"groans" poems
“please be naked”
she stands in her doorway wearing just a gown,
I walk in the house, dumbstruck by beauty,
up in her room undoing the bow, the shield simply slides down
caressing her curves, stroking down to the floor,
intertwined bodies craving the touch of the other,
joined as one in the gentle acts of love and lust,
romanticised ideals of perfection and soft rhythm,
delicate groans as two become one,
the broken poet, for the moment, is gone,
my drug addiction of you, just wanting more,
As my heart bleeds, love begins to pour.
“please be naked”.
Mar 28, 2018
Mar 28, 2018 at 8:29 AM UTC
O'er the midnight moorlands crying,
Thro' the cypress forests sighing,
In the night-wind madly flying,
Hellish forms with streaming hair;
In the barren branches creaking,
By the stagnant swamp-pools speaking,
Past the shore-cliffs ever shrieking,
Damn'd demons of despair.
Once, I think I half remember,
Ere the grey skies of November
Quench'd my youth's aspiring ember,
Liv'd there such a thing as bliss;
Skies that now are dark were beaming,
Bold and azure, splendid seeming
Till I learn'd it all was dreaming —
Deadly drowsiness of Dis.
But the stream of Time, swift flowing,
Brings the torment of half-knowing —
Dimly rushing, blindly going
Past the never-trodden lea;
And the voyager, repining,
Sees the wicked death-fires shining,
Hears the wicked petrel's whining
As he helpless drifts to sea.
Evil wings in ether beating;
Vultures at the spirit eating;
Things unseen forever fleeting
Black against the leering sky.
Ghastly shades of bygone gladness,
Clawing fiends of future sadness,
Mingle in a cloud of madness
Ever on the soul to lie.
Thus the living, lone and sobbing,
In the throes of anguish throbbing,
With the loathsome Furies robbing
Night and noon of peace and rest.
But beyond the groans and grating
Of abhorrent Life, is waiting
Sweet Oblivion, culminating
All the years of fruitless quest.
26k
I’m strong, I can stand
against the buffeting winds
that try push me down.
(I’m weak, too easy I fall,
giving in to the pressure
that mounts from within.)
In the face of your discrimination,
I’m courageous
(I fear your abuse)
Yes, I am strong.
Though my gnarled hands
bend with age,
my roots…
(break, there is no
vigor left in me)
Sighing...my mind twists
that which should grow
into a solid foundation,
turning it into
(groans of pain,
mental anguish.
Weakness takes over)
A tired thought dances
through dim light,
bringing some joy
into the
(bleak. All I see are
shadows. Mocking shadows.)
Once I believed I had it,
an inner strength to deal
with anything.
(Like a mirage, my spirit
couldn’t grasp what it needed.)
Now I envision…
no, I see what I truly am.
My hands are wringing,
I’m cold...so cold.
I am
not
strong.
May 22, 2014
May 22, 2014 at 12:45 PM UTC
Eyes sliver open languidly, feel out the corners
Stretched, palms pressed against white walls
Pull the covers high above my head
Building courage to greet the day
Lungs fill with a familiar scent
Smile, reach and caress a glowing cheek
Next to me, he turns, all elbows and sighs
Find him in a second with tingling toes and fingertips
Untangle the limbs and sheets
Firm and nut-brown, coarse in the right places
Soft in the best places, he's flawless
Dare to disturb the rhythmic breathing
Wake up, I whisper
Coffee, he groans
May 31, 2011
May 31, 2011 at 11:25 PM UTC
Dawn in New York has
four columns of mire
and a hurricane of black pigeons
splashing in the putrid waters.
Dawn in New York groans
on enormous fire escapes
searching between the angles
for spikenards of drafted anguish.
Dawn arrives and no one receives it in his mouth
because morning and hope are impossible there:
sometimes the furious swarming coins
penetrate like drills and devour abandoned children.
Those who go out early know in their bones
there will be no paradise or loves that bloom and die:
they know they will be mired in numbers and laws,
in mindless games, in fruitless labors.
The light is buried under chains and noises
in the impudent challenge of rootless science.
