"emotive" poems
it ain't easy, when you relate, restrict and delegate,
when you draw a narrow lane on a highway that says
only left footed
poets need apply
<>
it does not say
**slow cars stay to the right,
only trucks,
or oddly even,
no trucks**
I love seasonality,
without thickly thinking
you take a break
from the poetry writing
one day I'll figure out a way
to monetize my love poems,
publish them as Shakespeare's couple(t)s,
"new edition plus
a couple of
newfound poems!"
maybe some fools will buy some thinking Shakespeare has been, resurrected!
*love grows goes hot all over and
grow slower older
and grow colder,
in between those fine
ticklish teasing moments*
when the miracle of resurrection repeats itself
something is said
a gesture is made
a finger strokes the cheek,
unexpected
and it all comes
rushing back again,
overfilling
that coffee cup mug she bought
just(ice)
for you
*ain't gonna check how long it's been
since last I declaimed, disclaimed,
inflamed,
these pages with an only love poem
but I do know this:
it is something I think about,
It is something I know about,
it is something I feel about
daily
even on the nothing days,
when routine takes over
I know you couldn't remember of its passage,
is the waking up and the lying down to sleep*
but the poets eyes are always open his emotive secret senses,
always alert,
what's that thing they always say,
his heart just wasn't in it!
(🥴if they only knew the truth😘)
Jun 25, 2025
Jun 25, 2025 at 6:04 PM UTC
A dropped ball on the goal line
A tackle missed down field
It's amazing how a football game
Can make a man's mind yield
We come to tears when our teams lose
Even worse when our team wins
It's when we show all our emotions
It's when we break the MANLY SINS
But our girlfriend gets real angry
When we don't utter a word
When they want to talk of feelings
It's a word we've never heard
We're MEN and **** proud of it
We show support for MANLY things
Like football games and racing cars
Not relationshippy things
We wear our hearts upon our sleeve
When the two minute gun has sounded
When the game has come to overtime
When the last corner has rounded
We sit upon our seats edge
Nothing can break us from this trance
Not even when our **** girl
Comes and does a naked dance
But our girlfriend gets real angry
When we don't utter a word
When they want to talk of feelings
It's a word we've never heard
We're MEN and **** proud of it
We show support for MANLY things
Like football games and racing cars
Not relationshippy things
We cry when our dog passes
We get upset when things go wrong
But we'll never show emotion
To a ****** Adele song
We aren't built to be emotive
At least not when women want us to
I'll tell you more about emotion
When the football season's through
Sep 3, 2012
Sep 3, 2012 at 4:18 PM UTC
People regard *** differently:
Some see *** as a commodity; to be exchanged for favors and things.
Some see *** as a medium for emotive and spiritual expression.
Some see *** as merely a means to a purely biological end.
Some see *** as a good time and not much else.
Some see *** as a set of diminishing returns.
Some see *** as an escape from themselves.
Some see *** with a keyboard and mouse.
Some see *** as a communion of Temples.
Some see *** as something not to discuss.
Some see *** as just another thing to do.
Some see *** as a battleground for Lust.
Some see *** as an extra long shower.
Some see *** as profane and obscene.
Some see *** an personal preference.
Some see *** as ages-old Dogma.
Some see *** as Heterosexuality.
Some see *** as all that there is.
Some see *** as uncomfortable.
Some see *** philosophically.
Some see *** as a distraction.
Some see *** as meaningless.
Some see *** as a way of life.
Some see *** as a good time.
Some see *** as metaphor.
Some see *** as necessity.
Some see *** as a luxury.
Some see *** as a game.
Some see *** as Mythic.
Some see *** as a drug.
Some see *** as Virtue.
Some see *** as Logic.
Some see *** as Good.
Some see *** as Love.
Some see *** as Lust.
Some see *** as Evil.
Some see *** as Sin.
Few see *** the same way:
How do you see ***
The only right answers for you are yours.
How do you see ***
From the first person, or perhaps third?
Is *** a vicarious thing, or is it personal?
How do you see ***
Is promiscuity absurd?
