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"carressing" poems
walk away from your computer lay down and make a call i want you to travel deep into my voice i wont touch you at all with ya own hand i want you to carress ya face slowly go down to ya breast rub them squeeze them lick the tip of ya finger and moisten ya ****** yes glide ya fingers across ya thighs listen to my voice as i take you on this ride lights off door locked im not in arms reach but if you close ya eyes my face you will see i want you in a deep trance as you explore with your hands "where i wanna be" right next to you in the dark, naked between ya sheets kissing and carressing every inch of your body i want to taste i go inch by inch i promise to not let a drop go to waste "wait baby dont let go of the phone" i know it feels real and right but in reality it is wrong continue, take that finger you use oh so much and let it play rub ya **** left to right up and down every which a way now go inside hit that spot to the left , im ya director baby switch to the right go deeper in you didnt know ya fingers felt this amazing you are wet, soaked and yet and still you listen to my voice begging me to direct you a little bit more so i explain how my warms lips are ready to explore my wet tongue adds to the juices you already have flowing i am eating you slow genuinely feasting on your soup of lust circular motions on ya **** i know you never felt this and thats y you were about to bust your fingers have found there way back inside of you for a new journey now ya body is getting hot, **** ***** amd this nut you want it chris is going to give it to you back to being the director i put you in school my voice guides you to a unforgettable moment go a lil faster baby on that thing wet ya fingers a lil more i know you already wet so let ya fingers slide ya ****** to the front door loose yaself this last time im ******* ya **** and you are loosing ya mind ya body gets a chill from ya head to ya toes you scream chris and i already know on the phone i read you this *** poetry now dont instantly stop i say carress it to ease still i can hear you breathing heavily you stretch, yawn and say i pushed you to the max because you never had poetic phone ***
0
Oct 21, 2011
Oct 21, 2011 at 10:39 PM UTC
poetic phone ***
walk away from your computer lay down and make a call i want you to travel deep into my voice i wont touch you at all with ya own hand i want you to carress ya face slowly go down to ya breast rub them squeeze them lick the tip of ya finger and moisten ya ****** yes glide ya fingers across ya thighs listen to my voice as i take you on this ride lights off door locked im not in arms reach but if you close ya eyes my face you will see i want you in a deep trance as you explore with your hands "where i wanna be" right next to you in the dark, naked between ya sheets kissing and carressing every inch of your body i want to taste i go inch by inch i promise to not let a drop go to waste "wait baby dont let go of the phone" i know it feels real and right but in reality it is wrong continue, take that finger you use oh so much and let it play rub ya **** left to right up and down every which a way now go inside hit that spot to the left , im ya director baby switch to the right go deeper in you didnt know ya fingers felt this amazing you are wet, soaked and yet and still you listen to my voice begging me to direct you a little bit more so i explain how my warms lips are ready to explore my wet tongue adds to the juices you already have flowing i am eating you slow genuinely feasting on your soup of lust circular motions on ya **** i know you never felt this and thats y you were about to bust your fingers have found there way back inside of you for a new journey now ya body is getting hot, **** ***** amd this nut you want it chris is going to give it to you back to being the director i put you in school my voice guides you to a unforgettable moment go a lil faster baby on that thing wet ya fingers a lil more i know you already wet so let ya fingers slide ya ****** to the front door loose yaself this last time im ******* ya **** and you are loosing ya mind ya body gets a chill from ya head to ya toes you scream chris and i already know on the phone i read you this *** poetry now dont instantly stop i say carress it to ease still i can hear you breathing heavily you stretch, yawn and say i pushed you to the max because you never had poetic phone ***
Continue reading...
41
What's the use of my hand, if your skin is not under its touch? What good is my skin, if yours is not under its heat? What's the use of my lips, if yours are not locked with it? What's the use of my eyes, if yours are not looking at them? What's the use of my body heat, if it's not overlapping with yours? What good is my body, if yours is not over it every hour? What's the use of your body, if mine is not on top of it? If it's not me you're sharing the heat with? If I am not carressing it? If I am not the one beside it? What good is it, if you never really knew what good is?
