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I sat with a cat in my lap.
This cat is having a nap.
I wish she'd get off me,
I have to go ***.
This cat in my lap should ****.

This kitty is itty & bitty.
She jumped up to where I was sitting.
She needs to get down,
I'm wearing a frown.
My bladder is making me giddy.

So here I sit like a twit.
My lap must be made of catnip.
My need is so great
But she just won't vacate.
This cat in my lap should get.
The cat's name was Mystery, by the way.

© 2011  J.J.W. Coyle
Äŧül Feb 2016
Their voice so harmonious,
Silent when no strings attached,
All the curves so very ****,
Smooth is their texture,
Admiring their beauty with fingers,
You seat them on your lap,
Putting their arms around your shoulder.

Tickle them hard to make them peck,
They touch your heart with their sound,
Nibbling your ears in between,
The motion generates friction,
Friction generates heat,
So icy sweet is her music,
All over, you script success.

I talk of my guitar here.
I now possess 2 guitars.

My HP Poem #1022
©Atul Kaushal


What an "ANGELUS" time it is
These times of LOVE

The "SALATS" of the moment
embraces everything around us

Is it the "FAJR" of birds kissing?
Is it the "ASR" of cats stretching?
Is it the "MAGHRIB" of peacocks screams?

Those are the sound of LOVE I suppose

I can see on the cheeks
The wetness of the kiss
That has not dried yet

Who is the LOVE
(BELOVEDz /  LOVERz) who causes
The tears swell in the eyes
Of the one who LOVES?

Why is the eagerness to touch
The bare shoulders so enticing?

Why the heart longs to
drown into LOVE
(BELOVEDz / LOVERz) core?

Placing one's face on the lap
The flower smells jasmine rains

Close eyes and experience my LOVE
When I seal your pores with my lips?

Can I sing you lullabies
When you sleep besides me peacefully?

Can I snap a new art sculpture
Out of your hair every morning?

Forget your thoughts
While feeling my LOVE
By being in LOVE with me

Why the words become worthless
When we share
A common breathing between our lips?

Who is listening to the music
Of our heart-beats?

Why do roses rain over us
When we share our chromosomes?

Who are they?
There, below the waterfalls
Behind the mountain caves
The two magical unicorns in LOVE?

Who will pray "TEFILLAH"
When we are in
Ultimate union of LOVE?

Who will "TENEBRAE" our lives
To illuminate our souls?

So that we "THEOPHANY" the
LOVE deity of ONENESS

Now tell me...

Will the clouds answer our LOVE-call?
Will the first ray of sun ever find us?
Will the moon ever illuminate dark lives?
Will the stars sparkle over our springs?
Will the dew drop give birth to seedlings?

To save the cosmos & planet EARTH
Let us embrace into
Single semantic of LOVE


GreenTrees May 2015
Love with its picturesque mountain peaks
one finds oneself opening their hearts to the unending sky of dreams
Down to its deep fertile valleys
where we worked the soil with hardened hands
and perseverance of heart.
At the land's edges where waves of emotion lap against its jagged shores
we find tranquility in the sound of its crashing waves.
In the high deserts where life still abounds and its fragile existence yields to the windswept nature of chance.
In its open fields where our desires roam care free
to it’s densely wooded areas where we frolic in the beauty of its simplicity.
In its grandness we are but the migratory animals who seek it's bounty from season to season.
From it we are born and die but the land remains to remind us that love endures and its beauty exists to teach us to adapt to all of its wondrous and various forms.


Copyright Karl v. 2015
ABOVE THE FUCHSIA COLORED CITY
IS A FRENCH ROSE COLORED SKY,
COLORED AS ANOTHER NAME
OTHER THAN THE CLOUDS OF WHITE
SALT AND BONES.

THE CITY'S AIR SMELL OF GREY
ELEPHANT'S BREATH AND POETRY.
I BLAME THE LEMONADE  COLORED
RAIN THAT DIDN'T FALL TODAY
FOR THIS CONUNDRUM.