And crowds stagger sleeplessly through the boroughs
as if they had just escaped a shipwreck of blood.
12.7k
I treasure those nights of unexpected surrender
when hands molded
caressed
and made me tremble
waking from slumber with body afire
as he inched gradually into me
bathed in my welcoming heat
one palm curled protectively
'round the weight of my breast
as finger and thumb drew on beaded peak
and breath caught in my throat
as his full depth was reached
unable to remain still
rocking back to achieve a deeper sink
his sudden hiss scalding my neck
teeth worrying my bottom lip
neither willing to move
afraid it would all end too soon
and as the flames continued to rise
groans replaced whispered sighs
no hurried pace or rapid ******
slow and sensual movements
dragging us ever nearer the edge
denying that final release
drawing closer but holding it back
sensation heightened beyond bearing
until that fraying tether breaks
causing walls to tighten and quake
drinking every last drop of his lust
clutching inside and out
desperately seeking his mouth
sealing the cataclysmic moment
heart pressed to heart
breath to breath
Mar 23, 2018
Mar 23, 2018 at 6:54 AM UTC
I love my country: India , but
I hate many of its rulers, as
they speak for the poor and
act for tycoons bellicose, and-
Diversity sighs in armed Unity;
The selfish corrupted in unity
March ahead on graves crafty.
I love my country: India , but
August fifteenth : with freedom,
opened all devilish forces
out of Hell to fell all virtues.
Grim faced Buddha smiles
Like a nuclear Phantom ,his
tears drip on tomb of Peace.
No white dove sits on dome
It bleeds in the lap of Buddha.
If birth is the cause of gloom.
who stops one from bloom?
Dearth of berth clamour for
Death of birth at the womb.
I love my country: India , but
Souls are free on lovely Earth
Lay bodies strain to survive.
A nominal word equanimity
Gushes in landslide infirmity.
Service becomes self –service,
In black ink sleeps Socialism.
Fear Neurosis like King Kamsa
Keeps Liberty behind the bars.
Healthy, wealthy Bharat Matha
Groans in labour room for Santi.
Note: 1). August fifteenth= 15 August 1947 when India became free from Briton. 2).Buddha=Gutham Buddha(Prince Sidhardha) who established Buddhism.3).Kamsa= The mythological character , uncle of Lord Krishna who chained even his sister Devaki out of the fear psychosis. 4),Bharat Matha= Indians consider Bharat/India as their Mother(Matha)-so it is Mother land not Fatherland for them .Santi/Shanti=a Sanskrit word used in Vedas and Upanishads of India which means Peace or Islam.
Aug 13, 2013
Aug 13, 2013 at 10:08 AM UTC
A tired old man groans
As he hand you some
Asian culture cuisine.
Riddled with spices
It tickles the little thing in the back of your throat
As you swallow the substance.
Face now flushed
Like a cluster of fire ants crawling on the hill
Calling it their home.
Home?
Where was it?
Your memory slips.
Glee storms the man’s face
As he studies your expression.
“Seems like you can’t handle such a simple thing."
Clouding your judgement, you bite your tongue
In desperate attempt to knock back the sense
That gone up and left.
However
It fails.
Numb as the lightbulbs turn into bottle-cap suns
Concealing sight
With the light that it shares.
Count as your heart stops
With eyes bloodshot
His crafted words echo
In your failing ears.
Jun 23, 2015
Jun 23, 2015 at 2:33 PM UTC
I wanna love you unique
Vibrate your insides when I speak
Open up..Go deep
Together discover our peak
Lost..No I've been found
Tie you up eat you bound
Groans of pleasure love the sound
Tongue tracing all around
Flurry of kisses feel my lips
Up your thigh between your hips
Go ahead give me tips
Instruct me as I do my dips
Deep inside we can feel
Euphoric as our bodies reel
Swallow me like a pill
Eat you like my favorite meal
Writhing from playful munch
Arching backs in a hunch
Round for round feel my punch
Have you ******* in a bunch
Welcome to ******** State
Now it's time to penetrate
Slamming on your pearly gate
Spring a leak start to shake
Hold on tight feel my muscle
Toss you wild as we tussle
As your feathers start to ruffle
We connect complete the puzzle
Adult mindset can't be weak
Words not needed when bodies speak
Forever finding what you seek
Euphoric pleasure one so unique..