How do you see ***
Can your ****** life affect others?
How do you see ***
Does it matter who it's with?
Does it matter with how many?
Does it matter how rapidly?
Does it matter why?
It sure does to me.
Does it matter for how long?
Does it matter how often?
Does it matter where?
Does it matter when?
Not with the right person.*
Jul 3, 2013
Jul 3, 2013 at 8:50 AM UTC
****** Escapades & Moonlight Serenades,
The Crystal Apparitions In Her Sanctified Masquerade,
Paper Trails Breathing Under Water,
Out From The Ember, Her Seductions Conquer,
Silhouettes Of Her Castle Clouds,
Injecting Primal Instincts Out Loud,
Eleven Summers In Her Pseudo Emotive Desires,
Holographic Afterlights & Freezing Fires.
Twilight Light Bulbs Under The Liquid Nights,
****** Openings Of Her Sensory Delights,
Unfettered Mythomania & Kaleidoscopic Highs.
****** Verses Scattering Light.
Divine Impulses & Rainbow Divinity,
Spellbound Chaos In Her Dilated Virginity,
Intimate Enigmas Veiled In Shades Of Insanity,
Makeshift Empathy Resonating Sympathy,
Animated Specters Reflecting Crimson Streams,
Oceans Tides Pulsating In Her Silent Screams,
Static Reveries Of Her Cryptic Demise,
Textured Amplifications Emanating Chronic Lies.
- 03:04AM -*
Mar 19, 2017
Mar 19, 2017 at 5:40 PM UTC
Violent waves of emotion
overtake me completely
no control over their motion
I'm lost in their sea
Nov 4, 2013
Nov 4, 2013 at 5:41 AM UTC
born underwater a ****** to the birth of creation
complacent verses bathing in lakes wasted her patience
ocean poems emotive prose the notions grow
breast strokes sowed in silly string civilized sovereignty
divinity’s reliance divided by Earth’s dire needs
fires breathe regardless of the rain she breeds
seeds beneath the sand hold no reason to lie in wake
so we speak in foreign tongues with dominance a mistake
to take her language for another world
visions died with imminence and grandiosity
a coliseum’s misconstruction catalyzed combustion’s coldest counterculture
living within the wind sinning stings it’s singularity
glaring stares impaired all sages of their clarity
careful conscious turned rotten swimming in the toxins
glossy water robs apostles of oxygen
filtered riddles fiddled this conviction’s symmetry
& now the god’s live in ignorance and misery
crimson skies abysmal cries they’re looking at the ground
astounded to the loud doubts that overpower clouds
powdered optometry devoured flowers of their solitude
another rotten petal for every sentiment left misunderstood
confused prisoners gifted with the write to think
proles sentenced to wonder why the caged bird sings
a paradox of broken thoughts to question it’s intentions
matter undermined the undefined enlightenment
spirals in the light comprise a present tense
evanescent destination sensei keep I humble
so many stripes up in my wavelengths
widowed endorphins scrape the pain away
balanced chemically an efficacy of electricity
many marvel but the master’s prophecy is destiny
Dec 1, 2013
Dec 1, 2013 at 4:13 PM UTC
Many moons ago
With sips of exotic coffee
And a fluid conversation
With a profound beauty
Laying next to her
Drowning into her eyes
With ambience so tranquil
Celebrating gravity of being
With emotive senses
And precise words
With last sip
Finally he proposed her
"Come live in my heart"
"And stay musing"
"And let me embrace you"
"At soul level"
"Like a poetry"
Looking into his eyes
With next sip
She replied
"You're welcome"
"With a vibe like that"
"You have touched my trust"
"I want to read you"
"In more ways, than one"
"Like a poetry"
Feb 8, 2023
Feb 8, 2023 at 2:49 AM UTC
Chasing each moment,
as a pendulum swings on and on.
Dancing in the flight
of a sensitive mystery.
When the light switches on,
I stand there frozen.
An emotive string flows
through me and throughout.
The laws of unrequitement
damper all the smiles.
