"fineness" poems
Water flows south
If it's in love...
Dancing with the devil, is all mouth
If a sea shall, is a world, a history's covenant?
Haunt, of a need...
Eaves, with the truth's eyes?
Of an angelic lead...
Doesn't anger eat fear, from its own fineness?
Finality of a golden wouldn't
First to stare, makes the bell...
Of fate, a prettier climate, too soon a wit?
Chaste or actual pasts; is the future hell?
Have me when, has mete where?
A salt of signs, and reality of a drive
In the unknown, with a peace so fair...
A charisma should dance, until I keep silence
The price love paid for austerity...
Is ours; isn't ourselves from an adding shadow?
With a savior, of what was virginity...
Is my name for courage, a tear's promise known?
Jun 26, 2024
Jun 26, 2024 at 3:07 AM UTC
The wind would find a tree
A tree of beauty and fineness
The tree he finds, he would love
In this love, the tree would sway
But she remains happy for the wind would stay
But when she breaks, he would leave
For another tree he will play
May 25, 2015
May 25, 2015 at 12:57 AM UTC
She glides in her glamour
Irresiatible like gamma
I gape in awe
eye candy
I am cornered in stupor
Me, the preyful master of the jungle
Me the systematic schemer
I encountered no stopper
In my predatory exploits
I persued
Ran like a breeze in the meshy thicket
To capture and feast
She saw me
She smiled with conspiracy
Geed me up...
so confusing
I roared ready to strike
But her smile ...it was mesmerizing
I forgot about my mission
The hunter became the hunted
I tell myself I am still in control
After all I got her, or did she get me?
I wonder
She should be my gala
I decide otherwise
To take that moment of temptation
To marvel at her fineness
She is the muse
turning out to be my luck
I might keep hunting
But her I will keep
Preserve and protect
It will be alot better
If see her tomorrow too,
And the next day
And the next day
So I will be her friend rather
Amanda
Jan 30, 2016
Jan 30, 2016 at 6:32 AM UTC
the reason to wake is to kiss the day
and be kissed back awake
by the fineness of the thinking mind
and a heart so big it breaks
on the shores of everyday madness
she bleeds a little tear and rushes
to set right the wrongs of mankind
kissing a wound here and there and here again
she wakes to a brand new day
Feb 9, 2015
Feb 9, 2015 at 9:51 AM UTC
The body of a woman's neutral fineness embraces the chords of my steel guitar; laughing about all the points that I've been chasing after. Or just running away- no more for today. Christ, you slipped but lied too many times before, and while you plunge your wrists into your knives, I thought we had a second chance. But that was before, you throw sticks and stones and store your anger in the three fingers of the drink that clinks against our first date when I bought you a 25¢ ring. It was a children's vending machine, that brought me three years of happy things.
I don't want to be fake with you anymore. So go and find your Milky Way. I'm staying dumb, Britni I'm in trouble. All the stakes are different when you are chasing yesterday's killing.
And even the sound of the gunshots don't overcome the voice of the human tongue, in violence and war and all that's abhorred, even the smallest vesper or prayer a whisper of three little words can always be heard, even the faintest whisper can always be heard, as long as the voice that says it is honest and pure.
I was too tight to drive with your hands over my eyes, even in Inverness valley and South Santa Cruz, the wheelbarrow of berries I brought home for supper, ingested in each little bite we cut in half, was the best of the worst time that we ever had. And always we were. In love. In parking lots, playgrounds, at concerts, on airplanes, in bedrooms, custodian closets, laundry mats, and carrying our nap sacks, while we attempted to sleep and hide all night in the Shedd Aquarium. I just should have known better, it'd wouldn't be easy, with you I'm always wrestling sharks with a mirror, your pink sugar perfume from the chains on my wrists tied up across the room. While you didn't trust me I was always at home. Trust isn't love unless it's enough, unless it's enough to quit drugs. It's symptoms are the same as that of great madnesses.
Nov 18, 2015
Nov 18, 2015 at 8:05 PM UTC
I watched her disrobe from afar,
mesmerized was I
hidden amongst the papyrus
as she stood bathing
in the cool Nile crystal waters.
As beautiful as all the Heavens,
her skin glowed milk
below her burnt
cocoa ringlets.