MAYBE THE RAIN IS PROBABLY
SOMEWHERE SITTING STILL
IN THE HOT SEAT OR MAYBE IN
HEAVEN'S COLORLESS TIGHTLY
CLOSED LAP.
SITTING
               THERE
                          THINKING
                             ­                WHAT
                                                       COLORS                      
                                    ­                               GO
                                                                ­         BEST
                                                            ­                     WITH
                                                                ­                         WILD
                                                                ­                    EMOTIONS?
Shrishty May 2017
Tonight, I feel closer to myself,
But it only means that I'm farther away,
From every bittersweet memory,
And from my mother's lullaby,
And from my father's lap.

The quest of finding myself has left me alone,
And I've discovered my inner-darkness.
I saw the bad in the people around me,
But turns out I'm only one to be blamed.
If only I had known that finding myself meant losing everyone else, I would've chose better. Self discovery is not always happiness.
Shofi Ahmed Mar 2017
I
A flower that smells of pure bliss keeps an ear to the ground
It's a serene one sitting beneath the stars down on earth
The moon, far, far, seven seas away, loves to drop into her lap.

The Bay of Bengal billows, music has gotten beneath the skin.
The leaves furl out off the deep wood with the birds
singing out to the top of the trees, rhyming with the leafy dance.
Heavensent, that was in one sanguine day in the spring.
The Mother’s Language Movement in 1952 sprouted like this
on the eighth of native Falgun month—oh magic did it unleash!

On that day our beloved brothers were shot dead
They could swallow the bullets with smiles but won’t give up
demanding the official status for the Bangla mother tongue.
Angels wrapped round the martyrs amid lamenting mothers
Laid them on Falgun’s perfumed ground bleeding corpses
Seas of roses bloomed and blew them out red, red kisses!

They are gone not the stone wall of consciousness they raised
Ah, at the sprout of the spring what were they echoing?
Ingrained deep in the soil the pre-designing voice in the planning?
Who can tell? The world gels on February 21 in celebrating!

The angels then snapped up our martyrs’ souls off the land,
placed them on a piece of Heaven where they can hear the jingle.
Down on earth, a nation springs up, has gotten its wake up call!
Stepping on the sweetening arc of the mother tongue melody
the stone turns a flower, all in a butterfly moment soaring to victory.
Thanks to the movement - Bangladesh itself later comes to be!

II
The sun comes down to the rose painting on the land
In the heavenly Falgun hues it nibbles some wild summer dreams.
“Serene songs of earth stirring the water,” like it comes into play,
rowing the cloud bubbles singing in southern breeze.
Ah, a walk on the sun-kissed kaleidoscope land is a pure bliss.  
Every blossom spray of the wind is soothing sweet
Hop on and play straight to the ruby heart, as if it's a flute.

Mother tongue means speak free, fearless, in full streaming.
Speak the heart to the world without the fear of losing the cloud
that will listen, bouncing back on the brink of the sky river.
Then what did one say, hear, or was awed by in the blooming Falgun?
Could it have been the spring humming in her native lingua
or King David singing in mother tongue by babbling brooks
what in any other language, even with a silver tongue, isn’t possible?

Allah has listened to our martyrs’ crying mothers and fathers
The martyrs’ souls whisk through the galaxies and starry fair.

Soar high over the clouds, take the rainbow's *** of gold away,
Like a hue turns 360-degree in the colourwheel bask into the colour.
Still, dip the toes in Bangla mother’s soil salted with perfumed art
Like Himalayan water swirling down melting deeper deep down
This magicland is polished for everyone be it you, a fairy, a star
or off the ploughed-out barrow a walked out wonder!

A pristine voice duo’s voiceprint gleans to the spring in muse,
Pops in a beauteous scurry and speaks in the mother tongue!
Hidden within the earthy depth, only emerges with time,
only dances in tangent, that day slipped out with the butterflies.
And finally the blue nymphs take the plunge drop down the sky  
That day the mother’s voice triumphed, whose is the most original!
This is a poem from my book Zero and One available on Amazon.
Matt Jursin Nov 2010
They say that there's a mathematical equation that explains everything in life.

But I say that not even physics bears an explanation for...the guidelines of attraction.
Our primal reactions are multiplied by...the highlights of passion.

These laws of love that linger like a lanterns lost illumination...
Like the campfire light on a clear night, leaves coals of culmination.

Sweat beads lead to bare threads and bare bodies.
And oh my, how bare bodies lead to imaginations running wild.

Cold winds inspire warm kisses and close skin.
Sincere actions aren't sins.

