"brest" poems
I don't mind if you touch them,
but maybe she did,
I don't care anymore,
to me there just a pair of flesh,
but to her,
they're still innocent,
Mine have lost the specialness in the I want you to touch them,
Now it's met with I don't cares,
For I no longer have what she has,
those first time butterflies like i'm shy when I remove my top,
when it's the first time I show them off to you,
because they're not special anymore,
when a time in my life my brest made me happy,
were I could look in the mirror and feel good about something,
but they became nothing,
so now I look and see nothing but a black canvas of disappointment,
everytime I stare at my reflection,
every time I see my wound,
our wound,
because that's the one that everyone sees,
the rest I made are hidden just for me,
and I wish our wound was like that,
I wish I could totally remember what happened to my breast,
but all I remember was burning right over the year old scar again,
because the pain of remember hurt more then my second burn,
but the first time you were the one to burn me,
and I had hid it so well,
but there came a time where I didn't care,
and I showed it off,
battle scar? call it what you want,
if you wanna grab my **** go for it,
they have gone through worse assault,
if you wanna see them,
it's not going to mean **** to me,
and I am really sorry that thats hows it's been for me,
but it's not my fault my ***** innocence was stolen from me,
because of a *****
with what used to look like the end of one of his cigarettes,
Jun 1, 2015
Jun 1, 2015 at 11:31 PM UTC
Remember Barbara
It rained relentlesly on Brest that day
And you walked smiling
Beaming ravishing drenched
Under the rain
Remember Barbara
It rained relentlesly on Brest that day
And I ran into you in Siam Street
You were smiling
And I smiled too
Remember Barbara
You whom I didn't know
You who didn't know me
Remember
Remember that day still
Don't forget
A man was taking cover on a porch
And he cried your name
Barbara
And you ran to him under the rain
Beaming ravishing drenched
And you threw yourself in his arms
Remember that Barbara
And don't be mad if I speak familiarly
I speak familiarly to everyone I love
Even if I've seen them only once
I speak familiarly to all who are in love
Even if I don't know them
Remember Barbara
Don't forget
That good and happy rain
On your happy face
On that happy town
That rain upon the sea
Upon the arsenal
Upon the Ushant boat
Oh Barbara
What stupidity is war
Wwhat has become of you
Under this iron rain
Of fire and steel and blood
And he who held you in his arms
Amorously
Is he dead and gone or still so much alive
Oh Barbara
It's rained all day on Brest today
As it was raining before
But it isn't the same anymore
And everything is wrecked
It's a rain of mourning terrible and desolate
Nor is it still a storm
Of iron and steel and blood
But simply clouds
That die like dogs
Dogs that disappear
In the downpour drowning Brest
And float away to rot
A long way off
A long long way from Brest
Of which there's nothing left.
17.1k
"After mysteries am I, mysterious men too"
together when we slipped away from others
she told me with a grin, evidently hysterical,
it gripped me, for some unknown reason.
"More in to mysteries than anything else"
I gently notified to her my intentions
"I've never been able to **** a male ****** ever"
She indicated the area of her present curiosity
but isn't it strange,that she sounded wistful?
If I heard her right,she mentioned repeatedly
about,"The Third Brest,"as if she has a mystery
for me in store.When buried deep around my *******
her teeth transmitted a hunger, and I felt it:
what exactly a mother feels suckling her baby
her heart beat went out of control,I could see
the pangs of child that has never been fed
from her mother's breast, or fondled by her
And the mysterious part of the game
she saved for me was finally unveiled,
my expectant eyes
saw a chest devoid of any kind of swell, except
the memories of the two full ones taken away
mercilessly by decease.I saw blood in her tears.
Dec 17, 2016
Dec 17, 2016 at 6:49 AM UTC
I was foretold, your rebell ***
Nor love, nor pitty knew;
And with what scorn you use to vex
Poor hearts that humbly sue;
Yet I believ’d, to crown our pain,
Could we the fortress win,
The happy Lover sure should gain
A Paradise within:
I thought Loves plagues, like Dragons sate,
Only to fright us at the gate.
But I did enter, and enjoy
What happy Lovers prove;
For I could kiss, and sport, and toy,
And taste those sweets of love;
Which had they but a lasting state,
Or if in Celia’s brest
The force of love might not abate,
Jove were too mean a guest.
