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John Shahul May 2018
Your dismal looking is to see me
But your frowning look
Like a vaulted dome
Why it rises up?
Deliberately keeps
Your lustrous eyes
Not to meet mine.
Because it carries
The untold stories
Of inner selfsame hearts.
Livid with rage of love
Yet a lingering look
I surmised that
You might have been
Wistfully unanswered.
CK Baker Feb 2017
There were dividing lines
between springfield
and mariners gate
soft, subtle lines
that spoke of origin
and code
and biting union

it was all
the reason
for being;
alive and living
dead or dying
deep in a pack
of pint size resistors
hell bent on the
marsh crow
and cannabis tower
jumping the rush
with *** shots
and anchors
and tribunals

camouflage creepers
and transient floaters
marked rebellion at the gates
(skullduggery and taunt
high on their favor list)
jack straws and flat paddles
for the evening charade
beakers and flailing hands
from the foot washing baptist
(the pleasant street conservatives with their
own something to say…“there’s gonna be hell to pay!”)

there's a
lingering effect
to this sentiment
(evident in the pump house stride)
the river winds
blow gently
into the night
as the huddling packers
and **** backs
chase the evening hours

it’s a bitter sweet
end of an era;
those traction bars
hood scoops
and nickel bags
will always
be the rage
Diana Jan 6
I desire to passionately kiss your skin
Feel your heartbeat
Beneath my lips

I desire to run my swollen lips
Across your jaw and
Down your neck

I desire to hear your
Heartbeat
Quicken its pace
Breathing
Become erratic
Moans
Release freely
From those precious lips
Of yours

I desire to feel
Your body
Flush against mine
Our hands
Selfishly intertwined
Listen to our hearts
Beat
Together in time
Marco Carlos Jul 2018
Hair, looping about, intersecting through one another, locks, like a sea of being.
Smell, scent from an unseen utopia, lingering, waiting to be consumed by my roaring lungs.
In and out, it controls, to the point of complete isolation, eyes become obsolete, lids contract, breathing in slowly the calming breeze.
Like a sea shell, the ear witnesses the origins, beat after beat, separated by intermissions of quiet, her inner mechanisms at work. I feel her soul coming alive.
Marina Kay Mar 2014
Tossing and turning
in this lonely bed of mine,
my heart is heavy
with the ache of missing you.

I crave your delicate words
like I crave coffee in the morning.

My soul feels vacant
without your lingering presence.

Time is ticking my life away
as my thoughts echo your name.

My eyes bleed out the bitterness
I've latterly felt towards you.

I'm still writing about you
and you haven't read a word.
I couldn't sleep because I missed Fahad so much.
sara Jul 2018
I wipe marker off the board, and
I have a painful tendency of quickly growing bored.
I can't erase the ink-spots lingering
in high-up corners;
to spare the self-defeat, I teach myself how to ignore them.

Ignore the marks, and stains, and pains
pretend I'm wiped clean, all the same
with little left to lose or gain:
I leave them; growth is self-restraint.

Perfection is a non-existent notion,
so they say;
yet, unobtainability is all I can create.
For in my mind, these false ideals make tame desires stray,
and self-destructive pleasure is my antidote to pain.

I think I'm like a little plant
of stunted growth, just seeds to start,
my plantpot made from breaking hearts:
before I grow, I say I can't.
Before we accept something we must first wholeheartedly reject it.
/////
like England winning the world cup lol

////
Joking, I just use humor to mask my emotions x
Cné Jun 2018

paint me
with the wet tickle
of your tongue
lingering with affection
savoring my fervent flavor
in bold strokes
of your obsession

color my essence
in heated hues
sending shivers
down my spine
in anticipation
of your warm breath
against my flesh
with every blissful caress
to ensue painted petals
of animation

with your supple lips
gently blur the lines
of my curved hips
softly stroking
the subtle shadows
of warm depth,
blushing
quivering thighs
as I gasp
of breath

plunge in
a primer coated palette
dipping your stiff paintbrush
deep within
the folds of my blanket
manipulating
a trembling image
of your voracious lust.

