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Dani Jan 18
A land only nature has touched
A lion to its prey, clutched
Before that though
The Lion crept up real slow
Crouched down real low
He puts on a good show
Creeping and crawling
Absolutely stalking
His ***** orange coloring
Unseen by a prey so alluring
His big tufted paws are like a quiet breeze
Unheard by a prey totally at ease
His eyes focus, like a morning lotus
Finding the sun with such slowness
Silently stalking towards prey, not yet ferocious
A gleaming meaty meal ready to devour
Just another moment and little prey will cower
First a pounce with claws drawn out
Then a bite and a shake, making the prey shout
Now a *****!
Chewing prey up before its deceased
Drug across the land only nature has touched
A lion has won it’s hunt, quiet now, be hushed
Can you hear nature sing, the way she does
With violence and beauty no matter if lion or cheetahs
Now humans are different! Or is it really so?
The desire the same as a beasts hunt, reaping what we sow
A need to ***** and overpower
A craving to devour
devouring our lust driven, instinctual driven desires...
zebra Nov 2018
the virgins ravenous vault
college girl ******
a seething abashment
with mixed loyalties
who belongs to no one
ferocious for annihilation
*** blast
poured out from essence
spread shanks
wet spot
hot shots
meditative and gleaming

huge hearted
she is one and many
choking on desire
far flung in Turkish bath fantasies
a singing **** tearing heaps of suns
like burns and spatters
her ***, a high pitched note
his ****, rage at bay
poised hot **** ****
gasping fire

*** criminal's

foot kissing
****** biters
Sylvia Plath was referred to as "The Smith College ******" in some biographical material. I love her poetry, like incredibly, and so by the proxy of her literature I remain very much in love with her both as a writer and as a woman, albeit a vivid fantasy. That love remains amplified by her suicide as I find myself still aching about her now, 50 years after her death. I remain continually mesmerized by the appalling dread, yet sensuality of her draped corpse hanging out of the oven. Her dead body is an ineffable poem of grace in form and shuddering despair. I always want to rescue her.... It gnaws! This poem is prompted by Sylvia Plath, a Goddess of modern language, her youthful passions, and inconsolable despair.
lirau Jul 2018
The dark reflects off the mirrors
A long t-shirt fondly used to cover my mornings
Fell for what sought me

With ferocious caresses
I am a carcass thrown to a starving lion.
But I'm still breathing
Against the shoulders above me
In return

He prowls
The rainforest path of clothing,
Tugging the shirt back over my head.
written in a starbucks while staring at my friend
edited Aug 12
Ayush Shrestha Aug 2017
You
I look upon the sapphire sky,
perfectly tranquilised,
with the birds flying happily.
I listen to the unchained melody
of the ferocious waterfall
and feel it inside me.
I look at mother nature
looking beautiful as ever,
like a fresh rose in June.
Then I look at you,
these three words come out of my mouth automatically,
I love you
Francie Lynch Apr 2018
Four you already know,
But I can't, I won't,
Put them in writing... allegedly.
The Fifth is my favorite.
Adrift on the Bering Strait,
On an ice flow,
Followed by habitat strained
Polar Bears.
(We'll give him an oar)
Upon landing on the opposite shore,
To be met
By a voracious, ferocious,
And *******,
Russian bear.
Five is probably too low a number.
ryn Nov 2014
While you were away,
My words seem to fall on deaf ears.
Unvoiced mutterings that fall out in droves,
Burning rants swallowed back in singes and sears...

While you were away,
Time was stagnant; a viscous puddle.
Hours only stretched longer,
The second hand jabbing its ferocious needle...

While you were away,
The clock drove me insane.
Ticking my life away in literal seconds.
Losing sand grain by grain...

While you were away,
And when it's all quiet and dark,
I could hear my heartbeat...
Awaiting the new day to make its mark.

While you were away,
My words seem to have lost their meaning...
As if they were stuck in limbo,
Unanswered calls that keep on ringing...