Goddess cheekbones
graced a delicate smile
of teeth like fine jewels.
The curves of her hips
were finely shaped,
sculpted from
the prettiest Roman marble.
Beautiful acorn-nipples
adorned
her delicious
apple-shaped *******
A trace of dark wool
enveloped her flower
blossoming
between fine firm legs,
made from
the stoutest of cedar.
I stood silent,
watching in awe,
as her delicate
fingers circulated
her moist fineness.
And when she sighed
in bliss,
I released
my own satisfaction,
kissing the air &
swallowing her fragrance,
trembling
downwind
from her sweet Jasmine scent.
May 20, 2015
May 20, 2015 at 5:19 PM UTC
She sits on the chair
her wavy hair
still neatly in place
putting on her stockings
as he stands
with his back
to the window
gazing at her
she pauses
her fingers holding
the stocking tops
and looks at him
and says
in her sluttish French
do you want me
back tomorrow?
there is a draught
from the window
touching his naked back
sending a shiver
along his spine
sure
he says
but make it a little later
the wife’s got
a show to see
and she doesn’t leave
till just after 8
ok
she says
pulling up
the stocking
and fixing it
to the clip
shall I bring anything
with me?
no just yourself
he says
and maybe wear
that tight skirt
and creamy blouse
and those black stockings
she stands
and pulls down
her slip
to cover
her underwear
and looks around
for her dress
look
he says beware
of the concierge
she’s a nosey old biddy?
she asks
biddy what is that?
just be careful of her
he says
don’t let her
see you leave
or she’ll tell
the wife
oh I see
sure I will be careful
of the biddy
she says
picking up her dress
from the chair
by the bed
and as she turns away
he studies
her neat ***
the way she climbs
into the dress
her hands so quick
in movement
the finger so precise
like those of a pickpocket
and he sees her leg rise
the stockinged leg
the fineness of the thigh
then she turns toward him
and she smiles
and she starts
on the other leg
and he wonders
what his wife would say
if she came in now
how’d she’d look
then it’s over
the dame’s dressed
puts on her coat
and picks up her bag
and takes the money
he’d put on the desk
and shoves it
into the bag
and sighs
and leaves
and as she goes out
the door
waggling her ***
he knows
he wants her back
some more.
Jan 27, 2013
Jan 27, 2013 at 3:27 AM UTC
you have that good sense of balance
affecting us at one glance
you have that awareness in danger
like a body within a solid timber
you look so gentle
like a baby blowing her first birthday cake's candle
you have the crown
that gives you strength to not frown
you have that unalterable aura
the way you look so optimistic
like you hold nothing but all the brightness in this world
you have that absolute fineness
like an angel floating down so perfectly
yes you are,
yes it's you,
and your smile,
that says it all
Feb 16, 2014
Feb 16, 2014 at 9:35 AM UTC
Found myself centred around this river
As if it were my life, its shallows deepening
Into falling curves and rocky
Foundation, yet cluttered in part
With stagnating **** at other times
Flowing freely and softly engaging me
Without its steaming torrents.
The waterfall thinks it can engulf me and
I consider it at times denying it identity
But sometimes it speaks loudly and refuses
To whisper....’And so you’re there’ I say, and here
Its raging response tumbling me into depths
Out of my control..... or so it thinks.
I emerge for air and breathe in deeply
To sustain me, for when I speak
It is with something resembling coherence
To blag me time from the place of harm
Where it dips sharply and crashes onto slithers
Of icy uncertainty, I begin to wipe my brow clean.
Releasing me from its fooling ways preventing the air
Being squelched from me; take it easy with me
My mind desires you to behave and let me be
Don’t fool me into calm currents only to be tossed
Amongst the white watery crash of boulders rounding
Beneath me, sharp shards covered by your caressing hands
That persuades my innocent eyes to close
To the raging force of veiled kindness
I can remember the ripples of softness that would
Cover my palm with coolness
That dappled in sunlight, reflecting my face
Asking me to admire the stillness
And I believed in the sereneness of the ebb and flow
That sheltered me in fineness with absorbent lining
Reminding me of life absent to the steep slant
Towards the shelled out wreck of my world...burnt out.
Jun 14, 2012
Jun 14, 2012 at 3:34 PM UTC
There's a subtle discreetness in the way you say hello,
Your true feelings hidden beneath heavy formalities.
