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Aubrey lynn Mar 2013
Please let me preface
I dont like people
crouds make me cringe
and while i value my friends
i highly value my solitude
------------------------------------------
I cant picture a face
when i close my eyes
when my mind trys to grant
that one final human wish
before slumber encompases my body
and reality and dreams interlace
For i have no soul to match with mine
nor a soul to follow
in deepest secret with the fleeting hope
that maybe our souls shall intertwine
But i wish not for two to meld
for hearts to pledge an undying vow
for lust and ****** greed
for billowing convorsations

But silence

An individual respect for ourselves
two beings gracious for company
bodies laid side by side
your fingers tracing circles
on blank canvasses of skin
Where there is but an understanding
that breath so silent can be pleasently shared
and electic touch soulfull
igniting warmth surrounding my heart
of which embers burn soft and hot

Where aching muscles
tense from harsh realities
are smoothed away with solid hands
a mutual relationship where the
solidarity in thought is aknowlegded
yet the pleaure derived from presense
a caring being holding steadfast
unwilling to let me go
gentle and kind
Where the silence of
spiritual understanding guides
the instictual need for
companionship
LDuler Mar 2013
Been dazed and confused for so long it's not true
There were kids
Sitting in the soft night's semicircle
Encased in a haze of smoke
The darkness enfolding them in a cloak
Of all mysterious things nocturnal
Making it all eternal
A superficial feeling of found truth
A white aura of blazing youth
Conquering the darkness with the fiery tips of lit joints
Puffing chimeras and golden illusions
Things left unsaid yet lead not to confusion
The substance and the glowing friends
Seems to fix everything and make ineffable amends
Lends them some heightened receptivity
With some dazzling sensitivity
To the dizzy promises of life
        *
Wanted a woman, never bargained for you
There was blue bottles and red cups
Sloshing full of 21st century ambrosia
Every moment of the night
Is doused in glowing star-light
Different rooms, dark places
Different shadows, similar faces
        
Lots of people talk and few of them know
There was music softly ebbing and weaving its way to us
      
Soul of a woman was created below
Gleaming sequined pillows
Curtains ebbing in delicate billows
That no amount of reality could ever harden
In the black garden
Amidst the tangy, acrid scent
Boys and girls came and went
Among the soughs and the ***** and the gleaming stars
We are young; ***** replaces wine, blunts replace cigars
      
You hurt and abuse tellin' all of your lies
An adagio of whispers travels with a florid vibration
Waves of words, swirls of conversation
High kids trying to touch
What has never been tangible
     
Run around sweet baby, Lord how they hypnotize
These kids linger on towering stools and lush couches
Leaning back with careless slouches
Or wander back and forth
Breathing dreams like air
     
Sweet little baby, I don't know where you've been
An elusive rhythm throbs in the humid atmosphere
Fragments of lost words hover on drunken lips
A stirring warmth flows
From bodies spilled together
Snuggled under a blanket of stars
      
Gonna love you baby, here I come again
Hands take hold of hands
And fingers tightly interlace
Throbbing softly with fluctuating warmth
The room is electric, filled with tiny flowing currents
      
Try to love you baby, but you push me away
In this wake of boozed up elations
All sorrows are aborted, all conscience is obliterated
Blitzed kisses are exchanged, transitory enchanted moments
Bemused nudges and tender embraces
Arms around shoulders, heads resting drowsily
All of this immediate and forever
        
Don't know where you're goin', only know just where you've been
And the tipsy, blissfully mindless joy of youth
Gives them bleary yet satisfactory hints of the unreality of reality
        
Sweet little baby, I want you again
The teens are flickering in and out of consciousness like befuddled fireflies
The sober ones roam the rooms, drifting haphazardly about
Simultaneously enchanted, bewildered, and repelled
By the seemingly inexhaustible variety of drunken fun,
The ****, adventurous mood of the night
       
