"furless" poems - Hello Poetry

The naked is not dangerous. Lust filling the eyes of young. Full bodied stretching yearning for what is to *** or merely done For the sake of comfort. Not a foreign folly But a jolly adventure letting the wind and water wash away the stress of the days. Naked as the snakes or the furless babies breastfeeding at their mother’s breast. **** and curved. Fat or muscled. Not dangerous, but beautiful like Michelangelo’s David. The **** does not destroy neither does the ****** ****** does not diminish our morality.

0

Oct 21, 2015

Oct 21, 2015 at 1:03 PM UTC

graff1980

Naked

The naked is not dangerous. Lust filling the eyes of young. Full bodied stretching yearning for what is to *** or merely done For the sake of comfort. Not a foreign folly But a jolly adventure letting the wind and water wash away the stress of the days. Naked as the snakes or the furless babies breastfeeding at their mother’s breast. **** and curved. Fat or muscled. Not dangerous, but beautiful like Michelangelo’s David. The **** does not destroy neither does the ****** ****** does not diminish our morality.

20

You came too soon, the four of you, into this world. Your mother, recognising the feeling, did what she had to do to give birth to you, cleaned you, disposed of the afterbirth in nature's economical way. But you had no experience, no knowledge of how to be kittens. Almost still foetuses, furless, unmoving, cold, you did not stimulate her maternal instinct. She did not recognise you as her babies. Lying against her belly, you did not know how to suckle, and she, not ready to feed you, walked off. You had no future. A bucket of water, I thought, would speed your departure from the life you had barely started. But you, recognising the element you had so lately left, were at home in it, swam untroubled under the surface like tiny, pink sea creatures. Unwilling to watch longer, I gave you a quicker end. Your mother, unlike me, resumed her life as if nothing had changed.

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Jan 2, 2017

Jan 2, 2017 at 2:28 PM UTC

paul-hansford

Drowning Kittens

You came too soon, the four of you, into this world. Your mother, recognising the feeling, did what she had to do to give birth to you, cleaned you, disposed of the afterbirth in nature's economical way. But you had no experience, no knowledge of how to be kittens. Almost still foetuses, furless, unmoving, cold, you did not stimulate her maternal instinct. She did not recognise you as her babies. Lying against her belly, you did not know how to suckle, and she, not ready to feed you, walked off. You had no future. A bucket of water, I thought, would speed your departure from the life you had barely started. But you, recognising the element you had so lately left, were at home in it, swam untroubled under the surface like tiny, pink sea creatures. Unwilling to watch longer, I gave you a quicker end. Your mother, unlike me, resumed her life as if nothing had changed.

33

Here's to pianos. To uncut toe nails and broken jaws. Here's to sweaty palms and fancy door knobs. The last tissue in the box and third graders who know every single dinosaur. Here's to prickly legs and furless cats. Slamming doors and rubbing alcohol. Fun house mirrors and wet towels. Here's to the boy with the sweaty armpits, And the biggest heart in the room. Here's to all the girls who will never give him a chance Because his hair is greasy And he always has pieces of apple stuck in his braces. Here's to grandmothers holding their children's babies for the first And last time. Here's to six foot tall nine year olds And acne covered foreheads. North Ohio and beehives. Here's to wrinkles and back pain, And the kids who never change for gym class. Here's to burnt papers and wrongful convictions. Faked I love you's and backwards t shirts. For every broken leg and broken heart, Seasonal depression and ADD. For unshaven armpits and ripped jeans. Frequent showers and twisted ankles. ****** mattresses and forged signatures. Here's to the things that remind me of you.

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Oct 28, 2013

Oct 28, 2013 at 9:27 PM UTC

lily-gabrielle

You, again

Here's to pianos. To uncut toe nails and broken jaws. Here's to sweaty palms and fancy door knobs. The last tissue in the box and third graders who know every single dinosaur. Here's to prickly legs and furless cats. Slamming doors and rubbing alcohol. Fun house mirrors and wet towels. Here's to the boy with the sweaty armpits, And the biggest heart in the room. Here's to all the girls who will never give him a chance Because his hair is greasy And he always has pieces of apple stuck in his braces. Here's to grandmothers holding their children's babies for the first And last time. Here's to six foot tall nine year olds And acne covered foreheads. North Ohio and beehives. Here's to wrinkles and back pain, And the kids who never change for gym class. Here's to burnt papers and wrongful convictions. Faked I love you's and backwards t shirts. For every broken leg and broken heart, Seasonal depression and ADD. For unshaven armpits and ripped jeans. Frequent showers and twisted ankles. ****** mattresses and forged signatures. Here's to the things that remind me of you.

27

Today i have seen a fox his tail all furless and broken he looked at me and went on his way he looked like he been hurt i can think of what he would relate when he got home where have you been out looking for food come on give me a break and what happen to your tail is that lipstik no woman thats blood got run over on that busy road any way i going to lick my wounds then go to bed so where is the food i just told you i got run over so it's up to me instead to get the food W H A T! that fox said as his ***** moved across the room O K O K I will go out again *****

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Aug 25, 2012

Aug 25, 2012 at 4:21 PM UTC

paul-hardwick

Crafty Fox.

Today i have seen a fox his tail all furless and broken he looked at me and went on his way he looked like he been hurt i can think of what he would relate when he got home where have you been out looking for food come on give me a break and what happen to your tail is that lipstik no woman thats blood got run over on that busy road any way i going to lick my wounds then go to bed so where is the food i just told you i got run over so it's up to me instead to get the food W H A T! that fox said as his ***** moved across the room O K O K I will go out again *****

29

Black cows Meat ghosts in the mist What animal contemplations Are breathing warmly through your thick shadow flesh? I see our thumb prints on you We guide the filling of your flanks Through generations. We do not loose Our child-drive to touch things. I want to reach out to you now pat your dark domestic head. You are cattle. I am human. This is pasture. See the unevenly woven web We have spun And now we are dizzy. I am unsure where the balance should rest Between wilds and wanders and the human hand, Itself belonging to something wild if unrecognized Behind the shell of our own furless skulls. So I focus on the drops of dew Clinging to the web strings In this early morning mist And resist the urge to touch them.