Jan 8, 2015
Jan 8, 2015 at 4:47 PM UTC
I used to put these headphones on.
And at once, the whole world was gone
And the music did no wrong
Till I found myself doin’ it all day long.
But I still kept these headphones on
Because my headset drowned my strife,
Cut through it like a knife,
Till I was bound to the music for all my life.
I used to sit in earnest at my computer chair
ITunes and my iPod in hand as I prepare
Another playlist.
Indecisive between hip-hop and RnB
While I let humanity’s problems sit on a wait-list.
But I just left these headphones on.
Not a care or thought about global pollution
Amidst our world’s confusion
All signs pointing to a troubled conclusion,
But yet, me and my headphones ignore the solutions.
Why? Because music forever plays,
That even when solutions were raised,
I just sat there…
As the environment died everyday.
Because all I did was listen to these headphones.
As I laid awake in my bed,
Nothing running through my head,
Except music,
And I felt alive listening to the words that was said
When in reality Inside I was dead
But I still left these headphones in
So I can block out my parent’s groans when
I know that I have disappointed them
Maybe I’m just missing the point again.
And all the while my dads fist connecting with the door
As he has always done before, in the past
Choosing to ignore, with music full blast
I found myself more and more detached.
Not only my parents, but even the politicians are itchin’
To get me to listen,
Hopin and wishin that
This generation would eventually find its ambition.
I used to think that iTunes could do no wrong.
And that it was all I ever needed
Because all it was to me was a program full of songs
But I didn’t like where my life was headed.
And god it’s amazing, the word iTunes.
Such a fitting name
Because I tuned my friends out
And there is no one else to blame
As I tuned my parents out
Our relationship will never be the same
As I tuned the world out
Now look at who I became.
So now I’m taking these headphones off.
Because I don’t want to stay connected
Acting like I was totally unaffected
When in fact, the world around me I neglected
So I’ll change,
No longer will these headphones hold the reins
I am cutting off all of my chains
And I know a life ahead of me still remains
That without these headphones,
There is so much more to gain.
Nov 3, 2011
Nov 3, 2011 at 1:12 PM UTC
_...All I remember was
Cancer and my hospital room,
My green gown, my bed,
My white hair and mustache
Until suddenly...
...Reality started to stretch…
…And flatten into a brief euphoric white…
…I felt a cathartic release
As I was encapsulated and bathed
In a glorious sensation…
...I floated for an eternity…
…Until I felt my euphoria lifting…_
…As my eyes reopened
I found myself gazing
Upon a room of tiny lights,
Blue and pink specs
Dotting the inner workings
Of large wall sized machines…
…They lifted me upright
In a gray metal chair
And with sharp robotic groans,
A long arm from the wall
Held up a mirror to my face...
...In the reflection was a young man
I thought I would never see again…
…I had a wife back before,
But now I have a new one
Everybody in my situation,
("Reborns", as they are called)
Has brand new things and people
Filling their lives and concerns
They bring nothing with them
When they make their returns...
…Every morning I wake up
On the west 402nd floor
Of a residential tower
Next to my slim, youthful wife
And the trails of flying cars
That populate our view
From our wall-spanning window
As they soar through the city…
…I was told of technology,
Created and discovered
That could reawaken people
Who, like me, had died
In an earlier era and time…
…It’s strange that my past,
In all its importance and meaning,
Memories, friendships and scenery,
Seems to no longer be of concern,
Now that I have all this…
…I love what was, very dearly,
But the life I live now is for me.
I have new children, knowledge,
Friends and technology…
…I’m quite sure it’s possible
That old family members
That passed before me
Could exist in the same place
That I now live and find myself…
…But I can’t be certain,
Maybe they live further,
Deeper, in an unknown future
That I can’t even comprehend…?
…All I know is that, like me,
They have a new life somewhere
So I’ll do what I tried to do
My first time around…
…I’ll continue to grow and live on
In this new, world-spanning cityscape
Fueled by the love and memory
Of a past life remembered
only by me...