Been dazed and confused for so long, it's not true**
We are all so young
So young and dipped in the dust of folly
And our laughs contain a hint of melancholy
The magic of nights like these,
When the spell of mortality is broken,
Eludes us all,
Yet we cling to them
Like moths to a flame.
Nights like these dig deep in the stuff of the soul
But there is still much to be learned
lol how to make a drunken high school party sound enchanted and mystic
Styles Jun 2020
I want to interlace
My tongue with
The taste
Of your taste
And savor your flavor
Like it’s laced.
This pleasant tale is like a little copse:
The honied lines so freshly interlace,
To keep the reader in so sweet a place,
So that he here and there full-hearted stops;
And oftentimes he feels the dewy drops
Come cool and suddenly against his face,
And, by the wandering melody, may trace
Which way the tender-legged linnet hops.
Oh! what a power has white Simplicity!
What mighty power has this gentle story!
I, that do ever feel athirst for glory,
Could at this moment be content to lie
Meekly upon the grass, as those whose sobbings
Were heard of none beside the mournful robins.
s Feb 2022
I found myself in his embrace,
as he peppered kisses across my face.
My fingers find his to interlace—
I never want to leave his place.
fox breath Aug 2013
I want you to trust me enough
to tell me even your deepest secrets,
the ones buried so deep
they live in the marrow of your bones.

I want you to map out the story of yourself,
the one running through your veins
so I can trace it back
to your heart.

I want to be enough to make you feel
even when your nerve endings have died
and your brain has gone numb.
I will wake you from your coma.

I want to interlace our fingers
never to let go,
while I hold every ounce of your hope
in my sweaty palms.

I want to tell you who I am,
the story written in my scars,
shattered hopes, tainted memories,
and rare smiles.

I want you to open your ears
and let it all pour in
but if it is too much,
I will not let you drown.

I want our indivdiual stories,
our tapestries full of different things,
to allow themselves to grow
and wrap themselves up in one another.

And I want us to do the same,
as our stories interlock
we will follow suit
because I am infatuated with you.
Ariel Ellis Sep 2010
no space in between
our bodies are attached
we fit perfectly together
your chest against my back

our bodies intertwined
it's a beautiful thing
your arms pull me in close
my heart wants to sing

the warmth of your body
sends chills up my spine
even on the toughest days
you make everything feel fine

I wonder what you're thinking
when you hold me so
your fingers interlace mine
I never want to let go

stay here forever
take away all my gloom
I love everything about you
you're my big spoon
Laura Duran May 2016
Tender, sweet
he kisses me
Lips touch
shivers much
We're no longer friends

Gasp, sigh
Feeling high
Heart pounds
Love abounds
May it never end

Bare skin
let's begin
Hands explore
wanting more
Point of no return

Rapid breathing
Mind is reeling
Waves of pleasure
beyond measure
Our bodies seem to burn

Pulse slows
Gently doze
Interlace
We embrace
I feel so safe and warm

Hold tight
through the night
Time flies
Sun rise....
and I wake in true love's arms
Pagan Paul Oct 2017
.
Random components in a broken box,
all there is of the jigsaw dreams.
Unaligned pieces distorting the picture,
a wooden tapestry split at the seams.
On the perimeter frame of insipid ice
molten images interlace in mist,
reaching for completion, a solid visage,
defying the puzzle a right to exist.


© Pagan Paul (09/10/17)
.
PNasarudheen Dec 2011
Love thou mind love and love
For,love is the binding Will of God.
Dip thy nib in live and gently draw
Draw sweet,sweet scenes around.

Honour blush as Ego's Pride
Upon thy cheeks flash rosy.
Body ******,hinges shake,Oh! Lord!
As emotional volcanoes erupt lava of anger.

Creator interlace creatues to depend
Hence,repent on,own-made calamities.
Love! give and take  as much as you need-
Only that much you need not be greedy.

Lust is  rust of love a desert fruit.
Being deserted,I once ran and ran
Searching mirage of human- love
With Tsunamis in eyes 'nd feeble feet.

Love is not selfish lust:
It is candle light for service.
Light:brightening darkened corners
Shows  us: all are creatures equal.

As we do violate the Nature's Laws
Laws of Nature will violate ours.
Walls will be demolished,Hills and valleys
Ploughed with thunder and quakes.

Love,thou, mind! love and  love
For, Love is  the binding Will of God.
Kaleigh Jan 2018
You always leave, a sweet taste on my teeth.

Kissing under moon beams, touching until our hearts gleam.

Silhouettes hold each other, as I try to find you in the wave of people you wish you were.