The flaws of each entity,
tear my soul thin as ice.
I know what must be done,
but can't bring myself
to let go.
Apr 16, 2013
Apr 16, 2013 at 9:12 PM UTC
God **** it felt good on the days you were happy to see me. Once I thought I heard you sing me a love song, and meant it, but I guess I was mistaken. I've been trying to fill these empty spots, so my heart would no longer have to hear you leave me. For all the ghosts that waltz in my bedroom, this is for the time we tried to break our walls. If you ever want to know what it felt like when you left, just ask. I'll try to hold back my pain like a shotgun shell, but don't hold it against my love when his finger slips, he just gets so nervous every time you're around him. And I didn't mean to explain myself, but I've been having knife fights with my emotions, and cutting out wind instruments since the moment you left. If you've ever wanted to know how it felt when you left, just look at my eyes. That's not holy water you see but a man letting his emotions free.
May 19, 2011
May 19, 2011 at 12:21 AM UTC
All I want is to be naked
I wish to be vulnerable
I'm encased in a web of emotive calamity
Trapped in cold stone and empty waves
Locked in materialism,
Social apathy suffocates me
I need air...
From the womb of modernity,
Claustrophobia is born
I gasp
I need to feel free...
I need to be held...
I need to be exposed...
This musty cell of modern depravity,
Vanity,
Pride,
Self-seeking,
Commercialism,
Disregard,
Apathy,
Greed,
Hate...
It chokes me with the foul stench of death
The scent that tells me darkness falls
I can see no virtue in this prison
A veil is pulled upon me,
And I'm engulfed in merciless dissociation
I need to drink crisp waters
From the fountain of harmony
I need to be caressed
In the warm ***** of compassion
I need to soar
On the vigorous gales of freedom
I need to be...naked
Strip me of possession,
Unravel my desires,
Hold me in your arms,
And let us be naked together!
Cast off allure of material treasure,
Come embrace your human pleasure!
Somewhere outside this dark room
Over the stone walls that encompass us,
There is a light that sings to me
I can break the walls and burn the bridge,
Cast aside the past of ego
And lead us to a world of dreams
Would you follow me?
Would you break the shackles of your possession?
Cast aside the love of things,
Replace it with the things of love?
Have we drifted so far apart as a people
That we have no room to breathe?
I think not.
This prison of emotive distress,
This cage of idiosyncratic routine,
This lockdown hysteria of need,
It's merely a base from which to start
The distance between us all
Only leaves room for us to grow
I can see the walls break down,
The old facades are wearing thin,
And I'm peeling away the trappings
Of things I thought I knew
But knew I never truly wanted
With them, walls will break
With them falls the cage
And through the coming of the things I see so clear
Like love and peace and harmony
Nakedness and connectivity
(No need for greed,
No need for possession)
I can see the walls tear down
And with their fall I know it's coming:
The day where all are free to fly.
Jun 29, 2013
Jun 29, 2013 at 2:32 PM UTC
Cocoon suspended ‘neath a branch,
Out of harmer’s range;
Churning in tight quarters then,
Awaiting for the change.
A cast she’d spun with great detail,
To blend into the scene;
Remain innocuous, choosing plain,
To spend such days serene.
This sanctuary has terms of time;
Yet flippant so, of sight;
Blinded by the darkness kept,
May only dream of flight.
There, outside this nurturing crypt,
Lies futures yet untold;
Exploring freedom, airless hours,
As wings will then unfold.
Alterations to her inner form
Complete in all detail;
While oblivious to worlds unknown--
Mem’ries without a trail.
As perforations tear a fold,
In which she will embark,
To crystal, glowing cast of moon
Within this evening, dark;
She wrestles to uncurl her girth
And wingspan so anew;
That seems so awkward, foreign and
Has converted different hue.
Now perched upon her drying bed,
She fans while instincts try
To capture sens’ry explosions
That lay to foundling’s eyes.
Beyond the glen, a spot she sees;
A single glowing blur.
Just then each tree bends toward one side,
As breaths sweep under her.
