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"disrobing" poems
Disrobing, her skin glowing as it glistens in the night naked to the eye the most beautiful thing in sight a deep breathe as she exhales her beauty is unveiled anticipation swells waiting for his embrace her lips saturated with her taste his senses sense her scent enticing his nature tense magnetized to her flesh delicate is her touch to his aching ***** no words left to past just passionate lips rush for passion two bodies attracted to each others attraction love making magic happen
0
May 30, 2017
May 30, 2017 at 2:04 AM UTC
Magnetic
Water lilies, libidinous lover boys, on the sly circles her naked body, impertinently while she unaware of this, swim and play in her water-crazy, noisy country girl self in this enclosure of ***** pines wildly in bloom, She's happy for being shielded from prying looks of rowdy village boys, adept in disrobing her with their eyes    Enamored, the lilies, white, blue and purple inebriated all, by drinking the nubile beauty limitless all along,under the  level of water and above, breached all the reserves, ahamelessly sevoured her saucy proximity til she left when the dusk, shed saffron all over.         Yet in her innocence she would think, "Poor darlings,how much did they suffer, as I splashed and broke the calm of the pond all evening"
0
Feb 27, 2015
Feb 27, 2015 at 11:38 AM UTC
A nymph among water lilies
An indifferent ache swirls in the silence throbbing like a dancing candle flame; no one understands the heart of silence moving the darkness with its ancient dance Its voice is only felt but never heard the way it whispers the reality it bears; disrobing the nakedness of a fragile heart exposing inherent truth deep in disguise retouching the chaos passing of love laid bare Unspoken emotions that nobody hears float around a muted tongue benumbed by fear doubt is a bitter taste that knows not love searching for a labyrinth to begin to wend a better way trying to feel the unfelt warmth of love in an endless cold waiting on a frozen emptiness that never thaws No one understands the haunting fear, ... surly it couldn't happen again ― and surly it will, a heart stifled silent,  silence doth loudly peal                 poignant dreaded words:                  ***"It's not you ― it's me ,.......       I love you but I'm not in love with you"*** and like winter dreaming for the sun to reappear, to come back again and dry the memory of fallen tears, a hushed heart falls off the earth lost in ether shadows lay mooning in the lonely silence within moonlit dapple When you pull love too close ― it will push you away some silence heals ― a dissonant silence cuts to the bone        Only the lonely feel a silent voice sigh          Only one hears a silenced heart die ...                harlon rivers ... March 2018
0
Mar 22, 2018
Mar 22, 2018 at 3:00 PM UTC
Only one hears a silenced heart ...
An indifferent ache swirls in the silence throbbing like a dancing candle flame; no one understands the heart of silence moving the darkness with its ancient dance Its voice is only felt but never heard the way it whispers the reality it bears; disrobing the nakedness of a fragile heart exposing inherent truth deep in disguise retouching the chaos passing of love laid bare Unspoken emotions that nobody hears float around a muted tongue benumbed by fear doubt is a bitter taste that knows not love searching for a labyrinth to begin to wend a better way trying to feel the unfelt warmth of love in an endless cold waiting on a frozen emptiness that never thaws No one understands the haunting fear, ... surly it couldn't happen again ― and surly it will, a heart stifled silent,  silence doth loudly peal                 poignant dreaded words:                  ***"It's not you ― it's me ,.......       I love you but I'm not in love with you"*** and like winter dreaming for the sun to reappear, to come back again and dry the memory of fallen tears, a hushed heart falls off the earth lost in ether shadows lay mooning in the lonely silence within moonlit dapple When you pull love too close ― it will push you away some silence heals ― a dissonant silence cuts to the bone        Only the lonely feel a silent voice sigh          Only one hears a silenced heart die ...                harlon rivers ... March 2018
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30
