"artfulness" poems - Hello Poetry

Listen, I wanna embrace a blanket of your sensuality. I wanna abandon all rationality and create our own boundaries. I wanna become in tuned with the vibrations of each other's souls. Want you to climb so steeply within me that you can't find the way out of me. See I don't wanna make love, I wanna create precious poetry. While breathing the same rhythm. You **** every stanza out of me. Two pair of eyes undivided, two bodies ***** vigorous, exuding of familiarity. Make a story out of me. Feed it descriptions of true beauty. Not shrewdly, but do it smoothly. Let's co write a poem based on our union. We can be a masterpiece. Ink stains left in my bed sheets. I'll lend you my body to use as a diary. Release all frustrations as you lay your fervor out on me. Send a chill of suspense intensely towards the inside of my thighs, just where the margins would be. Our minds are deadly. Their correlation, deadlier. We're writing words so compelling, while releasing showers from hearts too heavy. Our poetry is nothing to compare to the regular. Every inch of my body manifesting your touch readily. I recede as you synchronize my private visions of a flawless fantasy. Basking in this radiance as you guide your pen to an astonishing ****** Inducing my body to impasse in ecstasy. Leaving me dripping with your artfulness. As if announcing all expectations surpassed. Drowning me in words that mirror ardor. Each line so passionate, I have no such memory of felicity that neither compares nor contrasts. Every part of my skin left sensitive, tender, and fragile. My body fluently floating, light as a feather. Skin now designed and decorated with such puissant letters. And God forbid we begin to forget the significance of our coalescence. You can lay me down, As you read it back to me. This way, we can reminisce on the angelic medley. Listen, I don't just wanna make love, I want our bodies to intertwine and invoke aesthetic poetry.

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Feb 20, 2013

Feb 20, 2013 at 4:37 AM UTC

sajdah-baraka

Poetry

Listen, I wanna embrace a blanket of your sensuality. I wanna abandon all rationality and create our own boundaries. I wanna become in tuned with the vibrations of each other's souls. Want you to climb so steeply within me that you can't find the way out of me. See I don't wanna make love, I wanna create precious poetry. While breathing the same rhythm. You **** every stanza out of me. Two pair of eyes undivided, two bodies ***** vigorous, exuding of familiarity. Make a story out of me. Feed it descriptions of true beauty. Not shrewdly, but do it smoothly. Let's co write a poem based on our union. We can be a masterpiece. Ink stains left in my bed sheets. I'll lend you my body to use as a diary. Release all frustrations as you lay your fervor out on me. Send a chill of suspense intensely towards the inside of my thighs, just where the margins would be. Our minds are deadly. Their correlation, deadlier. We're writing words so compelling, while releasing showers from hearts too heavy. Our poetry is nothing to compare to the regular. Every inch of my body manifesting your touch readily. I recede as you synchronize my private visions of a flawless fantasy. Basking in this radiance as you guide your pen to an astonishing ****** Inducing my body to impasse in ecstasy. Leaving me dripping with your artfulness. As if announcing all expectations surpassed. Drowning me in words that mirror ardor. Each line so passionate, I have no such memory of felicity that neither compares nor contrasts. Every part of my skin left sensitive, tender, and fragile. My body fluently floating, light as a feather. Skin now designed and decorated with such puissant letters. And God forbid we begin to forget the significance of our coalescence. You can lay me down, As you read it back to me. This way, we can reminisce on the angelic medley. Listen, I don't just wanna make love, I want our bodies to intertwine and invoke aesthetic poetry.

42

Words bring Structure in an untamed Mind Paint lends Color to a gray-scaled Time Now music, Music we'll save for a Rainy Day Hiding in corners of Sorrow where old Scars Lay I'll use My Words, A sword of Golden mold My paintings To Divulge my Intentions Untold In Music I lead The Greatest of movement with it, Climb on a Mount Singing calm to the Torment Awaken profuse Concordance That we Might break these False Coercions

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Oct 11, 2010

Oct 11, 2010 at 10:55 AM UTC

susanne-knight-connally

Prospects of Artfulness

Words bring Structure in an untamed Mind Paint lends Color to a gray-scaled Time Now music, Music we'll save for a Rainy Day Hiding in corners of Sorrow where old Scars Lay I'll use My Words, A sword of Golden mold My paintings To Divulge my Intentions Untold In Music I lead The Greatest of movement with it, Climb on a Mount Singing calm to the Torment Awaken profuse Concordance That we Might break these False Coercions

