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Jasmin Joy Aug 2018
Oh! Mamma hear me
please.. I'm the one
crying from your womb;
longing to see you..

I'm so excited to
see you next week.
I'm the one who need
your love and care..

I heard your sweet voice
I felt your touch. I enjoyed
your stories and poems and
all those fairy tales

I love to hear your songs
You are a good singer..
You gave me the things that
I need for my growth..

I know everyone outside
is excited to know
whether I'm a baby boy
or a baby girl...

I'm pleading you to give
me enough care I need
Gender is not the fact...
Thank to the Lord for

giving you a healthy child..
Childrens are the gift of God ,
if you deny that precious
gift, God will not forgive

to your deeds.
Oh! Mamma you are my
angel in this unknown
world.. Care me.. Love me...

You are my warmth and shelter
Yours lovingly..
Your baby child..
From your womb.......
Children are the gift of God from heaven. He appoints an angel on earth to take care of them.
Children call those angels.."MOTHER...."
Cné Oct 2015
Ah yes, the magic of human touch,
Trusting to warm my soul's skin
Tis nature of loves connection, as such.

My body accepts, oh if you only knew
Like an honored guest, I grin
Anticipating the pleasures, one of the few.

Skin to skin, our bodies converse.
Uninhabited, my mind wander
Deep inside, my craving thirsts.

Artful hands sculpt with purpose
Lulling layers open, you're quite the artist
Soothing caress melt my body formless

I'm yours, silently, I surrender.
As my flesh cries out for more
Arching waves of splendor

Rewarded my senses sated.
With newfound clarity reborn
Mind, body and spirit replenished.

I thank you for your gift of touch.
Lovingly, I would return the favor,
as such.
Nothing is spoken, just being open to touch is the reward.
Adilson Smith Nov 2017
I would say
I love you with all my heart.

But that's not quite right.

For I love you with far much more
Than just that one part.

For instance,
I love you with my lips:
They pucker lovingly like filled balloons
Rising skyward in a knot.

I love you also
With my eyes. Like a ruly clerk,
They sieve your frame with careful affection,
Vitalized by every detail.

My ears, too, are full of love.
I can feel them during the night;
Thumping with blood
As you rise and decline
Asleep in my nook.

There are many others.
My eyebrows, so enlivened,
Agitate my face
And my toes, so excited,
Tense in my shoes
As though afraid of getting wet.

Other parts aren’t so conspicuous.
My arms plot in the dark --
They long to swim around your waist
And link us back to breast.

And my fingers, naughty things,
Scheme to tease your dress
Above your pretty knees
And above your pretty chest.

Would you believe,
Even my ****'s involved!
Though he’s more obvious
With his *****, open smile
And cheeky morning breath.

But chief of all my loving parts
Is my un-run soul
Unkenneled, at last,
Sprinting furiously
Next to yours.
# love #silly

Note -- this is very much a rewrite of Watsky's splendid and original "love poem" (worth checking out on YouTube).
patty m Jan 2018
Through the Looking glass
Alice stands in all her splendor.
Her hair a curtain of silver rain,
her soft skin aglow in subliminal light.

A compelling fever rises
as Thomas tries different ways to pull
her up in memory
while writing himself into the tale.  
Poor Thomas delirious in his dilemma, he knows
this will be no easy seduction.  
How fiercely urgent his desire rises
as he longs to end our heroine's self-imposed abstinence.  

Hot April morning ambush,
and our intruder has beguiled our sweet Alice
with heated kisses sweeter than ripened fruit.  
A wildness stirs in the bloodstream.  
Now he slowly and lovingly explores her pristine body
as she shivers beneath his delicate strokes
until high trills rise to fevered pitch.

Pleated line of sky
muted corners softly come into focus.

Loathe to let her go,
passion stirs in his depths
slowly now he tastes her secrets,  shares her pleasure.

Tight buds of anticipation tenderly plucked,
his fingers find the stem, a measure of moisture;
Nimble fingered harmonies play pleasure symphonies
accompanied by soft echoes of youthful delight  
Warm and breathless, crystal rainbows paint the inside of her eyelids as she grows sleepy in afterglow.

Soon he's torn away, his pale poet's face conveying pain
received from this  now cool disconcerting beauty;
Though he touched folds and frills of every petal,
his chapter is immediately erased and the
original story reappears.  

She may have slipped down the rabbit hole,
but forever ladylike and pure is our sweet Alice.
Luz Hanaii Aug 2016
Death is a single lady,
a workaholic,
a professional traveling agent,
who does not delegate her work.

