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Michael Marchese Oct 2018
The underlings stare
In submissive awestruck
Subjugation in landmine-filled
Landfills, are stuck
In the trenches, the feces
The carcass-strewn muck
Where the vermin-spawn ****
As they're taught how to work
And to fend for themselves
Like the Fall of Dunkirk
As the imminent doomsday device overhead
Incapacitates them
As mere prey to a web
Of a global dominion
Ambition connection
Subconscious hive-mind
Buzzing out the objection
And phobia-spreading
Pandemic misanthropy
Greed in disguise
Subsidizing atrocity
Not for me,

I am
The justified treason
The reason the man-hunters
Close open season
The cease-fire peacekeeper
Proliferation
The water war's rising
Desertification
An MIA runaway
AWOL defector
Still haunting the tombs of detente
Like a spectre
With what I assure
Mutually in the end
When I send go-aheads
On the ICBMs
And avenge the dependent expended
Caught in
This crossfire for-profit
Arms race it has been
kate joy Jan 2014
A dark night
Littered with stars and rain
   freshwater claims a sliver of consciousness
A simple word
   a lonely question
     "Why?"
You take my face into your hands
   letting your eyes close on minor chords
It's almost silent
   save for piano
     and nervous breathing
Your forehead on mine seems to speak
   directly to my thoughts
an arrow to my subconscious
An injection to my strength
   weakness in quiet trembles
lovely petals of black and grey
falling on our awestruck countenances
   augmenting the watery streaks of light
strewn sideways across your freckled skin
A hesitant thirst
   not eager to be quenched
finally satisfied
   Consent in closed eyes and soft pressure
Fingers caught lovelily in strands
   of tired hair
Nat Lipstadt Jan 2014
Disordered Thoughts, Naturally

the ceiling fan overhead
shakes back and forth,
beginning, a train of
disordered thoughts,
this poem,
the caboose.

reimagined, the fan,
it becomes
a yeshiva boy
fervent praying,
his version of ***** dancing,
shaking rocking swaying fervor,
shuckling.

for what does he pray?

for advance forgiveness
for he is simulcast
requesting getting lucky,
to be knowing
the miracle of being
with a woman or a man,
thus, getting closer to
God,
naturally.

He will be excised
for being human,  
he will be excused  
for by definition,
by succeeding and by failing,
in his desire
to be close to divine,
he best divines the
tragicomic nature of the
human condition:
the joy of sin,
the sin,
of a life without joy,
naturally.


Clean sheets nightly,
turn down service,
chocolates on my pillow,
good night kisses
on each eye,
even spooning,
are not among the
six hundred and thirteen
positive commandments
in the Bible.
why not?

why,
cannot this be
constitutionally amended,

by voice vote
of anyone who cares
to shout out a yay,
or blink approvingly,
or signs by fingers
sugar snapping and
hands, toe tapping?

all methodologies
intended to indicate the satisfaction
that comes from changes
made not in,
but also
from
the human tissue of heartbeats,
naturally

Somewhere
a solitary fish
swims upstream,
against the current,
defying odds...

weird,
the ways things should be,
never thinking,
wondering out loud,
why compulsion impels
so many living things
to do the opposite of logical,
natural in so many ways.

never asking,
why a fish must struggle to spawn,
upwards and onwards
to die so it, and the
the man, the bear,
he will feed,
the progeny released
can live?


for if this is the
natural order,
then is not nature,
too oft logically discordant,
and thus
disorder is the
state of being,
naturally.

Something makes me
awestruck and wondrous silent,
ever time I touch a
young child's skin,
joy instantaneous takes hold,
true shock and awe
succumbs me.

cannot be just miracle mine,
the sensation of life so sweet,
wondrous on my fingertips,
that repeated stroking is
******* addictive,
naturally.

what would be the harm,
if this soft shell of derma-finery
were a permanent condition,
a constant reminder,  
we all share,
born and bred,
a premier clean slate of
natural innocence unblemished,
perma-frosted prima face facile,
naturally.

this was how
we were created,
why perforce,
was it deemed orderly,
'better'
to evolve into something
grizzled, cracked and roughened slowly,
naturally.

Strange thoughts
are my normal fare,
if you only knew
the laugh of it,  
you might recommend,
keeping them closer still,
and me
far away from you!


maybe there is a God above,
but if there is,
he be
responsible for the sleepless nights
where stanzas of
whimsy, pain and joy are soldered,
ironed into a coalescing coalition,
denoted as a
restless and disordered mind,
but of course!
not my fault,
naturally!

next time we meet,
see smiles irregularly sweet,
turning,
reversing to and fro,
for such is the
inchoate state
of what transverses
on my cellular network
these rambunctious dark hours,
naturally.
these disordered thoughts, are nature allied, nat-urally...
Brooke hit it off with Edric from the moment they met.

The dangerously ****, tattooed ex-SEAL and always a poet, Detective for the LAPD, remains as one of the best friends she’s ever had, the main star in her wildest fantasies.
When they met he did not see her that way. And she would have died of embarrassment if he found out she was still a ******. And he was about to stake his claim, struggling to keep his attraction to the beautiful, blond dancer a secret.
He was not good enough for her; that is what he thought. On a day when an attacker targeted Brooke, Edric’s protective instincts went into overdrive.
With the attraction between them burning like a torch flame, he would do whatever it took to protect her and tell her they were meant to be together.  
One evening, deciding to express her love for her, Edric waited outside the door, keeping watch over the woman he loved secretly. Then he saw her through the curtain, dressed in her black fur coat.
Not realizing that she was being watched, yet fantasizing about the man of her dreams, Brooke lowered her fur coat standing in front of her mirror.
Her soft ******* protruding out from her black lace bra, in her mind waiting for Edric’s hands to touch her love her, want her like she wanted him... As the coat slipped down her black lace skimpy ******* seemed so inviting. Her dreams of him were getting so vivid. She would imagine him standing over her, kneeling, as he slipped his hand under the cover, exploring her body, wanting her, making her desire so real. Seeing Brooke in her lingerie, he was awestruck by her beauty and wondered what to do next.
Hesitatingly, he moved towards the door and to his shock saw a shadow, moving slowly, stealthily, trying to pry the windows. Failing to open the window, he moved towards the door. He pulled out a bunch of keys trying out one by one. Edric’s first response was to call for backup. He called leading detective Donovan Mallow his partner. Then the shadow opened Brooke’s door and started creeping in, Edric wasting no time, Edric charged to stop him. Suddenly he heard a shot that rang out into the night. There was Brooke standing in her black lace bra and *******, holding a gun and the intruder lay dead on the floor.

