each other,
you tease
me with the breezily
brush
of your billowy blouse,
brushed
by your sweet, soft-sleek
breast
against my arm or shoulder or back,
against me
brushing
-knowing that you do this
just to see me
blushing
just to laugh it off
in passing
as my stiff *******
belie my casual, response
my hard to stifle sigh
when you
brush
me.
-By Alexandra Eames
Aug 4, 2020
Aug 4, 2020 at 8:56 AM UTC
*As a designer,
I have always been fascinated by the interplay
between people and objects of design.
The responses change over the years,
and with this in mind, my collections
become tangible reflections
of my own journey,
as a woman to this day.*
/ Alexandra Mor
Mar 5, 2015
Mar 5, 2015 at 1:20 PM UTC
Put on the old LPs tonight, Alex,
from a time long before you were born.
Top of the queue was Petula Clark
belting out Don't Give Up,
defiant as an alley cat in a street fight.
Remembered how in her heyday,
she'd been forced to conceal
the fact that she was married ---
all performers being mysteriously
virginal in those days.
Thoughts segue several years
to my time in the service and
a female lieutenant who was my OIC.
Served a 20 year career,
but never knew a finer officer.
She realized leadership was saying
the things that made you want to follow.
Just after making captain,
due to pregnancy, she was forced
to terminate her service career.
Today, women routinely travel in space,
perform extreme surgeries,
design skyscrappers;
one just might become president.
And somewhere in the tenements of NYC
a young poet spins metaphor
straight from the streets and the cosmos,
constructing a world in lines
we'd all wish to enter.
Jul 6, 2012
Jul 6, 2012 at 2:22 AM UTC
...best between my quivery, burning thighs,
gleaming and steaming my downy mound,
the air alight with my sighs,
oh, girl,
those eyes!
-By Alexandra Eames
Aug 3, 2020
Aug 3, 2020 at 10:46 PM UTC
In the cold, cold parlor
my mother laid out Arthur
beneath the chromographs:
Edward, Prince of Wales,
with Princess Alexandra,
and King George with Queen Mary.
Below them on the table
stood a stuffed loon
shot and stuffed by Uncle
Arthur, Arthur's father.
Since Uncle Arthur fired
a bullet into him,
he hadn't said a word.
He kept his own counsel
on his white, frozen lake,
the marble-topped table.
His breast was deep and white,
cold and caressable;
his eyes were red glass,
much to be desired.
"Come," said my mother,
"Come and say good-bye
to your little cousin Arthur."
I was lifted up and given
one lily of the valley
to put in Arthur's hand.
Arthur's coffin was
a little frosted cake,
and the red-eyed loon eyed it
from his white, frozen lake.
Arthur was very small.
He was all white, like a doll
that hadn't been painted yet.
Jack Frost had started to paint him
the way he always painted
the Maple Leaf (Forever).
He had just begun on his hair,
a few red strokes, and then
Jack Frost had dropped the brush
and left him white, forever.
The gracious royal couples
were warm in red and ermine;
their feet were well wrapped up
in the ladies' ermine trains.
They invited Arthur to be
the smallest page at court.
But how could Arthur go,
clutching his tiny lily,
with his eyes shut up so tight
and the roads deep in snow?
2.4k
Up to the North
Down to the South
Keep the ships feeding
The big Mersey's mouth
14 big docks
And 19 big stops
Dad's got big hands
He works at the 'Brock'
He's seen Alexandra
And Nelson too
He passes the Princes
On the way to the 'Loo
Jump off at the Sandon
For a bevvy with Joe
Saturday's half day
To the match he will go
The merchants at Toxteth
Are rubbing their hands
There's money in shipping
And at Seaforth Sands
Jump off at Pier Head
If yer wearing a shirt
Stay on till Herculaneum
To get covered in dirt
The EMUs keeping rolling
From morning til night
Our dockers umbrella
What a beautiful sight
copyright/all rights reserved Joe Fogg 2011
Oct 7, 2011
Oct 7, 2011 at 3:13 PM UTC
What I am trying to say is,
I am well aware that it matters not whether I am with or without you;
I will keep moving,
but I much prefer your limbs with my limbs,
and I enjoy the tragedy you think makes you unable to be loved,
and I'm sorry I didn't touch you a little bit longer,
and when you're here I feel it,
and when you're not I feel it too.
