Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Ryan Nash Feb 2013
We step outside and even though
you were only one option out of many,
I chose you.
You were perfect
for a seven minute fling.

Your milky white skin burns instantly
to my fiery touch.
At first, you play rough.
Your breath scalds my lungs
with the promise of a shorter life.
But as you ease into a pattern,
you begin to mellow me out.

Now we are halfway through
and your tan lips
are starting to soften
at the thought of this fling
coming to an end.
As the seconds whine forward,
you send me one last shock of ecstasy,
and then in a puff of smoke,
you leave forever,
with me wishing
that you would come back.

They say a seven minute fling
will take seven minutes
off your life.
I sit and ponder this
but still I hunger for more.
And although there are millions
of you out there just waiting
for their own chance at a seven minute fling,
the time you have given me
is as good as it ever will be.
Eryck Sep 2018
It's a wide open art,
from the start.
Rules are for schools.
Dont fret em,
forget em.
So
Relax with a syntax,
clown around,
with a pronoun.
Squeeze the ******,
of a dangling participle.

Free flying like geese,
creative words release,
make it up if you please.
Example--the plural of mice is meese.

Flowery language isn't the exclusive domain of the professional writer, it's for everyone!
To continue then,
about the writers pen.
No write or wrong,
nothings too short or long.
Mangled,
bungled,
butchered,
bumbled, don't matter.
We don't need a librarian to admire what we have done.

Words aren't hard,
fling them unbarred.
It's not arithmetic,
or teaching a cat a trick.
Crunch them uniting,
mix them combining.
Fling them,
meld them,
Verb them,
sell them.
We don't need a New York Times best seller to enjoy the art of writing.

Uncrate it,
create it.
Use it,
and abuse it.
Don't bar us
from a thesaurus
Or a dictionary.
The spiel
is to write real
tell the tale
seal the deal.
WORD HATERS live in the town called Fictionary.
Fun with words
V liv Nov 2018
H-2
Love
Unrequited
Unilateral
One-sided as it breaks me
Leaves you indifferent
Nothing but a nominal fling
Nothing but a means to an end
A backup
A rebound
For you:
Friend turned
Less than
For me:
Friend turned
Everything.
Ironic
We lost each other in quiet places
As if conversation was deafened
By the natural “placeness” of things.

We saw but did not see each other.
Later we used the same words to appraise, select, prize
We did our food and our last partners in bed.

The deafening echo of the bar made me realize I didn’t really
Want your voice; our words sputtered out too quickly.
Sometimes nothing will light your way.
lionness Oct 2018
your hair like a cloud
your body like a baptism
you kissed my feet
like i was holy
our lives all tangled
blessed with newness
and beauty

you were
my fall from grace
my little reverie
come to life

our days
filled with smoke
our nights
filled with sleeplessness
together, lost in the thrills
the little green pills and
hundred dollar bills
together, lost in each other
all sweat and breath and love and skin
the sun fell out
the day we let the darkness in

our sweetest fragileness
our hearts made from silk
our home a secret that
brokenness built.
aih Dec 2018
You say to go with the flow
But I move with a heart full of love
Despite the pain I carry
Ready to give.
Marco Buschini Dec 2016
Lie within chaos, and create comfort
In visions of endless love.
Riding slowly on the crest of a morning fling, and flutter,
The body stutters
Like a street dancer.
Shine in different directions
And end the yearning
For a love of creativity
By stripping off
And darting
Into a sea of uncertainty,
with a sense of
Unimaginable lust for what keeps you
Ticking like a sturdy clock.
Find the rhymes that combine
With what lies inside the mind,
To stumble upon the future pleasure,
That you unearth with delight,
As you wonder.
Inspiration is born out of desire.
Fuel to fire the birth of creation.
The mind quakes for a taste
Of the cake, that is blessed with greatness.
K Balachandran Oct 2018
She stole from the sky,
I made her eyes fixed on mine!
One celestial fling.
Why in Baste Eyes my Form checks expect
Yet cast my Security for his Expense
Which, I suppose, that Report I prefect
Was a File un-welcomed for my Good Sense
Though, I assure, was all to contribute
For his Sweets added to his Nationed Chest
That, to chillax, take Tidbits absolute
And brisk the New Day for his Talent's Best
Now this, resolved to wax Slime and Conflict
Thus put my Loyalty to Terms reset
More fruitful, more pruned, from Pride's Tome inflict
Then this Orrery - strike Rocks to Sky's bet.
In turn perhaps recover from this Fling
On Muted Clouds do those Falcons still Sing.
#tomdaleytv #tomdaley1994
Lieke Jan 26
E.
I'm trapped in a box
Just me and you
You've come back to haunt me
Break me in two