0

Jan 1, 2013

Jan 1, 2013 at 5:38 PM UTC

kkt

Black Cows

Black cows Meat ghosts in the mist What animal contemplations Are breathing warmly through your thick shadow flesh? I see our thumb prints on you We guide the filling of your flanks Through generations. We do not loose Our child-drive to touch things. I want to reach out to you now pat your dark domestic head. You are cattle. I am human. This is pasture. See the unevenly woven web We have spun And now we are dizzy. I am unsure where the balance should rest Between wilds and wanders and the human hand, Itself belonging to something wild if unrecognized Behind the shell of our own furless skulls. So I focus on the drops of dew Clinging to the web strings In this early morning mist And resist the urge to touch them.

28

Grotesquely vague The obscene, hell bound silence Each step a milestone of triumph The valleys are dark, she holds her breath for each dawn The bitter taste The strands fall out until your head is naked and furless The convulsions of radiation so ****** creating eruptions of decay You won't let this win You won't be slayed The apathetic walls just glare, they've seen it all It's all they know Your hope begins to fade The darkness begins to sweep over you Your that skeletal anatomy on display Your empty and hollow There's not much left anymore Your deteriorating as we speak

0

Nov 12, 2015

Nov 12, 2015 at 4:19 AM UTC

Lb1808

The big C

Grotesquely vague The obscene, hell bound silence Each step a milestone of triumph The valleys are dark, she holds her breath for each dawn The bitter taste The strands fall out until your head is naked and furless The convulsions of radiation so ****** creating eruptions of decay You won't let this win You won't be slayed The apathetic walls just glare, they've seen it all It's all they know Your hope begins to fade The darkness begins to sweep over you Your that skeletal anatomy on display Your empty and hollow There's not much left anymore Your deteriorating as we speak

18

first glance penetrating blue hostility embodied embroiled in inconsistency irregular heartbeat palpitates facilitating fallacies like ‘health’ and ‘well-being’ beings damaged goods are sold on clearance shouldn’t the mentally ill be sold into slavery eliminating national debt by selling the sick to Chinese factories sending those who drain our health care system the **** outta the country – broken records repeat 16 bar blues supreme court embraces homosexuality and marijuana while removing campaign donation limits and the woman’s right to choose maintaining balance is often ugly for the masses passing gasses for solar fuel poisoning the producers creating cancerous lesions attempting to save the sky – dangerous liaison as the corrupt meet with the condemned concentrating on collusion and coercion of the community at large so as to better control the carefree bleeding calluses hold broken handles handcuffed to the handrails hanging on for dear life— beaten seals stain beaches furless representing the future freedom looks like death sprinkled with red, white, and blue candy at least in my homeland –

0

Jul 3, 2014

Jul 3, 2014 at 6:56 PM UTC

s-lyman-temple

happy fourth

first glance penetrating blue hostility embodied embroiled in inconsistency irregular heartbeat palpitates facilitating fallacies like ‘health’ and ‘well-being’ beings damaged goods are sold on clearance shouldn’t the mentally ill be sold into slavery eliminating national debt by selling the sick to Chinese factories sending those who drain our health care system the **** outta the country – broken records repeat 16 bar blues supreme court embraces homosexuality and marijuana while removing campaign donation limits and the woman’s right to choose maintaining balance is often ugly for the masses passing gasses for solar fuel poisoning the producers creating cancerous lesions attempting to save the sky – dangerous liaison as the corrupt meet with the condemned concentrating on collusion and coercion of the community at large so as to better control the carefree bleeding calluses hold broken handles handcuffed to the handrails hanging on for dear life— beaten seals stain beaches furless representing the future freedom looks like death sprinkled with red, white, and blue candy at least in my homeland –

40

how do broken dreams smell while they be fresh as furless in a snow as shivering naked flesh amid a creatures crowd it wanders sightlessly and drowns with every breath when skips few of its beat this flickering noise it makes with dying of this day a solemn heart does shrink as petals plucked away and still be set ablaze by fierceness of night in midst of mocking stars in staleness of its plight i tread along this time as pilgrims by the sea and leave for fate to meet an intolerable prophecy

0

Oct 22, 2013

Oct 22, 2013 at 8:10 AM UTC

tranquil

farewell

how do broken dreams smell while they be fresh as furless in a snow as shivering naked flesh amid a creatures crowd it wanders sightlessly and drowns with every breath when skips few of its beat this flickering noise it makes with dying of this day a solemn heart does shrink as petals plucked away and still be set ablaze by fierceness of night in midst of mocking stars in staleness of its plight i tread along this time as pilgrims by the sea and leave for fate to meet an intolerable prophecy

20

I'm a pack rat with a furless tail and red raspberry eyes and I will never get rid of (that envelope) you gave me on Xmas eve with the crooked tree on the back-side. It was carelessly done, but I am acutely aware that you did your best.

0

Aug 31, 2013

Aug 31, 2013 at 6:53 PM UTC

emma-joy

If I lick the stamp I will taste your lips again

I'm a pack rat with a furless tail and red raspberry eyes and I will never get rid of (that envelope) you gave me on Xmas eve with the crooked tree on the back-side. It was carelessly done, but I am acutely aware that you did your best.

18