The overwhelming question of "what if", lingers in the air,
Cradling you within it's suffocating grasp.
Oh, my poor shackled bird, don't fight the fineness of failure.
Embrace every mistake and half spoken truth as your sole provider.
For life is too short to require commentary,
Time is too elusive for the formulation of perpetual game plans.
Don't waste your minutes in the routine of the expected,
Cast yourself unto the unknown, be swept away by the ambiguity of life.
Sep 16, 2011
Sep 16, 2011 at 11:30 PM UTC
When I'm alone, I find myself fantasizing
about your vibrant brown skin, the rhythm
of your delicate touch caressing my soft
plump ******* and around the passages
of my navel, beautiful bright pores
of astonishing angles, hypnotic
geometry, supersonic equations of
exuberant joy.
I can dream your swirling chocolate
of fineness crawling over my body,
massaging my favorite spots, deep
invigorating fragrances of fascination,
soothing relaxations, spinning
rotations of melodic escapes,
as my fingernails circle the pad
of your arms, teeth-biting and heavy
heartbeats, a thrilling spark beyond
transcendence.
And as our feet intertwine, the sensual
beats of it all, love flights soaring
towards intensifying desires, flesh
filled fancies, the harmony between
inner and outer worlds sifting into
each other, while we lay on the beach
breathing in the sublime landscape.
Dec 29, 2018
Dec 29, 2018 at 12:22 PM UTC
Writing is so close to making love:
That sometimes, you can't tell the difference at all;
If I ask if you want to make love this afternoon
You look out the window, at the sky, and mention the fineness of the weather
Or whether it is gloomy and maybe looks like rain,
As there is never, no weather, to comment about
If I ask if you want to make love this evening
You check your calendar then, as if perpetually finding it too full
To squeeze in a lover's tryst, at the full height of the moon,
And then might mention other nights, when unexpected guests arrived,
To while away the incubating hours of darkness, with glasses of wine
And well worn jokes; the *** jokes ever popular, with maybe a game of cards
If I ask if you might want to make love in the morning
You are sure to be busy then; what with breakfast to get, picking up clothes
From the night before; all the interminable household chores
Which seem to lead from one to another, almost seamlessly
While still finding the time, to watch birds through the window and wonder
What they are about, and if they have nests of eggs yet,
And about how two birds kept hiding, beneath the bush yesterday, to copulate
And if even birds have their preference, about such activities, performed together as a couple
And if the neighbors are not stirring, because they have slept in
After a night of continuous ********** and if they are not too old for that sort of thing yet-
It seems very clear, that the only way to write a poem
Is just to begin it, and to let all that other nonsense stuff of life
Fall away; to know that the right words will come when needed,
Just like the right moment finally arrives
And I take your hand, and go toward the smiling twilight
And you finally acquiesce, in the form of a silent acceptance,
That 'no' is not any longer an option,
Because for some things, the answer should always be, 'yes'
And so we write that poem, then
The one I have been thinking about, for so long
And I carefully leave out of it, weather and visitors and busy birds and neighbors;
And all of them are quiet and good, while the poem creates itself capriciously,
Born on only the whim of a moment, and some pulsing memories;
Our bodies merely the vehicle, which pushes it forth
Out of a rich milk of pastures and time;
And in which the whole of history, since mankind first appeared
Is all somehow condensed down
Into one line, of purest potency.
Mar 14, 2010
Mar 14, 2010 at 4:03 PM UTC
Fortify this amazonian square,
Wherein Baldheads are anguished,
No other place can compare!!!
Amorosity, dont leaveth me to far gone,
Showeth me love,
Showeth me loving kindness,
Showeth me thine grain,
Showeth me thy fineness!!!
Fruition cometh suddenly,
Stunningly the air's wind stays chill,
Deadlock exhibitions of fan fare latitude!!!
A blade chapter of northern affair's,
How changeable is her manikin smile!!
Defilement she hath seen,
Derider,
Non abider,
Doesn't fit thy circuit scene!!!
What a dream to all whoso sleep,
Guard thy soul,
Her mind is gold,
Youll whimper as she weeps!!!
Flourisher,
Nourisher of nutriential push,
Snappish,
Pacifist,
Lover of pre schooled books!!!!