It seems my little curb side tree is acting like a tease these days, Like the famed Gypsy Rose Lee, She is disrobing by degrees. A gust of wind, some red leaf falls like feathers from a boa ripped. Nearly naked head to breast but fully dressed about both hips. She seems quite loathe to lose it all even in these waning days of fall. Yet as the stripper ends her tease- bare magnificence applauded, My little tree will shed her leaves to be raked,bagged and discarded
0
Dec 2, 2011
Dec 2, 2011 at 10:17 PM UTC
The Stripper
I recall her stripping me naked Then she danced around the bed Slowly, enticingly disrobing her voluptuous form Her firm breast bouncing free from her bra My ******** began to ache As she slipped her tounge around it's head Her ******* hard & rubbery adorned the fleshy mountains I saw Hands wrapped around each I stroked & squeezed & suckeled Her wet crotch sliding down my leg Left a sticky trail Her mouth found a throbing shift And stoked it to it's base Where there she ****** in my ***** And gently rolled them in her mouth And around her face Up the shaft she came again though this time it slide down Her throught, warm & wet & exhaled Again & again she went I almost surcumed I pushed her back And dove between her thighs My tounge found that sweet spot between the sticky lips Lapping up her sweet honey drips Sliding my tounge from one end to the other ******* on that harden **** Until she gushed more sticky stuff Then slowly I plunged as deep as I could Filling up  that sweet pink hole And there I plunged again & again Until my cheeks were sore Slowly I raised myself Hands upon her thighs Spreading her lovelyness As wide as she  could split She reached down & grabed my form Holding hard she guided it in Not even a chance to heav forwards SHE CAME UP KER BAM As she fell back I drove it home My ***** smacked her in the *** Stroking deep & slow at first There was no holding her back Bucking & bounching she managed to turn around so I got her from hehind She reached under & grabed my ***** Like a lease it was as she pulled me in Faster & faster we went Then she pushed me back Grabed my shaft & began to **** She said to me very sweetly I want to drink U all
0
Jul 23, 2010
Jul 23, 2010 at 4:17 PM UTC
Fantacies From My ***** Mind #1
I recall her stripping me naked Then she danced around the bed Slowly, enticingly disrobing her voluptuous form Her firm breast bouncing free from her bra My ******** began to ache As she slipped her tounge around it's head Her ******* hard & rubbery adorned the fleshy mountains I saw Hands wrapped around each I stroked & squeezed & suckeled Her wet crotch sliding down my leg Left a sticky trail Her mouth found a throbing shift And stoked it to it's base Where there she ****** in my ***** And gently rolled them in her mouth And around her face Up the shaft she came again though this time it slide down Her throught, warm & wet & exhaled Again & again she went I almost surcumed I pushed her back And dove between her thighs My tounge found that sweet spot between the sticky lips Lapping up her sweet honey drips Sliding my tounge from one end to the other ******* on that harden **** Until she gushed more sticky stuff Then slowly I plunged as deep as I could Filling up  that sweet pink hole And there I plunged again & again Until my cheeks were sore Slowly I raised myself Hands upon her thighs Spreading her lovelyness As wide as she  could split She reached down & grabed my form Holding hard she guided it in Not even a chance to heav forwards SHE CAME UP KER BAM As she fell back I drove it home My ***** smacked her in the *** Stroking deep & slow at first There was no holding her back Bucking & bounching she managed to turn around so I got her from hehind She reached under & grabed my ***** Like a lease it was as she pulled me in Faster & faster we went Then she pushed me back Grabed my shaft & began to **** She said to me very sweetly I want to drink U all
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55
Sometimes she is a steam train, All fire and noise, sizzling, powerful Too hot to touch … Almost. And sometimes she is tree Growing, blossoming, strengthening and seeding, Increasing to a golden leafed complexity, Before disrobing once more And yet she is too a river, deep with secrets, Wide with acceptances, bubbling and meandering and flowing gentle round obstacles Then is love the water that makes all her ways possible? For then rain cannot disappoint Tis drought I fear most.