craze me
again and again
in breathless
****** glow,
your sensual brushstrokes
gently murmuring
layer on layer
in alla prima flow

delve deep
into my eyes
paint splattering
the passion
of my soul
drizzling silken strands
of love
in their entirety,
polishing me whole

and then
in blissful backwash
admire
the tangled limbs
interposed
of your
completed masterpiece
in smiling
sated repose

gracie Oct 2018
Keats says, "transcendence of the self",
so you become a fox, copper-coated,
bright-eyed. You become the light of a
harvest moon, playful and sweet,
dancing across the forest floor,
you become a lingering scent
on my thrift-store sweater: balsam or
cold brew coffee, wafting
through the bustling café. You become soft
Sunday afternoons, forehead kisses and
pretty words whispered over the phone,
the curl of my lip as I drift off
into sleep.
hey
i think ur p cool
i like u alot
maybe we could... hang out? or somethin'
Clay Feet Jan 2015
Lovely mornings, evenings, nights our hearts took flight
Laughing ceased as sighs increased.

Wafts of sensual sweet smells rose.
Bodies, curved in writhing poses glowed.

Cares lost in arousing touch, lingering fingers longed for
Secrets, shared in sacred sighs and wanton lies.

Arching union quivered and quaked.

I whispered then and will again
Stilettos are not made for walking,

Their soul purpose, freeing our rising desires,
Feeding rapturous tinglings of sensual ecstasy.
Edited 02/01/2015
zebra Jul 2018
flex and perspire my darling
would you mind a small suffering for craven kisses
to have your dark fig **** and drenching *****
stroked with a tickling finger lingering
and strong hands around your sweetly curved throat
that shunt the breath
to yield willingly for sharp-toothed nibbles with surprise tongue whipping?

will you present your soft belly and cupping *******
for dark cruelties that excite beyond tabulation
will you present yourself with smiles
and goddess leg show
sobbing for feral pink spires gleaming
while quivering thighs
turn hot red from the slap of the leather strap splitting stings?

will tears of love
mix in wild berry utterance
and flashing spitfire’s tongue?

are you made for this?
your every whimper an invitation
like an open pink gate
do you need the saint of dark desires to rescue you
from banal dim-witted all american in and out?

do you need to drown in oceanic wave tsunamis
of hot butter **** glitter, blood flooding gasms
and tender aftercare?

my wish
that you shimmer like silver
possessed
by the saint of sadism
popes of eros
who fill you with the milk of the moon
all stars that melt you into the depths of paradise

and that this dark ecstasy
is the only suffering you will ever know.
your pain is my pleasure
mmmmm
Jesse stillwater Jul 2018
the Silence became
like an old lesson learned

a broken heart intones
a voiceless song
resonating a refrain of Silent echoes
in a voice that never heard a word
yet spoke so clearly ... lingering
in realms of subtle ambiance

soundless remnants
stacked neatly as
building blocks;  
another brick in a wall,
already too tall to see beyond—
growing like a bunker
without a sense of safe harbor

as the Silence became
time and space,
a stillness beset the melancholy air
as if a world without song
foreboding an unpredictable storm
beget vestiges of broken windfall,
reticent leftovers hushed after a gale

s i l e n t l y

an acorn fallen  — became a mighty Oak

a wind-broke twig — became a weeping willow

a neglected child — became mother nature's son

the Silence became
        a blind prophet —
in its voice held forth
smatterings of truth
and undertones of an unrequited
fool’s hope

the Silence became
a strong, abrupt rush of wind
uttering voiceless exhalations of breath;
a hovering dawn mist
    befallen after a summer storm—
surrounding all in all
bedewed in a feigned peace


... the unabated sounds of silence
become


Jesse Stillwater ... July 20th, 2018
Thank you or reading —
Racquel Davis Jul 2014
Supreme Love,

Through a land of barren fields, leads to a nourishing tree, that rhythms in the wind like a heart of bleeding green.