“Brooke drop the gun, please Brooke drop the gun.” Brooke was shaking… “Brooke, sweetheart, drop the gun. “She looked at Edric and let the gun fall to the floor softly.  On the verge of tears, petrified out of her wits since she had never used a gun before,  and to **** a man, she shook violently. Edric walked over to her and picks her and covered her half naked body with his coat.
When Detective Donovan showed up, Edric held her close while the former checked  the body and called for the paramedics and further back up. When the police came, CIS took finger prints, investigating the crime scene.
Edric found Brooke some clothes and dressed her, escorting her to the precinct for recording of her statement. She was questioned and released.
With Edric’s story and Detective Donovan backing her up, she was released. Not wanting to disturb the crime scene, Edric escorted her to his home and put her in bed. Brooke, I need to tell you something, is what he said.
“I am listening”…Brooke was shivering after having gone through the trauma, yet attentive listening to the man that she had secretly admired. “I want you to know, I love you”.  “You love me? I love you too. I always have.” Brooke looked at Edric with an adulation emanating from her very soul.
As an instinctive response, shivering, she let her head lean on his shoulder. “Edric then please make love to me. I have yearned for you so long”.
As the sun slipped from its perch in the sky slowly, drawing well into the darkness, the shores where the waves would roll and sigh, Edric slowly undressed Brooke, one piece at a time. As he took off her blouse admiring her beautiful soft protruding ******* with each moment her ******* getting hard. Taking  off her pants and there were the black lace ******* he had seen from the window. Her firm and tight stomach and legs, she looked so delectably **** and beautiful. She was lying with a look of anticipation on her face. He enveloped her with his arms and kissed her softly, passionately. He didn’t want to scare her.
“Edric, I have to tell you.” Brooke whispered in his ear. “Later Brooke, you can tell me later.” He was so aroused and was getting so hard. “No, Edric now.. I have to tell you now.” Edric stopped and looked at her, “What is it darling?”
“Edric I am a ******. You are my first man. I have never been with another man.” Edric sat there and couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He knew then that he had to be gentle. A wrong step and he would scare Brooke. He held her hand and kissed it.
"I kind of suspected but am surprised. You always had a naïve gentleness and girlishness about you. You always seemed so vulnerable that I always wanted to protect. You always had affected me in a way that I couldn't explain; no other woman has ever done that to me.”

Saying that he helped her dress and holding her hand led her towards the ****** beach outside his cottage. Wrapping her in his arms, they watched the beautiful glow of the stars, eyes aglow with passion of locked hands. Edric spoke his favorite lyrics, into her mouth as he started kissing her.
What a poet was he!! Impatience getting the better of her, “Edric, please make love to me… Oh! how I want you.”
His kisses were soft but passionate; they started at her lips to the base of her neck sliding down to her *******. When they got to her stomach her breath trembled, yearning for more.
Electric shocks ran down her spine. She almost screamed. The winds gently swirled, dancing to their rhythm of their passion. A girl, morphed that sweet evening, as Edric make sweet passionate love to her and made her into a blossoming woman.
Guess, there is nothing in the world that matched the feeling of eclectic emotions that were born that night. When a tired sun finally arose as a grim reminder of the end of an ethereal night, it sighed endlessly, spreading a gentle caress across Brooke’s cheek, pledging that she was bound to Eric for eternity.

Debbie Brooks 2014 -
Chapter 1
It was cold. Freezing. The first day of the winter chill had started in northern Washington. The sun now hid behind the thick ceiling of clouds as they began their annual snowdrop and the mountains began to howl as the winter winds bared their fangs. Near the mountains was a town with a population of one hundred thousand. The town was officially established in 1840, though a now extinct native tribe settled there long before. Life here was normal for most.
A jog and a stone's throw away was a semi-secluded high school that lay deep in the woods, holding some fifteen hundred students. The gray bricks were reminiscent of a prison, juxtaposed against the walls of towering trees all around it. As snow began to blanket the ground, a single pair of footprints led to the school.

Professor Thompson, a younger teacher, was yelling again, "If I see another one of you punks rolling in here halfway through class, I swear I'm going to make sure you end up living in detention!" Alexei grinned, whispering the exact same phrase in unison with the teacher. The younger members of his "pack" snickered behind him. His group of eight was split between boys and girls appearing between seventeen and twenty. They were a small part of the senior class and had the reputation of being stubborn, loyal, and dangerous at times.

They embraced the reputaion, knowing how true it was. They were Lycans. Shapeshifters. Werewolves. They all meant the same thing. They were descendants of the "extinct" tribe that once lived in the area, though their numbers now were far greater and much more widespread.
When each Lycan turned fifteen, they would have their first shift. They would turn into Dire Wolves, about twice as large as a normal gray wolf.  During their first transformation, instinct would guide them to an alpha who would help them transition to the new life, teaching them how to shift at will and how to survive. Each pack was structured by rank, Alpha, Beta, and Delta.
There were only two Alpha's per pack, one male, one female. They made decisions and guided the newly transformed Lycans. Once a Lycan proved themaelves, they were given the rank of Delta. Their duty was to learn and follow any order to the best of their ability. A Delta could be chosen to become a Beta, either by trial or by challenge.

In this case, Alexei was the alpha and this was his territory.
Alexei stood at exactly six feet tall, was light skinned and was built like an animal, lean and muscular. His straight hair was jet black and ended in a flurry of blood red tips that lay hidden under a heavy black jacket and a hood lined with white fur. His yellow eyes glowed faintly under his hood.

Alexei turned his head slightly to the left, where Hunter sat, or rather slept. Alexei heard his pack mate wake up in a daze and groan, "What? I'm still in class? Man this *****."
Alexei grinned, flashing his long canines and the rest of the Pack laughed quietly amongst themselves. "Alexei... would you mind keeping your cronies under control, please?" His eyes locked onto the professor, their golden glow piercing the darkness of the hood like slivers of fire. The pack immediately went silent.
"Why of course, professor. We wouldn't want to disturb the lecture now would we?" His powerful voice dripped with acidic sarcasm, laced with a deadly seriousness. "Right guys?" The question hung dead in the air for a few heartbeats.
When no response came, he turned his head sharply, his gaze cutting into each of his bretheren. A collection of nervous, 'yes sir, yes alpha' rang out quietly. He closed his eyes and said, "All yours, professor."
Alexei drew a breath and let his consciousness flow towards the group. He felt each of their minds twitch in surprise as he spoke directly to them.
Just bear with it guys, its the last class of the day.
He heard another person's voice flutter into the pool of thoughts. but, alpha, it was Leiks, one of the betas.its snowing... we want to go out.
He growled slightly, just low enough for the Lycans to hear  And you think I don't? You know how this works, Leiks. We have to abide by the Sapiens rules.
Alexei heard her whimper slightly in submission, backing out of his thoughts. Leiks fidgeted in her seat on the back row, looking out the freezing window at the puffy white flakes cascading down around the school. Her blonde hair ended in vibrant purple curls that bounced around her chest. She was the youngest Beta at eighteen years old. Leiks was one of the three betas in Alexei's pack. The longest serving Beta was a male named Chance. He was Alexei's right hand, commanding all of the strength and loyalty as his Alpha. He had the figure of a sprinter, and was the fastest Lycan other than Alexei. His eyes were a very rare violet, further accenting his undercut blonde hair.
The other Beta was a red haired female named Krista. She was one of the oldest of the pack, at nineteen years old. She acted as the peacekeeper of the pack, settling the disputes when Alexei was away on business.

