Melancholy ain't making me poetical,
Instead, more panglossian!
I need thy cwtch for now and
I'll show how the rest of it is played
with boisterous swagger
Kicking back those icy fangs.
          
*   Don't tell me there's a twist again!
         Come on! Burst the bubble!  *

Every bowl has its day Forget not!
Aaha now that's why i say:
"LIFE IN A FINGER BOWL"
The one in winter, most cosiest!!
Oh u didn't understand ?
It's ok. Don't have to !!
Not everything is ment to be understood

Through water and sand, stands you.
Spring breaking at you feet
Your breath flicking the pages of a street paper
A black crown of nightingales at your head
Entwined in leaves and wheat trickling down stones in dew-morning light and thrones in brambles of blackberry pie
Rooted to firewood and sheer bliss of kissed moonlight
Where herons christen Stars before black velvet blanket
Bridled by Rosemary and time, caught with Mary in a dark corner
Slumped behind priest less ivy, we permeate the air and through blue blooded command and gnashing of teeth, slants me
Outside the ramshackle cwtch I the hangmedown barks of woods, kneels you.
And stopped around cockles and foundling sparrows, sings the epitaph of a fallen barbarian.
Still through desert and carcass, lies you.

JWS

I love reading poetry on this site.

The most common used word is love.
Well, actually ambiguous is used a lot. I guess it makes people feel smart about themselves.

Anyway, everyone uses the word 'love', but has anyone experienced it or are we all deluding ourselves?

Besides the point, I've learned that if you want to succeed in writing on this site, you have to make sure you write about how you 'fell' in love and then follow it with 'heartbreak'.

You can be dark, and probably get some 'acclaim' from the broody broods.
Or you can not be completely pretentious and write something genuine.
Good luck, though. They'll call it cliche or cheesy.
So you deal with that...
But first thing is first: You must get artistic.

                                                    ­                                                       Do this
                                                            ­                                        because
                                                                ­                              it some how
                                                                ­                 makes it look like
                                                                ­              you
                                             ­                                        know
                                                                ­                              what
                                                                ­                                      you're
                                                                ­                                               doing.

Make sure
you seem like you
DO THIS
for a l
          i love you more than i can take
            vicious words cause my heart to break
               in god we trust our love forever
                 never be gone from me, oh no, not ever!
                    good bye my love i'll cherish you... ambiguously


Now let's get wordy.
Let's use some words entirely too much like...
AMBIGUOUS
Then after that, it'll be time to crack open the thesaurus and write words that you're not entirely sure that you're using correctly.

The ambiguous alligator bit with a fervor as the metamorphosis of his analysis changed what he thought (DID YOU SEE WHAT I DID THERE). He was chased by hunters, but was devoid of a cwtch (yeah, that's a word. Maybe he's a welsh alligator. I don't know. Parts of this poem are meant to be...wait for it...ambiguous).

the
     alligator's
                   father
                            died
                                   in
                                       the
                                            great
                                                    alligator wars of 1
                                                               ­               9
                                                ­                              7
                                 ­                                             2012 was an okay year, though.

what a tragedy it is to be abstentious at a buffet...(end it ambiguously)
                                                                ­                                              end

Then we have some depressing stuff on this site. Not that there's anything wrong with writing something depressing, but usually it's kind of stuff that you'd read at a seventh grade poetry slam sponsored by Hot Topic and Van's Warped Tour in partnership with AXE Body Spray and Monster Energy Drink.

We'll call this one....

'pain, pain, and more pain'

I knew this girl
name was elle
she rang my heart
like a ******* bell

i was fourteen
she was fine
we had assigned seats next to each other
but her seat was inside of my mind

we talked about deep stuff
like really deep
she told me she had nightmares
and i said i had them too
BUT NOT ALL OF THEM ARE IN MY SLEEP

the real nightmare was that
she had a boyfriend
he treated her really well
but he was a ******* FOOTBALL PLAYER
**** **** **** LOVE IS A ******* HELL

why not me
why the tool
i can play six songs on the guitar
and my parents own a pool

i could have given you everything
i could have given you my heart on a string
but you cut it with your knife
and ******* did it sting

my heart is black
my emotions in a whirl
i'll be like this for two weeks
AT LEAST
until i talk to another girl


I just love some of the poetry I read on this site, and I hope you like mine.