Bodies wound in union, formed by light and tightly bound.
Together, these twisted vines ******* the hardest ground...
Together, harmonic souls produce passionate sounds.
Yet, still somehow, love gets lost more than love gets found.

This equation is unending...like numbers off lips that kiss the air.
Body language spoken...Our physical bonds equal eternity and pi squared.
And you know that every moment that we share is nothing short of...molecular love for the masses...
Now held captive by gravity and magnetism...

See, the last full moon marked retrograde...and if the moon affects the tide of the ocean...and our bodies are roughly 75% water...can we assume that this is the only body powerful enough to keep ours apart?

This gravity...
This pull...
It's pulling me apart...so let me pull you closer, stop pushing me away!
Hold on tight, dont let these planets drift away into a dark rift of decay.

Let your love lap upon this solid stone like a river riffles smooth sandbars into hills of higher ground.

Because baby, without your water on my beach...
I'm nothing but a desert, dry and deserted.
Love, the drug.
ryn Apr 2016
Many have come to pry me open.
Many have come asking for the key.
Offering promises that the doubt would lessen,
flaunting their oaths as currency.

Plenty have assured that they're not like the others.
They promised that their words were forged in steel.
They had come with nothing else except to offer,
their ears and support just so to seal the deal.

"Forgive me", I'd say... I am still a tad apprehensive.
But I do feel the need to speak...
I do long for ears attentive,
Not the ones which are attached to mouths that easily leak.

I know that there are such ears...
Hard to find but they're definitely there.
They'd be ready to catch my tears,
more than willing to show concern and care...

Yours seem rather reliable... That much I see.
They've come with intentions seemingly untainted and kind.
Don't suppose they'd take my words ever so lightly.
They won't lap up my secrets with treachery in mind.

Again I find myself here at the same spot.
About to hand over the duplicate key.
This familiar leap I hope you'd have me caught.
Please don't give away my secrets for free...
I'm on a train.

One of those red ones with black trimmed windows you can imagine rolling through the suburbs on the way to NYC. Not a subway car but a classier vintage with proper rows of cushioned seats and a lever to pull if there is an emergency. There are sparse shrubberies on one side of the tracks and the ocean on the other. Young trees and bushes stroll by.  A little wind is pushing off the ocean, massaging the car ever so gently back and forth as we move along. A gentle click-clack is on the tips of our ears.

We got on together. I hadn't known you for very long but the connection was stronger than anything I had ever felt or have since. You practically sat on top of me for the first few miles. Couldn't keep your hands off me,  staring in my eyes like you were searching for something lost but you couldn't remember what. The edges of your lips turned upwards permanently as if you were always at the verge of a laugh. You interlaced my fingers with yours and held on like you would be ripped away if your grip loosened for even a second. Slender fingers holding so tightly that they were becoming red.

You were excited to to be riding with me, about where we were going and all the things we would do when we got there. I would see you peer out of the corner of your eye, then lean over to brush your soft cheek against my budding stubble. Kissing and gently biting my lips insatiably. The suns rays coming in at an angle and lighting up your perfect smile and dimple.

I had to remind you we were in public.

I was lost in your blonde curls and the incense of your neck. I had fallen incredibly hard and so fast that my face hurt from smiling and my heart beat with vibrations I had never known. Not even a whiff of anxiety or neurosis. Some of the best memories of my life, as fleeting as they turned out to be.

I yawned and you put your finger in my mouth. I bent over to tie my shoe and you would poke my **** and laugh with your own reflection in the window, like this was the first and best joke of all time. Maybe it was and maybe it is.

The waiter came and informed us that a thing called "the bar car" existed. We both jumped at the idea. I didn't exactly notice at the time, during our excitement, but that's when the train started going faster and everything out the windows began to blur.

The bar car was a wild ride and we took advantage of our lo'cal. All kinds of fine wine, liquors and illicit substances were available. We tried them all. You were beautiful, your laugh infecting everyone around you, I was charming and held a captive audience.   It was a dark, loud and glorious blur. We were the life of the party and it chugged on till dawn.

We woke up in our seats, disheveled and discombobulated. It was dark out already. Did we sleep through the entire day? The train was slowing down, maybe approaching a station. The party was amazing but we were certainly paying the price for the black out. You moved over to the seat across from me to have some more space and lay down. I saw myself in the reflection. My hat, charm and smile from the night before had vanished. I must have left them in the bar car the night before.
      You had changed, beauty uninterrupted but different somehow. I couldn't put my finger on it. Irritated maybe? I invited you to cuddle and battle the hangover together but you ignored me. Like you couldn't hear me or didn't want to. I decided to let you be.