The other four were all deltas, each of them still looking to prove themselves.
Alexei caught a hint of something in the air; it smelled like a sweet musk mixed with crisp apples. The smell sent an icy tingle up and down his spine for an eternity before settling at the base of his neck, making his hair stand on end. He growled softly in his throat, grinning.
Smell something, alpha?, it was Leiks.
Yeah... maybe...
He grinned and felt warm all over. He felt the urge to go wild, to wolf out. Alexei bit his tongue in an effort to calm his instincts. He cleared his mind and closed his eyes, taking one long breath after another before the waves of longing subsided.
Professor Thompson continued with his lecture on mythology, talking about the classic horror creatures like vampires and werewolves. He focused awfully ******* the latter, going on and on about lycanthropy. The professor then began to compare the natures of both species, concluding with a comment on their painful existence.

Alexei bared his fangs in a silent growl, gripping the edge of his desk hard enough to make it creak in dismay. 
He thought to himself, we shouldn't be giving the Sapiens our whole history, even if they don't pay attention, much less believe in us.
Alexei's mind wandered as he pored over the history of his people. He stared down at his hands and he began to think about all of the Lycans that had been part of his pack.
An image flashed before his eyes of a bloodied white wolf lying before him, whimpering helplessly as its crimson blood steamed against the snow. The cries of pain echoed as clear as crystal in his mind. Alexei's own blood boiled as the memory took over his thoughts. He could see blood on his hands, staining the desk. He could see the life leaving the white wolf's blue eyes. He heard the all to familiar laugh echo in the forest. Alexei's heart beat filled his ears, deafening him. He felt nothing but rage as he searched for the killer's face.

His anger lasted only a second before a hand tenderly gripped his shoulder. His eyes flashed open and he bared his fangs slightly. He snapped his gaze over his shoulder at the pack, their eyes wide and locked on him, emanating dread. The hand belonged to Flora, the youngest member of the pack at sixteen. Her eyes were full of innocent fear as she looked at her enraged Alpha. Alexei realized he had partially transformed, his teeth had all turned to sharp incisors, ready to rend flesh from bone. He forced his body to revert back, feeling the fangs retreat. Alexei nodded and Flora let go of his shoulder. Alexei turned and shut his eyes again, his good mood soured for now. He took a deep breath and sighed, wishing for that scent again. Five more minutes...
Those five minutes drug on like a glacier, the professor's words trailing off into the distance as he switched topics. Can he go any slower?
Don't jinx us, alpha, sir. came Flora's response.
You don't have to call me sir, Flora. We're a family.
The wolves stayed silent for the rest of the class, listening halfheartedly to the professor. "As you all know, this is the last day of school until January. I hope you all have some plans, some family to go see." 
He paused for a moment as if to say something else. The professor was looking directly at Alexei, who could feel the teacher's eyes boring into his soul. The bell finally rang, and Alexei was the first one out of his seat, ready to bolt for the door, but a stern voice called his name.
"One moment, Alex. I need to have a word with you." The professor looked directly at Alexei with an iron stare. They stood there for a moment as the others left the room, chattering amongst themselves. All but one. Flora remained defiantly beside Alexei, looking up at him. He looked down at her, his eyes opening with a soft yellow glow.
"Go on, I'll be fine." Flora looked at him quizzically but obeyed.
Alexei waited for the door to close, looking at the professor only after the latch had clicked into place. Alexei smirked and said, "What's up, doc?"
Professor Thompson raked his hand through his hair and removed his glasses. Laying them gently on the table. "I really wish you'd stop doing that. It's unbecoming of a wolf of your stature."
Alexei looked at him and shrugged. "You have to keep up with the times, Tom."
The professor laughed, "What times? The forties?" He walked around the desk and leaned against its front. He sighed and his tone changed, "We may have a problem on our hands, Alex. It's a vampire attack."
Alexei scowled. "I thought you had tabs on all the vampires in the area. As the resident Vampire Lord, it's your job to control them." The professor looked impatiently at the Lycan, waiting for him to finish. "Besides I thought you had them all drinking blood from the hospital?"
Thompson clenched a fist against the table and said through gritted teeth, "My people... Didn't attack anyone. They were attacked. By a Lycan."
Alexei sat on the edge of one of the desks and was silent for a moment. Then, "Please tell me it was just an unhappy accident?"
Thompson sighed and shook his head, "Lycan blood was found at the scene. A trail led to the outskirts of town where we found the unidentifiable body of a half transformed Lycan. Female. We cleaned it up as best we could but you have to understand, my people are going to find out one way or another." He looked intently at Alex, "I'm not accusing you or your pack of anything. But we're going to have a serious situation on our hands soon once the High Courts hear of it."
Alexei sighed and pondered the facts. He tapped a finger against the table repeatedly as he thought. "We had reports of a lone wolf wandering around the countryside. Nothing unusual, other than nobody had seem this particular wolf in nearly ten years. Then all of a sudden she vanished. We tacked it up to misinformation." Alexei tilted his head back. "Last we knew she was outside of my territory, closer to Steelhead's." He paused, "This makes the first death since the interspecies pacts."
The professor nodded, "And that's why we both have to be on our best behavior. All of the Underworld will be watching us now."
Alexei nodded and stood up. "Thanks for letting me know. I'll be in touch." He touched ******* to his lips in farewell and the professor did the same.


As Alexei opened the door, he saw the pack waiting in the hallway just out of earshot. He approached them and they swarmed around him, each of them with a question on their lips. Alexei silenced them with a short gesture and they continued on their way outside. The pack wound through hallways and double doors until they felt the tingle of cold touch their skin. They trailed along behind their leader and burst out the doors, welcoming the frigid air and the soft snowfall they had waited all year for. They hooted and howled giddily, their faces covered in goofy grins and awestruck eyes as they pushed past Alexei and dove into the snow with the other students. Alexei stood there, looking for what he had smelled earlier, for him it was more important than the snow. He scanned the horizon, eyes open wide and searching relentlessly. After a moment, he saw his target, leaning against a tree on the far end of the schoolyard, her fiery hair waving gracefully in the wind. "Jenna."
She winked at him and gestured to her right, where an open forest lay uninhabited. He nodded slightly and made his way down the steps, his heart pounding harder and harder in his chest.
I'll be back soon... Leiks you're in charge.
You okay, alpha, sir? Flora always worried for her alpha.
Yeah, I just need a walk is all.
But... Leiks put a hand on Flora's shoulder and shook her head.
Alexei walked to the edge of the schoolyard and saw that Jenna was already in the woods. Glancing back at the pack, he grinned like a Cheshire cat and chased after her.
They wound through the trees, picking up speed and tossing their heavy jackets away.
Come catch me, big boy. she taunted.