Sweet thing don't cry, skin is soft like cotton candy.

I'll never leave your side, your pain is mine.

Give me your love tonight.

When you go, your wide eyes as big as the ocean floor.

Just know, your love sticks like caramel apples on my lips.

Your love is so addicting but, so much sugar can make my heartache.

Sweet thing don't cry, I'll wipe those pity tears off your pretty eyes.

I'll never leave your side, your pain is mine.

Give me your love tonight.

Don't think, don't blink.

Just live.

Let your scent control my body.

Interlace our fingers on a strawberry bedspread.

I'll do whatever you want, I can show you what to do.

Wrap our legs around one another, feel the heat take over.

If only your love was real, if only your touch was made for me.

No sweet thing, you don't belong to me.

Only in my dreams.

And I'll never get to taste your candy on my teeth.
Graff1980 Jul 2015
Soft yellow petals paint the earth, falling like tiny feathers back and forth in a cradling fashion and settling quietly into the dirt. A small figure howls his lamentations. He leans over the earth pounding his fists against the open ground. A vacant face with almost ape like features seems to be silently sleeping. Grunts of sorrow fill the mournful morning sky.

The small man-beast cries. Behind him tiny fingers clutch his light brown matted hair, muffled sobs slipping from their tiny mouths. He turns, cradling the younglings in his arms; then tightens his embrace, smothering their pain with his till there is a small sense of comfort left.

     A flaming arrow soars above a shimmering pool of water, whistling at its own reflection as it seeks its target. He floats gently in the pond a stark contrast from his own life. Once warrior now rotting corpse. Sword ceremoniously placed upon his chest; arms crossed. The flaming arrow falls. The body is consumed. In the distance a tribe stands stoically holding in tears of sorrow mixed with a tense sense of pride.

     Somewhere in the stone city a poets sings his sad rhymes, echoing the love of a stranger, the wrinkled form now fallen. The people pass in a small procession. He lets their soft sobs fill him up. A young man hands him a coin in gratitude for the melody and the honorable words then walks away his shoulders heavy with grief. His body sags as if the gravity has been multiplied by ten. A little girl sniffs the dry dusty air taking in the oils and perfumes, waiting to see if Hades shows up. The poets passes the newly earned coin to a starving stranger sitting quietly nearby.

Deep south a disfigured body dances in the breeze, swaying in time with the leaves of the tree. A mother wails; she is restrained. Her body, hardened by years of labor, crumbles for a moment. Her brown skin moistened by tears glimmers in the days harsh rays. Shaking with anguish, she struggles against the strength of those she loves. A male voice warns her against the dangers of trying to recover the body. Even so, it takes two grown men to hold her back.

A robed figure stifles his sorrow beneath the strong veil of faith. The restraint takes much of his mental strength leaving him emotionally fatigued. There is a small body laying limply in his arms. Blood paints his loose flowing robes red. His beard is sticky with sweat, sand, and snot. The face of the child is ruptured. That which once enraptured and inspired fatherly love now terrifies. The reality is a massive wound paralleled by the sickening hole in his child’s face. Brittle bone broken and bent sinking inwards as what should be there disappears. All that is left is a mess of flesh and pain. Barely a foot away one brother softly whispers his prayers to Allah on behalf of his nephew.

I close the eyes of my grandfather, or at least I imagine that I close his eyes. I do not have the strength to touch him. I do not know why. I want to pay him some grand respect out of love and gratitude. The guns sound a salute as strangers honor him more than I am able to. A folded flag finds its way into my arms. I am merely holding it for another. I look at my shirt, a weird black button up thing with short sleeves and flames, wishing I had worn something better. I wish I had a poem, or petals, or even a flaming arrow but all I have is this stupidly stunned face numbly staring out at the world.

Suddenly, I feel the softness of tiny furry fingers interlace with mine. Then the music of a foreign language plays in my ears. To the left, a strong brown calloused hand squeezes my shoulder in a statement of compassion. Behind me I feel the pat a powerful palms slapping against my back in pride. In front of me a thin skinned black bearded figure sits on his knees. He lowers his head, hands gently pressing against the ground. He prays, and I hear a beautiful accent in a tongue I cannot comprehend, but I understand the intent. Then the bearded stranger raises his head again, repeating the process a few more time. I nod my head in solemn gratitude.
JWolfeB Jul 2014
The times when our hearts interlace their deepest roots.