There, you will find me, prostrating in its lingering boughs, gazing into your sky with smiles of Eros.

A nightgown of innocence awaits you in the lotus, falling amongst the constellations of my parallel.*

©Copyright 2007 Written and Edited by Racquel Davis
Edited 11/24/16
Saudia R Aug 2018
We sit in this room
across from one another
in silence

I try to look at everything
but you

I feel your eyes on me

I feel them roaming
as if your hands are on my body

how is that even possible

it's as if you're right beside me
grazing your fingers where they please

Your lips following their trail

lingering here and there
exploring every dip and hollow

The room feels so tight
this tension is something I can't explain
this silence so deep

I feel so restless
I want to burn something
break something
move

I chance a glance
and our eyes collide

****

what is this feeling
how can something feel so hot

I try to look away
but I'm frozen

I wait
But your eyes are still on mine

A silent challenge

You get up and leave the room

...

And I follow
Jesse stillwater Aug 2018
Out here in the fields of the distance
whither the wind blows the silence further afield;
roughhewn footprints show a windswept pathway  
from whence feral feet lightly trod   

Only the passing whispers chase after the gypsy wind:
that the silence be in quire, placed aloft like a sigh,
pealing through the gentle sway of sweet grass' hush

There are no walls need echo an evanescent wind-song
as each breath of earthen psalm vanishes
lilting into the crystalline quietude colour;

The callused patience still held in these hands
is frayed and tattered, but hope heals stronger
than a ream of paper wings to fly away

And I'm mindful I'm not alone again, lost in
a lingering silent storm — pensively listening —
enraptured aneath all the big skies hold
 

                    Jesse Stillwater
Thank you for reading: Out here in the distance
Jesse stillwater Jun 2018
Time is fleeting
as the spring river runoff
that gushes out to sea

A heart trickles out
a moment,
minute by minute,
in a timeless ink drop;
unmeasurable expanse
     immured in spilled ink ―
   manifest in the lexicon of poetry

For only purged words
cannot quench this thirst
that is loneliness;
it's a hunger that gnaws
like an unsatisfiable ache ―
a starving emptiness
all hearts
do one day taste

Left in the sight
of doubt
and eyes that fail
to believe what they see
lain fallow in the silent
indifference

Lost in a lingering void
unburied all around,
bespoken out loud
alone in plain sight
a feigned understanding;
reticent letters shape
reluctant words
to hold forth
enunciated breathe

The only words
that still echo unstilted ―
uttered  words
indelibly felt
from lips once sweet
as daybreak dew
    upon musing tongue ―
tasting the only
voiceless truth
that ever broke my heart

a vanishing wave
that moved an ocean
   deeply ...


Jesse Stillwater ... 06 6 2018
Notes:   unstilted:  Adj. - flowing naturally and continuously

Thank you for listening to my 2 cents ...
ryn Nov 2014
The gentle reaches of the late afternoon sun
I'd bathe in this light abundant reverie
Swaying breeze... Caressing the web we've spun
In the warmth of this amber coloured spree...

Shades of gold, stretch beyond observable measure
My vision could only take me so far
Shining through between the green and azure
As if the window of heaven left slightly ajar.

Swathed in the glow... Laying on a bed of green
Eyes closed... Under the blue that spanned forever
Feast for my senses thus honed keen
Relishing the lingering touches of her radiating amber.