Oct 6, 2018
Oct 6, 2018 at 9:01 PM UTC
My feet sweat, my shoulders burn
But I am indifferent.
Nature plays around me.
Close your eyes. The last thing you see
is a white butterfly dance past the tree-line
into oblivion blue.
Bush leaves crackle above you in branches
and below you, let loose through brittle grass.
A light wind conducts a symphony in which
Each shrub plays a part.
Each dry branch, kindling ready to explode,
Itching to snap its dangerously perfect note.
Thorns whistle sharply - reeds hiss and hum.
Every breeze is a clown, taking up instruments
And jostling melodies to play all at once.
The grass rushes to its queue, dry as a bone.
Leaves follow behind in vague harmonies.
I wait on the edge of an eventful storm.
The sky is blue.
A storm of events - something big,
Behind the horizon, behind the mirage.
A rhino.
A microlite .
Electric fences, purring.
A wan nation celebrates, then groans behind the hills.
Natures orchestra sings to no one in particular
Mar 5, 2013
Mar 5, 2013 at 2:21 PM UTC
Forlorn sheets fluttering in the winds
splattered in smoke and ruination,
empty the streets where she'd played lost:
Haunting her now among
shadows in the cell she's chained
to slavery
of the religious kind.
Beast more than beast these men that
stare in hubris awaiting their turn
to partake of infidel flesh.
Behold! The holy empire of God is here.
That morning she'd grown up -
blood between her thighs had
stopped her play,
and her chastity was proclaimed.
Selima must learn to respect men
and the ways of God and His
rules of modesty.
Now, as he grunts and groans
in holy pleasure as he mounts
her by turns, tied up at the altar
to be an example of how ******
the lot of the pagan and faithless be.
Mother, is this the modesty that
God commands of infidel women?
How merciful indeed is He that
He creates in faithful men a beastly craving
and provides too for them
uncircumcised ***** in pillage.
Sep 8, 2014
Sep 8, 2014 at 2:23 PM UTC
If i was her lover
I would have *poetic *** in the ocean
reciting poetry to her
while I **** her
mindlessly
If i was her lover
She would be the mermaid of the ocean
Whom I am jealous to touch
and while I am here wading
wanting to make sweet love with its bride
If only I was her lover
I would whisper passions in her ear
like waves whispering on the shores
of her children
The water of the sea, he chokes me
surrounds me
but i am having *poetic *** in the sea
with she
and i say to her, my lover
"i met a mermaid out in the sea
she came to me and *poetic *** she needs
i grabbed her heart
and laid inside her
see i'm still a man who wants pleasure
and poetry together
i'm jealous of her lover
yet i'm having *poetic *** with her
in the ocean"
My love moans
groans
let's me own
her majestic bones
and her ravaged soul
is radiating
with every ******
beckoning passion
in this historic sensation
so intense
so loud
so real and unreal
and in her throes i hear
water logging in my ear
this moment here
of me ******* my lover
in the sea
i guess that's why they call it
******* poetry.
May 10, 2014
May 10, 2014 at 7:03 AM UTC
I writhe at your control
In my restless sleep
My body groans against
A dream of you, an image
Entering my mind
To infect me with your touch
And a whisper
Hot breath on my bare neck
Your will is my undoing
As I act out
Every whim
Until I wake gripping the sheets
My chest rising and falling
Under your hand
That I crave
Against my damp skin
Biting and scratching me
Into submission
I succumb
To only you
Sep 14, 2013
Sep 14, 2013 at 2:02 PM UTC
There's no mystery about the ******* ******
Open up
insert instrument
rub it about until
sighs, screams, moans, groans, scratches, scents, and innocence escape.
Pretty simple, the ******* ****** Same with the ******* ****
It should feel real good or something is going wrong and you'd better check with the someone within.
The resting ****** Well, that is a daily mystery of "how do I feel about this?"
'cause there's a whole bunch of weird nebulous crap going on in the daily world leaving you feeling ****** by the end of the day.
But solve that mystery with something to enlighten and entice the mood and you may just awaken
that ******* ****** again.