I got up to use the bathroom and thought I would go look for my scattered belongings. Maybe I could find a scrap of leftover dignity while you rested. I inquired to the conductor who directed me to the bartender in the bar car. He hadn't changed a bit, somehow untouched and unaffected by last nights antics that had effected me so dramatically.  Same black suspenders and white pressed shirt with impeccably slicked hair. I asked him what happened and if I had an open tab. While slowly polishing a rocks glass he looked up and made eye contact for a split second before looking away.
He said:  "Oh the bar car takes its toll. In the end we all end up paying one way or another". I still don't know what he meant by that or if he knew.
      I asked him if he found my hat and he said he would check the camera. We walked in to a small back room, while he was reviewing the tape, over his shoulder I noticed a tragedy.

We were drunk. I was going on to a group of new friends on one side of the bar, they were hanging on my words and I was eagerly explaining whatever nonsense they were drooling over. You were in the corner wearing that red dress I love, with your hair up in a tight bun. A few curls had escaped and brushed your high cheekbones, a thin line of pearls dancing delicately across your perfectly symmetrical collar. You were stunning and inebriated, swaying with each bump and motion of the train. A man wearing my hat put his hand on your side to keep you from swaying over and then he left it there.
I took a sharp breath.

It looked like you put your hand on his hand to move it but then it stayed and you both swayed together. As the air left my lungs and the blood drained out of my face I watched your lips touch the strangers. A small piece of my soul slipped away forever. I couldn't watch any further. When I asked the bartender how long it went on he fidgeted for a moment and uncomfortably muttered "quite some time". I never found my hat or the other part of me that left that day.  

The train slowed. I walked to the back, as far away from you as I could get, in utter disbelief. How could you? I thought to myself.
I mourned the loss of the you as I knew you yesterday, quietly and to myself. A tear  escaped my eye and rolled down my now fully formed stubble as I fell in to a random seat in mild shock. There were a few passengers back there so I had to pull together relatively quickly. After gaining some composure I knew it was time to get off. I knew we could never get back to yesterday morning though I would have said or done anything to do so.

The train had stopped. I went back to my seat and you were sleeping. I took my coat and gathered my things. The conductor looked at me confused as to why I would leave something so magnificent, I assume he had no idea what had transpired.   

I walked to the rear of the car and slid the door open slower than required. I stepped to the stairs and put one foot down on the step and the other on the ground. I stopped, rooted with my hand on the railing, lingering between two very different paths.
     I knew that it was time to get off, I knew this was the sensible thing to do, that I couldn't get past this offense regardless of how I had felt earlier the day before. The whistle screamed from the locomotive. The conductor looked at me and shook his head, I'm not sure if he was trying to tell me to stay or go but a decision had to be made.

The train lurched forward and I watched as the station slip away slowly. I sat in between the cars for a while and watched the ocean and birds. With a heavy heart and shoes I walked back to my seat. You were waiting. Crying. You knew. The bartender had told you. You didn't mean do do it, didn't realize what you were doing and thought it was me. He was wearing my hat and the whole world was blurry and dark.

I believed you. Self anguish mixed with alcohol was dripping from your pores. I knew you didn't mean it and were drunk, but could I ever forgive you or trust you again?

I loved you still.

I caught a glimpse of my reflection, a weaker version of myself looked back. As if an invisible chip in my teeth had developed and my shoulders lowered. The charming, confident man from the bar car the day before had been replaced. Something was off but not enough for anyone else to notice, just enough to know a change has happened.
       The train started to pick up speed again as we distanced ourselves from the station.  I second guessed my decision to stay but I didn't look back.

I found the man with my hat and punished him with a few blows in the dark. He knew he ****** up, apologized and took the beating like a man. I never got the hat back.

The engineer announced that we would be going through a tunnel soon and to turn on our lights and keep our hands in the windows.

It would be dark.  

We stayed away from the bar car for a while but the draw was irresistible. After a few hours we were there again but you never left my side.  Then you did. I was looking for you but you would disappear and not answer me when I called you name. The tunnel went deeper and darker and I didn't know where you were and I suspected you liked it that way. The train began to slow down again as we exited the tunnel.