Weightless, floating, movement new,
She tests her longer arms,
That reach, manipulating wind,
Should quivers strike alarm.
The lure of the eerie glow,
Possess investigation,
As closer toward the light she flies,
Embraced with consternation.
Near collision with the beacon,
She’s halted in mid-air;
Translucent strings of sticky form,
She didn’t see, were there.
She wrestles, tries to free herself,
While a shadow looming near
Smiles with contentment of
His cunning craft of snare.
Slowly he approaches while
She looks to see his eyes,
So vacant of emotive flush,
With fear she starts to cry.
The octo-legged creature then,
Inserts his poisoned quill,
As venom circulates her life,
He waits until she’s still.
Then coils her in silky thread,
While dancing ‘bout his room.
Tho’ this is of his own design,
She returns, inside cocoon.
As thoughts of life, such brevity,
Released of any pain.
She closes youthful eyes at last,
And dreams of flight again.
Jul 4, 2010
Jul 4, 2010 at 6:23 AM UTC
A cider and a minder
Passing time as a reminder
Pink glow and songs flow
A waxy time erodes the mow
Renegades and perspiration responds
Swimming in winded seas of Jordan
Heated in space, evicted in their pace
Libido fails as the liquor dilutes in taste
Catch an esse as the moonlight smite
Hold another to fake a romantic right
Filter to the cards of ace as the one winks
Emotive intruders farm in fields of pastures
Imbued with alcoholic waterfalls
Molehills of termites condense lose soil
A lack of connection a taunt that apes
Future anthems triumph in hungered strums
Amused by the music erupting volcanoes
A morrow blows as the candle slows
To tow the tall grassed disused straw
A spring to summer that promises sun rays
A resolve to moderation to preserve modesty
A kiss stored forever peeping the awing stars
To guard a heart and hatch uniformity
Trembles justly forgotten in termed premises
Apr 19, 2016
Apr 19, 2016 at 2:42 PM UTC
What I feel are rivers filled
with droplets made of life.
Life rushes
over stone and wears
away through mountains,
lakes are memories
met by rivers
states of mind
crossroads
crossrivers.
Which channel
will I flow through?
and how many times?
How deep will I let it go before
it becomes so dark
that I can't see
the bottom?
Oct 2, 2014
Oct 2, 2014 at 4:04 PM UTC
You were jovial,
Effortlessly happy and
Forever wanting.
I was Christmas morning,
A time so covered in lights and bows
That even darkness gets gift-wrapped.
It hides behind frames
Made empty by time
And beneath the hats of red-clad alcoholics
Making empty promises
To wide-eyed little strangers who swear...
They've been extra good this year.
A reprieve so emotive
That it could only ever be temporary.
Like the love for that toy you begged for for months
And only played with for five minutes.
A memory so fond it hurts.
Thrown into the back of your mind
With all the other lost toys.
Feb 5, 2013
Feb 5, 2013 at 1:52 AM UTC
I wish I had was and were
in control
gained a power
over them
those wistful verbs
with too much
to do with my today
but if
and could are not very likely
to cause
my words to be
more impressively
effective
at changing
anything.