14

How is one to be one's own All there is to feel is disdain What else is to be shown To feel anything, especially happiness, is pain "Nothing is original": Teenage Anthem No truer words have ever been written Emotions can't belong to any of them They're sent via a social subscription All one's thoughts are already said ever so splendidly Force fed back to the mind (a reminder of the artfulness not of thyself) that couldn't vocalize The poet says "It's nice to not be alone" all too friendly No words have been a greater weapon to terrorize To not be alone in the feeling of apathy is all one needs to feel at ease...

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Apr 15, 2013

Apr 15, 2013 at 9:14 PM UTC

blake-nelson

Less Original by the Thought

How is one to be one's own All there is to feel is disdain What else is to be shown To feel anything, especially happiness, is pain "Nothing is original": Teenage Anthem No truer words have ever been written Emotions can't belong to any of them They're sent via a social subscription All one's thoughts are already said ever so splendidly Force fed back to the mind (a reminder of the artfulness not of thyself) that couldn't vocalize The poet says "It's nice to not be alone" all too friendly No words have been a greater weapon to terrorize To not be alone in the feeling of apathy is all one needs to feel at ease...

14

I always take a deep breath, close my eyes and let that feeling take over me. Every day, only for a few seconds, I allow my body to remember your touch, allow my mind to remember your voice, yet I’ll never let my heart remember your love. The bruises are long gone from my skin, the wounds healed by time, however my heart is hardly beating, barely holding on. It took me a long time to realize the anguish I found myself in, an eternity to uncover the many masks you wore with me. There was a finesse in your abuse, an artfulness to your ways. You would soften your blows with tender words, softly touching what you already hurt. For days, weeks and months, I stayed. I stood by you, blindfolded, numb to the constant pain, used to the steady flow of fear cursing through my veins. I loathe that I let you in, let you break me down repeatedly but most of all, I hate that I love you.

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Jun 19, 2018

Jun 19, 2018 at 1:26 PM UTC

Carolinelove_

A letter to you

I always take a deep breath, close my eyes and let that feeling take over me. Every day, only for a few seconds, I allow my body to remember your touch, allow my mind to remember your voice, yet I’ll never let my heart remember your love. The bruises are long gone from my skin, the wounds healed by time, however my heart is hardly beating, barely holding on. It took me a long time to realize the anguish I found myself in, an eternity to uncover the many masks you wore with me. There was a finesse in your abuse, an artfulness to your ways. You would soften your blows with tender words, softly touching what you already hurt. For days, weeks and months, I stayed. I stood by you, blindfolded, numb to the constant pain, used to the steady flow of fear cursing through my veins. I loathe that I let you in, let you break me down repeatedly but most of all, I hate that I love you.

6

How odd that entropy is time’s measure— that through the dissolution of the world we know, time’s arrow swiftly flies its course— irrevocable and unrelenting. Yet isn’t there a certain artfulness to time’s advance? The ineluctable, the crease of wrinkle in the lover’s cheek, a river’s tireless sculpting of its banks? In all the scything, striving, dying, all the loss, the grief, the thievery of years, there is design of a kind—a subtle mind— deaf to prayers though always true to mission. Though time has swept us, love, in its advance, there’s music there, I think, by which to dance.

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Nov 4, 2016

Nov 4, 2016 at 12:50 AM UTC

jim-hillyt

The Consolation of Time

How odd that entropy is time’s measure— that through the dissolution of the world we know, time’s arrow swiftly flies its course— irrevocable and unrelenting. Yet isn’t there a certain artfulness to time’s advance? The ineluctable, the crease of wrinkle in the lover’s cheek, a river’s tireless sculpting of its banks? In all the scything, striving, dying, all the loss, the grief, the thievery of years, there is design of a kind—a subtle mind— deaf to prayers though always true to mission. Though time has swept us, love, in its advance, there’s music there, I think, by which to dance.