That's when I feel the most sober.

When your voice is the honesty I swallow.

That's when I feel the most sober.

The times your eyes promise me an upside down future that you flipped right side up.

That's when I feel most sober.

I want to be sober every moment with you. Because you are my finest form of inebriation.
Pagan Paul Jul 2023
Take my hand and let us go so lightly,
walking 'pon the lake of lovers dreams,
gentle ripples interlace our smiles brightly,
lighting the stars within romantic streams.
Making love as we sink beneath cool water,
drowning lustful in passions liquid embrace.
The dream shimmers, as the images falter
and the still lake reflects your delicate face.
Asim Javid Jan 2016
A nebulous hope on the silhouette of horizon.
My redeeming font , one sweet poison.
Slowly it obliterated  me ,
branding with ache of reaching.
The ashes of my nous shouting and screeching.
Left with repugnant psyche of an undying hype.
Resplendent hysteria of an antithetic type.
Is it the verity or  nebulous dream.
Is it the silence or vociferous scream.
The part of me desists.
The part of me resists.
To walk the path that leads to decay.
Holding the faith with doubts at bay.
What do I do , to overcome this interlace.
May be I spiflicate the existence , and
   live as Inanimate* .
dana green Aug 2013
In the back of a polish bar we sat

Smoking a foreign brand of cigarettes my lips had never touched
smoking until we ran out.

Me, pretending to be eccentric.

coy

laughter

closing the gaps between the continents we were born
surely we will bring pangea back to her glory

This is my favorite song, I say.
grace is serenading me from across the world

we inch closer together
the warsaw wood panels start to cave us in
i have forgotten about everyone else

Palms glide up thighs
wheat beer slides down the tongues
that wait to interlace

i listen to your kaleidoscope of syllables
we, in your native land, speak in my foreign tongue
i apologize for that.


we are alone in this room, i think.
the night's corners are creeping in
as quickly as our bodies braid.

            our warszawa flame flickers.
-D Sep 2012
"good morning," you said,
as you walked up trottrottrot to my door,
opened the lock with your smile
& let yourself in:

"I promise not to stay,
but I'd like to at least take a glimpse
of the whatif sort of game we play."

& as I unfurled my joy at your arrival
I closed my eyes to picture
just what our whatifs and couldwes would look like:

there would be music,
sweet music,
& your voice would match with my words--
a tenor chorus in cummings' poetry,
a breath of anxious hearts' goodbyes.

for each&everytime; we are draw near to the same place,
we hold our hands up & against each other's,
& we look into each other's eyes
but our fingers never, never, never
interlace.

whatif, whatif, whatif--
so exhausting is this thought,
that I will set it free here in these words,
& I will let you be there with your wideawakeeyes
& your heart that runs its course in the other direction
from where I stand tonight.
L Gardener Aug 2012
You look so warm inside the rays,
I watch them as they dance ballet.
Across your face they pirouette,
until my every worry, I forget.

You kiss each other playfully,
blissfully unaware of me.
Glowing in the afternoon,
Your golden skin, it makes me swoon.
I'm far too mesmerized with you nearby,
watching days pass within your eyes.

You look at me and
I become the hours,
seconds, minutes, it overpowers.
Blinded by a solar flare,
ignitions in the air,
burning all around,
wishing the sun would never go down,
Slow down.

You stick around to watch the sunset,
I start to become a silhouette.
It's getting dark,
until your laugh lights up a spark.

A fire growing on the inside,
Shadows run and hide,
darkness can't survive,
when you're ablaze.

You're a star from outer space,
Rising up to interlace,
the human race.

This I always knew,
is what connected me and you,
and we're connecting all of us.