He watched her every graceful move, following relentlessly until he had her. He wrapped his arms around her in a tackle and they rolled, laughing all the while until they came to a halt. Alexei was on top of Jenna, straddling her legs and breathing heavily with her. She closed her eyes and grinned wide, her chest heaving. The air was freezing cold but they couldn't feel it as he leaned in and kissed her, entwining his fingers into her hair. She kissed back and pulled away, biting his neck in the way she knew would make him go weak. Alexei stifled a moan and Jenna felt his muscles quiver. She took the opportunity to push him onto his back and claim dominance over him by straddling him. The heat from Alexei's body made the snow melt and steam below them. He buried his face in her neck, kissing just below her ear. She smelled amazing, the musk of her animal side mixed with her perfume drove Alexei crazy.
He slid his hand under her shirt and felt the curves of her slender body press against him and she growled. Jenna pulled away from the kiss, a grin on her face, "Not yet, darling. There's time for that later."
"I've missed you, kitten."
She growled softly, "you best stop that while you're ahead." She grinned wider and kneaded her claws into his chest. Alexei called her 'kitten' because of her fondness towards cats, specifically kittens.
"Are the others here too?" He pushed her up off of him and stood up himself, closing his eyes in the process. He was referring to Jenna's friends who had left with her a year ago.
"They got here shortly before I did. They're already at the hideout."
Alexei nodded, "We'll be there shortly. Do you want to come with us for the time being?" They began walking back to the schoolyard, grabbing their jackets on the way.
She giggled, "I suppose I should, so they can get used to having two alphas around." Her eyes twinkled as she said it.
Alexei grinned, "I thought it wasn't for another year! Congratulations!"
There was a glimmer of pride in her eyes. "I couldn't have done it without you, darling. They made an exception for me since you had already trained me so well." Jenna had gone to a Lycan Academy farther north, in Canada. There, wolves would be trained to become better leaders or soldiers, depending on their rank. Jenna had shown great promise immediately and was put into higher groups and classes.
The schoolyard soon came into view, and Alexei's pack was still playing in the snow, throwing snowballs and just rolling around in the stuff like children. He whistled a little tune and each of the pack members looked directly at him, going wide eyed when they saw Jenna. They rushed over as fast as they could and tackled her with hugs. "You're back!"
Jenna struggled to get up as a dog pile ensued. Alexei's wild laugh mixed with the cacophony of greetings as Jenna squirmed out. Flora stood behind Alexei, this new person's presence terrifying to her. As the pack got untangled from each other, Jenna walked up to Alexei and Flora, who hid behind him like a cowering pup. Jenna looked at her, "Hey. I'm Jenna, me and Alexei are old friends."
Flora whimpered quietly but peeked out enough so she could get a good look at Jenna. Alexei turned to the pack, saying, "We're going back to the hideout. There's some old friends waiting there for us."

Chapter 2
The pack carried on as usual, sa
Pagan Paul Sep 2017
.
Within the salty swirl of foamy loam
where depths collide with rushing tides
mystical creatures' hearts do roam
their secret desires, they so carefully hide

But one day among crystalline shadows of light
in shades of turquoise and emerald,
two beauties emerge from dark into bright,
and in their meeting a shared destiny heralds.

One with a voluptuous feminine grace,
swaying hips, fullness of ******* and velvet thighs
auburn-haired, with lips made of cherry
and her mellifluous voice her treasured prize.
The other a magical alchemy
of shapely woman and magnificent fish
her violet eyes and iridescent smile
would fulfil Poseidon's deepest wish.
With gemlike scales and long, lithe limbs
a glow lights up her mystic aura
yet behind it a sadness and longing for love
hide behind the coral reef's gentle flora.

Chancing upon each other,
at first hazy shadows
in the blue-green light
the Siren and the Mermaid
started to discover
that they shared a similar plight.

"Are my eyes really seeing what I think?"
breathed the Siren into the salt
"I've never seen a more beautiful creature,
I thought the chances would be nought"
"My name is Nerine," said the Mermaid. "For a sea Nymph I truly am
who has roamed the oceans day and night
feeling more empty the harder she swam"
"And I, am Ula," declared the Siren, in a voice like crystals , fine-tuned
"They say that my voice is as clear and smooth as a sapphire
which is why I am called a 'sea jewel.'"
The two embraced and began to talk, speaking of their pasts,
their present and future
and both realized that they wished for spiritual and ****** mates
to mend their hearts that were achingly sutured
"Oh darling," said Ula
"Let us journey to the land of the forests
for surely as they day I was born
we may find our blessing a-waiting us
in the spell of the wondrous Unicorn"

And so a sacred pact was made
as they swore unto each other
that their vigour would not fade
until they found their one-horned lover
and with knowing eyes,
pressed palm to palm
the beauties made their choice
Nerine would give up her tail for legs
and Ula her singing voice

Foreheads together, arms raised in light
their prayer was spun to sky
and suddenly, the two enchantresses
found themselves on land, quite dry

Excited, giggling like nymphets
they jumped and twirled in delight
and set off for the forest green
For their hearts they were ready to fight

I feel their presence first
a Fey being knows another Fey being.
The magic of the Otherworld,
announcing arrival long before seeing.

Into view they came walking along the forest path,
fluid movements hinting at an elemental source.
Chitter-chattering, the same way that finches laugh,
feet strong, steady, never straying from their course.
Two carefree girls, making trails through my Green,
I feel a purpose brooding, so sound out a call.
They stop, gracious, as if surprised to be seen,
whispering these words as on their knees they fall.

“We are Sea-sisters of the ocean,
we are here to follow our notion.
Searching the forest in gentle kind,
for the Unicorn we wish to find”.

Hark! Hear your wild Lord speak,
listen as your mind he frees,
leading you on a fantasy journey,
through valleys and betwixt the trees.
His stories weave a forest dreamscape,
a sylvan land of purest Green,
leading you by a cautious hand,
he'll show you things you've never seen.
Twisted hazel and the mighty oaks,
meadows and glades of sweetest light.
Streams that catch the moons cool rays
and secrets held within the night.
But the Unicorn, a law unto himself,
is one thing this Lord cannot show,
a creature to be sought for alone,
so off through the forest you must go.

Following deer tracks and mystical ways,
strange paths that turn and twist.
Deep into the woods the wanderers stray,
yearning the fabled Unicorn to exist.

Then it happened, inclement weather,
rain soaked the bracken and heather.
So Nerine and Ula, a decision made,
took to shelter in a canopied glade.
The irony was, to them, quite plain,
creatures of the sea hiding from rain.
The forest floor did start to steam,
creating an eerie warm sylvan dream.

And the girls so excited hugged and kissed
as a mighty beast emerged from the mist.
Slowly coalescing and so taking its form,
the raw masculine power of the Unicorn.

I had felt their presence as soon as they touched land,
emerging from the foaming waves, crawling hand in hand.
I heard the echoes on the ether, as they made their Sacrifice,
the resonance throughout feydom as they gladly pay the price.
I knew their wandering had led them a merry crooked dance,
and now they shivered before me, they think as if by chance.
But I am a law unto myself, the Unicorn of the trees,
roaming at will in the forest, showing myself to whom I please.
So these Maidens come from the sea where they were born,
two adventurous girls' brave quest to find the Unicorn.
Nerine and Ula looking awestruck statues in my presence,
rooted to the spot, rigid liked scared and paralysed pheasants.
Their deepest wish fulfilled, they marvel at my existence,
and I in turn marvel at their resilience and raw persistance.
But the Sacrifice means that the sea is no longer home,
tied well to the land, destined now to forever roam.
And what of love, their desires and lust to find a mate?
Well, for Nerine there is no choice, feelings came so late.
Parting from the Forest Lord, latent attraction she had felt,
and knew she would return his way, in his arms to melt.
The Siren Ula was very quiet, looking frightened and forlorn,
her greatest dream had always been to follow the Unicorn.
So now we walk together through glades beneath the Moon,
my primal urge keeps calling for her to sing a tune.

