"litheness" poems
Middle aged dancing moon, rising sun coming of age poem
Some times you shave your legs sometimes you wax
You are a river of gold, a poetry goddess
You are the definition of **** **** and cool lady
Your skin a tan wonder, Aphrodite will envy with her immortal soul
Not just another girl
Woman, woman, woman
Your lion like mane blowing over purple mountain tops
Imagine a world without.
Your Litheness invokes the green eyed monster in the gods
Not just another girl
Om shanti shanti
Oct 16, 2014
Oct 16, 2014 at 2:52 PM UTC
The texture of beautiful flowers oh so ethereal
The feel of a sudden zephyr hugging me, as I inhale the scents of nature
The fragrance of my surroundings oh so redolent
The litheness of my movements as I explore this breathtaking land
"This is it, this is my own paradise," I thought
As I imagined it with my eyes closed,
I unconsciously lifted my right hand, totally immersed in envisaging my own haven
Until I was hit by a sudden blow, a blow that firmly stated that I probably won't see it with my own eyes
This is the hiraeth of my mind, of my soul, of my heart
And this is the heartbreak that hurt me the most
Mar 10, 2016
Mar 10, 2016 at 7:16 AM UTC
The soft machine is my body, said Sonia, it gives pleasure to men. I sit in my bath, rinse away the touch and feel of them, while in the other room Dimello lies upon my bed, gazing up at the ceiling, smoking his fat cigar, singing between puffs some song he thinks I like, some verses he’s remembered from some former times. Mi máquina suave, he calls me, his soft machine, supple, malleable machine. He knows little of me; his mind is of lower things, of orifices and ******* of ***** drugs and ***** deeds. He knows nothing of my needs, my little wants and desires. I lay back in my bath, let the water soothe me, my ******* sit upon the water’s skin like dolphins about to skim the waves, but these just sit and wait, two small whales, my fingers touching them as if some lover had felt and loved. Sometimes I embrace this soft machine, my hands around me as if some secret lover held me close, or I kiss my arms with my soft lips, mocking Dimello with his damp thick lips, his ***** breath in my ears, his words like pinpricks on my flesh. Besaré la máquina suave, he says, I will kiss the soft machine, he repeats, his smile oily, his eyes dark as prunes. Last night he made love to me, his body like some pounding shark, his teeth nibbling my flesh, his fingers entering, feeling their way in the dark, his coarse voice mumbling his words of lust and love. My uncle loved this soft machine, he would tickle and touch in the summer days when I stayed for the holidays when my parents were away on their business trips abroad in other climes in my childhood times. Nuestro secreto, Uncle said, our secret, none must know, he would whisper, his hands seeking smooth my flesh, to soothe my troubled mind and me. The water in my bath grows cold; I hear Dimello singing from the other room, his head on my pillow, his cigar smoke invading my space. I arise from my bath; look at my soft machine, my body, with its suppleness, its litheness, its agility. I know each inch of this machine, feel it with my finger’s touch, hold it in embrace, kiss it with a self-love, a tenderness lacking in other’s touch. Dimello calls, his patience lacking, his lust returned. Apresure mi máquina suave, he calls, hurry, my soft machine, my body awaits your return, he says. I want him gone, want his body from my bed and home. He does not love as I wish to be loved, his love is of a lower kind, his wants and lusts feel me with dread. I look out of the window and see the morning sun, see the day coming with its freshness blooming, the birds singing from some nearby trees, and Dimello singing like some strangled cat, his voice echoing through the walls of my one roomed flat and lowering my lips I blow a kiss to the birds in flight trying to forget Dimello and his lustful night.
Nov 15, 2013
Nov 15, 2013 at 2:47 PM UTC
I will not call you my baby,
Until I can be your only baby.
You maneuver around a subject
With the litheness of a danseur.
Though I would like to love you,
If you would let me love you,
Loneliness has never been what drives me.
It is love to which I answer.
I can see the youthfulness,
And much more, for my sleuthfulness.
Are you seeking any other than me,
Who is eager to applaud as to centre stage you bound?
For just a while more, I wait for first frame.
It could be so grand to see how you move your frame.
I have wondered if your dance would be as spry
As the clever way you manage to avoid.
Aug 15, 2015
Aug 15, 2015 at 12:34 AM UTC
Pink behind the rising moon
Your hipbone beneath my right hand
knees clash to Latin percussion
Together we count
1 2 3…5 6 7 8
Trading vulnerabilities over pork and pasta,
I feel, for one awful moment,
The pain of my daughter’s contempt
You reassure a mother after being kicked by her child
1 2 3...5 6 7 8
Supine silence on yellow grass mats. Faint from heat
I feel sad when you recount
how I charged your phone first.
You deserve kindness. I am kind
1 2 3…5 6 7 8
Your laugh resounds above all
A solo from the audience
As proud and loud as any Jazzman’s improvisation
encouraging us all to do better
1 2 3…5 6 7 8
Earthy smell of your skin spread across the sheets
Curled up with tan litheness, I watch
green block letters rise and fall.
