"fumbling" poems
As you fanned me
and fed me grapes,
you let the sweat drip
down your lobe.
On a night as wet
as this, slip off
your robe, expose.
my fingertips scaled
your knuckles,
fumbling the thing
you held out to me,
burning so brightly.
All before you stopped
to talk to someone
more important
than me.
You moved so candidly.
You sat down at the bench
In a dress all black and
backless.
I've seen it in a dream.
With the moonlight flowing
down the river, your neck,
and spilling onto the banks,
your shoulder blades,
your hand crept across the keys
like the most beautiful spider
I had ever seen.
Jul 20, 2011
Jul 20, 2011 at 11:34 PM UTC
We first sexed in a tumbling, fumbling manner;
The time had come, it seemed to us,
To consummate our ****** lust.
The Valley was shakin' to The Rocks,
A popular Irish band;
We'd had our fill,
I sparked the engine,
And parked my bike on Techumseh Hill.
The summit was dew damp;
We spread wide our pants,
Not knowing who should go for whom,
So we relented to the crescent moon;
I acquiesced to the shooting stars
When my eyes
Diverse moons have filled my nights,
Long since the grassy knoll,
Aug 13, 2019
Aug 13, 2019 at 8:31 AM UTC
Eye closed, all alone.
Staring at my phone,
Wondering if it's you calling, ready to bone.
Wondering what it would be like for you to make me moan.
Hopefully dreams became reality, and your hitting it every week
You penetrate right through me, metaphorically and literally...
your words and your touching
******** me mentally
******* soaked, clinging to my body
I'm fumbling my words, I don't know what to say
You consume my thoughts, in every which way
Just thinking of you in me, it's somewhat hypnotic
The way you walk, the way you speak, so ******
Jul 5, 2019
Jul 5, 2019 at 12:06 AM UTC
Scared to smile around you so I stumble.
Tumbling and fumbling and shaking
Under your spell. I've been
Mistreated and defeated I'm a
Brambling idiot. I'm afraid of
Loving and living and leaving.
Eternity is such a long time to go without love.
Feb 16, 2010
Feb 16, 2010 at 5:25 PM UTC
Introduction
There they stood; keeping silent company.
Yet of His face, wept searing electricity.
To the lovers of life
Here they stand, keeping silent company.
No utterance dealt; yet clear in both their minds
A single, brilliant truth:
He longs for her with a savage delight.
And it cries from every fibre, exalting!
It is in the bearing of his eye;
Rifling through her tender flesh
In search of what he knows, from voices ages old, is there:
That her heart will beat for no other as it beats for him right now;
That in this moment, their Souls are bared
To each other’s glares- naked, and blemished, and cowering-
Yet his eyes remain fixed and sure:
And for this, she loves him.
For they have seen each other for the First of Times,
Truly! And as with many the Ancient Laws unfurled,
They stand aware, in lack of ever being taught,
Aware with every atom, every straining tendon tight
That their time's so very short.
And so they drink… wordless
To each other, to their youth, and to their bodies
Shining like never before in the noonday air
Garbed in cloth that snaps and furls around their waists.
They imbibe with electric eyes,
Eyes that are new born to this world of light
And come out screaming, living, and sensitive
For lack of ever being touched.
They revel in their new-found joy;
Pouring from Her figure,
Of Her sleek, supple waist and the arch of her back,
Bristling with delight,
Of His strong hands and easy smile,
That spoke of laughter scattered
Across countless campfires of summers past.
Their light does burn intense as any fire,
And when their brimming anticipation
Overspills its crimson chalice
The silence shall SHATTER.
To find peace again in each other's arms.
Fumbling in sweet darkness-
Of heavy lids, of earthy flesh,
With lips embraced...
In ravenous finality.
Jun 29, 2015
Jun 29, 2015 at 5:14 PM UTC
To expel the outlines piled in my mind on paper,
With a light pencil in one hand,
And slice of rubber in the other,
I parent an impression of hope.
Therein lies the potential and the excitement;
A basic figure given the foundation of grandeur,
Amplifying in complexity before me,
With every scratch of graphite.
As it evolves, a heaviness sets in.