Sacrifice made, quest fulfilled, to her Lord, Nerine has gone.
Ula happily rides me, never once missing her Sirens Song.
And here, for now, is where this story sadly ends,
Nerine and Ula Sacrificed their gifts, forever sister-friends.


© Pagan Paul & Lora Lee (25/09/17)
.
To Lady Lora Lee : A long pregnancy, labour of love, and we have given birth to a wonderful story poem :) Thankyou for writing with me <3 PPx
.
Black and Blue Mar 2014
I used to think that love was having billions of elaborate words and beautiful phrases to describe someone’s beauty and how much you worship them.
I used to think that love was a tragic, oh so tragic, drama where heartbreak was inevitable and once it occurred you were set free. You were then freely allowed to write even more melancholic poems about how handsome their eyes are when they smile.

But now I know that it isn’t about writing lovely poems of how breathless they leave you; it’s about the feelings they leave you with that you cannot conjure or create words for.
But now I know that is isn’t about a grand sacrifice, a grand martyrdom, a grand abandonment of your tears and blood for their smile; it’s about compromising between fire & water, peace & war, the sun & the moon, to find a balance in which both factors can coexist.

But now I know that it isn’t about having an ocean of words you can use to describe the color of their eyes; it’s about being awestruck, with no existing adjective that could possibly capture how they make you feel, how godlike they appear to your eyes.

But now I know that it isn’t about being able to bring forth a tidal wave of glorious prose or soliloquy on their posture and grand gestures of self-pride; it’s about being speechless, where no phrase or paragraph or page will describe their tiny perfect gestures done in your name.

Love is allowing yourself to become so lost in someone, that it doesn’t matter what you have to say.
It’s as easy as letting your actions speak in place of your normally exquisite torrent of words.
It’s as easy as letting someone into your head & heart, so that they may share your feelings, for simply telling them with inadequate words would not be enough.
It would be so easy, to become swept away in the tide of emotion brought on by their presence.

That is to say, love isn’t easy.
Relationships aren’t easy.
Communication isn’t easy.
Trusting isn’t easy.
Love comes with a price.

Love that stirs apathetic crowds, love that launches a thousand ships, love that stops a million tears, love that changes the evil greedy world, love that rights wrongs, comes with a price. 

You must compromise.
You must bend but not break.
You must explore but not stray.
You must fight and communicate.
You must cry rivers of tears and break down the highest walls.
You must trust.

It is hard, it is the hardest thing you will ever do, but it must be done.

It is hard to trust so fully, trust so openly, that their love is what you exist on. It keeps you blindly shuffling through the dark, occasionally bumping heads and hurting one another.
It keeps you trying and pushing for more, because there are light spots in the dark, gloriously warm and inviting light spots where no shadows will ever exist.

It keeps you breathing, it keeps you surviving, it makes you human.

Trusting is hard, opening up is hard, we’re all just afraid of someone leaving us in the end, after the dust has settled and the battle has raged...right?
We’re all just afraid of letting someone close enough to see all of our nasty imperfections.
We’re all just afraid of letting someone close enough to decide that they do not like what lies underneath the beginnings of early affection.
We're all just afraid of letting someone close enough to show them each and every scar and smile, to explain each and every story of why they are there.
We’re all just afraid of rejection; and loving someone, and having someone love you in return, doesn’t vanquish this fear over night. 

I used to think that love was all winsome words and delightful thoughts and alluring formulas of letters.
But now I know that love is not all roses and forget-me-nots, yet it is not this dark twisted creature spewed from the broken hearts of young lovers.

Love is like every other valuable in this world, it is rare and it is to be treasured. It is to be held closely and grown and protected.
It is to be nourished and pruned and weeded.
It is a garden where only the most beautiful flowers may grow, if given the proper attention and care.
Yet, it is also to be treated like a wild beast: beautiful, and free, and pure, and dangerous.
It is a feeling of the world, of the earth, of the dirt.
It is wild and untamed and can turn it’s darkest face towards you at any moment.

Love is so much more than a poem, or a haunting melody, or a word meant to label some unreachable feeling.

Love is not easy, not always gentle, and never fully graspable.

And why write about things we cannot fully describe?

I used to think that love was having billions of elaborate words and beautiful phrases to describe someone’s beauty and how much you worship them.
I used to, and still think, that love is easy to define and clearly explain, but it is not.

Love, like every other cosmic and easily misconstrued notion of human existence, is not tied to any phrase, paragraph, or page.
I stroll along the plateaus of deception,
beneath me lies the valley of rejection;
I can see the distant vistas that proclaim,
their forces which reflect life's secret shame.

The path to righteous ways becomes a myth,
and souls refute each argument that shifts;
To swollen skies of ghosts which envy saints,
then fall into the chasm of their fate.

The dangling stars project ethereal light,
in universal swoon of sheer delight;
From awestruck signals demonstrating power,
rolling thunder throughout each waking hour.

My shadow leaves me all alone to ponder,
this eerie sense of apocalyptic wonder;
And even if one soul evolves toward sanity,
it's quite enough to salvage all humanity.
Jack R Fehlmann Nov 2020
Every way, each day
I am present to see it.
His miracle of being
I the recipient his gift
Awestruck, humbled, blessed
This I understand completely
Though I know not how, or why
I.  This man I still learn to know
As myself, of my self,
Admit having witness his growing
In great measure do I envy him
See his approach at living, being
embodying the kindest soul,
Naturally thoughtful and caring
How he is, has become
A lesson that I do learn from
My little legacy, so far beyond
better than from which he comes
I worry for him as fathers must
But not of him, of life's unexpected
always haunting every person
just out of foretelling, behind any horizon
For this treasure of my life I know
No doubt, to be a person of light
Wits, genuine smiles, listening and learning
His my Son, He is my Hero
I am out done, and yet,
ever the more thankful.
Blessed by You Zieven Lee.
Thank You.  More than you'll ever know.
bobby burns Dec 2012
i always wanted to
try listening to the
debut album of
a british goddess
while ironically
killing my own
pair at sunrise --
but as plans often go
south for mice and
men equally, so do
my own;
               languid
wakefulness ran
down my gullet
like seconds on
a smooth cocktail
seasons too late,
and moreover,
my addled brain
forgot the catalyst
the night before
last when i was
trudging along
in the dark and
some saviors in
a cheap white
chariot pulled
into the parking
space beside me,
telling me to
get in --
like they knew
or i knew, or we
all had some odd
mutual feeling of
positive vibrations;
like reminiscing
about early in
last august when
a mysterious scarf-
clad traveler with
sacred arabic
etched into his
hands slipped
me an equally
sacred slip of
paper with
nothing more
to give it purpose,
reason, definition,
or validation, than
that single glorious
and grammatically
incorrect pairing
of expressive
awareness.

i don't plan to meet
the pilgrim again,
regardless of our
unfinished affairs,
but sitting on that
little square of cloth
on top of manicured
lawn in cosmic harmony
with strangers, new friends,
serenaded by sigur ros
and kept company by
grouplove, i've never felt
more enlightened,
more awestruck,
more tuned into
those frequencies
above human
perception,
broadcasting
the only message
we deny ourselves
indefinitely --
*happiness.
hrt Jan 2018
your eyes
are as deep
as the sea
and as warm
as the sun
ArominizedM Mar 2014
Let the sea take over the day my sandcastles failed,
Awestruck, glanced over the epitome of waves.
Faulty walls glued by moistened soil
Taken back despite my daytime toil.