0
Oct 15, 2012
Oct 15, 2012 at 9:32 AM UTC
On water and love
the desperado cowboy-poet awakes anxious, needing-ending relief, the craving greater than great, he begs-raggedly, with Raggedy handily Andy words, to all and anyone in the aroused surrounded vicinity, give please give, of something to write the bay, soothingly plays the would-be author, "place me, look my way, have I not droplets endless from which you've drunk exquisitely, so many more to fair share" the birds twit and flit, raucous caucus demanding to be seated by the tablet's keypad to gain entry to one more congressional natural tribute the sky and sun organize a joint session, extraordinary mission; "we are the first of your day, thus primarily, we win the primary, deserving in your recording of our nomination as the first day's sound and light show victorious" sorry folks, got a better tale to tell, natural in its way, titillating, and quite suitable for reputating Au Naturel humanity and it's a quirky, say hey tale, morning coffee fresh, a first word report from an untelivised convention of a different kind of congressing awoke to find the: *chauffeur in bed with the cook, the Poppy, beside the sleeping Nana, the poet, eyeing the lying next to him, tango dancer, the classicist eyeing the sleeping moderne, ditty ditsy Ogden Nash astride a Shakesperian sonnet, the thinning gray line defending his bedded half, from an invading horde of unionizing blonde tresses, the republican with the democrat, the conservative with the liberal, heated discussions, non-neutralizing negotiations conducting and watched by peeping tom skies, clouds, birds and waters pretending to fly flow past* wow now that, is quite interesting deserving worthy of a disrobing disputatious disreputation, very newsworthy and why not, a poem all its own? the bay waved goodbye, the birds disbanded in silence, quietly disenfranchised. the sun and the sky hung around pretending to be UN neutrality observers wearing cute blue and white helmets looking every where but not, at the line of demarcation the beggar, by his new impoverishment, enriched, another love poem writ, niched and pitched one more itch, so very well scratched
0
Aug 6, 2016
Aug 6, 2016 at 8:23 AM UTC
desperado desperation (an August love poem)
the desperado cowboy-poet awakes anxious, needing-ending relief, the craving greater than great, he begs-raggedly, with Raggedy handily Andy words, to all and anyone in the aroused surrounded vicinity, give please give, of something to write the bay, soothingly plays the would-be author, "place me, look my way, have I not droplets endless from which you've drunk exquisitely, so many more to fair share" the birds twit and flit, raucous caucus demanding to be seated by the tablet's keypad to gain entry to one more congressional natural tribute the sky and sun organize a joint session, extraordinary mission; "we are the first of your day, thus primarily, we win the primary, deserving in your recording of our nomination as the first day's sound and light show victorious" sorry folks, got a better tale to tell, natural in its way, titillating, and quite suitable for reputating Au Naturel humanity and it's a quirky, say hey tale, morning coffee fresh, a first word report from an untelivised convention of a different kind of congressing awoke to find the: *chauffeur in bed with the cook, the Poppy, beside the sleeping Nana, the poet, eyeing the lying next to him, tango dancer, the classicist eyeing the sleeping moderne, ditty ditsy Ogden Nash astride a Shakesperian sonnet, the thinning gray line defending his bedded half, from an invading horde of unionizing blonde tresses, the republican with the democrat, the conservative with the liberal, heated discussions, non-neutralizing negotiations conducting and watched by peeping tom skies, clouds, birds and waters pretending to fly flow past* wow now that, is quite interesting deserving worthy of a disrobing disputatious disreputation, very newsworthy and why not, a poem all its own? the bay waved goodbye, the birds disbanded in silence, quietly disenfranchised. the sun and the sky hung around pretending to be UN neutrality observers wearing cute blue and white helmets looking every where but not, at the line of demarcation the beggar, by his new impoverishment, enriched, another love poem writ, niched and pitched one more itch, so very well scratched
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69
she leans into my words and with a deft motion scatters the playful children of her amused thought that are trying to distract her she liberates the pen and paper constructions that i built with yesterdays words and places them with a lovers care on the table before us as if to bring to attention their needy faces but not to conversation their actual words like photographs of passing of couples whispering the intent but not content she leans into my words and pulls them apart showering my souls breach with new light disrobing the layers of spanish thread deeper intents to mislead and withdraw before the mute face can speak she tosses her hair to one side i evaporated on her smile it was just too **** sweet hot it just set my city afire so she stood up and walked to the streets edge to show the ***** dawn a true light to show the sleeping a new way to dream to show the new goddess to her waiting world while she makes sunday morning breakfast of dollar cakes and crayon drawings landscapes in polluted purples coffee strong and the child cries in the crib she lingers by the table playing with a lock of my hair while we spoke soft of the day to the rainswept beach to hunt for shells paste them in the scrapbook of my soul long as shes here with me sunday afternoon rain laying in the bungalows shady porch watching the rain roll in singing softly long as shes here with me
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Jan 16, 2014
Jan 16, 2014 at 10:26 PM UTC
landscapes in polluted purples
Dark Light Of a City That's grown itself From the Belly Of Its Own Bowels Lovers Verse So clearly placed As to be the Voice Resurrection Willing Mystery not Surrounding Desire Folding And Unfolding Symphony Of Disrobing Ecstacy A Marraige Bed Of a Gods Beyond Fire Breathing Appetizing Loves feeding Frenzy Drenched Succumbing One
0
Apr 7, 2016
Apr 7, 2016 at 10:04 AM UTC
IShe
Your body is very descriptive yeah physically eye can see you're **** as fukk. But eye need something that will stimulate my third eye (mind). Provide me with nourishment that will feed my thoughts. Gwithoutrains with out given me brains yes eye love when you give me head intelligently. Take off those garments slowly disrobing your self ,mentally. Yeah ythanre sexier then a ***** fukka without those insecurities. Reveal to how your **** brain curves.Your comforting words provide energy,that pull me closer into your celestial currents as eye gravitate deeper into the dephts of your black hole. Eye plunge into your socket tapping into the rare treasures you hold hostage behind those castle walls. Leaving you naked and exposed. Eye need you to plug me in so that I may connect with your soul.