And I pause,
And I stop...
I've given something beautiful a half life, again,
As if it was birthed human,
With no flesh to cover its nerves,
And no breath to cry out its agony.
It remains still in my lap,
Eyes blank as ever staring, maybe, at me .
Out of humility, I tack it up on the wall,
A space shared by its many siblings.
I retreat shamefully with the promise to complete them,
Fumbling with the reality of what I do;
Playing God, I shape the husk of a soul,
And drop it when it's still brittle.
Nov 10, 2014
Nov 10, 2014 at 2:26 PM UTC
The thing, he said, would come in the night at three
From the old churchyard on the hill below;
But crouching by an oak fire's wholesome glow,
I tried to tell myself it could not be.
Surely, I mused, it was pleasantry
Devised by one who did not truly know
The Elder Sign, bequeathed from long ago,
That sets the fumbling forms of darkness free.
He had not meant it - no - but still I lit
Another lamp as starry Leo climbed
Out of the Seekonk, and a steeple chimed
Three - and the firelight faded, bit by bit.
Then at the door that cautious rattling came -
And the mad truth devoured me like a flame!
10.4k
Cast out were his alien dreams;
Aspiring and confident he did leave.
Fiery ground of thunder burnt his home;
As he alone cast out for that void,
perceived through his singular glass dome.
Adventure had caught him lonely
But peering out from his craft
his pupils did glow!
Circling fiery molecules hovering to and fro!
How could he now transmit and show
Reflection of scale small and macro!
Fumbling, his fingers did try
To articulate the machines
Imprinted of his native language.
"Calling Cpt. Crow!"
Sending the signal the results did show
A break in the wire and a fuse did blow.
Barricading that soul far and deep,
A minuscule solar flare
Emanating a glow!
And from that earth looked upward team and crew
Saw idle in that gigantic void a singular golden hue
Distant but true was the connection they all knew.
Oct 16, 2014
Oct 16, 2014 at 1:10 PM UTC
Ten tall trees
Surrounding the stony path.
Nine familiar faces
Onlooking the happenings.
Eight rough rocks
Lining the rugged road.
Seven small points of nature's creation,
Frogs and dogs and birds and logs.
Six strong scents
That nature breathes.
Five fingers
Fumbling to find safety.
Four stable wheels
Lying under the board.
Three friendly hands for confident comfort
Deceitful yet calm.
Two arms for balance
A lonely truth of real care.
One blue bruise
From the lies of onlookers and the deceit of a skateboard.
May 24, 2015
May 24, 2015 at 8:38 AM UTC
and I know
I said I’d be better
and I would
do more,
but honestly,
everything is
falling apart
and I have no
motivation
to catch the
broken pieces;
I don’t have
the patience
to tend to the cuts
on my hands
after fumbling
with shards
of my broken
bones
and I’m
losing pieces of
my mind
every single
day;
I’m so scared;
nothing makes sense
anymore
and I don’t even
want to be here
Apr 29, 2014
Apr 29, 2014 at 12:44 PM UTC
She's the type of girl who spends her days waiting to watch the sunset every night, only to write about how compelling of a view it was. How she runs barefoot across such harsh surfaces just to catch a glimpse of its radiance and not even flenching when her feet are bruised.
I am the type of girl who used to not be able to imagine something more breathtaking than the suns bow as it leaves the stage for the stars to take over. The kind who simultaneously finds herself and gets lost in a matter of a few minutes while staring up at something of such beauty.
When those two things mix, when the two people share in the same unfathomable sunset, she becomes fixated on the sky while I become completely captivated in the way that the sun dances on her hair and how the light of the sun could never dream of comparing to the one in her eyes. How her embrace makes me feel a type of warmth that the heat could not possibly create. Trying not to stare, but also not wanting to look away. Fumbling on my words because the only thing that wants to come out are the words "I love you."