She's finally dipping, taking all of her light...
She'll sink behind the horizon, descending gracefully
I'd still remember all through my night
That amber...
                   *Amber is the colour of her energy.
Inspired by 311's Amber
8/22/17

I can't stop thinking about you. Since the first moment I met you you're a constant in my head. Why? What is it about you that leaves a lingering effect? I don't want this. I keep dreaming of you, it isn't always the same. You're the closest thing to me in some, in others you're the furthest thing I can see that's still in focus. Round and round and round and round you spin in my head. I don't even know what exactly I'm thinking of when I'm thinking of you. I spend my time thinking about not thinking about you and I'm caught in a loop of you. I hope you're ok, I hope you’re safe, I hope you've eaten today, I hope you sleep well, I hope you're healthy. When will these feelings and thoughts fade? How can I spend so much time thinking about someone to whom my existence is much too much to even acknowledge? I don't hate you for this, but it still hurts. All my 11:11's are spent on you. I wish clarity, I wish stability, I wish happiness, and I wish love for you with whomever or whatever it is...

-JCM-
Funny how Someone can
Asunder a heart of thine
And thou still dost adore them
With all thy riven smithereens

My love, please come to me,
In my life thou dost linger
A love from my sweet past
That beamed than many a star

My love, long have I endured
A heart sundered by love
Though wherever  I wander
Thy sweet love I still dost crave.

Oh my love, come back to me
So we may pick these riven pieces
That like sea waters scattered be
And I'll smoother thee with kisses

Together we'll never sunder
For my love will be thy love
Beaming so bright forevermore
As thy  love will be my love

Blissfully we'll dwell ever after
Like twinkling stars in galaxies
With our enchanted passion
Effulgently lingering in perpetuity.
#Love #Stars #galaxies #infinite love
Across this Height from the Land of Swell Tea
The Second Great Angel offers her Palm
Waving, for Frustration to leave me be
And guide the Wildman to induce his Calm
No affront passed for Virtue to behave
When some cry the Vandal for no reason
He comes to charge; But out defends the Knave,
Jousting him off for another Good Season
In you the Friendly Pearl forms; And no doubt,
This lingering Fever affects most Girls
But like your Seven stood still on a Cloud,
Yet keeps the Spell for Good Passion to burn.
Lucky Dear Dame, such Title you will bear
Enjoy your Earnings; Your Man is now there.
#daleysangels #jdilara_w
celestial Apr 2017
i dreamt i kissed you that night: once, then twice,
with my trembling arms circled around your neck,
while i clung feverishly to your shielding embrace,
as though you might leave me, and i would break.
i pressed my lips against yours again, a third kiss,
lingering and hesitant, like i knew it was goodbye,
and i captured a photograph inside my thoughts,
of the glimmer in your eyes, eternally in my mind.
i will miss you and love you for eternity.
Cindra Carr Jun 2011
My muscles tighten, righted after the flight
Goose-flesh ripples as she shimmers past
Licked lips flecked with taste
Hair whispers swishes across the shoulders
Lingering fingertips brush vainly at her arm
She’s already gone
She’s lost among the crowd
Of hopefuls twirling by in the flow
Lost dance in lost lovers’ eyes
Deadened by scent of sweat and alcohol
Lingering touch and fading life
Hard pulses of music flow and ebb
She’s already gone
Lost among the crowd

cc2011
Leviathan Andrew Dec 2014
Blurred images
Hazy edged pictures
Images with burn holes 
Things to see behind
Clouds of lingering sleep
This is the first time in awhile
I've actually felt okay
The world is still moving to fast 
And me too slow
But my mind has a window
So I can see and hear 
Though my throat still 
Struggles for sounds
My hands form letters
That form words
That form phrases
My thoughts on pages 
My feelings on paper 
My soul wrapped into words
That will never be spoken 

These are my own words written by someone else, hope you guys enjoy my first poem in a while, things are actually improving. If im lucky i'll survive -Andy
oh delirium, how much I have grown in-love with thee at this hour near morning twilight all hazy in the brain in deciding whether to see you or to drop my head asleep, accustomed to the bewitching time and longing to see that lingering daylight break, a dreamy state of thus, this moment wondering...
©2005
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