It was a sweet summer fling
That smelled of fresh water
But little did I know
My heart was a lamb to the slaughter


When you kissed me goodbye
And we shared one last glance
I was falling really fast
And I realised I wouldn't stand a chance


If I could do it all over
I would've never let you go
I had you wrapped around my finger
Now all I see is your shadow


How did I end up here?
In this empty ice cold box
Holding nothing more
Than nostalgic dreams of the rocks


Blinded by desperation
Drowning in doubt
Struggling to be free
Looking for a way out.
11 August, 2018
Haruharu Aug 2
Billy from Belfast.

Oh, I wish I could explain what you did to me..

I close my eyes and I can still see us there,
on your tiny balcony.

The silence of our dreams covered by a voice that sings about an unknown future.

The sun dancing on the rooftops.

You are me and I am you, a soul connection out of this world..

A silent minute for our fallen hero, Chester Bennington.
A cheer with Stella.

Tired legs running, empty streets.

Our laughter echoes, a dead bar street.

A lost phone, a search for an open supermarket.

An empty beach, no life guards on duty.

My head on your chest, shared chemistry.

Your lips on my forehead..

Oh, how the morning sun hit your face.

I wish you'd realise how beautiful you are..

I take a sip of your ****** drink, I smile and take your hand.

Sticky salty skin, the heat of the rising sun.

7AM.

Sand in my cup, I see you watching the horizon.

I look at you and I wonder..
Can I have you?

...Billy from Belfast.
chichee Feb 5
I once wrote an essay about falling in love as
Biology’s grandest trick
The truth is I've always wanted to meet someone I'd fling myself off buildings for.

I just didn't think I could survive the crash landing.
Bit generic, trying to post more often but uni's finally kicking in.
Pagan Paul Oct 2017
.
Come! Come! One and all,
come to my woodland hall,
attend ye all mid-winters ball,
in friendship harken to my call.

Paths awash with candle light,
in the branches burning bright,
such an enchanting magical sight,
to guide you gentle through the night.

Friends with whom to drink and eat,
cuddled warm in a sylvan heat,
while dancers fling to keep the beat,
songs are sung, lovers meet.

And by a fire in a little glade,
words are spoken, promises made,
the Bonding tree with hearts displayed,
brings memories that will never fade.

.

And when the party is at an end
I'll lovingly embrace my dearest friend,
and quieter than what lies beneath,
whisper sweet poetry to my Lady Leaf.



© Pagan Paul (04/10/17)
.
Poem 6, Series 2 of my Lord of Green collection.
.
ConnectHook Sep 2015
in every visible character man differs less from the higher apes,
than these do from the lower members of the same order of Primates
.

                                                     ­                      Charles Darwin, 1871

The Other claims descent from apes
then acts like a violent monkey.
It pillages, it loots and rapes
performing as Satan’s flunkey.

Its actions bear the mark of Cain;
brandishing cameras, smashing things.
We feel its proto-human pain
yet dread the urban woe it brings.

It tries to justify, with words
its primal carnage, childish rage.
With anthropoid designs deferred
it struts the Darwinian stage.

The higher primate government
rewards them well in ripe bananas
for wrecking their environment
(jungle as well as savannas).

Their mate selection (naturally):
a semi-simian solution:
intercoursing sexually,
to hasten their evolution.

The wombs enlarge – they drop their young
then text their friends while getting high.
They swing from tree-tops, fling their dung –
while down below the humans sigh.
https://connecthook.wordpress.com/2015/04/16/the-selection-of-***-and-descent-in-relation-to-man/

%
$
L B Nov 2016
Tired clot of night
in the moon’s slight of hand
in the moon’s slight—
place to hang my hat....

Winter clouds come tumbling toward
the gray
Raked clean by barren trees
Yard waits with its leaves
tucked in corners by the wind
along hedges, stairways
mingling with renegade trash
Stuffed in layers like elderly keepsakes for—

no one cares...