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May 29, 2016
May 29, 2016 at 11:33 PM UTC
Expose you bare.
Like a dark gloom fell down From the cosmic bright sky, Death is the next phase of Life; A change of dress, a disrobing; A birth into the unborn again; Beginning where we ended; Opening where we closed; It is a crossroad of Eternity; A giving up of everything, to hold again for nothing. The end of the unreal, And the beginning of the real Carry me on your shoulders Let me enjoy  the touch My obsession and pleasure now on is to be tight on your cold lips Entrusting my body on you Love is so kind and not blind My soul is being scattered everywhere ! By Williamsji Maveli Email:[email protected]
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Dec 19, 2012
Dec 19, 2012 at 11:59 PM UTC
Unborn again
I am suspended taking steps into thin air as destiny carries me forward. the next few steps will take me around the bend which is a blind disrobing all or nothing bet. Yet one foot then the next. Nothing is assured,each breath like a sinew. life is loan and nothing more until my time ticks out one way or the next. locked and loaded anticipating  eden. A green field or burning chasm. Elysium, Valhalla. A soldier's suspended state. Temporary insanity. To willfully walk into oblivion. Spin the chamber and assume nothing. To spin again. That is a slice of walking point. Two days from now. strolling in the mall. A cold sweat. still on point. Still dead to myself. The chamber is still spinning. How the **** could ever hear me scream behind dead eyes. You can't
0
Apr 13, 2013
Apr 13, 2013 at 1:17 AM UTC
Walking Point
Last night's Wim Wenders film Wings of Desire, not starring Adam Sandler, great in the great tradition of Metropolis, Fellini, Children of Paradise, Ikiru, Open City. This is not comedy though it can be funny overhearing people thinking, the randomness of thought, data dots, circles with dots, sadness and silliness, silly sadness, confusion, rarely a clear thought, not one logical lucid progression. Deep art. I'd like to do better than my best so far, write something with hydroxyapatite that won't gather dust then become dust a neuron of sweetness, an early morning bicyclist, a lost ghost or fallen angel any form from which death might abstain or forego appetite. Appearing to meander from subject to subject is my practice. Looking for solutions to the equations. Learning the changes then forgetting them. The expressions emanating from mortal minds are broken stamens, sticky stigmas. Striving for immortality, some Spanish philosopher (who looks like Don Quixote) says he understands and it's alright. I will read what he wrote and probably agree but is he immortal? Not his body, but his thoughts. True, I say, but this also: Not his mind, but his thoughts. Unchanging and finite. Put them in a hatbox and pass them on as heirlooms. To overhear the secret thoughts of others. Sharing and unsharing electrons, disrobing and bathing. That is the purpose of poetry. Gargoyle twice. Did Wim give each thought its own voice or use the same voice for all thoughts, every whim.