Call it trust.
Parts of you that can't be seen
illuminate the heart of me.
Bonds of Love

gleaming  dim light of candle glow
backdrop melody is  soft and low
Dancing shadows  gather  no mass
Forgotten wine warm up  in the glass

The tender, soft  pat  of loving hands
What the other desires each understands
passionate lovers persuade to embrace
deep longing  from inner hearts interlace

exhilaration burns away  to a desire
Lips and  eyes  fuel the blaze of  fire
thoughts  hunts for  wishful  lust
Inhibitions fade replaced by trust

The world close out from this thrilling tryst
This rest and each other are all that exist
An cherished bond that transcend the flesh
Where hearts, minds and bodies intermesh

Williamsji Maveli

Email: williamsji@yahoo.com

www.williamsji.com
www.williamsgeorge.com
w­ww.microthemes.com
www.moonmakers.com
The Kallettumakara Gblobal Association (KGA), UAE Chapter has announced their first poetry award for excellence to Williamsji Maveli's  third  poetry collection   titled as “Arramviralthumbath …”  (On the tip of the 6th finger,  published by H & C Books, Trichur) .The award has been declared  by Mathew David, Chairman of KGA at their Executive Committee meeting held recently in Sharjah Emirate of United Arab Emirates.  The award has  also been considered for his poetic works scattered in his recently published book named  as “Maa Salama."  ( means "With peace"  in Arabic). The poems have been gathered from different desert sketches,  focusing on his real-time life experiences ,while he was working in UAE for more than 30 years.  Williamsji, (Williams George),   former Ras Al Khaimah based Journalist and lyricist of tester-years has been nominated for a literary award for the first time for literature. The Award is being formulated by KGA  (Kallettumkara Global Association, UAE Chapter) for  outstanding contributions to literature  from the native writers  of Kallettumkara,  a village town in Trichur, Kerala in India.  The award will be presented by the KGA’s UAE Chapter on the grand occasion of their 11th anniversary, which is being scheduled to be held during November, this year,
according to Mathew David, Chairman of Kallettumkara Global Association.
www.kallettumkara.net
Right at this very moment
there isn't much on this Earth I'd rather do
than interlace our fingers
and look into eachother's eyes
  and nip at your ears, collarbone and neck
as I make sweet, passionate Love
to you.
For a beautiful and lovely muse.
W Winchester Sep 2015
He gets off
on watching you
with me

You made him ***
when he saw you
underneath me

His hand in his pants
when he saw you
covered in hickeys
from me

Do you remember
when he begged
to watch you
interlace your tongue
with mine

You made him moan
when you were on your back,
*******, by me

He loves to watch you
*with me.
This one has been trying to write itself for a long time now. And no, it's not about you actually.
GaryFairy Oct 2015
it must be in my composition
composing lines of opposition
opposing the forces of inhibition
inhibiting me, and my mission

maybe the reason for my creation
creating lines of aspiration
aspiring to give my own translation
translating thoughts into formulation

=========thesis of completion============

i was made from the pavement of places
where faces are vacant of any translation
i interlace traces of those wasted cases
as a way of portraying their lost salvation

i speak from the streets of broken pieces
where the weak sleep in the heat of depletion
i seek to find some peace in my thesis
where these creatures reek of completion
i decided to throw in the second poem because i thought it kind of related to why i write...which, is what my mission statement series is all about
Terri L Smith Nov 2012
The darkness fell and never left,
        The rain came beating to the ground,
As somberly he looked, bereft,
        At Father who made not a sound
        And Mother lost to all around,
He made a pledge, an oath of hate,
      And ne’er to break his word was he;
Protect all others from this fate,
      Not to allow misdeeds to be:
      Destroy all wrong that he could see
By taking down immoral men,
      By any means and any form
So his days were spent, but then,
      His heart still craved for loving; warm
      Bodies to interlace, perform -
Almost like a dream she came,
     A woman born not of this Earth,
Diana Prince, her given name,
     And he knew not of her real worth,
     Or of the true place of her birth;
He found himself in lustful daze,
      Watching as she flicked her hair,
Smiled in most adoring ways,
      He knew this thing he could not share
      Thus the two became a pair -
Though both hid a secret deep,
      Neither one prepared to say
And both their silence they did keep,
      Until the one most momentous day
      When fate had its own hand to play;
In mortal danger they were found,
      Roped around in knots and ties
By wicked creatures underground,
      At last their secrets they described,
      Identities they’d dared to hide;
She had her doubts of baring truths,
      But knew her lover understood
Why she had been made to choose
     Although all that she did was good,
     A choice made to evade spilled blood;
He told her of that fearful night
     When as a child his parents died
And left him in this world to fight
     Alone; in the mansion he’d reside,
     His want and need for love denied,
He told of his cape, his helm, and cave,
     She of inherent power,
Neither flustered, both were brave
    In face of their darkest hour,
    And bells rang out from Gotham’s tower
Declaring that now it was time;
    The two of them combined must fight,
And brave they fought against the crime,
    Cloaked, hidden under dark of night
    Until the dawn of morning light;
The end of the battle now was near,
    A thousand men lay lost, defeated
And Gotham’s citizens did cheer,
    As speedily the rest retreated
   The dark of Batman's heart depleted.
rained-on parade Mar 2018
I.
You walk through these streets
like you think you know what you want.
But tell me honestly,
inside the pockets of your coat
your fingers never uncross,
do they?