But now her breach of faith, farre more
Afflicts, than did her scorn before.
Hard fate! to have been once possest,
As victor, of a heart
Atchiev’d with labour, and unrest,
And then forc’d to depart.
If the stout Foe will not resigne
When I besiege a Town,
I lose, but what was never mine;
But he that is cast down
From enjoy’d beauty, feels a woe,
Only deposed Kings can know.
3.2k
Heh! Walk her round. Heave, ah, heave her short again!
Over, ****** her over, there, and hold her on the pawl.
Loose all sail, and brace your yards aback and full—
Ready jib to pay her off and heave short all!
Well, ah, fare you well; we can stay no more with you, my love—
Down, set down your liquor and your girl from off your knee;
For the wind has come to say:
“You must take me while you may,
If you’d go to Mother Carey
(Walk her down to Mother Carey!),
Oh, we’re bound to Mother Carey where she feeds her chicks at sea!”
Heh! Walk her round. Break, ah, break it out o’ that!
Break our starboard-bower out, apeak, awash, and clear!
Port—port she casts, with the harbour-mud beneath her foot,
And that’s the last o’ bottom we shall see this year!
Well, ah, fare you well, for we’ve got to take her out again—
Take her out in ballast, riding light and cargo-free.
And it’s time to clear and quit
When the hawser grips the bitt,
So we’ll pay you with the foresheet and a promise from the sea!
Heh! Tally on. Aft and walk away with her!
Handsome to the cathead, now; O tally on the fall!
Stop, seize and fish, and easy on the davit-guy.
Up, well up the fluke of her, and inboard haul!
Well, ah, fare you well, for the Channel wind’s took hold of us,
Choking down our voices as we ****** the gaskets free.
And it’s blowing up for night,
And she’s dropping light on light,
And she’s snorting under bonnets for a breath of open sea,
Wheel, full and by; but she’ll smell her road alone to-night.
Sick she is and harbour-sick—Oh, sick to clear the land!
Roll down to Brest with the old Red Ensign over us—
Carry on and thrash her out with all she’ll stand!
Well, ah, fare you well, and it’s Ushant slams the door on us,
Whirling like a windmill through the ***** scud to lee:
Till the last, last flicker goes
From the tumbling water-rows,
And we’re off to Mother Carey
(Walk her down to Mother Carey!),
Oh, we’re bound for Mother Carey where she feeds her chicks at sea!
2.8k
I presse not to the Quire, nor dare I greet
The holy Place with my unhallow’d feet:
My unwasht Muse pollutes not things Divine,
Nor mingles her prophaner notes with thine;
Here, humbly at the Porch, she listning stayes,
And with glad eares ***** in thy Sacred Layes.
So, devout Penitents of old were wont,
Some without doore, and some beneath the Font,
To stand and heare the Churches Liturgies,
Yet not assist the solemne Exercise.
Sufficeth her, that she a Lay-place gaine,
To trim thy Vestments, or but beare thy traine:
Though nor in Tune, nor Wing, She reach thy Larke,
Her Lyricke feet may dance before the Arke.
Who knowes, but that Her wandring eyes, that run
Now hunting Glow-wormes, may adore the Sun.
A pure Flame may, shot by Almighty Power
Into my brest, the earthy flame devoure:
My Eyes, in Penitentiall dew may steepe
That bryne, which they for sensuall love did weepe:
So (though ‘gainst Natures course) fire may be quencht
With fire, and water be with water drencht.
Perhaps, my restlesse Soule, tyr’d with pursuit
Of mortall beautie, seeking without fruit
Contentment there; which hath not, when enjoy’d,
Quencht all her thirst, nor satisfi’d, though cloy’d;
Weary of her vaine search below, above
In the first Faire may find th’ immortall Love.
Prompted by thy Example then, no more
In moulds of Clay will I my God adore;
But teare those Idols from my Heart, and Write
What his blest Sp’rit, not fond Love, shall endite.
Then, I no more shall court the Verdant Bay,
But the dry leavelesse Trunk on Golgotha:
And rather strive to gaine from thence one Thorne,
Then all the flourishing Wreathes by Laureats worne.