0
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 4:50 PM UTC
Wings of Desire
Last night's Wim Wenders film Wings of Desire, not starring Adam Sandler, great in the great tradition of Metropolis, Fellini, Children of Paradise, Ikiru, Open City. This is not comedy though it can be funny overhearing people thinking, the randomness of thought, data dots, circles with dots, sadness and silliness, silly sadness, confusion, rarely a clear thought, not one logical lucid progression. Deep art. I'd like to do better than my best so far, write something with hydroxyapatite that won't gather dust then become dust a neuron of sweetness, an early morning bicyclist, a lost ghost or fallen angel any form from which death might abstain or forego appetite. Appearing to meander from subject to subject is my practice. Looking for solutions to the equations. Learning the changes then forgetting them. The expressions emanating from mortal minds are broken stamens, sticky stigmas. Striving for immortality, some Spanish philosopher (who looks like Don Quixote) says he understands and it's alright. I will read what he wrote and probably agree but is he immortal? Not his body, but his thoughts. True, I say, but this also: Not his mind, but his thoughts. Unchanging and finite. Put them in a hatbox and pass them on as heirlooms. To overhear the secret thoughts of others. Sharing and unsharing electrons, disrobing and bathing. That is the purpose of poetry. Gargoyle twice. Did Wim give each thought its own voice or use the same voice for all thoughts, every whim.
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32
Mighty walnut tree, Flanked by stately sycamores. Autumns disrobing.
0
Jun 8, 2012
Jun 8, 2012 at 9:00 PM UTC
Outside my window
Corsets and skirts and straw hats and Dream girl Take me aside with you in the cinema Dream girl Ruffles and maroon to your black hair and blue Hands on front from behind like you want to Dream girl, won't my parents see from ten yards away The room is flooding, I'm almost drowning Dream girl, I can't stay But panic dies down in a moment, the theater dissapears And then in that sea all I want is for you to hold me dear Swimming and kissing and gasping Dancing and laughing and caressing Embracing and loving and floating My eyes misting your raven hair shining We finally get to disrobing And then my alarm is ringing And into my pillow I'm swearing You know I'd rather be sleeping
0
Apr 15, 2018
Apr 15, 2018 at 9:16 AM UTC
Dream Girl
curled and cuddled together we lay on the dewy grass with only the forbidden fruit to share birds and insects chirps spiced the moonlit night as the aroma of the forest drifted and swirled around our entangled flame the curls of your African hair sent electric impulse across my sinewy muscles and a soft moan escaped my clenched mouth your crystal clear eyes was a reflecting pool of thirst and your face glowed with lust your ice cold tongue grazed over my lips depriving sanity from me i parted my twitching mouth and your juicy lips ****** my breath away your mesmerizing gaze hypnotized me as sensual hunger overwhelmed me i responded back by biting passionately, our hands roved over each other and we were lost in a reverie of epic disrobing the jealous moon glared fiercely at our magnificent anatomy as we flicked and licked to a thrilling and fulfilling feeling your guttural and purr noise turned me on and your caress and whispers caused ****** shocks that made my body tense i massaged your full eyesome  chest twins making your leg part i knelt between your knees and i knew it was the time the time to commit sin of worshiping between your thighs i slipped in your soppy bush and in i slid making bodies mold as one tearing my back with your long nails i ****** in you your heavy breathing and the boring gaze spelled all "go fast and don't stop" i implored your honeypot with bliss making your hips to dance at the rhythm of my successive ****** a building symphony was cresting so high nostrils flared and your legs locked behind my back our musical moaning reached crescendo euphoric sensation made us spasm pure deepening whirlpool of ecstasy made you writhe beneath me and contortions of ****** etched your innocent face i lay on you breathless as my sweat glands busted panting in afterglow of love making
0
Sep 27, 2015
Sep 27, 2015 at 11:18 AM UTC
carnal worship
curled and cuddled together we lay on the dewy grass with only the forbidden fruit to share birds and insects chirps spiced the moonlit night as the aroma of the forest drifted and swirled around our entangled flame the curls of your African hair sent electric impulse across my sinewy muscles and a soft moan escaped my clenched mouth your crystal clear eyes was a reflecting pool of thirst and your face glowed with lust your ice cold tongue grazed over my lips depriving sanity from me i parted my twitching mouth and your juicy lips ****** my breath away your mesmerizing gaze hypnotized me as sensual hunger overwhelmed me i responded back by biting passionately, our hands roved over each other and we were lost in a reverie of epic disrobing the jealous moon glared fiercely at our magnificent anatomy as we flicked and licked to a thrilling and fulfilling feeling your guttural and purr noise turned me on and your caress and whispers caused ****** shocks that made my body tense i massaged your full eyesome  chest twins making your leg part i knelt between your knees and i knew it was the time the time to commit sin of worshiping between your thighs i slipped in your soppy bush and in i slid making bodies mold as one tearing my back with your long nails i ****** in you your heavy breathing and the boring gaze spelled all "go fast and don't stop" i implored your honeypot with bliss making your hips to dance at the rhythm of my successive ****** a building symphony was cresting so high nostrils flared and your legs locked behind my back our musical moaning reached crescendo euphoric sensation made us spasm pure deepening whirlpool of ecstasy made you writhe beneath me and contortions of ****** etched your innocent face i lay on you breathless as my sweat glands busted panting in afterglow of love making