II.
I drown you in photographic film
and sometimes I wonder how time
stands still in a painting.
In the middle of the bazaar, you stood
like a painting
while people moved around you
like an overexposed reel of film
and time still stands still to this day

III.
You're coughing it all out; winter
on your lips and spring in your lungs.
Drink me.
I am a tincture of a daydream.
The sun is always brighter, my dear.

IV.
Our hands interlace in the darkness
and melt away with the consequences of time.
You are a bottle of something precious.
Put me to sleep, sing
me to sleep.

V.
Undo the buttons of your dress
and wear away with the night.
Shed this old layer of skin
and something about rebirth
we can tell beautiful lies
but how long before the bread soaks up the milk
and the blood on the carpet
seeps into
the wood.

VI.
The ice on the lake
can't hold up this dream anymore.
You're a hallucination
and all I needed.
I don't know if I'll ever finish this.

Lustrous faint light of candle glow;
Backdrop melody is soft and low;
Dancing shadows gather bare mass;
Forgotten wine drops in the glass.

The tender, soft pat of loving hands;
Opposite’s desires each understands;
Passionate lovers persuade to embrace;
Deep wishes from inner hearts interlace.

Excitement burns away to a desire;
Lips and eyes fuel the blaze of fire;
Thoughts hunt for a wishful lust
Inhibitions fade, replaced by trust
*
BY
WILLIAMSJI MAVELI
williamsji@yahoo.com
www.williamsji.com
www.williamsgeorge­.com
www.williamsmaveli.com
From "Lyrically Yours......", a collection of love lyrics, written by WILLIAMSJI MAVELI
Ciel Noir Apr 2020
.                                                                ­                    
            the twisted patterns                        
                                ­       𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦          interlace  
                                𝘵𝘩𝘦          𝘢𝘯𝘥        
                  𝘴𝘬𝘺          𝘵𝘩𝘦
                     the mysteries          𝘴𝘶𝘯                          
                ­                          fall into place
          𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘣𝘺                                           
                           ­ 
              𝘰𝘯𝘦                  𝘣𝘺                   one    
                                                                ­                                        .
Elizabeth Jan 2012
I hear the roar of your truck engine as you wait patiently atop my driveway

I slide on my sandals hurriedly, slip out the door
Dressed in a loose, ripply top with my favorite shorts
Bouncy hair and glowing skin
Edible fragrances dripping off my figure, into your nostrils, in which drag themselves to the lobes of your brain, the taste buds of your tongue

And you
With your golden rod complexion, form-fitting black t-shirt, exposing the contours of your sculpted chest, loose Bermuda shorts
Complementary ball cap and aviators
The faint hypnotic smell of sweat and my favorite cologne that compliments your natural aroma perfectly

A playlist of songs reminiscent of old memories
Singing
Dancing
Laughing
Crying
Beats on my eardrums
"Fat bottomed girls, you make the rockin' world go round!"
Our vocal chords stretch like rubber bands as we scream to these memories in motion

The beach is reserved for our use, or so we pretend
Together, we are alone on this small strip of land
I run to the sand, allowing my toes the comfort of such a familiar feeling
White hot, burning, tingling, relief within seconds as the warmth conducts and disperses across my skin