Why have we gotten this far sooner?
This eventual scene hastened the need fuller.
Where have we been thus far back?
From the breeze, the promise and the distinctive tact.

Scoop of sand formed to bridges and brigs,
Mold of trail held strung by twigs.
Had I known the way the sandcastle to stand;
I may not have clung on a foundation unstiff as land.

But the dusk shows promise and fulfills a new day soon
Despite seeing the tide rush in my feet, it’s through.
I look on, breathe a sigh, moved on, carried my pail;
Let the sea take over the day my sandcastles failed.
CharlesC Apr 2013
is
perfection..
owner to owner
perfection is passed..
each owner nods
to this idol
with awestruck glee..
but perfection
interferes and disrupts
even poisoned once
an intimate encounter..
forgotten in this
and other tales
is human waking
shifting and reaching
of shadow and spirit...
ref the late
Roger Ebert's
review of the
1998 movie
when i last met her
her ******* were bursting with seeds
her thighs plump as stems of plantain
and when in the December sun
she dried her hair behind the acacia
i dreamed of lying with her on the grass
drunk in the moaning song from her navel
till the evening drove us cold and old
and darkness stole her flesh from my eyes
and it's almost December again
as she walks with my hands in her
along the field after crop
just tugging my hand once to stop
delicately drawing from her breast
an Agfa snap of two unreal people
in the most unlikely place
looking awestruck into the lens
passing into the evening light
before leaving me halfway
of her cottage and a home.
I wander no longer
I prefer to wait at my master’s chamber
To eat
To drink
To talk of love
He flames my heart
With desire
Never felt before
Enthralled and awestruck
I lose my senses
In
His love
All night long
I am consumed
In a hot passion

Don’t ask!
I don’t
Know
We ever sleep or endlessly frig
Can I even count?
DSD Mar 2014
Seeds of pure Brahma appear
In the dark nothingness.

In their infinitesimal
Yet infinite dimensions
They carry the code for all creation.

Some fade away.
Some persist.
Propelled through will,
An urgency to occupy and diffuse.

Annihilation or coalition are inevitable.

Some acquire magnificent tinges
Worthy of acknowledgement.
Others marred and maimed
Are left to wither in exile.

I meditate on the most promising one.
Feel its inarticulatable essence
As the intangible element
Vanquish the void.

The One now unfolds.
Accreting into thoughts
Before passing through
The sieve of judgement.

These thoughts sublime I crystallize.
Choosing at will to blemish them
With motley emotions
Or monolithic reason.

I,
The creator,
Awestruck by my own creation,
The most magnificent in the domain
Wherein I reign supreme,
Hesitate.

I hesitate to articulate.
Knowing full well that tongue
Will never be able to bear
The simple complexity
And the complex simplicity
Of thought.
Jonan May 2013
And I loved you there
Lips pouted in rebellion
So many leaves to shred
So many ghosts to chase
The glass doors were closed.

And I loved you there
As you deciphered numerical impossibilities
On another plane of reality
Brow furrowed in intimate concentration
I averted my eyes from the questions you pondered.

And I loved you there
Angry fists filled with contempt towards yourself
Unable to find the words
A mirrored universe between us
And you can't get through.

And I loved you there
My incredible, awestruck son
Trapped, forever a child
Contemplating the mysteries of life
You discovered the truth of this world.

An angel's smile struck your lips
And I loved you there
As you forgot it all.
For Kohen.
White Phoenix May 2023
In times of turmoil
I take a look up at that blue dome
Awestruck I find,
My matters hold no water
When turbulence strikes
My mind starts to roll
But looking into the night
The stars speak of something much broader
JP Goss Oct 2013
[A jaunt through halls of death’s portents] pt.1
A jaunt through halls of death’s portents
The portraits, the colors the gallr’y transcend
The ceiling, so high, a silv’ry grey
Walkways bathed in that milky ray
Patrons babble their ephem’ral talk
My strides and mind, against their walk

[A jaunt through halls of death’s portents] pt.2
Stoic thoughts worn without defense
Entwined in fleshy accoutrements
And like the forest, soon to be
I’m wearing down acuity
I can’t enjoy an adverse face;
I’m simply looking for my grace

[A jaunt through halls of death’s portents] pt.3
With grace on mind, my waltz in knells
My heart, I feel, it heavy swells
With that strange thing, hard-pressed for words
Fleeing, fearing like a flock of birds
I cannot mourn what never lived
My wish, in your heart is that it is

[A jaunt through halls of death’s portents] pt.4
Never mind, I speak too soon
Your loveliness silent, cool as the Moon
These shadows bespeak a certain doom
Embattled me, in the past I loom
Forgive me, my sophomoric tongue
Forgive this sad song I have sung

[A jaunt through halls of death’s portents] pt.5
In due time, I shall reveal
What and how I intend to steal
To repay what you stole from me
What I exposed when you spoke to me
I don’t not hope (and yet I do) that you are plighted blind
I truly hope, this awestruck boy, is weighing on your mind

[A jaunt through halls of death’s portents] pt.6
Ev’ry flow’r in this great land
Could n’er be bless’d by that sweet hand
For I hope that bloom of my own
Could occupy that pale, lissome throne
I’m shut up, locked, I drone
Pure pulp to you, my abounding tome

[A jaunt through halls of death’s portents] pt.7
Those sweet waters, cursed to dry
My mouth and austerity slated to die
Melting, am I, in boyish infatuation
Your cataract rising on my muddy station
My fruits of mystery, your gaze turned sour
And my exposure, to me, a dower

[A jaunt through halls of death’s portents] pt.8
Despite my mantra “Be forever alone,”
That short, bobbed hair and cadence bemoaned
A stoic foresight, so brutally sought
Does shy away, that training for naught
This emotion, I fear, the superlative begets
Despite I have not even told you yet

[A jaunt through halls of death’s portents] pt.9
Give me grace and stability too!
And though our meetings, infrequent and few
I’m undermined by fervency
With just the thought of you and me
I must remember to take it slow
Though through my darkness, it certainly shows

[A jaunt through halls of death’s portents] pt.10
I feel my heart is full to bursting
Yet I still feel a limitless thirsting
My eyes, my cheeks flushed and red
When I think myself inside that head
I see myself within that face,
Humbled, I share their time and place.