While you were away,*
I am but a little lost foal...
Because whenever you're away,
I am never whole...
seethroughme Nov 2009
all the blood and violence
awakened ferocious appetite for life
a bright gleaming hunger
on the edge of the knife
every moment a juicy morsel
born from strife
cait-cait Sep 2018
you’re a sick, sick person
my little,
                old
love.

with eyes like ferocious , angry
beetles, you
chew into me and cut out
tiny,
        stinging
                       holes.

if only you knew i wasn’t invincible,
if only you knew
                              you were toxic.

the cement is wet when you bash my head
open,
and
the cement is still wet when it
rains.
my mom said "who cares what they think. theyll never understand it, and you dont have to say this part out loud, but things are different now."
Lora Lee May 2016
I am hungry
and it is reflected
in the contours
of every inch
                  of skin
every cell a-flutter
tiny wings and heartbeats
activated within
right down to
the ribosomes and
kidney-shaped
mitochondria
right up through epidermis
woven as threads
of softness penetrating
your inner hard, dark parts
causing them
to melt into
                my light
I am craving
to feel your
absolute heart's
raging core
my aching flesh burning,
my heart, wrapped in
a love
              so pure
My need to be
devoured surfaces
in smoothness,
at a glance
You feel it acutely,
no room for doubt
or subtle chance
               I am ravenous
for muscle-worked arms
(arms that could easily
try to break)
to be supremely
gentle as you part
my thighs like the ocean
and sacredly partake
the slickness of your tongue
in my feminine grace
the stains of my love
drenching
                your noble face
your eyes on mine
as I sharply breathe
         need to hold your
head stroke your
           hair know that for me              
the king takes off that
garland of gold
breaking free of
all symbols of status
the only real treasure
the queen who
gives to him,
and who he now pleasures
     and I let myself be consumed
with the reverence
of a psalm
my love pouring into you
healing your hurts,
               like a balm
in this private landscape
we are the most
ferocious of tender
estuaries
in an eternal vista
in this hour of somewhere,
the sea hauls us in
like ancient creatures,
     bringing the fossils
back to life
in lustrous foam
as they
         inch their way
into the spirals
    that we
feel we could
call
     home‎
Appropriately attuned with "Alternate World" by Son Luxe...yes in an alternate world, so much could happen
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5wnIs71n_kE
and, for the mood:  "Hazey"by Glass Animals
Yes.
yuki motokane Dec 2016
heart was the forest
trampled upon on with haste
sawed to halves
now a barren land

you came
watered my saplings
tended the leaves
brought upon me sunshine

with all you could give
like a gardener
had a connection with i
a ferocious fire blossomed

love we called it
but the flames, scattered
like forest fires
destroyed me once again
and yet it didn't matter
Connor Aug 2018
Pleasing each other in the perfect
black night
(wretched forest)

Hands gripped tight against your waist,
on my knees, the dirt below digs into my skin
which is okay
We can hardly be heard midst the lively pandemonium
surrounding our loveliness

Drop-down
like a Luciferean Prima Donna
in silk /
walk on flowers of both Hemispheres
telling me how much you adore me & you

As equals in our posture-possession
unable to stand straight/shrouded by holy creamy
doves closing-in
muffling our mutual shrieks (as to be private and without gathering too much a crowd)

O Autumn Calypso
keeper of the scales, of the riddle
& the promise simultaneous -
- I am your victim and your master, trafficking our fragility
into a glorious Unknown, shade & essence of leaves wavers in the quieting hour,
seduced - transfixed & ravished in a wondrous spectacle
with Enchanter's nightshade laurel endowed on high

****, close and
hot - unrehearsed arias told by tongues  -
while we seep further in a hallowed guise/harp misplaced -
excommunicated from the Stead we traversed
before on ideal grounds – too late to remember or
repent – dabbling in magic with our double identity - now one insoluble drapery of illuminations
being shepherded into a ferocious
intoxication of its own fluid magnificence – a Narcissus gazing back, decaying with vehemence
Kara Jean Apr 2016
Touch a rush
Floral green trim
A dress of deceit
Ferocious credibility
Strike, shock and distraught
Question her everything
A maddening cluttered up chest  
Red unprinted marking
She is a tempus tip toeing
Digesting hearts of many
Warned, they crawl
Enthralled, lurking for her gore
Her dress tore in natural beauty  
Cleaning syrup from her finger tips
ryn Oct 2014
She comes to me every night...
When all is asleep with stars lit yonder.
Comes to me with subtle might
Peeking fiendishly from darkness's cover

Await such time she'd choose to show
Await the chance to finally take.
Ready to pounce like a well tensioned bow
Arrow-like talons, ever honed to stake.

Awake or asleep, she would come without fail.
Creep is her gait; this shadow clad figure.
Always a ***** in my impervious mail.
Claiming her wants with ferocious fervour.

Deemed to be strong, easier to succumb.
Don't fight...don't struggle... Don't call for aid...
Just wait and will yourself numb
She'd come regardless of prayers that's said.