(The ******* **** Well he just seems like a less introspective, more alert and easy up, easy come little fellow. Lucky chap.)
Mar 11, 2016
Mar 11, 2016 at 6:08 PM UTC
‘I have to go.’
She whispers and sighs into his ear.
Uncovers herself from the sheets
And slips from the bed.
*The clock reads three o’clock
The moon illuminates the bedroom
‘Why, baby?’*
He groans as he sits up
Trying to calm his harsh breathing
Wipes the sweat from his face.
*Shadows dance upon the white walls
Her silhouette moves towards the door
‘I have to return home to him.’*
She replies, her gaze falls to the floor
Reaching for the doorknob,
Filled with so much guilt.
Aug 28, 2010
Aug 28, 2010 at 6:51 PM UTC
Tim O'Brien had the right idea
about carrying people and ideas;
we all have experiences that live within us
like a stain on our grey matter.
I carry with me every insult hurled at me,
caught by my web of sensitivity;
I lift them onto my shoulders,
my back creaking as I trudge on.
My insecurities are shackles at my ankles,
the chains tangling themselves and chafing my legs;
my knees knock and pop and shake,
my back creaks and groans.
The ghosts and spirits of the self-departed
dance their ethereal ballet about my soul
and howl their eerie opera through the night,
begging for forgiveness and understanding.
The heaviness of the future rests
inside the caverns of my cranium,
latching on to my thoughts
and chipping at my hopes.
Past loves plague our emotions
and rest in the deepest corners of our hearts,
reminding us of who we once were
and asking us what could have been.
A cloud of sadness condenses in my body,
little drops of dejection slide down my lungs.
My chest constricts and grows heavy
and pointlessly hopes to see the sun.
Everyone together carries the weight of the world,
but I'm not sure what is heavier:
the mass of the planet,
or the things its people carry.
Aug 6, 2015
Aug 6, 2015 at 5:01 PM UTC
They're feverish with desire
Eclipsed in love
Raging like a black smoke fire
****** scents rising above
The pheromones they release
Must be smelled miles away
They've missed this, the tease
And liquid glances, it's been days
Since, either have touched the other
But they still feel that ****** tension
On every inch of their skin
When they're finally away from prying eyes
Their lips mesh, his hands move to her thighs
And hers slide up through his hair
Gripping on tight
They could be spotted, but neither cares
He pushes her hard against the wall
Bringing her legs around his hips
She thanks heaven she wore a skirt
And quiets a moan by devouring his lips
He quickly, fervently unzips his jeans
Releasing himself and promptly
Entering her sweet, wet heat
He groans as he swallows her scream
Then pounds in hard, fast, ferociously
She rocks her hips with a delicious little motion
Squeezing her core tight, biting his lips
Coming almost instantly when he growls with delight
He thrusts harder, incessantly feeling her getting tight
Moving her ankles to rest on his shoulders
He delves his shaft as deep inside as he can reach
She scratches scars along his back
And they kiss so deep like it's the final feast
She throbs in her core as another wave hits at full force
Starts going weak as she comes once more
Feeling her liquid pour, brings him to the edge
He grips her ankles stretching the limits of her flexibility
Then roars into her sweet mouth as he comes, vigorously
He lets her legs go, but holds her upright
They both sigh knowing it's the beginning of the night,
And that was just a quickie
Dec 14, 2014
Dec 14, 2014 at 3:18 PM UTC
You know that poem about your lips?
And the one about your soft caress?
Those doesn't apply to tonight
My thoughts are not slow, not gentle
The softness of your touch
Throw that out the window
I want it to be rough
Forget the foreplay
Lets just start the play
Tonight, I'll let you pick
Want the handcuffs, without the key
Or do you want the stiffness in a whip?
Forget the bed, take it to the floor
Give you a spank, and those headlights,
I'll get a grip untill they're sore.
If you must have a good kiss
Then I must ask you, girl
Which lips should I give this kiss?
Is it the control you crave?