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44
this debt, this book, this tort, so overdue, uncivil wrong demanding reconciliation, that the librarians sent the hoodlums to remind me of my obligations there must be unfinished, three or four Gebbie precursors, lying about awaiting further final definition unmarshaled me, unable to see them through to completion, but my hindsight, my guilty plea, aided by an assertive, rear self-kicking, offers me some motivation immediacy When I see the Auckland Sky Center in photos, a hard hatted man with softest heart always, is on top, doing his native Aussie global (in place) walkabout, better to see, the cubature volume of the global poetry underneath his feet, the poetic underworld, needing a Gebbie supervisory drilling read down Enough! unsatisfactory above this ditty notation for one who tenders unto me comforting words that drill down so deeply, keeping, "the night shall not disrobe you," that only a single rhyming word is satisfactory but yet too, is insufficient to capture the audio of innards weeping surely aware, the nighttime, is when I best my own analytics, disrobing in a room of black letters on a white background for all who stumble by moonlight on the bards of "perchance,^" giving pieces of me to the those who not only read my verses, but those who ken that the unspoken spaces in between, containers of what is not writ, but only modestly well hid, is where lies oft the more important script and he gets that... where the skills when most needed? his precision will deserves artistry, not sophistry, and I am flailing, failing inadequately to pay my overdue it is early morn in Taranaki, perhaps he will see this lackey's lacking insufficiency, before he goes climbing man-made towers that bear witness to mens bigger dreams, perhaps when he returns later tonight, in a snifter of old malt scotch, his "last one for the road" he will see it floating, and think of me, this time, happily, disrobing mine soul's own nighttime, trusting him to keep all safe, entrusting it to him, and to Janet, my best, red and black, sweetest dreams <> https://hellopoetry.com/marshal-gebbie/ 9/5/17 13:55pm
0
Sep 5, 2017
Sep 5, 2017 at 1:53 PM UTC
"the night shall not disrobe you..." Marshal
this debt, this book, this tort, so overdue, uncivil wrong demanding reconciliation, that the librarians sent the hoodlums to remind me of my obligations there must be unfinished, three or four Gebbie precursors, lying about awaiting further final definition unmarshaled me, unable to see them through to completion, but my hindsight, my guilty plea, aided by an assertive, rear self-kicking, offers me some motivation immediacy When I see the Auckland Sky Center in photos, a hard hatted man with softest heart always, is on top, doing his native Aussie global (in place) walkabout, better to see, the cubature volume of the global poetry underneath his feet, the poetic underworld, needing a Gebbie supervisory drilling read down Enough! unsatisfactory above this ditty notation for one who tenders unto me comforting words that drill down so deeply, keeping, "the night shall not disrobe you," that only a single rhyming word is satisfactory but yet too, is insufficient to capture the audio of innards weeping surely aware, the nighttime, is when I best my own analytics, disrobing in a room of black letters on a white background for all who stumble by moonlight on the bards of "perchance,^" giving pieces of me to the those who not only read my verses, but those who ken that the unspoken spaces in between, containers of what is not writ, but only modestly well hid, is where lies oft the more important script and he gets that... where the skills when most needed? his precision will deserves artistry, not sophistry, and I am flailing, failing inadequately to pay my overdue it is early morn in Taranaki, perhaps he will see this lackey's lacking insufficiency, before he goes climbing man-made towers that bear witness to mens bigger dreams, perhaps when he returns later tonight, in a snifter of old malt scotch, his "last one for the road" he will see it floating, and think of me, this time, happily, disrobing mine soul's own nighttime, trusting him to keep all safe, entrusting it to him, and to Janet, my best, red and black, sweetest dreams <> https://hellopoetry.com/marshal-gebbie/ 9/5/17 13:55pm
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59
* Like a dark shadow fell down From the bright outer sky, Demise is the next phase of Life; A transform of dress, a disrobing; A creation into the unborn again; Beginning where we ended; Opening where we closed to rest; It is a crossroad of infinity; A bountiful of everything, to hold again for nothing. The end of the unreal, And the beginning of the real Carry me on your shoulders Let me enjoy the touch My passion and pleasure now on To place my cold lips on yours… Entrusting my body on you Love is so kind and not blind * ** By Williamsji Maveli ** Email:[email protected]
0
Jan 23, 2013
Jan 23, 2013 at 6:35 AM UTC
The Shadow ....