My yard—a neglect of winter woods
but for towels waving stiffly on the line
and the squealing crackle of my footsteps—
Being there

Stairs sigh differently coming home

Blind search for a key hole
I could die searching!
the frustrations of the blind
the fumblings of “locked out!”
I—
know where to go....

Pretend
in my warm lonely
fling—mittens on the table
Survey the ***** dishes...and
close my eyes
There's been nothing but wind and cold for several days here.  Makes me think of January, almost, when walking in snow below 10 degrees F actually does squeal and squeak.  We're getin' there.
LK Aug 22
Maybe it was a coincidence,
Or was it destiny,
But it was June,
And the world felt empty,
It started with a kiss,
Then a sip of wine,
And our souls went skinny dipping in a summer’s night,
One confession after another,
Said “call me friend, but keep me closer”
Suddenly it was September,
What felt like a moment became a memory,
All’s left was accessory,
A sweet sweet burn of sun,
And old summer wind,
A summer fling.
To my summer fling.
KiraLili Jul 2016
Square bail flinging at 100 degrees
Arms criss crossed with scratches
Choking on brow sweat and dust
Haying every day for a week
Lunches on the backs of tailgates
Promise of a beer at the end of the day
We're just kids not even teens
Grandfathers drive the flatbeds
And fathers operate the bailers
Cousins fling and stack the hay
It goes from dawn till dusk
Supper is brought out by mothers
All farmed then brought to flatbed truck table
Buttered corn and schucked peas and burgers
Galvanized buckets of iced beer and pop and watermelon
As the sun sets I'm leaned against warmed 5 ton tires
Old men wreathed in pipe smoke pick on young men with cigarettes
Shad flies buzz around headlights
As the evening cools you can smell the warm river
Tonight's shower comes from a sunwarmed hose by the back porch
And a late summer sky opening deluge
Square Bail Haying Kootenay Valley 1980
zebra Jun 2017
she loved thunder storms most of all
the crackle of white hot bolts ripping through the sky
the shear immensity of power
she always thought it was him
her beloved God
big boy
Thor
with his flowing blond hair
blue aquatic eyes
washboard stomach
and delicately curved *****
finally a man good enough for her
even if he was fly by night

when the heavens thickened gray
like soggy cotton
she could feel atmospheres shift
it made her ******* pert
her mouth would salivate
like a lurid peach
her ***** swelled and dampened
tears of adoration and enchantment
filled her eyes

no longer able to contain her self
she would strip naked
fling off her *******
and run out to the lush verdant meadows
calling at the top of her lungs
yoooooooooo hooooooooooo

as the cool rain descended
she ran thrilled to the mud between her toes
seeing great claws of white lightening  echo
through the sky

without hesitation
she fell to the cool earth beneath her
wallowing in the delicious sloshing ooze
positioning her self on all fours
head thrown back
*** up high
calling to the heavens
come on, come on big boy
ive been waiting for you
let me have it good
her clitoral lips
drooled with anticipation
her ******
a pulsating aching

the sky rumbled
with stretching streaks of fire
like a great freight train
spanning infinity
while the earth shook like a
hollow moon
she swayed her hips
rhythmically to and fro
whispering a love song

oh sir
i need a man like you
wont you love me
adorations true

i kneel before
my sweet Lord Thor
where's that hammer
come on and score

you are so big
and im so little
how about it God
just a tickle

hit it now
give it to me good
kisses baby
like you only could


tears of desire cascaded
down her pink cheeks
as she recited her love mantra
her mouth naked wet

suddenly
a great bolt of lightening
shot down from heavens throne
entering her ******
splitting her in flames
her head turned dark mahogany
sent careening fifty yards
leaving her mouth
a yawning twisted smudge
of fossilized obsidian
with eyes
blackened flaring hollows

her tender pink ****
a chard flower
smoldering
like a
petite
grilled
calamari
eng jin Apr 2018
The screaming cheers
travel a distance far
in the divided hall
the yellows and blues
await the serving ball

an overhand strike
the ball speeds
across the mid-line

the yellows
dig, set & attack
the blues
fling & smack
fearless & skilled
the crowd hails

winning or defeat
is a victory for all
for the love
of volleyball
Deb Jones Jan 4
When I was a child

Some of the most judgmental and unkind People I ever met were on church pews
Every Sunday with a Hymnal
And a Bible in their hands

I didn’t know how some people
Were able to disassociate their own Shortcomings and cruelty
From their religious
Obligations and convictions
But many were able to do just that

But as a child I couldn’t reconcile
The child abusers
The pedophiles
The rapists
The drug traffickers
The thieves
The alcoholics
The cheaters
The liars

From the people that stood at the pulpits.
The ones I was told to emulate.
The minister
The reverends
The deacons

The word minister embodies
Loving protection

The word reverend invokes
Reverence and inspiration

Doesn’t it?