Mar 26, 2015
Mar 26, 2015 at 2:02 AM UTC
(G)
Life as a burden is decent
Treading in hatched up waterways
Swimming in the green brine ebbing tides
Drowned in emotive stances
A being intensified in rapid torrents
Ohh my…fickleness soaked in curiosity
(J)
Decent sounds pretty substantial
I lay acquainted to swampy lowlands
My footsteps have tasted salty waters
Stepped, wadding inside the muddy landscape
Inch by inch, halfway, fully submerged
Overloaded by the tide gasping for oxygen
(G)
Populaces catwalk with intellectual deficit
Footsteps bereft of creativity and eloquence
The grounds lay dry strangling the in-between
The desert begging to lose their sandy dry skin
The forest whispers with a revolt of transformation
The luscious green splash life sparking drones
(J)
Your analogy sways the natured array of trees
The inspiration stings the sun to radiate warmth
All patched in the blueness of bellowing skies
My lungs deflate even on intense inhalation
I tarmac on the passage of time, differently wired
Intermittently cyanosed in faded lived moments
(G)
For poetry and art scaffolds and shapes reality
It sparks life and eliminates the drone mentality
Artists arouse inspiration and boost human nature
It bridges the narrowing ledge of ( human diversity/ instead of/ diverse species)
It drives conversation and deepens basic pleasantries
Rotating notions, promoted to a present and active human
(J)
I object not, for human essence is essential
A foundation of humanity that inspires and frees
A deed that dips in the depth of a lush oasis
Most sunk and waving “a celebration of celebrities”
Falsified lionization, a control of master puppeteer
Amused by insight, the reciprocal contract of empathy
G= Graff1980
J=SassyJ
Jan 18, 2016
Jan 18, 2016 at 7:01 AM UTC
A trilogy of love: bared, shared, pared
Lust's shallow wave: crests, cascades, crashes
Deeper, emotive swells: rise, rumble, release
Conflicting currents form rip tide: tugging, tossing, tearing
Amor's undulating rhythms pulsate
Low tide, latent fantasies surface ego to ingratiate
High tide, a endless churning of desires our longing cannot satiate
Libidinous breakers scour lecherous bottom; a brackish foam doth emanate
In the deeper recesses of our minds, a rational connection percolates
From the depths, a heart-felt ****** rises; a growing bond initiates
Two, constant minds mutually sharing space; each hope, dream resonates
Surface tension increases; two hearts mount each obstacle, common course navigates
Nearing balmy shore, strong winds of indifference blow
Into eroding channels untested lovers unwittingly row
Selfish goals drag the unstable pair into the undertow
Corrosive fears, unmitigated doubts sever trust placing love in escrow
Sep 16, 2011
Sep 16, 2011 at 4:58 AM UTC
Retro Morn: Re-Reading Jenny (1.) and Her Purple Hat, (2.), Listening to Vonda Shepard
I am a beautiful woman, and reliably informed so,
by handsome. men, lustful fools, and one too many
sideward glances
in a difference place, musical needs call me out to retro smooth me
away from the waves of nausea of news repeats ingested, the lesser
qualities of human beings basic basest nature, I inhale subdued
Jenny’s defiance of life’s expectations and Vonda’s voice
smooth my discordant emotive candles that won’t stay lit,
add in a touch of melting Joni & Divine Ms. Bette,
gets me slow kickstarting
and I have not reached
the lofty plateau of
twenty five years of age
*but my mom, the Queen Regent, reminds me royalty possesses
very old souls, which Is why I’m caught out listening, dancing
awake to the music of her youth* and hear her discreetly humming the tunes, even though the phone connection broken minutes earlier
she signed off with a practised Elizabethan airy disturbance royal wave of her hand, instructing this raining (no, not reigning)
Queen to “darling go write a poem…”
don’t we all listen to our mothers?*
my name is brandychanning
music inhale subdued kickstarting a poem
Dec 13, 2023
Dec 13, 2023 at 12:35 PM UTC
As night fell, winds whispered his
name; I curled into its breeze as
each leaf danced in syllabic count
with each breath he'd breathe.
I'd smile as he'd toss and turn
emanating masculinities
ambrosia, fingertip tracing
lightly as not to awaken him,
absorbing the moment of us.
Fore, I know there'd never be
another that can arouse emotive
ruminations of him and I as I look
upon his slumbering countenance.
Wanting to slide within his warmth,
embracing the ambiance of what
we have between us, an affinity
of lifetime entwined.
Jun 14, 2012
Jun 14, 2012 at 2:24 AM UTC
everyone has gone back to suburbia,
city streets are dangerous, if you look
at someone cross eyed, it earns you death.
don’t celebrate this madness,
mourn it in black, it has a taken
a pandemic to school me again.
this a broadcast, shout out, email me
if you know how I’m feeling and can
share what other mutualities crisscross.
Do you like Jazz? Me neither.
Flouncy bouncy dresses? Nah!
