"grazes" poems
*I'm wearing a skirt on purpose
I lift my legs to rest on a pole
So that it rides up
And you touch me
You do that so well
The switch was turned on
And for me there is no off
Only completion
You rub me
Your turned on too
I can tell
My hand slips back and grazes
The graze becomes a rub
And before we know it we are bare
Our souls shown in the vulnerablity of this nudeness
Our bodies collide
I'm louder than I have been
The pounding is what I needed after all the riding I've done
I just can't help but moan
You say you love me
I love you too
I try to scratch because you like it
And I can't help myself
Eventually
We're done
And I feel closer to my soul mate than ever.*
May 1, 2013
May 1, 2013 at 11:31 AM UTC
*as winter acquiesces to the blazing sun
a soothing breeze softly grazes tips of aspen
gently shedding past liaisons
a perfect panacea
allowing wild freedom for summer’s dawn
healing from the ominous night
a flower gingerly releases its grasp
leaning into golden rays of summertime
keenly aware of newfound vulnerability
it yawns into the light
a rousing essence induces
a silhouette of life once thought lost
prodding river’s rigid ice blue crystals
to melt and flow with buoyant wonder
kaleidoscopic-like waves
having weathered near annihilation
a sculptured consciousness remains
painting summer clouds with soft-hued wisdom
all awakens from the dream
and should the cold return once more
the sun will shine again
©2016janetaylor
Apr 30, 2016
Apr 30, 2016 at 3:23 AM UTC
Let me be:
The makeup on your skin,
And the fragrance of your perfume.
Let me be:
The breeze that grazes your face,
And the unspoken letters on your lips.
Let me be:
Your hidden secrets,
And your full moon.
Let me be:
Your smile, your laughter, your tears,
Your wishes, and your happy dreams.
Hussein Dekmak
Dec 21, 2018
Dec 21, 2018 at 9:03 AM UTC
Stripped down
For the World to see,
Beneath flesh and bone,
Deeper than marrow and blood,
Right down to the soul.
Let them see the veins,
Let them watch as my heart
P u l s e s
Nestled between heavy lungs,
Shrouded by an aching ribcage,
A heavy blow
That makes me stumble and fall,
Bruises,
Grazes,
Flatline.
Make another incision
While I lay upon the operating
Table,
I don't know what you are searching for,
Nor do I know what you will achieve
when you do find it,
But it isn't here.
Love cannot be found by extracting cells,
It cannot be discovered through
The translucent glow of an X-ray,
Not even an autopsy,
Removing each piece of me,
Could speed up the process,
It's lost,
It's incurable.
May 28, 2014
May 28, 2014 at 9:50 AM UTC
The Rockies sing to us at sunrise
when crystal snow-capped peaks
chant iridescent matins to the dawn,
the dawn of a fresh new mountain day.
Luminous pastel clouds
hover across the horizon
painting the hills and valleys below
in mysterial shades of
lavendar, amber and rose.
The Rockies sing to us at daybreak
when every crest and vale
unites in raising anthems to the dawn,
The dawn of a bright new mountain morn.
Forests and fields awaken.
A bull elk grazes by an alpine lake.
An eagle soars through the morning mist
over rainbows of Indian paintbrush.
A hilltop lake spills over its rim
and cascades down the slope
etching serpentine streams in the valley below.
We can hear the mountains singing.
In every creature, ridge and flower
They bring to us their jublilant songs
of wilderness, wildlife and wonder
.
We can hear the Rockies singing.
The mountains sing forever!
June, 2009
May 12, 2014
May 12, 2014 at 3:58 PM UTC
o melanin
'tis of thee
sweet land.
what's your modus operandi?
i am ageing.
my muscles ossify
and i become stiff.
the bullet grazes the hair on my bicep
and my heart fires a lightning bolt.
i made it this time.
undo.
unison.
undo.
and leave me be.