Thanks, guys!

We’re waiting for you, little pearl,
not that we need you to rush
take your time as the arms to catch you
will cwtch forever

Your mama has laid layer and layer
of love on you,
egg-shell cautious love

So be rambunctious on arrival
and we’ll mostly forgive sleepless nights

Just come little pearl
come in little girl

our world awaits x

I ate the whole world to find you.
Yesterday, and days before,
these are just bohemian villages to me,
where a boy flies a blue kite,
sees the sun on your back
and rainclouds in synecdoche.

Today, tomorrow,
but mostly today,
when the clogs blossom
yellow daffodils that
hide bare hairy heels,
bold and black
as Twiggy mascara.

A thousand phone calls later,
there won't be an answer.

For all our intermissions
were like cancer
ward smoke breaks.

Purple hands stained yellow,
with a dark blue mouth saying,

"Hold me, please just hold me".

Even if just for the warmth,
warmth which was
lacking here,
as cold as inside Russian tanks.

We hugged,
with all the surprise and violence
as an acid attack
on supermodels face,
we hugged.

Then after that,
tried as Latvian money,
half-alive in a ditch
pining over you,
the way a cat's tongue
pines for milk and breadcrumbs,
Tasted like salt, they did,
The tears that were shed,
Giving drinks to the mice.

There, but for the grace of God, go I
A girl with no name
With a look of desolate embarrassed shame
Laid on a makeshift bed in the quiet alley
But tonight, it's not so quiet
Crowds of well-to-do fortunates
Are making their way to a Concert
A small dog nestles down
Onto a cwtch made of stone
He's her only lively company
On this hellish desolate journey
Whatever is wrong
Here, there is no beautiful song
Society has failed
The girl that's derailed
How many turned to look away from her bed?
How many quiet tears were shed?
How many ignored?
How many cringed?
How many felt guilt seeing her ***** quilt?
How many cared
For the girl with no name
With the look of desolate embarrassed shame?
She's now adopted a blank stare
as she asks  "Any change spare?"
So tonight when you turn in, say a little prayer
Because, but for the grace of God, we could be lying there.

Written by Kris Prevel
June 2014

This ground was thirsty
by god thirsty
been cracking and cursing for months
with only the vaguest hunch of a possible deluge

so these rains were drunk in abandonment
and the angry soil has yielded
soft underfoot, a sole cwtch
to be savoured, felt

the stream, so feeble last week
has remembered its fatness,
wetness, strength
recalling a bearing
thoughts are borne once again
with vigour to the constant sea

Wake! Kokura to a novel world of peace
Under the canopy of dark divine clouds
A million deaths and a zillion days of sufferings
Ah! Flown to a distant land
While the holy hands patting your shoulders
Away Nagasaki crying,
… a loud ghostly cry..

When the fat boy shed fireballs from above
Flitting shadows unable to find a cwtch
Death solidified, melted to florid streams
On a boundless billowy sea of hellfire.
Murky minds killing unknown souls
Burnt alive was innocent, wicked and wise
On their knees, a nation bend
Away victory cried,
… a loud cheerful cry…

Ah! Know me first before you please
to squander guns, grenades or guillotines
At least the cognizant me die in peace,
And a better predilection for your choicest blessings.
Silent guns are a hackneyed dream
Begging only for a better aim
Away hope loath to stop,
.. a loud wishful cry…

As the basking warmth of the sun
Comes cascading through the blinds
It finds itself cast on still, rested souls
Serene and calm, no rest disturbed

Cwtch, a word from a wondrous place
An intimate moment, two’s safest space
To hold, and be held
Seldom seen, but always shared

She rolled over and pulled me close
Her hand on my chest, my heart rate rose
This feeling was always undersold
So hard to find, or so I’m told
That same warming sun
Now shimmering through her hair
That cute messy bun
No makeup, I do not care