Sweats? Unnecessary, I can sweat
just by concentrating.
You like me, own soulful bluesy singers,
femme fatales, who coax and croon,
wet the spun threads of subtle emotive,
who live by light of candles votive,
I live in black, day and nighttime,
write in midnight blue, a woman who!
takes no b.s. and doesn’t ever take no
for an answer...
Aug 23, 2020
Aug 23, 2020 at 2:10 PM UTC
My hands around your heart,
grip ceasing pulsation,
dying sconce, ember fades.
Convulsion, revulsion,
pathetic emotive,
response contradiction.
Electrically impulsive
transmission flat lines addiction,
and radiates into ether.
© Copyright Mr. James P Machen 26/08/2014 for viewing only. May not be replicated.
Apr 16, 2014
Apr 16, 2014 at 8:46 PM UTC
So Called Friends
So called friends
are
frank
As the feelingless words
They always use
and
prank.
Friendship with me
They
end
As mine are emotive words
And in them
I cannot
blend.
S. Bharat
May 3, 2019
May 3, 2019 at 5:58 AM UTC
He's feeling,
feeling the brushing of her eyelashes,
they're stroking his face,
once were wet with tears,
now strokes of thick set mascara,
as next to him she bathes,
she tickles his face with those lashes,
teasing his emotions,
proceeding to hold his face in her hands,
an element of control,
injected only by her steamy fingers,
she's whispering in a taut voice,
"you will love me, I swear you will".
Her fixed china smile,
it's painted in place,
as flesh coloured eggshell,
with slight tint of rouge,
almost a puppet,
He tries to smile,
responds only by snatching her cheeks,
and he replies to her remarks," I would so love to love you back."
but ,baby, I swear I just can't"
(C) Livvi
Jun 4, 2014
Jun 4, 2014 at 6:34 PM UTC
Solar flares, deep space chambermaid stabbing her
molten mop in contempt.
There are so many squares that field her space,
sifted afire.
Tearing out rays of her hair to be, and be
beautiful...to see her strands descending lit, the
stress level of an unforgettable goddess.
She yearns head-over-heels, burns out her core
with blinding reason.
Not once was she afforded a mirror to know her
space.
Wiry stick figures subsist under her--fatalistically
emotive.
Summed up, as water broken, transparent as the
life seen through.
What pagan rite has shimmied out her soul, what
serpent slid her warmth sane?
Do not site dawn or dusk, mistake her outer life
for an inner one!
Do not presume the burden of her focal point, her
light hangs overhead swaying interrogation.
Caught perfectly for Platonic cave or other...
in utero, her light a stillborn beauty--as alive as
ever once away from her.
She's up, burning...console her, her blood is boiling--
she wants to be accounted for, to outgrow that coo.
Only to surprise once and for all a stone's underbelly.
Nov 9, 2013
Nov 9, 2013 at 10:57 AM UTC
I remember the first time I laid eyes on him, that
emotive whirlwind within at the sight of him
I swooned inwardly, blinking...
overtaken by the moment, a radiance connected us;
his visage emanated strength beyond his brawny
physique and his handsomeness
our dawning...
love awakened at the sight of him; keeping bedroom eyes
mentally closed, but, longing to feel him against me
became a resting place in my heart
his eyes were so, tender, I wanted to finger trace his lips,
slowly, allowing him to taste the first breath of our moment
one moonlit night...
he approached, another swoon moment, I melted in his
arms as he whispered in the arch of sultry heat uncovering
the fabric of my being
love aroused...
and our essence melded; one breath...ours mingled,
became precious as wet stained kisses rained
upon upturned pout
taste of him left me adorned, in naked shadows of midnight,
love found; bound by blushed sighs, in demureness I lean
into manliness breathing shades of his love
lost...
in syllabic whispers, drenched in poetry of us, where want
dawdles at the door of need as desire entwines igniting our
flame and I melt between the folds of Him and I
evolving...
in the archway of love at first sight
Jul 18, 2013
Jul 18, 2013 at 8:15 PM UTC