I finally found you back at our seat, you had moved one row away from me. I asked you to come back, tried to hold your hands but you pulled away with vehemence. When I came back from the bathroom you had moved another row farther.
I knew I was losing you.
I begged you to return but you told me calmly that it was time for you to get off. At some point in the tunnel you had decided that you didn't want to go anymore . Your mind was made. You were going to catch another train at the next station.

When the train stopped I thought for sure you would reconsider but you didn't. Didn't even give it a thought. You just grabbed your coat and hat with one big bag under your arm. You kissed me on the cheek like a french stranger and were off. Going somewhere else on a different train. Just like that.

I rode the rails for quite some time by myself , many people getting on and getting off, passing me by. Every once in a while I would think I saw you at a station or in a **** though the window of another train. I often thought I could smell you but when I breathed deeper it was always gone. A ghost dancing on the edge of my senses.

A young girl in a headband got on the train. She was listening to headphones and dancing to herself as she bobbed along. She sat down in the seat next to me flashing a smile. She had a wedding ring on and I dismissed her immediately.  She didn't move from the seat or stop glancing my way. Eventually she confessed that she wanted to talk. I told her I wasn't interested but she persisted.  I hadn't talked to anyone on the train for quite some time and after some more mild persistence, I gave in.

We had a lot in common. We were both riding alone, desperately wanted attention and were thrilled to receive some.  After a few laughs she slid her hand in to mine and interlaced her fingers. I left it there. It was warm, comforting and wrong. She was married but I had been riding alone so long it felt good to have some company. She stayed and we talked. She was broken and I had a knack for fixing things. After a few hours of dramatic conversation I fell asleep with her head on my shoulder.

When I woke up  the train was flying up the track on the side of a mountain. Trees and rocks were a blur of green and grey. The engineer must be trying to make up for lost time I thought to myself.

The girl was asleep with her head on my lap. I looked down at her hand and the rings were gone. I woke her briefly to ask where they went. She said she didn't need them anymore and had thrown  them out the window.  She could of sold them, I said, but she said she just wanted them gone so she could be mine and fell back to sleep.  All of a sudden I couldn't breath. This train was roaring down the tracks, the once gentle click clack had become a loud hum. Suddenly too loud. This girl in my lap who had just gotten on the train wanted to stay. I considered her for a while as she looked up at me with big blue eyes, shining and wet, like a puppy in the shelter, terrified of rejection and desperate to be adopted.

At the peak of the mountain, just when the train began to even out, you waltzed back in to the car with a champagne flute in one hand and your bag in the other.

I don't know when or where you got back on, must have been a few stations ago when I stopped looking for you. Maybe you were wearing a disguise, who knows what you had been up to while you were gone. I'm not sure how long you were away but it was quite some time. That you had been through something was obvious, a new wrinkle had formed on your brow and you're once confident stride had changed to a cautious stroll. What actually happened out there I don't know.  I never asked and I don't want answers.

You looked at me and smiled. It was good to see that smile, like sun on my face on a brisk day.  You took a step toward me and then I looked down in my lap at the girl at the same time you did. I looked up. You and your smile were gone.

Everything I had begun to feel for this broken, head banded girl in my lap dried up like a puddle in  the dessert.  I quietly and gently nudged her awake and told her I had to use the bathroom. She put her head down on my coat and fell back into what ever trance she had been in, eyelids gently fluttering, eyes searching beneath them for what I would never give her.

I dashed up the isle and threw open the door, almost shattering the glass. The conductor glared at me and rolled his eyes as I barged past to the space between the cars.

There you were. Standing on the stairs with your head out the opening. The wind was blowing your perfectly formed curls around your head like a blonde explosion of familiarity. I yelled your name and you dove in to me. My senses erupted, my mind went numb as the train was nearing another station and I inhaled your essence greedily.

We moved to another car. I abandoned my coat with the married girl and never looked back. I hope she found what she was looking for. I  never could have been the answer she was so desperately seeking but I know I  helped steer her towards it.

You told me you had encountered some other people out there on the rails and they had reminded you of what we had when we first left the station. I never forgot.  