Nov 20, 2014
Nov 20, 2014 at 10:42 PM UTC
you said you didnt love me anymore.
yet your face tells everything everytime we steal glances of each other.
how your cheek grazes my eyes, burying every sinful lie within each and every moment.
you try to hide your feelings inside and pushed the love i gave to you
that you denied.
i see light in your eyes, darling.
now why couldn't you just let it be and see how you truly mean to me, see the countless times, the consecutive tries of trying to make you mine again.
now darling, i'm waiting for you. waiting for you to take me back one more time. i just need one try to prove to you that i was worth it all the time.
and i dont know why youre fighting back the truth and burying them with distinctive lies saying that i never loved you and you never loved me too and that we were never meant for each other but deep down you know it wasnt true.
so doff your pride and don a smile,
run to me with arms open wide
and accept me back
with the love
that never once died.
May 20, 2018
May 20, 2018 at 1:09 AM UTC
The eyes of tearful past
Gaze upward, past small faces
I watch him
He begins to rise himself
Off the coldhearted bench
Gazing through the distance
Thoughts reoccur in his fading mind
He lays back down
Roaming, helpless and scarred
He lost himself in fear, and that alone
Links of steal and agony
They fall beneath earth's eye
What's left alone to pity
Has nothing, than to die
Tears of saddened hearts,
They are, but a target
The world, they are the darts
Piercing happiness, in the eye
He grazes, in weathered grass
Throughout a darkened tranceless state
Left to gather thoughts
Expected sadness, on the contrary
He is dead to the world
What are you
Jun 21, 2010
Jun 21, 2010 at 10:32 AM UTC
Warm night air
You hold me tight
Summer breeze
I shiver, but from shock
You give me your sweater
Between kisses
You say I'm
Beautiful
Perfect
No one matters but me
And I believe you
I want more of you
All of you
To be mine
I stand on my tip-toes to reach your lips
Pink
Soft
Perfect
And your tongue grazes mine
We pause for air
Then pull eachother closer
And resume kissing
Only more feircely this time
I almost whisper i love you...
Good thing I don't...
The next day
We were too awkward to talk
Or even look at eachother
You didn't even say 'good morning'
The day after that
You asked me to dance
But I was still confused
And made excuses to leave
The day after that one
I was finally ready to face you.
I was expecting grandiose declerations of love
Only to receive
"You're not even that pretty"
"You're so hard to read"
"Nothing can happen between us"
And my heart shatters
First kiss...
The affair is heaven
The aftermath was hell
Apr 7, 2014
Apr 7, 2014 at 10:45 PM UTC
Salty wind grazes his skin,
Embracing the ocean in his eyes.
Staring at the infinite horizon,
With memories from another life.
**She would wait at the shore,
A small cottage by the sea.
Lullabies from distant waves,
And untold stories in the breeze.**
**She hummed a tune for her sailor's return,
Aware of the dangers and the deep.
She sang her song to the ocean,
That made the mythic sirens weep.**
He still remembers the day he returned,
The cottage in the distance, hazy like a dream.
He searched for her, months and years,
But her sea green eyes were never seen.
Not once did he visit her grave,
never knowing what happened to her.
Memories of her still float ashore,
As he could never love another.
Apr 26, 2015
Apr 26, 2015 at 12:39 PM UTC
homage to Wallace Stevens
I - My Focus pistoned up the rise
and all at once, the Rockies -
silhouettes against the western skies.
II - On the road to Boulder
a pleated ridge crawls north
like a blue whale bound for the open sea.
III - Appalachia's intoxicating verdure
never fails to induce in us
a certain mellowing of the spirit.
IV - You 'conquered' my North Face, did you?
Why, I should skewer your arrogant ***
like a holiday lamb culled for the sacrifice.
V - Lewis and Clark looked west
surveying the Bitterroots' frigid expanse.
Farewell Northwest Passage!
VI - Pueblos stranded on Enchanted Mesa -
their rock stairs crumbled to the valley floor.
Should they dive to their death or starve?
VII –Touristas at Big Bend Park
wonder at its pastel window -
its romantic haze a toxic gift
from stacks across the Rio Grande.
VIII – The once mighty Ozarks humbled by age,
dwarfed by the youthful Rockies.
Listen up, youngsters, your time will come!