Wishing it was more than breath propelling them up and down,
I curse my own heart for swelling.
123...
May 2, 2019
May 2, 2019 at 1:22 PM UTC
My Tango Master
His hair was deep, rich,
the black of unweathered basalt,
slick backed, like his look,
an arrogant dare to stare,
eyes directed at newcomers,
intended to make me,
a novice especially aware,
a bon voyage has begun,
now a worshiper, full of faults,
warning that I sought entry
to a temple where admission was a
sworn affidavit promising
total sacrifice of body
The flat contours of his body
disguised a airy litheness that
embraced and made me giddy,
pliant to his methodology,
mastering my psychology,
making the whole of my body breathe,
as if for the first time
No questions asked or allowed,
he bent me, taught me supple,
the surety of the pleasure of
following a leader unreservedly,
my body straight from within,
but the exterior,
a symmetry of curves,
I am,
his precision human tool
His hands grasped me
with utter certainty,
with a petal light touch
and fingertip precision,
directing me to Rio de la Plata,
where his swivel hips
lift this black robed disciple
upon a golden altar where
I have remained, entranced,
a devotee forever more,
enslaved to our one god
Demanding the perfection
that comes only from rigidity,
irony of ironies,
it was a vocabulary of
spontaneity and fluidity
step by step learned,
this contradiction, soon intuitive
With posture *****
he taught the history of seduction,
constructing the tale
each time differently,
creating within me
the ravished need for the
surprise of the unknown,
teased me into obediently
accepting the satisfaction of
joined at the hip ecstasy
With boleos that mesmerized ,
but not a one memorized,
he captivates me,
a tandem for a tanda,
until cortina-released
What is your name?
Tango
he whispers,
his name is in his eyes,
never spoke aloud,
I am your new master,
now come and master me
Oct 9, 2015
Oct 9, 2015 at 6:54 PM UTC
Hills about as you keep on
And miles apart, lo you'll live long.
Serene is not without silence sometimes
And again I wonder if I was wrong.
Touches of softness to make me second guess.
Litheness to warrant the silk in that ethereal dress.
You are slowly fading, at the expense of my joy.
I fear that I may have expected sensuality and joy.
I forget the moments as I make you into stone.
Maybe it wasn't us, but the distance of our homes.
I am pure ambition, give me tastes of trees.
You are like a nightingale, caught up in the breeze.
What I'd give for you again, call me uncertainty.
But you in touch beside me, might quell my withering.
I say echoes but they are dying breaths
You are ever soulful, and I am but a wreck.
I've seen things in these days, our battles were nothing.
Apr 27, 2014
Apr 27, 2014 at 1:12 AM UTC
How thy litheness dimmed by the light
but with gleams of c'rious insight
And shalt then thou start to sparkle
Grab victory, win the battle
Thou art just a little devil
Whose story gives people a shrill
But still thou never lose thy thrill;
abound with tricks, traps and bad will
How thou dwelt there within my heart!
Delights it and tears it apart!
Thou art the sky to my blunt night
Thou hold my fear and squeeze my fright
A little devil, just as thou art
Unloved by many holy hearts
But to me thou art not a fiend
At times thou art my only friend!
Thou liveth both my body and soul
Mocks the good deeds but praises the foul
When I am hurt thou start to grow
Give my en'mies a gravely show
How t'ose tears wrapped along thy eyes!
Blame the sick moon and moorish skies!
They've no love despite their promise
Our suffering's just what they shalt wish.
But I dear you, my little mate
Thou art my laugh and childlike path
Although unpraised just as we are
from each other we shan't be far.
Jan 4, 2013
Jan 4, 2013 at 8:13 AM UTC
i was born in Your sphere
You are all around me
in the rise of the moon
the set of the sun
the heart of the earth
the light of the stars
i feel only You
Your touch is in everything
in the chill of the ice
the heat of the flames
the kiss of the wind
the embrace of the sea
i play for You
my love voiced as music
in the thoughts of this song
the steps of this dance
the trill of these flutes
the hum of these strings
i ornament myself for You
may Your splendor reflect
in the ring of my bells
the chime of my anklets
the clink of my bangles
the gleam of my diadem
i don my raiment for You
may my colors speak Your truths
in the swish of my skirts
the lace of my bodice
the film of my sleeves
the drape of my veil
i dance for You
may Your grace flow through me
in the tap of my feet
the litheness of my legs
the sway of my hips
the curve of my waist
i cast my charms for You
may my motions tell Your story
in the whirl of my arms
the clap of my hands
the poise of my spine
the whip of my wings
i live for You
may my form sing Your praises
in the scent of my skin
the shade of my hair
the warmth of my lips
the glow of my eyes
i love You
You are lovely beyond silence
for Your psyche transcends all
Your heart strikes with valor
Your shape inspires awe
Your soul captures innocence
only You
Your memory endures
though my mind gather dust
my heart cease to beat
my body be ashes
my spirit flee this plane
You
Jun 25, 2015
Jun 25, 2015 at 12:44 AM UTC
Do not believe what they tell you about Grief:
I will tell you this much because I know him very well.