The train started to rock and get going again. We were back in the bar car and starting to brown out. We had to get off of this train right ******* now. In a desperate moment we looked at each other and put our hands, together, on the emergency brake cord. I looked in your eyes with your hand on top of mine. You kissed me while yanking down on the cord. Time slowed, the breaks squealed and everything exploded throwing luggage, people and the entire contents of the bar car in to a nondiscriminatory chaos . We got up off the ground, ran to the end of the car, dove off the side in to a soft patch of grass and rolled down a small incline. We watched as the conductor sifted through  the mess and interrogated the passengers, trying to ferret out the party responsible for pulling the brake. He spotted us off the side of the tracks and shook his fist while shouting every conceivable obscenity combination.

We laughed, held each other in the grass and kissed deeply.

We watched the train pick up speed and disappear in to the hills as relief spread over me.

You interlaced your fingers in to mine and we both looked out to where the tracks disappeared into the horizon, wondering how far of a walk it was to the next station.
Kate Jan 2018
Blue sky, smooth sailing
Balancing neon lights of my mind's eye
(as glassy waves lap against my feet)
And the innocent sands of a white-gold beach fantasy,
Soft, warm, and as sure as the day.

Graying sky, persevering
Forging ahead through tempestuous waves
(growing faster in speed and height than a father's son)
I cling to the sample of that white sand,
Bottled up in a tiny plastic pip.

Blackened sky, capsizing
Plummeting into jet-black sea
(stained in the lights of my fallen Titan)
The pip shattering, without my notice
Icebergs visible on the horizon of her heart
My sand lost into the radiant black seas
Never to be seen again.
Shang Dec 2013
my sister thought my mother
had died on her lap;
she walked to the bathroom
inside that depthless hospital hotel.

the putrid smell of life and death
all through-out this concrete heaven
and ****.

at the age of fifty-four
my mother's bones would
carry no more weight.

her gentle heart
her forgiving mind
her words so strong

but mine,
they are forced out
by constricted wind-pipes
and angry words

i glanced down at the cot, where my mother died
as I made contact with my mother's pale-blue eyes
she looked at me with the most helpless,
childish face I've ever seen.
as if to say:
"he isn't here.. where is he...
where could he be?"


she lived thirty more minutes.

he arrived a few hours later, asking:
"how's she doin'?"

never take for granted,
someone's borrowed time.
(C) Shang
At least with Solemn Differences sing
Honouring Friends of Great Cheer celebrate
Your arm on her lap; The other on him
And with a Flash these Blue Knights consecrate
Jolly, so Potent turn Tan into Red
That pleasant alarm Blue Oracles see
And guess which Debate your Incarnate fed
Whether you are or whether not to be
Ready for Cause to the Next Big Event
Telling yourself to Inspiration run
Foresaw this Scope: Friendship and Teamwork's meant
But all of this time it was just for Fun.
Seriousness Adore, Someone licks the Tip
In your Patron; Which was really your lip.
#tomdaleytv #tomdaley1994
Auroleus Oct 2012
Once not long ago
In the vile state of Utah,
An evil wizard
Impregnated a feral cat with
Mormon seed.
In no time at all,
A litter was born
And all of them died
But one–
Mittens the Kitten.

Mittens grew up with a sense of entitlement
Because the evil wizard filled his head
With the Mormon scriptures.
When Mittens would catch and **** a mouse,
The evil wizard would pet Mittens
With a vigor that was borderline
Inappropriate.
Mittens was bred to ****.

In the evenings,
Mittens would enjoy a bowl of warm blood.
Sometimes it would coagulate,
But Mittens loved his blood.
He lapped it up
With a a vigor that was borderline
Inappropriate.
Mittens was bred to ****.

The evil wizard was a Harvard Business Grad,
And since feline-humanoids were not accepted
At Harvard Business School,
The evil wizard taught Mittens
All that he knew.
Mittens soaked up the knowledge
With a vigor that was borderline
Inappropriate.
Mittens was bred to ****.

Some years went by and Mittens
Became a successful business owner.
He would lap up bowls of
Other people's business
With a vigor that was borderline
Inappropriate.
Mittens was bred to ****.