0
Jan 22, 2024
Jan 22, 2024 at 11:30 AM UTC
Anatomy
The barbaric queen, her abilities stiffened His presence strickened by her directed speech Could it be her brick fence weakend Love had made it's way into the leaks Thoughts become lies, diminishing her kingdom ****** passion, a caused lusting Touching her breast Carressing her hips Legs shake, she is a disgrace The guards ushering him from her towering mattress Empathy made her a mockery A hatchet to the soul, he is nonexistent and undesirable Her long webbed veil, disguises her weeping Her eyes blackened, she is a demon bleeding Halo misplaced, in dismay She is a woman rigid and prevailing
0
May 11, 2016
May 11, 2016 at 4:01 PM UTC
Fixing her posture
Hands all over me Softly carressing all of me Sensations I didn’t know I could feel Is any of this Even real? You lifted me up and laid me down Skin to skin Lips to lips I felt your hands Move down my hips Your eyes so bright and blue Bringing up these feelings So strange and new One night full of bliss Who knew I would have to pay like this A **** Boy That’s all that you are I see that now Just a shooting star One minute You bring me hope and light But you’re always gone Before the end of the night
0
Jul 23, 2018
Jul 23, 2018 at 12:35 PM UTC
F Boy
A curtain held by one nail Faded blush pink, tilted Ratted hair into knotted beauty Eyeliner set as feathers ***** crusted stage, crackling with every step Audience of the haunted, ghostly clapping Amused by the audacity She twirls Egotistical, making her toes blister She closes her eyes, her thighs tingling Meat hanging on a bone barely Hells lounge What a crowd The devil sharpens his hair Perfect horns of despair He smokes his cigar "Keep going my queen Famous was the only request You never said where" Satan's personal entertainer He kisses her forehead, carressing her mangled body He loves her the best a man can, when being the king of hell A ferocious request, "bow everybody"
0
May 12, 2016
May 12, 2016 at 7:01 PM UTC
She is royalty
Hate it when he's high It's something that's missing from his life that cannot be replaced I wanted him to get high off me High off the movements of my body High off the carressing words I speak What do he need to know that I am his?
0
Dec 15, 2014
Dec 15, 2014 at 2:44 PM UTC
High
The moon hangs, like the main decoration on a very eerie christmas tree, gloomily in the night sky. Its gentle glow illuminates the world which is otherwise consumed in darkness. The giant orb, plump like a ripe fruit- yet glazed over with a chilling moss, inches higher and higher through the starry Milkyway. When the clock strikes twelve it reaches summit and stops - as if basking in its own awe. Gently, ever gently the music of the moon wafts through its carressing waves of moonshine - which hug the world below...and in the light of the full moon the fairies seem to dance and glow. Their tunes and merriment are in celebration of the magic of dreams and fantasy in the air; But suddenly it's not there anymore, and terror strikes the fairyfolk as they are abandoned in pitch black - The moon has disappeared. A candiflossed cloud eclipses the globe and steals the magic from the world. But soon the moon is free from its disguise and the merriment continues. Late into the night, when the goddess has long since begun her decent, like a silver'd over balloon, deflating - ever so slowly. The fairies go back to their flowers and trees, go back to sleep and the world begins to lose its magic again...the soft symphony starts to die, in a slow pianissimo. And just as she disapears, and sinks into the horizon, just as the dawn approaches, the world is engulfed in a deafening silence - in anticipation. And as if the interval had gone on for hours, the sky bursts out into a carcophany of trumpets, and orchestra; a crescendo jubilation as Apollo then edges into existence. He brings a new kind of magic; The magic of life. All this I see, all this I hear when I play my sonata. I feel the softness of the moon. I feel the magic as I dance across the keys. I see the world in a different light, through the music notes sketched into my mind. And then as the night dies, I experience the rebirth of a new day, through the rise and fall of my melody -   All in the span of just a few minutes and then its gone, all gone - And I am left starring, alone at the blank pages.