by : Alexandra Crawford
Feb 18, 2016
Feb 18, 2016 at 4:12 PM UTC
after Alexandra Leaving, a song by Leonard Cohen
<>
to go where?
to a city self-consuming in madness,
giving every excuse to stay, and yet,
it came to me just now when the poet
must be leaving his redoubt, with doubt,
and return to the concrete and anomie
of a different kind of splendid isolation
when the last leaf meanders slow down
to the battlefield, and the falling terminado,
and the tree branches are stick figures, each
finger pointing skyward in an j’accusing manner,
accussing & conceding defeat, begging for mercy,
their pleadings too much for me to bare and bury
when green has been wiped clean, and deleted
from the dictionary of colors, my moth eaten soul,
can no longer be granted a stay of execution by
merely looking at the landscape and seascape
to admire their friendly contrasting schemes,
their installation in me of the awe of a visual
quietude, that was an astonishing injection
not truly appreciated till now, too late and
still early, the awe colorations of nature’s vibrancy
The gods have come, my soul hoisted upon their
broad shoulders, the dead-appearing tree branches
can no longer keep their poet safe, hold him back from
meeting his fate; now, he too is a leaving but
floating upward, unlike like the fallen crowds that have
come to rest upon the soil that born them, now to be buried,
all saying: Goodbye Island Poet leaving,
Island Poet
has no poem, no good understanding, no vision,
had no plan, no foresight, only a hope against hope,
that safety was/is not seasonal, Van Morrison reminds,
“These are the days of endless summer,”are memories,
to be held onto tightly, until when if I pass muster, angels
will return to my island abode, where my natural friends
will greet me again, with a flowering and new births,
and The Island Poet can once again revel in ideas in words like
future, sanity, when boarding the ferry with a one way ticket smile.
Sep 2, 2024
Sep 2, 2024 at 2:23 AM UTC
With eyes that can strike both fear and awe
and a heart that was forged of gold
A mind filled with wisdom beyond the Library of Alexandra's
and a touch of a mothers love
A hug of a fresh blanket
and a smile of sun rays
A laugh of life
and a ferocious love that envelopes all that are worthy
It is in them that I find solace
from the world and its many ravines
And when I need it most
I can always find them there
It is in them that I bestow trust
as if a chest of ancient relics
And all they have to do is look at me
and I know they'll be safe
I love you, good friend
More than I even know
Overflowing like a flood
with as much force as an earthquake
I shall always be there, my friend
and i'll do anything for you
For you are the most beautiful dragon
and I could never find another
Because in your soul, is a soul like mine
kindred spirits beyond time
And i'll always love you
Even when the moon falls
I'll be your guiding light when you need me
and we shall haunt the lands together
until the end of time
Thank you <3
Apr 22, 2019
Apr 22, 2019 at 5:27 AM UTC
Alexander K Opicho
(Eldoret, Kenya; [email protected])
On this 23rd day of December, 2013
Mikhail Kalashnikov is lying dead
In the coffin on the pyre
In Moscow the city of Russia
Away from Siberia his child hood home
Waiting to be buried by the people
His invention the Ak 47 and 74
Has not yet killed,
Good bye Mikhail Timofeyevich Kalashnikov
Son of Alexandra as you travel to land
Of the dead where a million of Rwandese in Africa
And million of the Vietnamese are now citizens
After having been shot dead by the AK47 and AK 74
You will not be lonely you glorious son of Russia,
You natural tinkering skills
Gave the world ubiquitous weapon
That has done wonders you looked on
Tell your gods where your poems you wrote are
The world is now free from your vice of the AK
Man can city now in peace and read your poetry
As the fettered politicians have no where
To get the weapons for mass peasant destruction,
Reveal to us the armoury in which you stuffed your poetry
as the gods of peace turn your guns into plowshare
Jan 23, 2014
Jan 23, 2014 at 7:26 AM UTC
Call me homeward, Alexandra, and see my heart stays true
Beyond the foamy ocean's grasp to where the skies of your eyes are blue
Look for me upon the clouds and call for me in a dream
Lead me home with a beacon whose light comes in steady streams
Call me homeward, Alexandra, and let no tear nor whimper escape
See the silver spoon that lies on my overflowing plate
Know that every gift that graces my hand reminds me of you
And know I look towards the horizon as I keep you in my view
Call me homeward, Alexandra, I await your sultry kiss