I unbutton my shorts and pull my top over my head, run to the waters edge in hopes of pleasure, alleviation from the gnawing humidity, liquefying my bones  
I submerge my head, fogging my mind, allowing complete relaxation to fill my entire being

I find you beside me as I surface for Oxygen
Beads of lake water cover you cheeks like melted snowflakes
You stand there, naked next to me, your clothes at shore

Your hands search my back, find the fasteners of my bra
1
2
3 un-clipped by your hungry fingers, which now travel to my hips
Tugging at the thin, lacy fabric covering my
innocence

Now, in your palm

And with your other palm you beckon me back to the sand as you say, with tender breathlessness,
"You're beautiful"
In which I believe you as I lie upon a sandy towel
As you carefully lower yourself upon me
As our fingers interlace
And our lips, thirsting for lust, bind together

We are one

We are love
I was daydreaming... a much different version than what is in my poetry notebook, as I wrote this in the middle of the night!
Jaymisun Kearney Nov 2013
Knock well on wood as you enter but
Know knuckles lend their skin for flood
Of the risk of entrapment eternal?
Well, few find their bodies stuck and
What's worth its weight in blood
Splays on the lit altar face

It can be warm
Only if you touch
If you touch first
You speak your secret
Farewell

Read through the words you spent sinner our
Real lines lie under thinner lace
Your constant wore hiding the venom crawl
Held below bidding inlay here
Half craving finger's trace
Specters bid sweet interlace

It can be warm
Only if you touch
If you touch first
You speak your secret
Farewell

Empty ones warn walls
Before little embraces
Creating lethal snares
Come
Catching worlds unaware
Come
"Empty ones," All say
(Come speak your secrets)
"I'm fine."
Vennie Kocsis Dec 2013
Click the link if you'd like to listen to me speak this poem.

https://soundcloud.com/venniekocsis/the-separating

I have stared at pictures
of my face with
closed eyes

I have imagined
this is what I would
look like in a coffin

so I will be burned
turned to ash
sprinkled into the
soft earth of this Mother

so they can remember
the sound of my laughter
when I visited the trees

Some say "oh, that is so morbid!
how could you think like that?"

I reply, "how can I not,
when I know I'll be back?"

I am but just a blink
on this thing we call a life
when I return to stardust
I'll sleep a thousand nights.

But for now
I trudge the wreckage
of a complicated pain
to see if I can
build the strength
to return this way again.

How does one hold on to hope,
dying in the snow,
huddled 'round a barrel fire
as the sarin seeps the ground?

I say I am a washer,
some ask me what I mean
I have invisible knapsacks
strapped behind my knees

I have wondered why
I'd choose this kind of life
to feel the saddest parts
of a human's broken heart

Sometimes I stare at photos
I don't recognize myself
not the upturned nose
or the slight overbite of my jaw
I stare at foreign eyes
who was she before
she was forced to survive

I remember planets
where I sat beside the blues
places just like this one
without the sorrow

It has always felt abnormal
to be inside this skin
like my soul has always
fought a war
with being in human form

I have gazed at my face
in colorful gradients
long to kiss my lips
and feel their softness
to know just once
what it is like
to stand on the outside
of a bullet riddled body

I would hold my cheeks,
look at myself so sweetly
in all the ways I imagined
would happen if I was loved
unconditionally, fully,
wholly, without expectation

I have stared at the darkness
like it's a Hearst
where my dead flesh would rest first,
carried through dimensions
back to the before
if I could just have the courage
to step through that door

It doesn't feel familiar
being in this place
with the indifference,
the passivity and
the down turned faces

It's not to say I
don't have moments where I'm happy
but how can I skip through rainbows
when there is so much weeping?