14

above named orthodontist crowned specialist exemplary de jure by this dad sans perfecting offset dentition of me daughter – shana – who had quite noticeable gapped teeth – just the opposite when i was a lad and pro bono courtesy of above named orthodontist – worthy of a regal pad (okay perhaps i exaggerate just a tad) performed prestigious dental skill with her band of admirable merry technicians, who possess grand ever so agile and gentle to affix and/or adjust with each hand after countless visits viz number of years shifted closed spaces re: wide spaces did stand brackets wired together where squarely rooted choppers stood askew the completed effect = a priceless smile tooth thy punim – a beau tee full young lady (this comment unbiased from me – math a ewe) biological father of thine lass in question, where time flew while transformation her dazzling smile grew a changed ****** profile – admirable how maxillary masters did hue artfulness to align mastication via calculus sans perfecting her bite they knew thus this papa feels ever so thankful for prettifying mine offspring with courtesy service per each appointment thee progeny i did bring no matter that brackets broke loose – yes in some cases from chew wing gum or eating hard foodstuffs - fear of a skull ding never occurred, whereby anticipatory anxiety expended 4 naught ting mortis rigors of extraction, x-rays affecting dental precision would be impossible without the decision for the supreme doctor – who owned a schooled vision to envision vis a vis what provision and necessary measures to manipulate dentition toward per mission whereby maybe a minor revision made to witness brilliant megawatt smile giving admission of heightened sunny disposition primed to embark on successful lip smacking dating expedition anointing shana aubrey harris – who completed the biting inquisition.

0

Jan 21, 2018

Jan 21, 2018 at 6:10 PM UTC

matthew-scott-harris2p

Kellyn Hodges

above named orthodontist crowned specialist exemplary de jure by this dad sans perfecting offset dentition of me daughter – shana – who had quite noticeable gapped teeth – just the opposite when i was a lad and pro bono courtesy of above named orthodontist – worthy of a regal pad (okay perhaps i exaggerate just a tad) performed prestigious dental skill with her band of admirable merry technicians, who possess grand ever so agile and gentle to affix and/or adjust with each hand after countless visits viz number of years shifted closed spaces re: wide spaces did stand brackets wired together where squarely rooted choppers stood askew the completed effect = a priceless smile tooth thy punim – a beau tee full young lady (this comment unbiased from me – math a ewe) biological father of thine lass in question, where time flew while transformation her dazzling smile grew a changed ****** profile – admirable how maxillary masters did hue artfulness to align mastication via calculus sans perfecting her bite they knew thus this papa feels ever so thankful for prettifying mine offspring with courtesy service per each appointment thee progeny i did bring no matter that brackets broke loose – yes in some cases from chew wing gum or eating hard foodstuffs - fear of a skull ding never occurred, whereby anticipatory anxiety expended 4 naught ting mortis rigors of extraction, x-rays affecting dental precision would be impossible without the decision for the supreme doctor – who owned a schooled vision to envision vis a vis what provision and necessary measures to manipulate dentition toward per mission whereby maybe a minor revision made to witness brilliant megawatt smile giving admission of heightened sunny disposition primed to embark on successful lip smacking dating expedition anointing shana aubrey harris – who completed the biting inquisition.

60

in a rather more living language form frames function, I think we, should we agree, may make waves or points proving science is good. Clipped from: http://www.thenewatlantis.com/publications/the-unbearable-wholeness-of-beings If you try to describe the living processes of the cell in a rather more living language than is typically found in the literature of molecular biology — if you resort to a language reflecting the artfulness and grace, the well-coordinated rhythms, and the striking choreography of phenomena such as gene expression, signaling cascades, and mitotic cell division — you will almost certainly hear mutterings about your flirtation with “spooky, mysterious, nonphysical forces.” You can expect to hear yourself labeled a “mystic” or — there is hardly any viler epithet within biology today — a “vitalist.”

0

Aug 20, 2020

Aug 20, 2020 at 4:05 PM UTC

kenpepiton

With science considered true

in a rather more living language form frames function, I think we, should we agree, may make waves or points proving science is good. Clipped from: http://www.thenewatlantis.com/publications/the-unbearable-wholeness-of-beings If you try to describe the living processes of the cell in a rather more living language than is typically found in the literature of molecular biology — if you resort to a language reflecting the artfulness and grace, the well-coordinated rhythms, and the striking choreography of phenomena such as gene expression, signaling cascades, and mitotic cell division — you will almost certainly hear mutterings about your flirtation with “spooky, mysterious, nonphysical forces.” You can expect to hear yourself labeled a “mystic” or — there is hardly any viler epithet within biology today — a “vitalist.”

26