Walking on to find that you are my only form of bliss
Seeing you upon the shore as the wind combs through your hair
Whispering to you of how your love wishes he were there
Call me homeward, Alexandra, and I will not be long
Listening to your heart beckon with its harmonic song
I am on a distant shore, but in faith, my life is yours alone
For only when your call does cease will I find myself are home
Oct 31, 2012
Oct 31, 2012 at 10:44 AM UTC
Hoja En Blanco
Monchy y Alexandra
Fue imposible sacar tu recuerdo de mi mente
Fue imposible olvidar que algun dia yo te quise
Tanto tiempo pasó desde el dia que te fuiste
Ahi yo supe que las despedidas son muy tristes
Nunca me imagine que un tren se llevara en su viaje
Aquellas ilusiones que de niños nos juramos
Todos tus sentimientos los guardaste en tu equipaje
Quiciste consolarme y me dijiste yo te amo
Desde entonces no supe que seria de tu vida
Desde entonces no supe si algun dia regresabas
Los amigos del pueblo preguntabas si volvias
Llorando di la espalda no les pude decir nada
Ayer que regresé a mi pueblo
Aguien me dijo que ya te casaste
Mirame y dime si ya me olvidaste
Me marcharé con los ojos aguados
Despues le pregunté a la luna
Me dio la espalda e intento ocultarse
Hasta la luna sabe que me amaste
Hasta la luna sabe que aun me amas
Y vuela vuela por otro rumbo
Ve y sueña sueña que el mundo es tuyo
Tu ya no puedes soñar conmigo
Aunque mis sueños se iran contigo
Es tan triste tener que decirte que me olvides
Otro amor ha llegado a mi vida y no te quiero
Es muy tarde no puedo negarte que me muero
Pero no callaran mis palabras pa' decirte
Que soñaré contigo siempre que cierre mis ojos
Que entonaré por ti mis cantos tristes noche a noche
Que lloraré sin ti cuando recuerde que estoy solo
Y al recordar que duermes en los brazos de otro hombre
Me pregunto si aun reflejas algo de mi vida
Si en tu memoria vive aquel amor de tantos años
Aquel hombre que siempre te ha querido desde niña
Que llora porque el amor de su vida se ha casado
Es triste ver que un tren se aleja
Y en el se va lo mejor de tu vida
Dime el motivo de tu despedida
¿Por que te fuiste dejando mil penas?
Un dia recibi tu carta
Quice leerla y era una hoja en blanco
Pues de tu vida nunca supe nada
Como preguntas que si aun te amo
Nov 4, 2015
Nov 4, 2015 at 3:57 PM UTC
God help me I have an obsession
Now is not the time
Help me clear it from my brain
No wait -
The infection has spread
... God save the queen
She's captured my heart
She's back for my soul
God save the queen
Eternally lost, I can't stand
Hold me -
I think I'm dead
Devil in her eyes
My bloodbourne fervency
Can I contain this madness?
Oh God, save the Queen...
Ineffective quarantine
cells gone, you're all that remains
Unwavering Loyalty
To you
God help us all,
Save the Queen
Mistress, my Lady
You make me weak in the knees, nervous
Baby, princess, Kitten
I am ******
The wicked witch of the sheets
She's my duchess and my priestess
Queen of my bed
Off with her head
- recognition of an addiction/obsession is the first step to recovery
Sep 1, 2014
Sep 1, 2014 at 5:48 PM UTC
You can call me Alex or Alexandra
The first time I said I liked girls my voice broke
Everyone turned to me as if I had cursed at the dinner table
My mother told me to go take a shower and think about it
But mom, you can't wash off who you are
And yes, I have been thinking about it
A lot
In a small town news spreads like wildfire
I was the walking disappointment in the middle of town square
I had been reduced to it till I was purged of this evil that threatened to claim my soul
No one would sit next to me in class
And everyday after the assembly I was taken aside and told I would burn
Hell had no mercy for those like me
But people, you don't tell a sixteen year old child that she is possessed by the devil
And the other day when I went to get my hair cut
They loped it all off
And they said there you like to **** girls now you can be a man
But a bad haircut doesn't make me a man
And all the abuses you can throw at me won't change who I am
And I stood there with their glares digging daggers into the back of my head
The old man cursed **** and the parents covered their childrens eyes
As if I had a disease they would catch if they looked for too long
And they threw a burning stick in my front yard and said burn you deserve to burn
So i did
I burnt
I burnt myself piece by piece till there was nothing left but ashes
But remember you can burn down one Alex, one **** one unholy sin but
There will rise another and another and another
Till this world will have to change and then
There will be a **** at every street corner and
I will look you in the eye and say how many will you burn?