Epilogue
The reality is coming quickly
I’m anemic, undone, distracted and sickly
Heart cries out into the leaves
Every time that fair one leaves
Enlivened, at sudden, so make haste
Please, oh, please, grant me your grace!
Beebz The Queen Sep 2014
Beebz the queen
That is my name
I cannot refuse
To play this game
I am awestruck
By all this noise
I cannot focus
On all these boys
I am the queen
And not the *****
I beg your pardon
Excuse the french
galaxy of myths Mar 2017
You keep folding yourself in. Like origami, you turn into various art sculptures. You change so you'll remain hidden and unseen but I'm an observer. I see how with every fold, I make a mental note of it.

How spectacular; you fold to hide but to me you're an art exhibition. The more you try to stay low-key, the more awestruck I get. So how, my dear, do you think you're uninteresting, unloved, unentertaining when your very being is a field I'm studying? You're art.

-m.b
Jonahh Oestreich Jun 2010
in the last century of her life

she returned
in a ship of wisdom and beauty

her entourage of demon hunters
guarded a swarm of hieroglyphics

from a future she had seen

she brought droning strings
of dreams

bridging the time
of her absence
between the first and the final
civilization

i saw her mute smile
radiating the light
of hidden moons

she had passed

her words in a subsonic stream
of childhood memories and

evaporating residue
of the mindwalker era

when pride and rivalry
had made all of man

awestruck minions
of time and space

i felt her ephemeral
veil of tenderness

reverberating our first
encounter in one of those
labyrinthine dimensions
of her starfaring journeys

where she had left me
wandering the ever expanding
orbit of a lonely star

while she was becoming
the supreme shape shifter

descending down
to the surface of our birth
planet and crossing
the eternal echoes
of our minds

[J]
Sharon Stewart Oct 2011
Late nights in my apartment,
we were brand new.
You'd come snuggle in that
unbearably skinny
twin XL after your intramurals.
Squished up against the cool wall,
I lied on top of you
like I'd never loved anyone before
like
no one would
ever get that close.
The half haze bliss
of sleep and wake all ran together and
overcame me
until seamlessly, I woke in your arms.
The still swell of
your breath,
the dry salt smell of
our skin
eased me to life.
Perfect dreams melting tides
into perfect days.

And the nights you couldn't stay,
How we kissed for hours in a
dark kitchen, awestruck, lucky
with wobbly knees.
You had to hold me up
when I melted,
had to float home afterward when your feet
couldn't find solid ground.
You faithfully came to me in dreams
where I tried to reconcile
perfect love,
I groped around in the dark
for some explanation of it, unprecedented.
Threw out faith with
arms wide open
in your enamored promises.
Like your flowers, though,
they couldn't help it, they
faded to winter too
soon,
leaving ghosts in my kitchen
and mattresses a mile wide.
There are days still,
I wake, hungry and alive,
from dreams of
perfect love
and almost understand you.
Could Juno’s self more sovereign presence wear
Than thou, ’mid other ladies throned in grace?—
Or Pallas, when thou bend’st with soul-stilled face
O’er poet’s page gold-shadowed in thy hair?
Dost thou than Venus seem less heavenly fair
When o’er the sea of love’s tumultuous trance
Hovers thy smile, and mingles with thy glance
That sweet voice like the last wave murmuring there?

Before such triune loveliness divine
Awestruck I ask, which goddess here most claims
The prize that, howsoe’er adjudged, is thine?
Then Love breathes low the sweetest of thy names;
And Venus Victrix to my heart doth bring
Herself, the Helen of her guerdoning.
Aaron Combs Mar 2015
There is a time between us, when the pebbles of the sea
and the darkness of the moon will seem one.
Where the lilies and the starlight falls,
and my hands and bones will sleep.

See in our sleep, the world can be one, and
the flowing waters will be like Chardonnay.
Our memories will sing so wild and free.

Under this moonlight, before your lips,
I give you my breath and the secret beneath
my soul, where my soul falls underneath.

Awestruck and charmed by the precious jewels,
in your eyes. You are my beloved,
Leaving my breath to you, my very life,
I lift you up like a rose stretching for the sea.
Thanks, this is my first poem. Hope everyone enjoys! :D
Aaron Combs Jun 2015
There's a white piano in my soul.
The keys are broken, off tone, and some
are just not there.
I try to stop playing it,
but the silence keeps going,
and the people leave.
So I play it as long as I can,
As long as the white ivory notes
should play, till
the quiet chaos is diminished.

As I walk, there are notes playing,
chords of depression, lust and lies,
some of laughter, some of tears,
some of joy, some of peace.
I walk hoping I find the right word,
the right accent, the right tempo
and rhythm;

trying to find the space between  
the world and me.

When I'm about to give up, and things don't make
sense,
before all things seems lost,
the voice
of peace
breathes upon the falling notes.

And as I hear His voice, the voice of praise,
the voice of joy, my broken hands
gets stronger.

As beautiful and as
broken this life can be, as harmonious and
awestruck as the song of my heart plays,
He plays the right notes for me.
This is my 12 the poem! This is one of my dearest poems. Enjoy
Debra A Baugh Feb 2013
fingers sink deep
while lips imprint
with tease

her aroma
discombobulates
enchantingly

leaving me awestruck
in beggary and I
weep with hunger

slowly mouthing my
need to embrace
her femininity
in satiation

of...

tasteful inebriation
Marsha Singh Feb 2012
A gentle tempest stormed my lawn; it stood
me still and then was gone. Anchored,
awestruck in my place by beauty and euphoric
grace, I thought of Spinoza's God, infinity's
precise design, the perfect math of Everything –
our love, a quotient of Divine.
1.

Whoso hears a chiming for Christmas at the nighest,
  Hears a sound like Angels chanting in their glee,
Hears a sound like palm-boughs waving in the highest,
  Hears a sound like ripple of a crystal sea.

Sweeter than a prayer-bell for a saint in dying,
  Sweeter than a death-bell for a saint at rest,
Music struck in Heaven with earth's faint replying,
  "Life is good, and death is good, for Christ is Best."

2.

A holy, heavenly chime
Rings fulness in of time,
And on His Mother's breast
Our Lord God ever-Blest
Is laid a Babe at rest.

Stoop, Spirits unused to stoop,
Swoop, Angels, flying swoop,
Adoring as you gaze,
Uplifting hymns of praise,--
"Grace to the Full of Grace!"

The cave is cold and strait
To hold the angelic state.
More strait it is, more cold,
To foster and infold
Its Maker one hour old.

Thrilled through with awestruck love,
Meek Angels poised above,
To see their God look down.
"What, is there never a Crown
For Him in swaddled gown?

"How comes He soft and weak
With such a tender cheek,
With such a soft, small hand?--
The very Hand which spann'd
Heaven when its girth was plann'd.

"How comes He with a voice
Which is but baby-noise?--
That Voice which spake with might:
'Let there be light!' and light
Sprang out before our sight.