IX – We de-bussed to seize the dolomites
with our hyper-kinetic shutters.
Pausing for a draught of Italian air,
I felt the whack of an Alpine snowball.
X - Before Oregon's crater had its lake,
the mountain scorched the village below.
Today its azure waters preach only serenity.
XI – Looking down from Shissler peak
to the golden meadow below
where the elk herd calmly grazes.
XII – Do mists veil the Blue Ridge Mountains
or are there really no mountains at all -
only clouds decked out in mountain attire?
XIII – They say that peaks more steep than Everest
soar up from the ocean floor.
Who will scale their sunken heights?
May 28, 2010 – Boulder Colorado
Mar 19, 2014
Mar 19, 2014 at 12:18 AM UTC
Can you see the water dripping from your mother's mouth?
It's been giving you life since before your father ever took a sip.
And at times, it scorches the prints right off your fingertips but you still have the same blood.
This same blood, which mixes with the water dripping from your own mouth, turns to wine as your lover grazes each corner of the lips that always turn down.
And as they purse into the softest circle, you remember the way your mother smiled with her mouth, full.
May 14, 2015
May 14, 2015 at 12:06 AM UTC
The Unicorn appeared from the Light
radiant, young and full of promise
her magical horn
shone bright in the sun,
mirrored the moon
She appeared from the light
to startled villagers
they could do naught but stare
enthralled by her magic and beauty
The village elder Elder reached out his Hand
overcome by joy, he couldn't resist
blinded by her exquisite beauty,
he couldn't help but reach to her
and reluctantly, the Unicorn moved forward
full of mistrust,
she took a chance...
But, unbeknownst to them
the Hunter was peering at her too –
through his rifle’s telescope!
The deafening boom
fell the Unicorn to the ground
and sent the villagers fleeing in panic
Into the Sacred circle
the Hunter stepped with muddy boots,
with his cruel Knife he cut her horn
then drank from her pure blood
as she lay on the ground
while her horn was a trophy
lost between a hundred others
The villagers tried with all their craft
to heal the Unicorn and restore her Life.
But her scars remained
her blood stayed cold
like marble, her heart hardened.
evermore the villagers lived
with the wounded Unicorn
who was filled with hate towards the Hunters
and ever she kicked
at the village Elder,
mistaking him as the Hunter
Yet, there is always Hope
while the Unicorn grazes
between the thorns and thistles
the Elder still prays and Hopes
that their magical Unicorn would be restored to them
Aug 16, 2014
Aug 16, 2014 at 9:10 PM UTC
Leashed by loves lynch till I’m dropped by my lack of respect for the beauty’s presence
Thank god she wasn’t curbside taking tips with perked lips for a stranger’s ****** fix,
But I needed to feel the evidence that the pieces fit,
That’s why this is about me and a barstool princess
Getting close enough to taste the moans of vodka’s venom
Get close enough so I can know my needs can be fulfilled
Like a lunar eclipse this species keeps grinding its teeth when teased
Time and time again we’ve been taunted by,
The mistress our ancestors once described as the serpent of Eve,
When procreation was preached as an STD
Yet we’ve been perpetually pivoting,
To defy the chastity of a species
Grandfathered misconceptions relating to why you and I exist
As wickedness warms in the covers of the lustfully parallel
So let’s drown in this bliss,
From head to toe, eye caught, grazes at the nose,
From the bar stool to a lonely man’s home,
From one dollar tips for two *** and cokes
To the bedroom of this writing,
The nights like this, that remind me I am alone
But this isn’t about me loathing the fact that I won’t hear her whispering for more body warmth,
Nor am I looking for you to pity me because I’ll be sleeping solo
Enough is enough since we are humans seeking ****** catacombs
I’ll try to be an adult about how the human molds but it started me at childhood,
When those that conceptualized love gave me this world,
And now I no longer have to listen to what I’ve been told
This is about how to perceive something we can never truly control,
Lucky enough to avoid a contraceptive despite unable to remember the doctor’s pull,
Its night’s like this I get to question,
When will my sheets meet the perfect fit?