Sometimes I wish I could see into the future gaze Like Nostradamus into a pool of flaming water Tomorrow disrobing disclosing all her hidden secrets how seductive it would be to lift the fluttering veils between worlds seen and unseen read the destiny of uncharted stars soft multi-colored gaslights glimmering across the vaporous ethers but then I ponder in my heart to what avail would all this be if I don’t know who I am the vast person enthroned within who answers to a thousand names and no name The One in which the sun, moon planets, whirling galaxies, universes humanity and all that exists animate and inanimate moves, breathes and has its being
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Sep 23, 2014
Sep 23, 2014 at 10:25 AM UTC
Golden Oracle
That moment. Opening a new book, or a lovers first disrobing... So like Christmas day.
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Mar 1, 2016
Mar 1, 2016 at 1:41 PM UTC
So like Christmas Day
Afterlife. Naked, true. We are reborn By disrobing the disguise. Unmasked.
0
Jul 26, 2019
Jul 26, 2019 at 12:08 PM UTC
Afterlife
By: Cedric McClester It’s a game of semantics About Islam and phobia And despite your antics I’ve decided on disrobing ya Islam ain’t the enemy That you make it out to be Why use so much energy Trying to make me agree Islamic terrorism Is a contradictory term Islam stands for peace As over a billion Muslims Confirm Don’t judge ‘em by the deviants Who’ve strayed far from the path What about the vast majority do the math Why do you insist I say it Like there’s power in the words When I will never okay it Because of what it undergirds Islam ain’t the enemy But if you try hard enough You could really make it be Everything that you prescribe Like a self-fulfilling prophecy Why the need to demonize People you don’t understand I think that you’d be well-advised To deviate from your plan You’re sowing seeds of discord Every chance you get And people who should know better Are caught up in your net Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2016. All rights reserved.
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Jan 13, 2016
Jan 13, 2016 at 3:05 AM UTC
ISLAM AIN'T THE ENEMY
I weep in a dream I believe means that time does not mean a **** thing a land being just that nothing but clay and oil mixed with apes that **** atop every day buildings being harvested by drug cats meowing to the top with gangster chat bringing sawed offs to the rats trap Bilbo like, exploring the windows of the murderous widow alone, at home, but she already ***** a bone she's eating, cannibalism is her story. She twerks and starts  moaning, disrobing. Need to get out. Slowly leave, before she notices. That soulless ***** Moby **** the mammal that ate the Earth and then did spit, Gaia and Lucifer did omit, a light defined by the mind of that Titan Time gets kept lit, inside the internal spine of that being in which we live on Rock like Malphite an unstoppable force. A giant coy fish fighting the whale to take hold, and fulfill its ploy. Rainbow colored, with whiskers that whip, and whisper thunder. I wake up from this hallucinating slumber.
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Dec 5, 2015
Dec 5, 2015 at 3:46 PM UTC
Bitter deep sleep
i am the father of these words yet, these mischievous children run away in the loquacious dark chasing lithe-clothed, supple-limbed girls whirling up and about the prairie of these versifications without home in mind or remembering — (the home of my mind wary of the past and its old cobwebs, or the slaughter of ordinariness with a dull blade poised to cull, these mindful creatures assassinating diaphanous muses disrobing themselves, serpents shedding their integuments.) oh and when they return home sullied, after a day's squalid scamper past the muck, the twitch of atmosphere, the horizon ladled with clouds in white metamorphosis, i remove their clothes and send them to the fences of sleep — impish dream-callers, yes I am the father of these words and they flourish, swelling up, learning to harangue their own father, sending him to borderless retreat.
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Oct 8, 2015
Oct 8, 2015 at 9:08 AM UTC
Father Of These Words