2.3k
Had I ador'd the multitude, and thence
Got an antipathy to wit and sence,
And hug'd that fate, in hope the world would grant
'Twas good -- affection to be ignorant;
Yet the least ray of thy bright fancy seen
I had converted, or excuseless been:
For each birth of thy muse to after-times
Shall expatiate for all this age's crimes.
First shines the Armoret, twice crown'd by thee,
Once by they Love, next by Poetry;
Where thou the best of Unions dost dispence:
Truth cloth'd in wit, and Love in innocence.
So that the muddyest Lovers may learn here,
No fountains can be sweet that are not clear.
Then Juvenall reviv'd by thee declares
How flat man's Joys are, and how mean his cares;
And generously upbraids the world that they
Should such a value for their ruine pay.
But when thy sacred muse diverts her quill,
The Lantskip to design of Zion-Hill;32
As nothing else was worthy her or thee,
So we admire almost t'Idolatry.
What savage brest would not be rapt to find
Such Jewells insuch Cabinets enshrind'?
Thou (fill'd with joys too great to see or count)
Descend'st from thence like Moses from the Mount,
And with a candid, yet unquestioned aw,
Restorlst the Golden Age when Verse was Law.
Instructing us, thou so secur'st thy fame,
That nothing can distrub it but my name;
Nay I have hoped that standing so near thine
'Twill lose its drosse, and by degrees refine ...
"Live, till the disabused world consent
All truths of use, or strength, or ornament,
Are with such harmony by thee displaid,
As the whole world was first by number made
And from the charming rigour thy Muse brings
Learn there's no pleasure but in serious things.
2k
A summer’s hand on bewildered torso chest,
her love: the best kept secret since their escape
to Brest that time in Spring,
Northwest France with its untamed waves lapping at the
hull of The Sea King in the harbour, half mast.
But with every try, harder than the last,
he did not respond to her see-through glass
appeals for an apology-
over two-hundred-and-seventy-minutes
wasted on the TGV back to Paris,
a holiday cut short by her wandering knees,
wide apart in another man’s apartment.
For money was passed in sweating palms
for a day’s encounter with her good looks and charms,
though the men never knew
about her man back at home,
designing the new tourist information
for a cheap weekend-stay in the heart of Rome.
What he bought to the marriage:
stability, safety, security and their baby.
What she bought to the marriage
mainly tears and daily anxiety.
But they both knew the complications
and the clauses of her contract,
agencies would delve deep into the contact’s history
to make sure they were legit,
but it never hid the fact that she had
intimate encounters in hotel honeymoon, champagne, new linen suites.
May 8, 2013
May 8, 2013 at 9:04 AM UTC
O mother of the Saviour of the world,
Blesséd art thou, among all women blest,
For God himselfe within thy womb was curl'd,
And God himselfe did suckle at thy brest;
And he that dy'd and rose and quitt the tomb
Blossom'd within thy house and there did bloom.
The firstborn fruit of Gods inerrant seede,
Press'd like a bunch of grapes beneathe His wrath
Untill the Man of Sorrowes sore did bleede
And suffer more than any martyr hath,
Was offer'd vpp a sacrifice for mee
By Father God and, Mother Mary, thee.
Woman, behold thy Sonne, the glorifi'd,
Transfigur'd Kinge of Heauen; lion, lamb,
Messiah, God and man who liu'd and died
And liues againe for aye, and is I AM;
Like Abraham, the LORD did ask thy Sonne;
Like Abraham, thou saidst, Thy will be done.
Apr 1, 2024
Apr 1, 2024 at 3:10 PM UTC
Meet me beneath the olive-tre
I'th'garden of Gethsemane
Quhair Jesus pray'd. Pray thou with me.
Twa corbies mak an hairie nest
Within the gardens wooden brest.
The Sunne is running tow'rd the west.
From off the tre the fruict doth fall
Upon the firm fixt flatten'd ball
Of wormwood Earth whose seas are gall.
Jun 3, 2024
Jun 3, 2024 at 5:45 PM UTC
Remove this useless ***** from my chest.
Abolish the cause of all this torment.
Rip it out piece by piece until all is absent.
Never been of use to me, this is for the best.
Withered and cold blackened in my brest.
Unable to escape from the abandonment.
Every soul I ever loved tore it away for pure amusement.
Replace it with anything I won't contest.