When will this be more than just a humanizing fix?
Apr 23, 2012
Apr 23, 2012 at 12:41 AM UTC
A gaggle of glamour girls,
Debutantes of Times gone by.
With talk of Aruba,
White Sands and clear blue waters,
Spoken to inspire jealousy to all those around.
And of organization,
Motherhood and label makers,
Construction of pigeon holes for every part of life.
And the Latino Girl at work,
Whispers of the lasciviousness of a life unknown,
In the silliness of two glasses of white wine each.
I smoke a barrier between them and me.
In an effusive hurried rush they leave,
In search of sustenance of the soul,
In search of Sisterhood.
I sit in a Dewar’s drought.
She walks by and grazes her fingertips across my back,
A touch of familiarity,
A touch that I long for.
Gently, I speak,
Within this microcosm,
You stand as Aphrodite.
Smiling, she goes about her work.
I return the appreciation,
The warmth of bad bourbon,
Exuding from my pores.
Cause I sit in a Dewar’s drought.
They sit down in the virility of youth,
Testosterone tilted hats,
Speaking the language of Poser Street,
In the melody of white noise.
Showcasing the uniforms of a self-created culture.
I turn and tune them out.
Jan 24, 2014
Jan 24, 2014 at 2:47 AM UTC
"Am I evil?"
Worse,
Youre smart
When you know
Nothing matters
The universe
Is yours
And I've never
Met a universe
That was
Into it
It grazes on
The ordinary
Creating infinite
Idiots just to
Eat them all
Put a saddle on
Your universe
Let it kick
Itself out
It'll never stop
Trying to throw you
And eventually
It will
There's no
Other way off
Sep 15, 2023
Sep 15, 2023 at 7:27 AM UTC
Bubbles in a bath,
loud moaning blaring in the back
as I look down at the
bruising on my
muted
skin.
I try to imagine
myself with your
glowing frame
submerged underneath
the water.
Without you, I've
been a bit dramatic.
A bit manic.
Wandering and wonderin';
yeah, I've let my mind
slip at night.
In the hours of now until
then, I try to
refrain.
I indulge myself
into routine.
I watch lovers on the
screen.
Envisioning myself with
women in the late
hours but mimicking
your strokes in the
morning.
Without you,
without you.
I'm free to be me.
With you, I'm
happy.
Molten coffee scorches my
untouched tongue,
reminding me that
I can still feel
warmth.
Damp moss grazes my
untasted body,
reminding me that
I can still
dream.
Aug 18, 2018
Aug 18, 2018 at 10:58 PM UTC
3 may 17
sincerely hoping to tear this page out.
i promised myself i would never write about you because i know that once this pen grazes paper, the thought of you will be permanently engraved somewhere, and although not physically, but mentally and emotionally in the depths of my brain, figuratively.
my outlets these days are quite scarce. i tore out my sheets and tried to erase the thought of you, of our intimacy. but what i've ceased to comprehend is that it's not that simple. i can change my sheets, remove my posters, switch my nightlight, remodel my whole room, but, that doesn't change it. change the fact that you still consume my thoughts like a virus, spread throughout my body, filling my core to the brim with inadequacy.
i love you, i hate you.
it is a constant cycle of indecisiveness that floods me with feelings of deep desire, love, and infatuation, to the less constant but still present, feelings of rage, anger, pain, and resentment projected towards you.
i can't wait until the day.
the day when you are either out of my life for good...
or
prove to me that love still exists.
-v.la
Aug 24, 2018
Aug 24, 2018 at 11:58 PM UTC
She kissed your cheek and smiled widely,
the corners of her mouth almost touching her
impeccably tattooed eyebrows.
She was not what you had pictured
from the back and forth email conversations
on quotes and designs and sizes.
She asked you to take a seat as she went to
smoke a cigarette outside the shop with a coworker;
Anna was her name...with two jack russel terriers -
one of them is like a honey badger apparently.
It's funny how the mind remembers certain things...
the way the smoke on her tongue smelled as she leaned in
adding ink to her needle,
or the song she kept humming while you
bit your tongue and stared at the decorated ceiling.