Well then, cowgirl, load the gun
Grab the bearings and give them a roll
Tonight, let's let it out and have some fun
We can go on a mission, happy trails
Take it to the couch or even the table
Leave welted streaks with your nails
Turn up the radio to drown the moans
Back up and head down, we can mimic the dogs
Pillow, headfirst to muffle the groans
To the edge of the bed, make it wet
I don't want it easy, darling
All I really want is to get
That shirt off your chest
Those jeans off your ***
Those curves are the best
Lets not let this opportunity pass
I don't want it easy, baby
My thoughts are not gentle, not slow
So come on woman, lets go!
Jan 30, 2011
Jan 30, 2011 at 7:41 PM UTC
All day,
My mind plays;
fast-forward
on the hour,
our foreplay,
at four today.
Me inside you;
hard pressed;
soaking wet;
hands: round neck.
Talking *****
making a mess.
Wet lips; stolen breathe.
The future coming; past tense.
moans and groans.
Blood rushing; lost of breathe.
your face flush and,
we aren’t even touching.
Daydreaming; In real-time:
Bodies dripping wet,
Everybody copaset.
Change of tune.
Tone alternate.
On your marks;
I’m getting set.
Your legs ajar,
My hands upset.
Teasing my ****
left you sticky-wet.
Between your lines,
I’m tracing it.
I won’t forget;
Her-rising; so fortunate
Constantly; awakening me
the forecast is set.
May 8, 2018
May 8, 2018 at 10:53 AM UTC
Glacier,
Flake
Time
Crystal
Collective
Mass
Gravity,
Flow
Breaking
Celibate
Monastic
Oath
In
This
Cathedral
Tower
Bedrock
Cracking
Groans
Moans
Under
Exponential
Cave
Crush
Crevasse
Plowing
Scoring
Tearing
Mush
Melt
Calving
Diving
Block
By
Block
Headlong
Into
Wave
Reflecting
Clouds.
Oct 24, 2010
Oct 24, 2010 at 9:04 PM UTC
I steal her hand, sit by her side
A whispered tone, a swift goodbye
I kiss her deep, and she is gone
I feel too weak to be so strong
I stand up straight, begin to shake
I clench my knees to keep my shape
I stand again, and am not sure
That I can fight, or will endure
I slowly turn the clockwork ****
The old wood groans the more I ****
My loved ones all sweep into view
They act, but they all know the news
A tiny figure takes my side
She grips my leg, begins to cry
I take her up, I kiss her head
I let her cry till tears are dead
I look down at my little girl
I see my wife, emotions swirl
My eyes go red, a heart torn deep
But I have promises to keep
And years to go before I weep
And years to go before I weep
Dec 21, 2011
Dec 21, 2011 at 5:04 AM UTC
That unexpected surge of passion
who knows from whence it came
But we just had to have each other
over and again
Barely time to make it through the door
before clothing it got shed
no time to waste on buttons
things just got ripped off instead
fumbled for a light switch
staggered 'long the hall
moonlight through the windows
as family photo's started to fall
dining table cleared
in a single one armed sweep
who cares about the noise
it's too late to be discrete
skirts lifted to save time
******* just pulled to one side
belts undone, zippers ripped open
so suddenly inside
a display so animal in nature
as your nails dug in my back
groans of passion fill the air
patience was all we lacked
Eventually its over
****** acheived, ****** shared
panting in the moonlight
bodies naked, passions bared
This doesn't happen every day
and maybe never will again
That unexpected surge of passion
who knows from whence it came
Aug 27, 2010
Aug 27, 2010 at 10:26 AM UTC
Modern athletes, strong and buff,
These days are tested soon and late
just to prove their skill and strength
are free of anabolic taint.
Ryan Braun, the M.V.P.
was tested thus occasionally.
He didn't seem the type to me
to boost his skills unnaturally.
Thus imagine my surprise
to learn the ***** he supplied
contained synthetic Testosterone
Brewer fans emitted groans.
Now it seems he's off scot free
based on a technicality.
He will not have to serve the ban
imposed on many a lesser man.
Opening day, reserve the date;
Braun will be there at the plate
His many fans will come to see
Ryan Braun, the M.V. ***
Feb 25, 2012
Feb 25, 2012 at 5:28 PM UTC