"What need hath He of flesh
Made flawless now afresh?
What need of human heart?--
Heart that must bleed and smart,
Choosing the better part.

"But see: His gracious smile
Dismisses us a while
To serve Him in His kin.
Haste we, make haste, begin
To fetch His brethren in."

Like stars they flash and shoot,
The Shepherds they salute.
"Glory to God" they sing;
"Good news of peace we bring,
For Christ is born a King."

3.

Lo! newborn Jesus,
  Soft and weak and small,
Wrapped in baby's bands
By His Mother's hands,
  Lord God of all.

Lord God of Mary,
  Whom His Lips caress
While He rocks to rest
On her milky breast
  In helplessness.

Lord God of shepherds
  Flocking through the cold,
Flocking through the dark
To the only Ark,
  The only Fold.

Lord God of all things,
  Be they near or far,
Be they high or low;
Lord of storm and snow,
  Angel and star.

Lord God of all men,--
  My Lord and my God!
Thou who lovest me,
Keep me close to Thee
  By staff and rod.

Lo! newborn Jesus,
  Loving great and small,
Love's free Sacrifice,
Opening Arms and Eyes
  To one and all.
Peach Feb 2014
My stilettos carried me around the city
Wandering in night's perfection
I heard the soul of music
Found myself in the most amazing blues bar

Smoke and candlelight
Set the mood for a tear stained voice
Drifting from the shadows
As a spotlight slowly spilled across her ebony face.

She could have been anywhere from 30 to 50
Dressed in a cream dress
A rose in her hair
She had the bar awestruck with wonder

She belted out lyrics in a raspy drawl
Pulled at heart strings with ease
Let her past pass her lips
While knowing fire ignited in her eyes

I leaned back
A slight smile on my lips
Sipped gold, enjoyed a slow burn
I drifted away on a song about whiskey blues

To be continued

© 2013-2014 Peach
Guy H Fisher III Mar 2021
I dream of Mountains and their beauty,
because that awestruck feeling of being leveled by their view
is the closest thing I still have to You.
Àŧùl Jun 2014
Here I am happily satisfied with my love ultimately.
Neither I have chosen you, nor you have chosen me.
Destiny brought our hearts this close.
Thank you for accepting my proposal.
I do not roam this land as a nomad lion.
But unlike you, I am not awestruck by it.
I will say many, so many more love poems.
To you all of my poems will be dedicated.
Cackles will fill our household one day.
It may often be seen as love in nature.
Love's the most beautiful nature trait.
We can never be done apart as long as we breathe.
Twinkling in the sky we will talk even after we die.

Saying your beautiful name instils positive energy.
I am imagining our future being united in a home.

Our home is not just walls & furniture.

You will see, madam, you will observe.
My HP Poem #649
©Atul Kaushal
Thunder, and Lightning decided to open up their relationship.
Invited me to join them in a Triad.

Thunder and lighting have this eternal connection,
Belong together
I love watching them dance

Perform for me impulsive without leashes
I worship the trust that requires
The loyalty, faith in each other
Flying wherever they want,
Loving loud and without boundary
Knowing this storm belongs to them.
Safety, Definition: that moment after every passionate lovers kiss.
We are worshiped as the same storm.

Now I have the oppurtunity to build intimate connections with thunder.
With lightning.

Thunder has this base drop palpitation
Our hearts twitch in time just to align
The feeling of her crushing my butterflies
With firm hands, a passionate kiss that lasts only seconds.

Lighting comes in these quick bursts
I never feel like I can look at him long enough
Bright, dangerous
Knows he could **** me in a second
If he only touched me
He will never touch me
Only dance
Never long enough
Keeps me craving more
Likes to give me that headrush
When he returns.

As for me,
I was content just worshiping them
Every second they weren't worshiped,
Wasted chances, lost time, missing puzzle peices.

I didn't expect an invitation
This chance to see them honestly
Two seperate beautiful creatures to worship
Instead of one savory storm to feel pulse through me as one dancer.
I'm just an awestruck boy staring at the sky
Lost in endless baby blue, warm off sunrays, or choosing my favorite freckles in the stars
More lovers to distract me when they are gone.
Cali Oct 2013
When the fog dissipates
and the city skyline
winks into your clever retinas,
will you be satisfied
with what you see?

When those things you had forgotten
are worming their way back
into your bones and blood vessels,
will you still glance at the intractable sun,
awestruck and catatonic,
like a moth to the moon?
Will you still find beauty in
sidewalk weeds and broken glass?

When the fog dissipates,
and humanity presents itself,
brazen and unabashed,
in a flurry of chaos and stale dreams,
will you still fall into the mass
of faces and hands and ******* and eyes?

Or will you falter at the glaring sight
of a society that's run amuck?
Mahima Gupta Dec 2013
And the conversation was just a call away

But who’d explain
what she said 

Who knew how things work 

Nobody has got the answers 

Nobody knows 

They just pretend.

Movement of impatience. 

Erroneous steps. 

Irrelevant arguments. 

False accusations. 

Sadistic approaches. 

Self centred minds. 

Disgust.
Nobody lives
They just exist.

The fairy tales
And the horrendous stories
The fear in your soul
Also the philanthropists' empathy
Nothing works here
Nothing remains.

Strings of conversations
Awestruck
By the way you hypnotise
The world
By your
Innumerable lies
Nobody speaks the truth
The world is a farce
Drench us knee deep with high words of your experiences,
Fill our heads with your tender words,

Let us have our glass of wisdom,
From the words that will flow from your memoir,

This side are we, meek with folded hands awestruck...
That side be you... Our shining star..

Sparkle In Wisdom
# today in the full moon day, we in India celebrate "guru" poornima... Which is reverence of our teachers both physical and spiritual...
Felix Sladal Jul 2014
Be careful little one

You have the frozen globe of existence at your Fingertips
Marking Tracing Melting  oh so slowly much too fast

Diligently your dead eyes glance gracefully into infinite bright spotlights
Your fragile razor-edged smile’s tearing the corners of your lips

Insecurely holding yourself excruciatingly precise

Marking repugnant lines down your too young face
Spine’s held ram-rod straight pretending to keep your world afloat on a

Butterflies listless fluttering wings

The tiniest misstep reverberating inside your hollowed breastbone

In.. InIn…. Inconspicuous

Comparable in the manner of a lamp bumping the floor two houses up
Breath hitched tattooed pulse brings life to your porcelain pores

Tip-toeing on egg-shells of yearning aspiration

Flinching at the cold intangible fear that’s grabbed your hand
Makes you come to life a stones throw too freedom
Diamonds ruthlessly rip into soles and ****** toes imprisoned in silk

Wine stained lips sneer at rows of red velvet

They grasp everything you've strove for, they are the power
Passion, adrenaline, up most urgency sweeping you away

The most elegant anguish rushes out forming awestruck wild abandon
Waiting your whole life for this moment boiling down to now

Day after day year after year

Pupils blown wide it’s do or die spread your arms and take your bow
Self-loathing narcissist

You only dance as if the the sky is falling when you feel all is beyond repair

Never have you been more *beautiful
Oregon

— The End —