Now she wakes and opens her eyes
A greyish blue
With a sparkling hue
They look back into mine
Transfixed, I smile
I say something nice
It’s probably too much
But I don’t think twice

The hours roll by
No need to move
I wait for my moment
Overthinking it through
Reciprocated in kind
Why did I wait so long?
Missing every **** sign
But now there’s no wrong
Two souls entwined

Not urgent, not laboured
Just passion savoured
Nothing fancy, nothing forced
Ain’t lost in the sauce
Soft and sweet
Enjoyed to the end
At some point I must go
Another day
Another time
We’ll be back there again
Cwtching till the light
Comes back through the blinds

A warm cwtch
A safe place
A smiling face.

The rose bud clasps tight to its long lonely stem
sheltering from the cold wind and the winter mayhem  

The spring sun shines so brightly is it time to parade
as the cloud covers over to give it some shade

Then around about elevenses it opens its display
leaving the people smiling for the rest of the day

It bows so graciously in the light shallow breeze
and waves at the audience, boastfully if you please

As the sun sets slowly we still marvel at its delight
then watch it cwtch up tightly asleep for the night

Beyond the tree's that rise up from the ashes of starlight
unkempt winds bristle through the leaves
Unabashed laughter, and softly cooing feather down
under the time where sunlight is drowned
Beneath the canopy that glisten with droplets rising
verklempt, in the wants we want not, and
the stones that weigh down the roots of our dysania
Priorities will take away this realm in the name of the sun
Serendipity allows the path to be found once again

Remember a time you weren’t here
and your day rolled free

honey warm joy
holding your soul
in a cwtch

catching their eyes
and shine of smiles,
lining your insides
for days and times like these

we build these pots
and stocks to tide us by
with the benefit
of no selfish deficit

allow yourself a sip
to reminisce
and ease the days
until we can replenish
togetherness

As the autumn winds blew I clung on for dear life
but my grasp grew tired and I floated on the wind
I watched my home drift further and further away
when I landed all was silent until I heard footsteps

I was scooped up with the nuts the grass and the mud
and carried off to a place I now call home
kept warm away from the snow and the rain until spring
when more little bodies needed my warmth

They left and I was alone but not for long
a twit twit twoo was welcomed to my home
and soon there was more feet than I could handle
chaos when the worms and bugs tried to escape

As summer ended again I was alone until autumn blew in
more nuts grass mud and leaves gathered at my home
we cwtch down for the winter
with our fury friends

An Edwardian lady ,
with a letter to write ,
she clings to it dearly .
For with fine perfume. to write for , it is sented with a kiss from above ,
and smudged in lipstick and all of her love .

For This secret she holds unto her chest to her is divine ,
for it passes through the ages of time .
All wrapped up in string ,
and richest perfume ,
as she walks down the street with her head in the air ,
With whispers of love to guide her there .
To plump and powder and preserve her pout ,
the freshening air on her face ,
makes her the envy of every gentleman’s glancing embrace .

For she cannot wait to post her letter ,
for tomorrow it will be too late ,
the sooner the better ,

Just in time before she is wed ,
to land on the mat of his Park Lane address ,
for that letter to arrive in the letter box
of her love ,
Scented by the richest perfume .
One last chance before the day to say ,
how much I am looking forward to giving a barrog to my love .

🌹
An Edwardian gent sits down to write ,
for it is his last  chance to do what is right .
To send a final letter before the mail man leaves ,
to his beloved .
He tells of how his heart starts to bleed ,
as the quill of his pen moves to every beat of his heart ,
a thud thud thud as his thoughts run away ,
to tomorrow when he will kiss his bride and say ,
“ Now I have given my heart away ,
I wait for the day I can give a cwtch  ( Kutch ) to my wife ,
for .
“ Our silky cocoon has opened to colours so bright ,
Oranges and blues dazzled by the suns beaming light ,
adorned forever ,
In sweet twilight.
Dwi  Wedi  cwympo. ,
for I have fallen head over heels in love with you .