But the pain of the needle depositing the
ink
into your skin was welcome...
It was nothing compared to the internal turmoil you were
experiencing the past seven days.
It almost felt good...
Not adrenaline good, but like good that you were capable of
feeling
something besides sadness and anger.
In the Barcelona airport two days earlier, you made your appointment.
One on your hip, one on your foot
100 pound deposit. No problem.
You needed something to occupy your
mind
from the pain it endured over your "holiday."
So much for a holiday...
Surprise! Your friend is a backstabbing *****
who "secretly" hates you and tried to
ditch you repeatedly.
The needle grazes your hipbone and you wince.
"You okay?" Tota coos in her Italian accent.
You nod, but you know you're not really okay...
You never were...probably never will be OKAY.
Your mind wanders...wishing you were home
and not in London, three thousand miles away from
the only people who seem to care.
"Done!" Tota exclaims.
You examine her work, smiling.
The first time you have smiled in days.
"Get ready...this one is gona hurt!" she says, half excited.
You don't care...nothing can hurt more than your heart...
Too bad that can't be tattooed...
Apr 27, 2016
Apr 27, 2016 at 5:20 PM UTC
Today
I savored my own killing
I could've done so
at the twilight of my days
while I dose off
on a creaking rocking chair
my old lean limbs entangling down
my crooked joints melded to the arm rests
my heavy head resting on my collarbone
oblivious as I
mercifully approach from the back
gently stepping on the tube
leading oxygen to my dying body
watching as my breath become heavy
as my blocked throat wheeze in exhaustion
as my stressed lungs finally collapse
as I quietly yield to sleep.
I could've done so
sometime tomorrow or yesterday
As I lay asleep on my back
snoring as usual
in an instant I'll roll over
and be on top of myself
clasping at my mouth and nose
pressing my full body weight
as I jolt awake, panicked and confused
my arm randomly flailing around
torn prayer flags swooped by a hurricane
my fingers digging into the flesh of my arms
attempting to pull me apart
until finally
my stubborn grip overcomes
and defeated I dim onto stillness
save for a twitch here or there.
I chose to do so
in my youth
as the texture of a heavy rope
grazes and bruises the skin on my neck
while I send a chilling smile at myself
from across the room
pulling a handle
that drops the floor beneath my feet
accelerating for the first time
relishing the hissing air
the absence of gravity
catching with my eyes my penetrating gaze
older than I am
full of grief, fatigue, and divination
cut by the cracking rope
torn like my snapped neck
with a hallow sound
much less revolting than I thought
watch me dangling like
a ragged pendulum
a grotesque puppet
an unripe miscarriage
feeling but a slight pinch of regret
for never knowing
this moment
Nov 23, 2018
Nov 23, 2018 at 11:36 AM UTC
you,
you are poison ivy.
growing in my heart, sprouting first as a little bud at the base and then wrapping your tendrils and vines around tighter and tighter until I can barely breathe.
you are poison ivy
itching at the disassembled strands of my affections and i want to tear my chest open, pluck off the petals of my heart, hands coated in pollen and
tell you
there are no more petals
left to give.
you are poison ivy
you still spread your arms around me, reaching for more that i can give, lathering my pollen into every crevice of your poison skin.
you are a silver bulb and I am the moth that attaches to it, shadowing your every move,
the way your fork always grazes your plate before
you
set it down.
The way you run your fingers over the delicate arch of your ear or how you draw the sides of your books close together when you read,
as if trying to pull the
literature close to your body, letting it seep into your naked eyelids.
I wish i was that literature.
There was a whole new garden of emotions, of loss and sorrow sprouting delicately at my fingertips and
you
were not aware and
now all i want is to uproot my garden and start again.
you are poison ivy
and i can't stand you, that itching that feels like screaming and ripping and scarring
You were an itch that i scratched over and over until i bled
and once the bleeding had stopped and the cuts had scabbed over
I itched it again
and
again
and
again.