Grief is an old
and sad
and terrible friend
who clings to you with the heaviness of a freight train
but finds the litheness to spring from you weightless.
He holds your throat in the strength of his hand,
bruises your skin, confuses your body
and lets go only when you've made it clear
that you have surrendered
and settled for a life of him.
He will leave
you will find relief
time will go by
and then you will feel different, gentle, beautiful hands on your arms,
hands that remind you
that humans can be tender
and suddenly you cannot help
but think of how Grief held you so long ago and
by mistake
(what have you done?)
you have allowed his return,
he has taken your reverie
as an ominous invitation
to ever so slowly curl his limbs around your ribcage,
invade your warrior bloodstream
and effortlessly cut off
every molecule of oxygen you had spent so very long breathing in.
Feb 9, 2014
Feb 9, 2014 at 6:49 PM UTC
eros: to sting the flesh, o ****** shrieks
sweetness steals from: this buoyant word
sinking in the gnash of moon on loam: awaken me quicker than cherry trees
at dawn: don me against lisps of leaves:
rushing the dogs underneath tightwires:
and sing me something heavy the litheness of verdure: make me cling to wind-hours a tournefortia: place me a placeness in untruths reveal: ****** the languor of pillars: sensual the cruise of caryatids: enigmatic the dark of heron:
crisp the wind of your arrival.
Dec 8, 2015
Dec 8, 2015 at 1:07 AM UTC
She stood there unmoving, her back straight
Still as a statue, after a long, torturous wait
With hair fluttering like a smashing sail
Vivid like sunset that seeps through every crevice in the air
Amber eyes burning like the fiery depths of hell
Passion muffled by the angelic smile on her face
With rattling grace she marveled at its perfection
The litheness of its descent enough to set her heart into delirium
It landed with a thud, breaking branches on its wake
Cawing once, the milieu faded on the background
Emblazoned with nameless hues and shades
Now everything else dulls and fades
She reached for an arrow, wondering
Why a thing with feathers on one end
Soft and innocuous as it may seem
Can have a part so inevitably noxious, it’s inane
Stretching the bow as far as it may go
The sound making her flinch all the way through
Her hands, so steady, now quivered ever so slightly
She aimed, the voice in her head screaming finality
For one moment her resolve faltered
Wavering as her stormy gaze softened like snow
The roaring in her ears dulled to a white noise
As the creature turned and snatched her voice
A gust of air escaped from her mouth
Breathing was suddenly impossible
But before the beauty could take off and leave her
A sudden prismatic burst of feathers filled the air
Sep 17, 2018
Sep 17, 2018 at 1:03 AM UTC
The story on her back was painted by empty cargo ships, leaving
this earth but sailing to find who you are, or to deliver the news of
who you are now; the answer was revealed when someone thought
her name, filling the silence in a noisy room
But it was not in the wings that moved; as she strained her face never
moved; concern was the watchtower of her life; was judgment in the
eyes of the man who could not turn his eyes away? But it was her choice as it always is for a beautiful woman
The life on the streets watched as the dream disappeared without
charging fare to those who begged to pay for a new life; he looked to
the sky but did not return his gaze because they did not know each other; but blue knows blue and storms pass because calm is for worry
He wanted to listen to birds singing instead of interpreting darkness;
as terrified of being hurt as he was of being rejected the litheness
of her smooth neck revealed only his own attraction; but does a man
lose his dream or find a new one because she left without a sound?
He was tired of suggestion or hint; he wanted straight talk, no matter
if romance was left behind; she was a human being with every right
to suffer alone, but she didn’t know why or if she should cherish the pain, caught up in blessed hope covered by a past that told her story
The comfort of shadows was because the sun asked too many questions; fear is the only real power in the universe; fear of dying, fear of living; there are things she wants to tell someone in case the morning never arrives, but though the sun rose the ship finalized the distance between us
Apr 24, 2015
Apr 24, 2015 at 10:16 PM UTC
so leapness, the body healthness, deeply blue
a white cool draught of unearthly peculiar
that staggers up July, doe and fawn
beleaguered nothing(stroked with sunlight)
striped of shadow litheness jumping
frivolously jaunt streams of gold
through a barely cupped hand(fingers splayed
'pon tawny break: night and day)
those strong youths die never
live always
perfect
unarrested, surging, tendon
the ripeness of your figure is
a fullness
a fleetness
a
Jul 29, 2012
Jul 29, 2012 at 11:55 PM UTC
Awkward and lanky,
not a boy and not yet a man.
Youth, litheness; potential
and yet, still teachable.
Dec 20, 2024
Dec 20, 2024 at 4:14 PM UTC
Earthy smell of your skin spread across the sheets
Curled up with your tan litheness, I watch
Green block letters on your t-shirt rise and fall.
Wishing it was more than your breath propelling them up and down,
I curse my own heart for swelling
Jul 20, 2019
Jul 20, 2019 at 7:09 PM UTC