Fast forward to the present tense
(My personal favorite tense)
And Mittens is running for president.
He uses his magical smirk to cloak his lies
So that naive voters might believe that
They should vote for this cat.
He smirks and he lies
With a vigor that is borderline
Inappropriate.
Mittens was bred to ****.
onlylovepoetry Apr 2018
zelle ma belle

(zelle is an interbank system for sending cash in an instant to someone else’s bank account)

sent her an unexpected $250,
at 4:00am, of course,
a check-plus for her life,
because she revel reviews her day at school,
as special person day, teaches them well, and
anointed, appointed unsolicited confirmation by them
“as part of our family”
how they crave her body, her touch, at scary movie parts,
her kitchens diner size menu,
her refusal to ever disappoint,
her candy drawer supreme,
her crayon color visions which they execute,
her zen sense of their moods,
and for me,
for calling them without hesitation
my grandchildren

indeed more here hers than mine
she asks me why the $$ and poet doesn’t lie
but thinks quick at 7:30 am while bed prone,
“you won Nana of the Day award”
the only (grandparent) on the floor with two kids in her lap,
for the magic show,
all the rest,
benched, chattingly adultry things


she thinks on it and says
“ok, I accept!”

p.s. also,  I have yet to inform her of the (my) elimination of a
crystal champagne flute while doing my manly cleanup  from Friday night lights dinner pink champagne celebrating  
le weekend’s arrival


olp
T R S Jul 2018
Goodnight my lovely deary
Living, lively, love I'll kiss your head

Good my soul so dearly
Lap my life and make me less dead

Good God my soul, so nearly
Leave a legend of life-built beds...
Goodbye my only, barely
Made a bed of dead straw and heads.
Kara Jean Jul 2016
My thoughts shaking
I'm trying to find my composure
Swallow my tears along with the worlds fears

I see a face a 15 year old girl
Arms placed upon her lap laced
Brave and afraid of the unknown
Illiterate she held her own
Freedom was her new home

So many have fought and died, even today for its name

Still I have no clarity of freedom's meaning

Free to love?

Free to worship as we please?

Free from evil and hate?

Or is it equality?

To me it seems we are in desperate need of a refresher
To be reminded what it should be

To have FREEDOM
#PCJuly2016Freedom
onlylovepoetry Jul 2017
only a ******* man could love a ******* poodle

everybody knows poodle one of the smartest breeds,
not exactly a manly man's dog, but great to have around to feed,
feed you, when alone, and you need a good conversation

had me a good woman

she would say:
"hon, kindly fetch me this and that,"

**** dog would get her whatever she wanted,
me, didn't mind at all, loved taking care of her,
but the dog loved her more and be there and back
before I could jack my feet off the couch

she would say:
"hon,  come near, give me a
nuzzle and a kiss, a  cuddle and a lick"

**** dog, double quick, cause it spoke better human than most,
was in her lap burying her laughing with affection infectious,
before I could jack my feet off the couch

she would say:
"honey love, meet me bed upstairs,
love me sweet and complete,
when done, please love me
over again twice as nice"

**** dog hearing the sacred holy word *bed

was up there in a flash, howling "what's taking youse guys so long,"
tail impatient drumming up a rock n' roll storm,
while we slow pokey, taking our own sweetest time,
humans messing around first with a little downtown downstairs,
prefatory, preparatory work,
both our feet lazy still on the couch kissing the cold away

when we got to our destiny destination, had to kick that
**** ******* foggy doggy outside, close the door,
say no more, **** dog did whine and cry like a baby chile,
till we couldn't take it no more and let that **** dog in

she would say:
"lover man, I love you better than twice I thought I could
ever love another, cause you two idiots two-gether make me
sweeter and completer than I ever knew I could be happier"

like I said, only a ******* man could love a *
******* poodle
p.s. ******* poodle also ain't a half bad poet neither,
known to some by his human name,
only doggy love poetry

8:30am July twooth
Johan Nel Nov 2014
My memories are bound to your lyrical words
In my blood and fingers, in my mind it stirs
Returning to something lost and faint
You are a shadow, a black saint

A silhouette against life and conception
Death follows in your steps, your deception
As you live to indulge in carmine waters
You lead men to tyranny and slaughter

Your stare is manic and distant
Depleted, you hypnotize me unresistant
In blood we pledge our carnal sin
Your dead cold flesh defiles my kin

But now, you are far as I walk in the light
You feel my presence in your perceptive night
As I await your return from the earth's lap
I fear my want for you, and the life you tap

**Johan Nel © 2013
Inspired by the series True Blood - Johan Nel © 2013
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