Jan 19, 2018
Jan 19, 2018 at 3:28 PM UTC
the October wind grazes
along fields of my skin
but August still lingers with suffocation,
humidity continually seeping
as rustling leaves made a girl
knowing colors would change
permeating a hint of cinder
from the stems, the bark, the branches
hooves cautiously drifting
drawn to low static
the flow of chemistry
over pebbles and geology
my reality is laid to rest
but awoken by peaceful dreams
naturally creating moments
art by which exists in visceral beams
we learn that the wind carries infancy
the substrate holds discovery
the water reveals change, if not time
and the brain develops meaning
-belonging only to seen ambience
-to which includes ourselves
Apr 21, 2019
Apr 21, 2019 at 11:58 AM UTC
At an angle of ninety degrees,
two trees share the same plot.
This one grazes the eaves,
seeking vain attention in the window glass.
The other, its grey ghost lazes
prostrate on the herb garden, reveling
in secrets of lemon balsm and thyme.
At night, the first becomes demonic,
obliterates the universe,
branches scraping the pane, scratching
like fingernails on slate,
its coppery leaves trying to get in.
Its partner slinks to earth,
seeking solace,
wringing conterminous roots till sunrise.
I've had my fill of these unrested moments
fighting the pillow, not settling.
There is no joy in seeking stolen stars.
My dilemma grows horns.
I half dream of ******
at least amputation.
But even the dimmest light shines in the dark -
I consider its tormented destiny.
At daybreak, like a ****** I scale its gnarled branches
ridiculously one-handed,
the other a keen-toothed weapon.
I am an agile goat shinning upwards
feeding on dreams of peace.
Lost in the sky, I become sap,
melt into its arms,
(a vertiginous release)
I become a curved branch.
(There's someone standing in my elbow!)
Leaves helix down, settling on autumn crocus.
“Look! Gold on gold!"
The grey ghost yawns, grows its shadow,
waves its arms demanding justice.
I wave back.
Suddenly terrified, I secrete an invisible scent.
The branches contract, tense as ligaments.
My heart plummets, rolls out recumbent,
presses heavily on the earth
listening to fleshy roots recede.
A few deft cuts......
Sun gutters through bereft spaces,
striking the window.
Both trees a shade lighter, a lighter shade.
Tonight I will dream under visible stars,
feel the moon's half-light slide over me.
copyright © Caroline Grace 2012
Mar 2, 2012
Mar 2, 2012 at 12:12 PM UTC
Already seven cars,
I pull in late.
Put my keys by the candles
and stare at the lake.
Sit down, sip your wine.
What's in? Where have you been?
How long since?
You never drop a line.
You must be busy.
I avoid your gaze
and your hand grazes
my thigh and brings us
eye to eye.
Ready for the bar,
we barely ate.
No shame in
the champagne
I consume,
but I assume
it's the fine wine
I spewed all over the ballroom.
Took it too far,
it's getting late.
You don't want me to stay.
Uninvited,how you always
made me feel anyways.
Turn in slighted, ******* futon.
Last time we met
we slept side by side,
you and me, two reasons to care.
The letter and the locket
you kept and tried to hide,
I think I need some fresh air.
light a cig and figure some things are better left unsaid.
Always tempted to trigger thoughts long dead.
Staring at you, asleep in your bed, linen, lace.
I always was a ***** case.
Your thoughts leak out of your head, thin in space.
I find them on your face.
Better not be here when you wake,
the next time we meet it'll be too late,
so hey, by the way,
you looked beautiful today.
Sep 9, 2010
Sep 9, 2010 at 10:35 PM UTC
A time from now, we'll put the French Riviera to shame
with the spellbinding travesty
of our **********
The stars that grazes the Monte Carlo sky must realize that they've never even really shined once they witness how my eyes will glisten with rapture as you taste me for the very first time.
Oh, we'll hush the musicians of Vienna with the rhythm of our moans, the terrifying yet invigorating song of your gruff voice begging for more.
As we succumb to each other's biddings, the world shall be left helpless with no other choice than to watch.
Jun 26, 2016
Jun 26, 2016 at 12:42 AM UTC