Jul 18, 2015
Jul 18, 2015 at 9:51 PM UTC
Sometimes it feels so natural to let a man's hands run over my body, feeling every dip and curve and bump and bruise that exists. It is almost as if his hands and his longing are physical manifestations of my new-found womanly confidence. I have reached a point where I am comfortable in my own skin and ready to celebrate. I want to celebrate like there is no tomorrow and do something a little crazy, a little stupid, live one more breath of this night and one more kiss of this dream. Right now everything just feels so real and raw. To feel a man's touch on a body still so young is nothing to be afraid of - it is something to cherish and hold dear, for it only happens a short while.
Sometimes it feels so natural to wear a short skirt and walk with a sway in my hips, each step with my heeled feet and long legs echo across the floor. There is something in the reverberance that acts as a fire in my soul, the flames within as courage on the outside. The sway of my hips work wonders as tickets to concerts, the pass to the front of the line, filling my empty hand with a full drink. It is a drug of sorts and something that I cannot get enough of. I take what is handed to me for the short while that it is available. Wearing my short skirt and tall shoes, I sway my hips to the beat of a different drummer while I can.
Sometimes it feels so natural to drink to my heart's content and my stomach's contempt. I drink to make the pain and the thoughts and the worries and the stress melt away as my body melts on the dance floor. I become one with the music and one with the night. Carefree and unconcerned I drink until it is dawn. It feels so wonderful to live like there is no tomorrow with no regrets. When I drink I drink to darken the past and brighten the future. The sultry sway of my hips become the sloshing of a boat about to be capsized. The running hands over my body turn into drunk fumbling and clumsy fingers. But I drink while I can and enjoy while I can.
Sometimes it feels so natural to be so bad - defiant and strong and a will to do whatever I choose.
Feb 9, 2013
Feb 9, 2013 at 11:08 PM UTC
From the last Armageddon
Floating Yoda
How does he do that?
That's why I spent $12
To get him why
Cause he's just cool
Diary 2013
On sale last January
You take my thoughts
Scratch and scribble
Nonsense or dribble
With small pages
I write heaps
Of fumbling lyrics
Time to just do it
On my couch or the train
Thanks to you both
The sky's now the limit
I love you my Star Wars pen
Jun 17, 2014
Jun 17, 2014 at 1:56 PM UTC
Eye closed, all alone.
Staring at my phone,
Wondering if it's you calling, ready to bone.
Wondering what it would be like for you to make me moan.
Hopefully dreams became reality, and your hitting it every week
You penetrate right through me, metaphorically and literally...
your words and your touching
******** me mentally
******* soaked, clinging to my body
I'm fumbling my words, I don't know what to say
You consume my thoughts, in every which way
Just thinking of you in me, it's somewhat hypnotic
The way you speak, the way you sext, so methodic
Jul 8, 2019
Jul 8, 2019 at 11:47 PM UTC
library books;
the musty smell floods me with
thoughts of its past readers
did a girl like me
run her finger across this line
as i have?
will our lines like vines
ever intertwine?
rainy nights;
while the tip-tap and dribble of
droplets hit my windowsill,
i imagine gusts of wind
dancing with one another:
carless and free
and without destination
light touches;
the accidental bump of elbows,
the awkward entanglement
of fumbling phalanges,
a gentle squeeze of the hand,
a comforting gesture that says
“i am here.”
now reverie this:
you and i,
the spines of our books broken,
our shoulders barely brushing,
the sound of soft and subtle raindrops
all things i adore in one simple
and seemingly endless moment
books, rain, touches, and you
May 10, 2013
May 10, 2013 at 6:46 PM UTC
Hear the LION'S ROAR
As the many indignant souls
Find themselves restored
In his majestic presence
As he rattles the very fabric
Of this world as many
Broken men become renewed
Their fractured parts
Collect in the melting ***
Of the Lions stare
So let us all dare
To live life like a Lion
Lounging in the sun
Owning and surveying
His beautiful life
Storing great forces
Reservoirs of strength
To pounce and punch
Soft pads of silent stealth
Gather for all his wealth
His appetite strong
He honors every parts of self
But there is no where
To hide in the cats eye stare
As my many fumbling phoney selves
Dissolve in his melting glare
As I am shamed by a look
As I approach life like a crook
My procrastinating belly exposed
In my lack luster display
As I breath a contempt
For my precious life
Standing strong in stature
And rich in golden shine
Radiating with a presence
Of Absolute rule
The air washed with
A bristly respect
A natural pride
Beams with a beauty
Freed from all that is false
His being effortlessly
Embraces the fields
Of his own nature
As I am silenced by
The strangle hold of this
Bitter dysfunctional world
Tightened by a
Multitude of silent gestures
I sit to listen
To the LION'S ROAR
I feel my throat burst
My gagged tongue freed
My choked throat
Beams like the sun
As I softly delve
In to the LION'S ROAR
An open infinity
Cuts my many collars
Releasing my self expression
As a thousand trap doors
Open in me
Learning from the loving LION
Our self expression freed
And our appetite renewed
We live a new adventure
Mar 23, 2014
Mar 23, 2014 at 5:13 PM UTC
Its funny how it goes,
how within the throes,
of passion and of death
One is aside,
another gains breath
I leave with a stumble,
and a look behind.