0
Nov 27, 2013
Nov 27, 2013 at 9:25 AM UTC
moonlight sonata
The moon hangs, like the main decoration on a very eerie christmas tree, gloomily in the night sky. Its gentle glow illuminates the world which is otherwise consumed in darkness. The giant orb, plump like a ripe fruit- yet glazed over with a chilling moss, inches higher and higher through the starry Milkyway. When the clock strikes twelve it reaches summit and stops - as if basking in its own awe. Gently, ever gently the music of the moon wafts through its carressing waves of moonshine - which hug the world below...and in the light of the full moon the fairies seem to dance and glow. Their tunes and merriment are in celebration of the magic of dreams and fantasy in the air; But suddenly it's not there anymore, and terror strikes the fairyfolk as they are abandoned in pitch black - The moon has disappeared. A candiflossed cloud eclipses the globe and steals the magic from the world. But soon the moon is free from its disguise and the merriment continues. Late into the night, when the goddess has long since begun her decent, like a silver'd over balloon, deflating - ever so slowly. The fairies go back to their flowers and trees, go back to sleep and the world begins to lose its magic again...the soft symphony starts to die, in a slow pianissimo. And just as she disapears, and sinks into the horizon, just as the dawn approaches, the world is engulfed in a deafening silence - in anticipation. And as if the interval had gone on for hours, the sky bursts out into a carcophany of trumpets, and orchestra; a crescendo jubilation as Apollo then edges into existence. He brings a new kind of magic; The magic of life. All this I see, all this I hear when I play my sonata. I feel the softness of the moon. I feel the magic as I dance across the keys. I see the world in a different light, through the music notes sketched into my mind. And then as the night dies, I experience the rebirth of a new day, through the rise and fall of my melody -   All in the span of just a few minutes and then its gone, all gone - And I am left starring, alone at the blank pages.
Continue reading...
25
As the thick mist inside subsides, he looks around Finally regained a form of sense Still bound Hanging on with a crumbled defence Tilting his head towards the heavens, he proclaims his disdain. Wretched beings, break your silence Acknowledge this pain Stripped of all humanity, he stands in defiance Carefully carressing his grief and sorrow The end is where he wishes to begin Deleted any perspective for tomorrow Inviting his demons back to reside within A flood of dark and putrid aura seizes his mind Now the beings once again feast As they mould and sculpt to get their prey refined His petrified heart shall never again be released Among those who stand on the edge, he now takes root The crushing presence of the nether, home sweet home The screams and whispers and everything they constitute Home is where he’ll always roam
0
Aug 28, 2025
Aug 28, 2025 at 9:17 AM UTC
Homesick
silence was improvising in my eyes in this tender fog between one moment and this moment and I could see the old love approaching to invade me to intoxicate me with its hypnotic violence this love like a fossilized wood in their gaze came to visit me again with so many faces so many whispers it was as if angels had descended on the barren land and with their unthought hands were tenderly carressing the old bones unsung what else could have I done than open my eyes and dream the palimpsest of forgotten dreams forged in the greatest intensity of all the fleeting moments in which they blinked (I need to shelter my heart from the silence of decaying leaves from the violence of life destroying itself)
0
Nov 30, 2022
Nov 30, 2022 at 7:28 AM UTC
this old love comes only in silence
even in my youth, i did not dream of evil. i could not fathom devils or demons endlessly circling around a fiery pit - painting their whispery words onto the pages of other children's fairytales. before i shut my weary eyes and closed the pages of yet another gold gilted storybook, i thought to myself, "i cannot imagine evil" - not one dragon's white hot flames; scorching the stone foundation of a dark tower where a porcelain princess patiently awaits the end of a solitary life - braiding and unbraiding golden hair until her fingers bleed. "i cannot imagine evil" - not one prince's frustration as soft lips and slender hands are torn from him and all that is left of his newfound beloved is a sparkling slipper carressing the castle stairs while the twelfth boom of a clock still lingers in the evening air. no, i did not dream of evil in the twilight before sleep. i dreamt of a delicately aging queen, sick with worry when her dear stepdaughter did not return from the twisted woods before the rising of a silvery moon. i dreamt of her graceful arms outstretched for a gentle embrace as the huntsman and the raven haired girl enter the glass hall, hand-in-hand, a basket of innocent ruby apples swinging in time between them.