Maybe then peace would fill the void.
Able to sleep, rest and finally be free.
No more hiding, pretending everything is fine.
To fly above the lies and deceit to be overjoyed.
Drown in my own tears that form a sea.
Can't give it away any longer if its not even mine.
Jun 24, 2012
Jun 24, 2012 at 9:46 AM UTC
sweet children, pay attention closely
I'm the voice out of the pillow
i've brought something for you
i've ripped and teared it out of my brest,
with this heart i've got the power
to extort the eyelids.
i sing till the day wakes up
a bright glimpse by the firmament
my heart is burning.
they come to you by night
demons, ghosts, black fairies
they crawl out of the shaft of the cellar and basement
and will see you under your bedding.
my heart's burning
they come to you by night,
and steal your small hot tears,
they wait until the moon wakes up
and press them in my cold veins.
death welcomed me,
But didn't let me die yet.
Sep 10, 2016
Sep 10, 2016 at 5:41 PM UTC
As it fell out on a long summer's day,
Two lovers they sat on a hill;
They sat together that long summer's day,
And could not talk their fill.
"I see no harm by you, Margarèt,
And you see none by mee;
Before to-morrow at eight o' the clock
A rich wedding you shall see."
Fair Margaret sat in her bower-windòw,
Combing her yellow hair;
There she spyed sweet William and his bride,
As they were a riding near.
Then down she layd her ivory combe,
And braided her hair in twain:
She went alive out of her bower,
But ne'er came alive in't again.
When day was gone, and night was come,
And all men fast asleep,
Then came the spirit of Fair Marg'ret,
And stood at William's feet.
"Are you awake, sweet William?" shee said,
"Or, sweet William, are you asleep?
God give you joy of your gay bride-bed,
And me of my winding sheet."
When day was come, and night was gone,
And all men wak'd from sleep,
Sweet William to his lady sayd,
"My dear, I have cause to weep.
"I dreamt a dream, my dear ladyè,
Such dreames are never good:
I dreamt my bower was full of red 'wine,'
And my bride-bed full of blood."
"Such dreams, such dreams, my honoured sir,
They never do prove good;
To dream thy bower was full of red 'wine,'
And thy bride-bed full of blood."
He called up his merry men all,
By one, by two, and by three;
Saying, "I'll away to fair Marg'ret's bower,
By the leave of my ladiè."
And when he came to fair Marg'ret's bower,
He knocked at the ring;
And who so ready as her seven brethrèn
To let sweet William in.
Then he turned up the covering-sheet;
"Pray let me see the dead;
Methinks she looks all pale and wan.
She hath lost her cherry red.
"I'll do more for thee, Margarèt,
Than any of thy kin:
For I will kiss thy pale wan lips,
Though a smile I cannot win."
With that bespake the seven brethrèn,
Making most piteous mone,
"You may go kiss your jolly brown bride,
And let our sister alone."
"If I do kiss my jolly brown bride,
I do but what is right;
I ne'er made a vow to yonder poor corpse,
By day, nor yet by night.
"Deal on, deal on, my merry men all,
Deal on your cake and your wine:
For whatever is dealt at her funeral to-day,
Shall be dealt to-morrow at mine."
Fair Margaret dyed to-day, to-day,
Sweet William dyed the morrow:
Fair Margaret dyed for pure true love,
Sweet William dyed for sorrow.
Margaret was buryed in the lower chancèl,
And William in the higher:
Out of her brest there sprang a rose,
And out of his a briar.
They grew till they grew unto the church top,
And then they could grow no higher;
And there they tyed in a true lover's knot,
Which made all the people admire.
Then came the clerk of the parish,
As you the truth shall hear,
And by misfortune cut them down,
Or they had now been there.
May 13, 2017
May 13, 2017 at 10:16 AM UTC
I just need to express some **** I don't want to Wright a poem or a song, I want to talk stupid jump to conclusions and make no sense.
I dont care if im wrong or not, im high and ****** In a situation like this, **** Makin Sense im'a sit awake all night randomly switch topics. and wright bull **** so random it can't be right.