I feel each time they ache
like it's my very own heart
like they're a piece of my existence
their shadowing lingering
in my footsteps and
I cannot catch a breath
for the intensity of
their desperate loneliness

I have stared at my hands
folded across my chest
the way my fingers would interlace
before the skin decays and breaks

the way humans display
other humans
to feel better inside
about the way
their loved one died;
pomp and circumstance
taking precedence
in lifelessness

I have images stamped in my head
my eyes black and absent
the way they'll be in the end

take it back
put it in concrete
make a chisel with a code
so deep
they'll have to go to
great feats to figure it out
because there are two choices
love and doubt

and in the end
neither will matter
it'll just be you and the stars
and the echo of grief
evaporating into the mist

and you will see your face
on white paper
with words about
a second of an inch thick
before you become separated
into a remember when

let the shards fly
sink into my skin cause
I'll be back this way again
but until then

I wonder what will be
written on my epitaph
she felt too much
she let the sadness gush
she whispered in the silence

No, No
save the stone
instead, make me flame
in my last moments let me shine
and be light
then take me to the sea
where the waves will bury me

and I'll return home
to tell them of a dying planet
and the few eyes
who have not yet lost hope

v.k poetry
copyright @ dbv publishing 2013
Bonds of Love

Gleaming  dim light of candle glow
backdrop melody is  soft and low
Dancing shadows  gather  no mass
Forgotten wine warm up  in the glass

The tender, soft  pat  of loving hands
What the other desires each understands
passionate lovers persuade to embrace
deep longing  from inner hearts interlace

exhilaration burns away  to a desire
Lips and  eyes  fuel the blaze of  fire
thoughts  hunts for  wishful  lust
Inhibitions fade replaced by trust

The world close out from this thrilling tryst
This rest and each other are all that exist
An cherished bond that transcend the flesh
Where hearts, minds and bodies inter mesh

By: Williamsji Maveli
www.moonmakers.com
www.williamsji.com
www.williamsgeorge.com
www.microthemes.com
www.mavelinadu.com
www.thefilmmagazine.com
www.kallettumkara.net
Martin Narrod Jan 2017
The cold is my commander, it taunts me, while it steals my sheaths of warmer cleaving skin sections exposed by its notions and collected conscious. The sounds are complicated, the moons azurean hue resembles the coldness of my cigarette's embers blue, and then the commander shucks my final breath away. It isn't something that I barely feel, but rather something that lightly see. It's hoarfrost births its fickle shell of hardrime on the last of those interstices I once called my fingers. And from this choke, this frozen voice is detained by the vox ice amplifier that steals each noise. Besides, in an interruption I hear our whorish neighbors score of shouting scripted shouts, and screaming scripted screams. Each day she becomes less and less like any real human being. It's hard to believe that behind these walls that shield me from the albicant and atrocious heraldry winter casts me through, these sounds are concentric like limited Earth words written in the prompts that some ill and wanton succubus would. If only to lure herself from the pains she gained while lying to those amidst her closest ties. I am further distressed, though fully dressed narrowly watching bits of frozen water interlace themselves beneath freezing in the corners of my mind. When until the shaking and commandeering of my mortal sounds, disperse amidst the ferocity that Spring white snow absconds. The tremulent vocal chords are hailed by a hard-rimed ****, who ensuingly rips the cantering spirit from each last place it stood. Only those who know this wind could speak about the way it genuflects and obsesses on these rules. This freezing genuflection hails to every servant of its rein, I can barely exhale the inspiration that rises from the head, until any skin exposed to air is reclaimed by my commander for good. Then each neighbor's head may lilt upon the piste, and pray for something more balmy than negative eleven degrees.
Patrick McCombs Jun 2011
Look at the time slowly pass
And see the sweet and flowing grass
It covers the rolling hills and the never ending fields
Never knowing what it yields
The sun hangs heavy in the afternoon sky
And birds fly just to simply fly
A couple makes their way up the hill
They go by the names of Lucy and Will
Carries a picnic basket in one hand
And in the other a girl just as grand
And dressed in their Sunday best
As they watch the sun sink in the west
A sweet darkness wraps around them
The moon glows like a gem
The wind softly runs through their hair
A cricket chirps in the darkness somewhere
Will turns to her and looks at her stunning features
She is such a lovely wild creature
Her Wild emerald eyes burn bright
As they twinkle and burn in the moonlight
Wills smile spreads from ear to ear
Its infectious to all that are near
The stars stutter like film stuck in a projector
He holds her tight as her protector
Arms wrapped around her waist
The air around them sweet to the taste
They laid down and stared into space
Their fingers interlace
They consider every eventuality
Realizing they lack immortality
That they need to value time
Play till the warning bell chime
To make their love last
To value the future as much as the past
And they fall asleep on the hill
That ends the story of Lucy and Will

— The End —