0
Jan 28, 2012
Jan 28, 2012 at 12:51 PM UTC
faerie stories.
Close your eyes my dear. Last words whispering in my ear. I feel your skin. Such heavenly sin. Your hand carressing my waiste. Your kisses so sweet. Don't wake up in this dream where we meet.
0
Feb 15, 2016
Feb 15, 2016 at 6:39 PM UTC
I feel your skin
The scent of honeysuckle rests lightly on the night breeze, rendolent memories beguile me. My grandparents stealing a kiss on an old white garden seat, his knotted fingers carressing her weathered skin with a tenderness that takes her breath, they whisper to each other like children with a perfect secret ....long life, lived in love. The breeze allows another, hint of sweet nectar, I am surrounded by the sound of bees, wings vibrato, greedily harvesting ambrosia, I stand between eons, not in fear but awe. at the simplicity of it all. One more fragrant breath, I turn to my man and whisper, I promise to you eons.
0
Apr 3, 2014
Apr 3, 2014 at 4:43 AM UTC
honeysuckle breeze
My bare feet guide me in a spherical dance, The full moon breeze carressing my naked skin, The scent of silver dogwood petals overwelming my nostrils. Drip.... Drip... Drip.... The patient release of water from each tree's finger-tips, Quiet, unchanging, an echo in my ears. My eyes take in the astronomical ocean above, Each constellation coming to life in my third eye... "Come dance with me Stars! Come dance and move with me!" And so the night continues, withhout time... Only me, the stars, and abundant night.
0
Apr 13, 2012
Apr 13, 2012 at 9:21 PM UTC
Abundant Night
Pass of the hand on the cheek ever so slightly A hand carressing petals blossomed from a rose Gentle breath, warm and calloused, trembles the knape The dessert wind whispering a tune of truth to the back of your mind Sentual scent that enhance the taste of the good life The aroma of an outstanding experience that hits the nerves like fire With only a glance, captivated, by the idol that we behold Unique splender, almost hypnotize, like a startled deer on the highway
0
Oct 22, 2012
Oct 22, 2012 at 8:29 PM UTC
METAPHORE
walks on tiptoes; an arachnid of sorts with ballet legs and great white jaws sinks its teeth beside the collar of your jacket, unfastening the buttons to expose a healthy beat beat beat but the shame creeps in, carressing a bare torso, looking; searching for the fat in which to feast.
0
Nov 2, 2011
Nov 2, 2011 at 4:27 AM UTC
paranoia
I don't like the way this feels most days. Can you believe I don't like such complexity? Why is my affection never simple? Never just one-sided; instead, It's a moon with phases, with changes Too unpredictable to pencil down. It used to be spring tides or none at all But I've been getting tamer ones lately. If it does crash, it does so politely, lightly Carressing my shore with waves of affection. Sometimes I forget to worry. Sometimes I forget how heavy-handed I can be, How easily I can hurt, despite The dulling of my edges; And I do this for some people My affection wants to keep. I admit it's not the wisest thing I do. The shackles hurt a lot more When you jump too far, Thinking you can make it. Still, I wonder if that might be better. I do not like my anxiety, but I don't like being absentminded in this either. I do not like not knowing, not holding The reins of my affection, my hurricane affliction I do not like the way this feels most days. I do not like the thought of hurting you. I do not like it when this moon is new but I must say, I do like the way you want this, too.