Sorceries own solvent!!!!
Dissolvent of surmise talk!!!
Your a new age Delilah thou fresh smelling pedal thou!!!!
May 28, 2015
May 28, 2015 at 8:37 AM UTC
About Costumes and Customs
Wear, wear whatever you dare,
Tho, the global locality has no morality...
Animals with human customs,
Humans with animal costumes
Form the world into a modest mode-
In which the smartest ones are silent
While the mass dress in rumbling drunkness,
In happy hues of the humbling violent,
Of the primitive homo-geniuses.
Does ****** equal with the human nature?
Which? Human as savage or creature?
Born or grown?
While sensations design human customs,
Is predestination more than a fake costume?
Does the world hold anything divine?
While we follow an immoral aurora-
Its warming colours in a frozen desert,
That implies no divine unseen scenes?
Questions are colorless, unseen but existing,
Alike to God's infinite fineness-
Probing our customs if they are probed.
Methink costumes as a colorful ocean,
Mesee customs as the change of the world.
We sink in the dying world's dying ocean.
Oct 5, 2019
Oct 5, 2019 at 2:42 AM UTC
As close as I would love to cling yet the further Iam from you is a sort of healing.
Being on the byline of obsession yet Iam trying to be on the verge of oblivion.
Custodian to your companionship yet I would love to be the cause of your hardship.
Dreams of you should be everlasting yet I can't wait to wake up and rid myself of the sting.
Eternal happiness is what I wish for you yet eternal hatred is what I wish upon you.
Fineness praising you yet I feel a sort of self -destruction when writing of you.
Grieving for my sort of delicacy yet
Iam addicted to you like Hennessy.
Oct 31, 2018
Oct 31, 2018 at 3:07 PM UTC
Im fine Im fine
Can't you see?
I'm as fine
As ever fine can be
I'm smiling
I'm laughing
I'm cheerful and free
I'm not dreadful at all
Can't you see?
Don't believe me?
I'll show you it's true
I'll share some of my fineness with you
We'll take a walk
Down by the sea and wood
Still don't believe me?
You honestly should
Why would I lie?
I have nothing to gain
Just believe that I'm fine
Everything will be the same
I won't leave
I promise
I only speak the truth
Maybe one day
You'll believe me too
What's that you say?
I have cracks on my face?
No no
That's not true
My mask is still in place
Mask? What am I saying?
I'm fine, don't you see?
What...? No! Stop! Don't!
Stay away from me!
Just let me be fine!
I promise I'm okay!
Don't tear it off!
Keep my mask in place!
Let me hide behind this guise
For as long as I can
Maybe just maybe
One day you will understand
May 6, 2016
May 6, 2016 at 6:32 PM UTC
Just 'neath the frosty garb of a shimmering hoary dew, a
picturesque meadow lies swaying in the waning starlight
before the eyes of a sweet and fair maiden, a dervish
whirling and singing her diaphanous solo to the budding
flowers that sprout upon the verdant landscape, unripened
and impatient to soft petals thrusting outward and becoming
saturated in deep purple, blue, and yellow-gold at the suns
ascent. Up above, a tempera image now slowly appears from
behind the curtain of twilights intermission-it is the
reddening energized sky of a new day dawning -and the
morning rays of light glare, bathing her, the admirer
enclosed by the horizon, in the warmth and fineness of the
season.
Dec 3, 2014
Dec 3, 2014 at 12:13 AM UTC
My poem is a boy
My poem is girl
My poem is black
Not black as darkness
My poem is fineness, justice and kindness
My poem is white
My poem is right
Show ya left and ya right
My poem is a gun
Not a gun that kills
But a gun that heals
My poem can fly with da message of hope
Hope in da future
Da future of da children
Da children of da prophets.