Once apon a time somewhere that the government couldent find, a middle aged man found a rip in the the sky. He couldent feel it so he spent every day observing the odditie and feeling its force stronger by the day. At night it disappeared and came to light when the sun would shine. He left his home in the bush with out anything to survive. His wife couldn't bear life so before he left he teasd her like he wanted *** Just as she felt wet he backed up and said," every man likes *** every man loves Brest's, bear skin and biting necks. I am no exception to the weakness of men but iv wasted my best years trying again and again to give you my son, i would've settled for a daughter but still your poisoned body never let me feel the satisfaction of being a father. I was forced into this union and now my life is half past I regret my choice to honor my dad, but even more i regret not taking my fathers chance, to pray with the lords and and stab you in your sinful womb . Lucky for you i said i couldn't, take the life of the women i gave my vow 2 in the sun in front of god to keep alive long before it was discovered you were poisend inside .
Jul 11, 2016
Jul 11, 2016 at 5:39 AM UTC
I took the sea to brest
Kissed the waves and sipped
Sipped until my lungs waterlogged
In salty sea I dried them out
Plastered algae up and down my legs
Until they bled raw, raw and chafed
And withstood the grain of sand
Withstood the coals and fires of mercy,
Mercy be great upon me
But my lover, you reside nowhere on land
Weary among driftwood longing to crumble to dust
I prayed to the heavens and I prayed not to a God
For Lir is my only and let’s face it
No release comes thence like from your holy brow
In the folds of your wings and your flame
Determined, I waited, shackled into silence
By suffocation I am breathing barely moonglow
That rests heavy on my stomach overwritten by black night
As it is slowly eaten away by *****
In your name
I was screaming, crying, praying your faith in me
For your ire and your judgement
And redemption from the world wherein I was lain.
You a poesy written in the blood of me
Choking the flow for which I begged you not to
And to hear me, gentle angel, gentle God
Gentle power of the heavens above
To claim me, for I have sacrificed.
Oct 30, 2014
Oct 30, 2014 at 12:06 AM UTC
The sculptured mermaid hung at the prow,
And breasted the highest waves,
Her hair flew back from the salt and spray
Was carved from some wooden staves,
She never smiled in a cruel sea
But watched for the distant shore,
In hopes that one day, try as they may
They’d leave her behind once more.
She’d had enough of the fuming foam
Of the white capped waves by the shore,
The heaving swell made her feel unwell
And each storm brought a taste of Thor.
She’d once been used to a merchant’s lot
Had sailed to the East and West,
Her arm was shattered by cannon shot
When the French attacked at Brest.
But now she was tied to a Man-of-War
She couldn’t escape her fate,
She knew she’d end on the ocean floor
If support was a little late,
Her skirt was ragged, was chipped and torn
And her paint beginning to fade,
She lived in dread of the Dutchmen’s horn
Or the sound of a fusillade.
The only time she was known to smile
Was back in the port once more,
She’d meet and greet with all of her friends
The carved figureheads of war,
She’d will the ship run into the pier
To tear her away for good,
And hope the break would be clean and sheer
To pamper her aching wood.
The salt and damp got into her pores,
The rot set into her bones,
Then one fine day when a world away
She dropped to a bed of stones.
She sits below where the sailors go
When their ships cast them to the deep,
And as they pass she will smile at last
As they enter their endless sleep.
David Lewis Paget
Sep 26, 2016
Sep 26, 2016 at 9:53 AM UTC
I was made by the wind
and the wind come carry me
carry me to the place where I belong
carry me cross a field
carry me cross the floor
from my birth to my grave when I'm gone
carry me by golden leaves
carried by an ocean breeze
I was lit by a flame
and by flame you will take me
to the beyond I will follow you
By a leap from my heart
out of the darkest of nights
to the brightest of days
I will embrace you
and kiss you farewell
I was born from a wave
a wave of love and labour
when I was washed ashore
you pulled me out
and I slept on your brest
my hands grew a hide
as I looked deep into you
I was brought to this earth
as a seed of life
as I buried my hands in the ground
I would wait for you to grow
into a beautiful being
reaching into the sky
with your green arms
to catch these last rays
of golden light
from a setting sun
I was kissed by the sun
with arms of golden light
I was shaped from the tears
running down my face
as I have to say goodbye to you my friend
You had a home in my heart
I only saw you in flashes
in the in-between
I was kissed by the sun
with arms of golden light
May 22, 2025
May 22, 2025 at 1:48 AM UTC