0
May 21, 2017
May 21, 2017 at 5:27 AM UTC
My Affection
Pierced lips carressing lines of Chaucer Hatred for words, the sound of power The claim of surrender Sparks in eyes Sun at back
0
Dec 9, 2010
Dec 9, 2010 at 7:34 PM UTC
Syncopation (11.6.09)
Finding the boundaries that carry us away The person we portray and the one we confine Well mannered ****** deviant out of control The urge to be perfect, held higher then a world on fire burying her feet in the pit of the ashes with no meaning Her skin thickened A kiss from another comfort A carressing finger tip A body erratically pushing Magnificently disturbed, naked on a decaying blanket Eating burnt cookies and old tea, she will never leave A foolish love A half full comfort She is destroyed and so is the universe circling her A head held up and mouth forced shut by the whiskey bottle tape to her neck Silence as she walks blessed She is nothing but forgiveness
0
May 4, 2016
May 4, 2016 at 1:41 PM UTC
Who should she be
I went to bed with flowers in my hands and woke up carressing a rifle. My delusion of self can offer me no help, cause you've been twisting sides. Making me fall in love with you, you're waging a war of lies. Cold metal sooths open wounds, I never knew you could be this cruel. fragments of the mirror stare back at the fragments that remain. Theres nothing I can see that looks anything like me. So' I'm wondering where I am and who you are? and when this ever got this far? I idolised you and now i despise everything you do. I can't stop myself asking, am I falling out of love with you?
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Mar 4, 2018
Mar 4, 2018 at 6:10 PM UTC
Am I falling out of love with you?
fingers linger sounds soft muffled mute hands smooth carressing, groping touching, reaching Reach!!! Reach for the hand Reach for the fingers Reach for the life!
0
Mar 26, 2013
Mar 26, 2013 at 12:57 PM UTC
Reach
Tread softly Over the tracks of gentle spring Come and go quickly Like the breeze before the storm. Make not a mark upon this world; Sail through boundless seas As larks and thrushes do. Disappear from the flowering trees With the incidental meet, An ivory invitation's worth, Of muffled May showers. And enter as the wind Carressing budding leaves - soft - Cradling anxious clouds, Cartwheeling up above Against the paths Of geese returning home, Crying with muted colors. And then the howling hushes - Tuned at last - With soft, almost silent, syncopations. Tread softly, my love, Over the tracks of gentle spring.
0
Jun 26, 2010
Jun 26, 2010 at 7:00 PM UTC
Spring
When you close your eyes when you close your eyes, do you dream about me are these dreams filled with love, and burning ****** do our hands reach for each other, in the darkness of the night carressing one another, until the early morning light do we whisper sweet nothings, into each others ear ignoring the obvious, the things that we both fear the truth can be quite painful, it will not let us be in this case the truth, will never set us free   when you close your eyes, do the tears fill your head lying there motionless, in your lonely bed because there is no room for me, someone else is in that spot one more night of crying, your stomach in a knot your last response was no response, it left me with a chill the feeling is the end is here, you sent the final bill when you close your eyes, I feel you no longer dream covering your head instead, so no one can hear your scream no I no longer think, that you dream of me the cold distance is wider now, the space between you and me that you have made a concious choice, to just let it go you don't have to say the words, I already know
0
Aug 30, 2011
Aug 30, 2011 at 10:11 PM UTC
When you close your eyes
Walking along the stone path I discover violets, so sweet Delphiniums as blue as the sky Forget-Me-Nots carressing my feet. My blue world, a delight In here my life is complete The fragrance floating by on the wings of a golden butterfly.
0
Mar 10, 2014
Mar 10, 2014 at 3:08 AM UTC
Blue
On my hardest day Feeling each hurt Weighted down By each struggle Invaded on every side Darkness threatening To envelope me And suddenly The dawn breaks Chasing away The shadows Its then, that I feel it The strength of your hands Holding me In all my brokenness You love me Back to life Its your grace That carries me Comforts me Strengthens me Stilling my mind Comforting my heart And carressing my soul. Kristy Turnage 8-13-13
0
Aug 18, 2013
Aug 18, 2013 at 11:15 AM UTC
Being Held
(fourteen lines)..... It could be a gentle breeze...it could be a mist Sometimes, it's a whiff of patchouli Oftentimes, it comes so strong Like drops...or splotches of pure lavender oil On my collar, my sleeves, on my chest, especially ......where it feels so close to my heart<3 At night, it is a moth flying past my cheeks The softest voice carressing my ears For, it is light....as whisp'ry cloth Almost like an invisible touch A quick, transparent passing of sweet air That clings to my being, I wear it upon...and within me Your scent.....is my second skin... Sally Copyright February 3, 2016 Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
0
Feb 14, 2016
Feb 14, 2016 at 12:34 PM UTC
SECOND SKIN