And I find myself fumbling,
for cleanliness, and absolution
And to the One
who was shuffled
and moved,
with wires crossed--
I do not know the meaning of this,
or the path which my feet tread.
And maybe with some dread,
She moves in your stead.
Jun 4, 2012
Jun 4, 2012 at 10:13 PM UTC
the peonies in the front yard are just starting to bloom.
the only thing i lust for anymore is sleep.
my fingers are aching to touch another human being,
and when a woman lugging around her child
in a stroller asked me the time,
i dropped the package i'd been collecting
from the post office
while fumbling for my phone.
i cried on the way home,
and applied a thick coat
of red lipstick.
thinking perhaps the camouflage of confidence
would hide the fact that i am merely
wilting husk of vapidity.
the peonies in my yard will die
in six weeks.
Jan 10, 2014
Jan 10, 2014 at 11:24 PM UTC
# *I hadn’t meant to spy
just an evening’s walk along the beach
knowing that things are sometimes strewn there after storms
between a gust of wind—a break in clouds
Coming upon moonlight
gleaming on wet teenage backs
Two—
by a leaning erosion fence
fondling the last discoveries of childhood
fumbling with the barriers of her bikini
behind the erosion fence
out of sight and forbidding
Breeding like sea grass by rhizomes
prowling that neck, those *******
Gasping! Warring!
for the land of white warmth below their tans
His hands grip, lift, position, insist
By such undertow
mouths and hips pinioned in disbelief...
where they cannot be seen
two half-rounds in rhythm – struggle in the surge of being
as the surf binds them in refrains
about the ankles* #
Mar 25, 2018
Mar 25, 2018 at 9:48 PM UTC
Necklace of rope around your neck,
Cold sparkled your tears,
Mingling in our kisses,
Drawing out fears.
Blood crows' broken beak,
Moonlight mourning the free.
Your glimm'ring eyes,
'Ere eve of death,
Last thing mine heart aches to see.
Strange things happen here,
Under the Hanging Tree.
*"String me up!
Lest apartheid influence separation,
String me up love!
Sing me songs of silence, kiss away segregation!"*
My voice unwavered,
Decaying church bell tolling twelve,
Cold, cracked fingers fumbling rope.
Moon lighting the way,
The wind whispering,"hopeless,"
Frigid lies hope.
Shuffling of feet in the woods,
Edge of moonlight creatures stood,
Watching the Hanging tree,
Where the dead told his love to flee.
-Firefly
Sep 14, 2014
Sep 14, 2014 at 8:29 PM UTC
I've had
****
Not ***
Not **********
Not consensually.
I've been
******
*****
abused.
taken advantage of.
whatever it is you want to call it
I've had it done.
I've been kissed
Fingered
choked
hit
spit on
spit in
I've been held,
hostage
with knives against my throat
guns to my head,
in my mouth
drugs down my throat
barely conscious I've been
******
I've been in love
I've been heartbroken
I've been touched
consensually,
let me tell you about the consensually.
I've been kissed in the bathroom, lifting
her
up against the wall
laughing when our teeth brushed against
one another's
hands fumbling up a skirt
around a throat
fingers tangled in wavy hair.
I've been touched sitting in her lap
outside on a hot day
wearing her hoodie
around children
freshmen year.