Apr 21, 2013
Apr 21, 2013 at 3:51 AM UTC
Amory Alexandra Laine
stars
in
Turkish Royals with Cough Syrup
Who will be his leading lady?
The mystery is yours to see.
THERE WILL BE MUSIC!
THERE WILL BE DANCING!!!
THERE WILL BE THE BEGINNINGS OF A bbbBBBIIIGGGggg NEW BAND: Chandelier
Will he get the girl?
What will he do with all the rest?
WILL HE EVER GET OUT OF THE BATH TUB?!?!?
Find out sooner than you think!
in
Turkish Royals with Cough Syrup
coming 2017
Jan 26, 2017
Jan 26, 2017 at 4:16 PM UTC
Hair a spiders web
tangled gently on her sloping neck
her fingers red, and soft, and swollen,
childlike;
as if her fingers quested through frozen snow.
forehead high, and wide, and arched
her cheeks so blushed, her eyes so dark.
hips soft and round,
curved into a shy hunch
of shoulders marked by freckles which drifted
from nose to rib.
her stomach warm, her legs sharp
she graces, stumbling through my confined heart.
Mar 29, 2014
Mar 29, 2014 at 2:56 PM UTC
Alexandra is just 15 years old and also my youngest rosebud. In my humble opinion she's writing in a fashion that is way beyond her years.
For her life hasn't been to good lately and I would ask all of you to support her writing.
This is one girl with a great future
Joe
Sep 18, 2014
Sep 18, 2014 at 11:42 AM UTC
I am quite certain that
the earth isn't flat,
all the roses will wilt,
voices lose their lilt,
reds and yellows will fade,
in time, every shade
and you will never know
when they come and go
but have a little faith
for things can be great
know that a girl like you
can be a treasure too
this friendship is a gift
no one else can lift
Dec 16, 2015
Dec 16, 2015 at 11:03 AM UTC
In my passenger seat is a girl
with more beauty than all of Great Britain,
but she only sees herself in funhouse mirrors.
Most days she wades knee-deep in silence
and makes beauty marks of her own design
because she doesn’t notice how
the room gets brighter when she walks through the door.
I remember the first time I cut into my own skin;
I remember when I smiled more as my hunger worsened,
and I remember why I stopped.
But for the life of me, I cannot form the words
to feed this lovely girl or to heal her battle wounds.
A cup of green tea and two slices of pizza,
half a breadstick and cream of wheat—
her mouth can take it all in,
but I remember closed doors and reliving meals.
And it still scares me every time she shuts the bathroom door.
There would be no hesitation in holding back her hair
after too many drinks or on a sick day from school—
it’s a different kind of scared.
Scared that she will never know how perfect she is,
because her perfection is sitting cross-legged
in front of the mirror while fixing her hair
and standing in line at a coffee shop.
It’s quiet and simple, but she is impossible to ignore.
This beautiful girl is made of
all the best ingredients;
she is learning a secret family recipe
and buying a secondhand jigsaw puzzle with no missing pieces.
Stars cannot shine without darkness
and she is the brightest of them all.
Jan 31, 2013
Jan 31, 2013 at 6:30 PM UTC
Tall,
Funny,
Fat,
Serious,
Moody,
Loner,
Popular,
Shy,
Afraid,
******
Player,
Geek,
Stoner,
Among others..
We give out titles like candy,
You are this,
She is,
He is..
Why? Why does our world revolve around titles?
Why cant I just be Caitlin Alexandra Moody?
Not Fat, Tall, ****** Spoiled, Perfect, Angel, Geek, Loner, Shy, Moody.
I am me.
That's it.
Feb 17, 2015
Feb 17, 2015 at 7:37 PM UTC
Always
Manifest
Everywhere
Your love
Always
Understanding
Beauty
Radiates
Your love
Radiates
Always
Your love
Alexandra Coates
7 May 2019
May 10, 2019
May 10, 2019 at 1:13 PM UTC
one of the most
beautiful people
I've met in a long
time
has dark red scars
up her arms and wrists
gorgeous ******
up past
just like mine
I want to tell her
that i understand
and first
and foremost
"you're not alone"
Aug 2, 2013
Aug 2, 2013 at 1:46 PM UTC