Jan 30, 2016
Jan 30, 2016 at 6:21 PM UTC
Rulinda her beauty is like a masterpiece. To her beauty is the birthright of every woman. A poem that gives a reason. A portrait of her rare beauty. The beauty she looks at but can't see. A girl as beautiful as Amy lee. There is a fineness about her about her beauty. Winter snow that has fallen on her hearts mountains melted and created a beautiful flowing river. A tree picturesquely situated on the banks of her hearts river. Rulinda seeing the sun shining on her hearts garden. Her aesthetic qualities and ideas can be seen in her hearts garden. Her picture perfect look. The poet is just a blank page in her notebook. ©M.P.Jacobs
Nov 18, 2015
Nov 18, 2015 at 3:10 PM UTC
Fleeting sensuous-toughts of you
overtake me
at the most inopportune times,
like in the checkout line,
I think about your fineness,
how you love to greet me at the door
& hold yourself up like that,
against the wall for more
change she asks
& I stand there bewildered,
the cashier holding her arm out,
palm up,
for the correct dollar amount
of your love.
Sep 3, 2014
Sep 3, 2014 at 10:17 AM UTC
That ***** was tough,
I mean,
she was picturesque,
a sweet
beautiful
f'n sight to behold.
Not too old,
but old enough
for frisky business.
She stood straight up,
with her back
to the crowd
facing the bar
grasping double-fisted whiskies.
She was a freaking shooter,
rapid fire witchery,
hoisting them up
like there would
be no tomorrow.
And they didn't seem to phase
her neon azure mop
or the devil tats flipping birds
on her shoilders,
she was practiced,
certainly well-versed.
Her pendulous *******
were heaving,
both of them mightily,
covered with her sweat,
and red,
some yellow roses.
I loved her platforms,
plasticene white,
with jeans like leopards
exposing her lace
and fineness.
Jesus,
where do they make 'em
like her...where?
Apr 28, 2015
Apr 28, 2015 at 10:36 AM UTC
What is self destructive behavior
Is it hate one savours,
Is it the humiliation one gives for flavor.
What is kindness, is it fineness
Of a delicacy not served to the people and their wants.
Just to mure someone in a corner
As we raise our sons and daughters
We should probably take a look at how we
We're raised ourselves.
Sep 16, 2015
Sep 16, 2015 at 10:23 AM UTC
you hold me
this is acknowledged
I wish to forever find me
in your arms
the fineness of beauty
is your mystery
the part you hold back
for another time
Jan 26, 2015
Jan 26, 2015 at 8:29 AM UTC
You look into my eyes, and I get
so excited inside, smiling, my heartbeat
rising, shining, such a ray of sunshine,
sweet paradise at the right time, so divine,
your body giving me all the signs of lucid
loving, harmonious highs hovering
in the bright cerulean sky. I got you
on my mind, and I can’t stop hoping
that somehow you can see that you and me
are meant to be, come to me with your caring
and joyful heart where I don’t have to look
so far to seep in your glorious land of dreams,
welcome your embrace, make me escape
inside your flowering nakedness. I imagine us
bathing in a tub of bathwater together, consoling
each other, kissing, touching, rubbing, our hands
making water bubbles and blowing them out.
I dream of you wrapping your arms around me,
your chin pressed on my shoulders, your cheeks
caressing mine, telling me how much you adore me,
how there’s no one in the world like me, how you
will never abandon me for another. I can’t
help but love all the things that you do,
how your fineness is irreproachable, so lucky
to have a glowing rose like you, a great gem
that illuminates my aura. I get so lost
in your visions love, incapable of holding back,
wanting to give my all to you, to lean
into your serenity, wallowing in your charming
world, everything so precious and coveted,
refreshing to the soul, pure poetry dipped
in delicious honey. I write you into my life
a thousand times and more, each time
reorganizing the lines to make the words
flow so smoothly, to read each stanza
in silence and marvel at my penmanship,
how the syllables and vowels elevate
to higher escapes, how the verbs and adverbs
stir my starry spirit, how the prepositions and gerunds
glisten in their own light, how the similes sparkle
and stream with the magnificent metaphors,
giving me the deepest feelings ever.
Dec 20, 2020
Dec 20, 2020 at 9:34 PM UTC
A sultry song,welcome as summer
Sliding from my heart and clouding my mind
Like I need you so very much
I grow faint when you touch me
Don't you know?
Or can't you see my dear?
Just what your fineness does to every one
Every word is precious to me
Your word is my delight
My heart hears it starting
Isn't this our love song?
Such a lovely sound
The air is warm, and my heart beats like a slow piano tune
Ahead is a new trail for us to follow
As we form our special dream
Composing our own words as we go
Dec 3, 2015
Dec 3, 2015 at 7:03 PM UTC