She was here with me last night
In bed, I stared at a being that's faceless...
And my heart wrenched tight.
Gripping and feeding me senseless...

Soon as she came, she left but not before
Siphoning the good and replacing with dread...
Stole was what she did; left me wanting more...
Once deed is done, into the dark she fled.

I know her all too well,
Nocturnal guest that I unknowingly invite
Her intentions to incite, not quell
Send me spiralling through emotional blight.

Day will recede, making room for dark
She'll come; swift and without sound.
She'll arrive majestic; inflicting her mark
I'll wait for her, ready and unbound.

Looking forward to her return
This silent foe whom I find familiar.
With every touch I cringe and burn
Oh secret friend whom I'm beginning to savour...

She is synonymous with various names
Each would bear the likeness of semblance
Let fly her cloak of not dissimilar aims
Endearingly I call her...,

Despondence...
zumee Jun 2018
You **** Sapiens; us neanderthals
exist together
in separate contexts:

You
Move mountains of meaning with the swipe of an opposable thumb,
Fill your coffers with shiny, expendable treasure.

we
gather bundles of metaphor to keep warm
hunt ferocious words to survive
Kara Jean May 2016
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"
patty m Sep 2015
My Mom could really whistle
It had a warning sound
I could hear it blocks away
and knew it meant homeward bound.

She'd bandage all my boo boo's
I was accident prone you see
but she was always patient
and took good care of me.

Mom had a psychic connection
before it was a fad
She knew everything bad I did
and threatened to tell my dad.

Mom was loving and tender as can be
she told me that she loved me when she had
to punish me
She said it hurt her more than it was hurting me.
Well maybe so but at the time,
that wasn't easy to see.

I remember her demeanor when I told a lie
and that it made her mad and sad
and even made her cry.
Ashamed I promised I'd be good
from that day till my end
if only she'd forgive me
and be my mom and friend.

I remember now the fun we shared
how she laughed, and how much she cared.
I wish I could tell her so, because
Mom was better than any action hero
you might have seen,
she could look completely ferocious
and wow, you should have heard her scream.

She was a conglomeration of
feisty, sweet and bad
and gave us a run for our money
sometimes irking dad.  

But I wouldn't have wished for
another mother, she was perfect
and I want you all to know
that's why I renamed her title
and she became MOMBO.
Canis Latrans Feb 21
The graphite colored smoke, that rose from your charcoal covered body, in billows of silver.
The ferocious orange and yellow flames, that dance at the thought of bringing your bones into the sun.
The smell.
Sandalwood and gasoline.
Omi Mar 8
It starts. He stares.
A ferocious beast she sees, a human he is.
He strips her
Slowly gliding his hands from her neck to its base
Electrifying each nerve, she shivers.

In her vortex of deepest waters, he goes.
Eyes locked.
She remembers to exhale.
You make me weak, she whispers
as the tension intensified with each ******.

He maddened
Pulling her in, wrapping her legs around him.  
Lost in her moans as he reaches for her peak,
he sees her; she is his clair de lune.
The river flows in her.

And as she weakens
he holds her firmly till her waters flow.
For she is his redemption.
Onoma Nov 9
if i say: I'm not myself--

i laugh myself off the

corners of a mirror.

then thank something

or other for the

everchanging.

with a ferocious

vehemence, clear as

water and electricity.
Chris Nov 2016
i wanted to be more than life stuck in these bones,
but they're intent on running.
i thought i'd be content with settling down
but i think they are hunting for something.
i can see myself moving from city or town
though its hard to feel more than motionless
when about a month maybe more
is all you'll make an appearance for.
i'd like to feel more than simply life in these bones
but right now they're only good for aching.

matching socks hide away my weak feet for a while
but it doesn't take long for the absence of skin--
reminding me my brittle feet are breaking,
creaking, wary under the weight of heavy bones.

my hands feel empty.
but doctor's say nothing's missing...
i know i'm losing something to distance
you can hear it if you listen.

i keep replaying the sound of your whole life splitting
its way from mine
a misgiving sound for a while i'd been wishing
not to listen to, but i
decided to make it into an alarm clock instead
to keep me from dreaming too big, because
nothing scares me quicker from sleep.
i'm relearning how ferocious
your memory could be.

and only when you look you will see
inside your reflection--half of what you should be
not a would-be, but a could've-been
stuck with ******' half-life personalities
singing for their expiration dates,
cracking under your empty gravity.
breaking, fading, floating away from reality.
it took too many broken bones
to realize how unbroken we weren't supposed to be.