I was a young adult
Before I realized
Church is for sinners
By that time organized religion
For me?
Was black and soiled.
Repulsive

Here I am now.
I fling mantras out into the world
Of love, hope, compassion,
Good health

I recently walked into
A cathedral in Ireland and cried.
I felt the weight of time and
Countless generations of believers.

Working in the medical field
And specializing in pediatrics
Holding a one pound baby
In my hands
Months before even
The parents were allowed to touch them
I sincerely believe in miracles
I see them almost every day

My church is in my head
Buddhism is in my heart
And in the actions of my hands
The words in my mouth
What my ears hear
The soothing of my soul

The meals I help serve the homeless
The blankets I spread on their cots

I bow my head and listen to prayers
Wherever they are offered
I quietly whisper
My wishes
Into an unknown ear  

I don’t judge many people anymore
My childhood is past
I learned valuable lessons
And peace is mind at last

That doesn’t mean I trust
Easily or broadly
It just means I am an adult
And am responsible

There is some good
In almost everyone
I don’t say that out of naivety
I have danced with monsters

But that’s another tale...
Pat Adamek Apr 20
Smoking like a dragon
Game of Thrones on TV
I don't mean to be dramatic
But I knew I was addicted from the first time you had me
Backflip on the mattress
Cracking up a cellphone screen
Back then I knew you were attractive I just didnt understand conflicts of personality
Tell me why you're laughing
Tell me why we over think
I don't think you have the answers
The two of us are dancers but only when we drink

You don't want to know what I'm thinking

You didn't hear this from me

You don't wanna know what I'm thinking

But if I speak up

You didn't hear this from me
Reminiscing over potential, someone who could've loved
sara May 2014
it's cold and dark and calm outside
so you make sure that i'm tucked up tight
but i need fresh air so the window is open ajar
whilst there in the corner lays a battered guitar

i'm high as hell so you carried me home
and wrapped me up into a bed of your own
you throw a lumpy mattress by the guitar on your floor
and apologise in advance for the fact that you snore

because i can't even remember my name
may give the green light to most, to see me as 'fair game'
my hair is a mess and my clothes are askew
but that doesn't seem to matter to you

i'm taken aback as you toss me a shirt
you try to stifle your laugh but i catch you smirk
as i try to escape from the clutch of my dress
i hear a laugh which you fail to suppress

i wrestle your shirt with my limbs in a tangle
you yank it over my head, for which i am thankful
i wriggle free from the blanket and sit up cross legged
as you fling yourself down at the foot of your bed

you tell me you've just got a text from my mother
who says she trusts me with you and no other
and that you are under very strict instructions
to keep me away from all teenage destruction

it's 1.30am and my thoughts are cotton wool
but our bottle of ***** is still three quarters full
my eyes spy the battered guitar in the room
and i beg you to play me my favourite tune

an undeniably slow start as you mess up the chords
and ramble on about how i'm probably bored
but my eyes fix on yours with an encouraging grin
and as you continue to play, goosebumps rise on my skin

and as you place the battered guitar back down
you sarcastically ask whether i'm happy now
the buzz of my body and the smile on my face
shows that here, happiness is truly the case
2018 edit and I’m still finding guitarists cute um
I knew I was in "purgatory"
I couldn't make up  all the grade/s
Didn't really matter much
My pocketknife had a  broken blade

The "I's" are ever on you
No one hears or cares to understand
The questions put before them
Are lost to time by sand

So fling the words before me
My pearls before the swine
The path placed as pure adjectively
While you sit and mull your time

There was my life before me
In the parking lot of life
A beat up old "63" Rambler
With the "Club" attached  to the steering wheel of strife
Next page