I've been touched
multiple times
by him
in band rooms, away from prying eyes
secrets to be kept and wooed over
laying in a dress
during a concert event
head in the lap of my best friend
underwear brushed to the side
fingers thrusting in
and yes, this was consentually.
I've been touched
in the school hallways
every day after school or in between classes
tasted and tasted
he tasted me
I tasted myself.
And in the living room of our best friend's house
even though I told him no
I told him the safe word
he continued.
I say it was consensual because in the end,
I said I loved it.
Don't argue about it.
I wanted it.
and I've been touched
in her pool
heated ever so lovingly
LED lights danced us into the temptation
as did the alcohol on my part
with her lips against my chest
desperate to mark, yet not to show
i mean, hey, my step-dad's homophobic
though I'd love nothing more than to show who I belong to.
We switched a lot, but ultimately I landed in her lap
water licking up my sides,
sending chills to *******
goosebumps
and her fingers hesitating
not daring to touch.
"i'm going to need a yes."
finally.
Finally asked.
I nodded eagerly
and she treated me like a piano
perfect notes
though brief I know that I was
drenched in all ways
the chlorine water yes
and of course the obvious.
you see, we were going to do something that night
we had the chance to
I wanted to
she wanted to
In the end,
she took something for her headache
though it was a sort of
similar thing to Nyquil
We were going to.
But we laid in bed
and we molded against each other
and sailed asleep.
I've slept with one person.
Her
Sydney
My Muse.
But Still, A ******
am I
Mar 26, 2021
Mar 26, 2021 at 5:31 AM UTC
I'm not fooled, though you've my attention
time you were schooled
given detention
you're dropping each line... fumbling each word
but that's fine
you're running scared--
give it up hand back the crown
cause queenie this jester put you DOWN
chucks my boy I've got his back
you've been derailed =========== you're way off track
here's a tissue wipe your eyes
cause these words like Embers never Dies
Jan 22, 2013
Jan 22, 2013 at 9:35 PM UTC
Looks I was given, words received
Sunk in deep
I felt as much use as a chocolate teapot
As resilient as a glass hammer
Looking much like a dogs dinner
As fragrant as a refuse truck.
Insightful as a blind guide dog
Buoyant as a lead balloon
I sank deep
My bounce lost,
like a concrete trampoline
Lost my grip
like a fumbling toothless vampire bat
Feeling as welcome
as a fur coat worn
In a vegan cafe.
Now resurfacing
I know that there's no use
in contriving to feel bad.
I'm going to either
line my chocolate teapot
to make it work
or savour every bite of it!
Apr 9, 2014
Apr 9, 2014 at 5:29 PM UTC
Black Kitten,
Ugly Kitten,
Unwanted, and unloved,
With matted fur,
Wide eyes of stone,
Once, you were beloved,
Black Kitten,
Ugly Kitten,
Your nose is runny and red,
Your paws are too small,
Your tail is patchy and wet,
You're too thin, but perhaps with a bit of bread..
Black Kitten,
Ugly Kitten,
You tried to follow me home,
My home is too small,
Money is tight and hard earned,
My heart is unwell, but I cannot simply let you roam..
Black Kitten,
Ugly Kitten,
You didn't care,
I was the curious thing,
The one to stop,
And scratch behind your ears, your life has never been fair..
Black Kitten,
Ugly Kitten,
Your walk is much too slow,
Fumbling one way or the other,
Tripping over your paws,
Getting distracted by the spiders, but soon, you'll grow..
Black Kitten,
Ugly Kitten,
I stopped,
And carried you home.
Mar 15, 2015
Mar 15, 2015 at 7:22 PM UTC
November
Come November
All the leaves shall fall.
Longer shadows...
Days will shrink and wither.
Come November
Bitter winds shall blow.
Muffled up,
I’ll struggle not to dither.
Fingers fumbling,
I shall light the air,
Glum and cold,
Still thinking of the summer.
Thunders tumbling,
Water is the world...
And every single breath
Feels like no other.
2017
🍁
Sep 24, 2017
Sep 24, 2017 at 2:23 PM UTC