myself personally, i think there's no sense in
looking in the mirror
when i see no more beauty there.
i could let loose these slippery bones
and collapse on the floor.
and i figure to stay here a while, because
i can't sleep inside silence anymore.
city sounds don't cut it, so
i let your memory whisper faintly to me
but not so gently, more in line with a taunt
composed of words like,
"you are the thing that carved the me
out of me
so of course i had to set myself free."

but you can keep talking to me
and choke out all the mystery
this is near to death--
it's half misery, half meant to be.
it's all left me.
you haven't been living the right way
and it's left my body empty,
boneless.
it's let my body empty-out;
crooked tendons pining towards you.
a sorry skeleton, crawling,
unable to keep it in the ground.
Olivia May 2
In the dead of night
A crisp piece of ash set alight
A fire  ferocious  And angry
In the dead of night
You look up into the billowing air
And see the distant trees
A smell of burning wood starts filling the air
In the dead of night
A young boy lying lifeless in a lake
In the dead of night a father looking for his son
In the dead of night the ground gives way
No one will find either man or boy as their lives fade away
Aaron E Sep 8
Watching the archetypal parable filler sealing his fate with a seed,
and see the walls of the story blossoming off to the sky.

It seems to offer impossibility bottled and wreathed,
a leaf in season to whittle through to the blossom in time.

The time he took to fear it, board windows, ignoring the means,
and flailing crops are not to halt the work ,and question the why.

He finds a seed to bury deep within the walls of his dreams,
a kind of thief to be policing the light.

The hubris in a few ferocious branches,
accruing the subtle stances required, refusing visitor glances at the shrine
The thorns swallow a rich canopy buried beneath
and keep a perilous gift hanging for traveler thigh

Time echoes in hope of lending vestige's light, crying out
to see the breadth of the line.
To see the tangential nature of the leaf,
and know the grief elucidated and reaped
for a return on what we sow in the vine

Another garden enclosed.
A partial view of the sky.
A further longing for truth.
Assume a gruesome divide.
Aloof and hardened to bone.
A carving suited for pine.
A starving forest in roost.
Abuse is looming inside.

Confusing and dried.

He's choosing his pride.

Refusing a guide.

Losing his mind.
I thought the storm had passed
and that wreckage had been avoided.
Against the current my whole pirate life,
uncaring of the opinions of others,
and focus on the rowing at hand.

The gray and thrilling sky
make the dark sea water seem ferocious.
The risk of lightning had never crossed my mind
before tonight when I suddenly realized I was alone
on a boat in the sea
and in the middle of a storm.

I steer with my left
and dump bucketloads of water with my other hand.
Focused on damage control
and ignorant to the the storm's prognosis
whilst my wooden mind struggles to stay afloat.

Row forth and onward.
This storm too shall pass,
and I'll come out stronger.
rough night
this is what I dreamt before I fell asleep
Aaron Feb 18
Look back - my sight was black and white,
A decidedly dividing definition;
“Surely now I see what’s right” –
What a presumptuous premonition.

Fast forward a few:
“All scenes shall shatter.”
Nihilism, not new; just
Cognitive chatter.

Even Nothing now ends
in a burst of ferocious flame;
The love that she sends
renders the Big Bang tame.

You ask what I believe:
As though it’s set in stone;
As though there’s some reprieve;
As though I’ve fully grown.
I'm not great with titles. Recommendations are always great. <3
Yvonne Nice Apr 22
With eyes that can strike both fear and awe
and a heart that was forged of gold
A mind filled with wisdom beyond the Library of Alexandra's
and a touch of a mothers love
A hug of a fresh blanket
and a smile of sun rays
A laugh of life
and a ferocious love that envelopes all that are worthy

It is in them that I find solace
from the world and its many ravines
And when I need it most
I can always find them there
It is in them that I bestow trust
as if a chest of ancient relics
And all they have to do is look at me
and I know they'll be safe

I love you, good friend
More than I even know
Overflowing like a flood
with as much force as an earthquake
I shall always be there, my friend
and i'll do anything for you
For you are the most beautiful dragon
and I could never find another
Because in your soul, is a soul like mine
kindred spirits beyond time
And i'll always love you
Even when the moon falls
I'll be your guiding light when you need me
and we shall haunt the lands together
until the end of time

Thank you <3
I love you so much, you're an amazing little bad *** dragon and I have more faith in you than I do myself.
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