She'll bring you a glass of peace,
to go with the slice you've been handed
each little crumb must
be consumed, enjoyed
and gratefully tended.

She'll blow out
your last candle,
kiss you on the forehead,
unassuming and gentle she'll
cut down the string
and lovingly
tuck you in.

©2014  Luz Hanaii
Vicki Kralapp Aug 2012
To hell and back again on a floating wreckage of love.
Your voice calls like sirens from a far off shore,
inviting me to care once more in a land unknown;
to a paradise where only love can live again.

My heart is swept up in your whisper.
It carries my thoughts on a prayer of silent hope.
Your soft breeze caresses and warms my frozen heart,
lovingly holding and healing my broken soul.

This new wind has taken me to your shores
Like silk wrapping me in soft acceptance
bandaging my fractured existence,
I bask in the warmth of your sun.
All poems are copy written and soul property of Vicki Kralapp.
Pagan Paul Oct 2017
.
Come! Come! One and all,
come to my woodland hall,
attend ye all mid-winters ball,
in friendship harken to my call.

Paths awash with candle light,
in the branches burning bright,
such an enchanting magical sight,
to guide you gentle through the night.

Friends with whom to drink and eat,
cuddled warm in a sylvan heat,
while dancers fling to keep the beat,
songs are sung, lovers meet.

And by a fire in a little glade,
words are spoken, promises made,
the Bonding tree with hearts displayed,
brings memories that will never fade.

.

And when the party is at an end
I'll lovingly embrace my dearest friend,
and quieter than what lies beneath,
whisper sweet poetry to my Lady Leaf.



© Pagan Paul (04/10/17)
.
Poem 6, Series 2 of my Lord of Green collection.
.
Johnny walker May 22
I stood by our bed  for I couldn't sleep stood and watched my darling sleep
and she looked so
peaceful
laying there totally unaware that I was even there oh so beautiful to me her body laid
bare
to my eyes
deep In sleep laid naked and natural and totally unaware that I stood lovingly
watching her beauty
whilst
she slept so I laid back
down beside her and oh
so gently snuggled Into her nakedness without disturbing
her
sleep  and then fell to sleep to the warmth of her body and
with her beautiful perfume filling the air all around
me
that enabled me to drift of
to sleep with my hands
resting
on her loverly soft ******* It didn't take long for me to enter my dream like
state
onlylovepoetry May 2017
twice by god's accidental interference,
our crash vehicles, super sized shopping carts,
connect, we are manger-penalized for unnecessary roughness
and disturbing the supermarkets peace

what better way to judge character than to examine
a single persons shopping cart  contents?

hers,
all organic, milk, heirloom tomatoes, even the Chardonnay,
grown upon the farms of the island and vineyards on
the forks that shelter the isle from the ravages of the Atlantic

mine,
Hebrew National franks, yellow mustard,
very classy brioche buns, a six pack of Corona Light,
and funny colored, funny looking, rusted russet potato chips

with a tremulous smile, and an overly loud, derisive sniff,
pronounces me dead man walking sooner than later,
to which, I respond,
then, teach me, where shall we dine tonight?

later that night,
after a thousand kisses of her fluttering eyelashes,
she props herself upon an elbow and
in a tone sincere and caring,
extracts from the poet promises of
natural exclusivity

from now on, healthy, natural only, organic and pure,
from the soul soil of our shared habitat

her suntan skin, garden-digging hand, I clasp,
softly climbing on top of her,
announce with total genuine sincerity and solemnity;

I swear it, from now on, all my loving will be sourced locally

rewarded with a laugh and a gentle but hard enough,
garden to table (with her free hand), head smacking,
I noting nod, good naturedly
that both the laugh and smack,
as well,

sourced locally,
sourced lovingly,

which then seeded
this new only love jointly authored poem,
planted in our mingling blossoming crashing
bodies


5/29/17 i
12:43pm
Grey Sep 2015
You said that you didn't believe in anything,
but that you believed in me.
In truth, I believe in you more than I say.
I see more in you than I say.
When you fight me, fight so hard against hope, I see you.
I do not know what you have been through.
I do not know what has been done to you.
I do not know how to tell you
that your belief in me
means more than
the fire on your tongue,
or the laughter in your eyes,
or the darkness that you draw from me.
Though you do not apologize with words
you do
with softness in your eyes,
and the brush of rough fingers against my arm in passing,
the curve of my neck lovingly sketched with graphite,
You say that you would die for me,
but I do not want you to.
I would have you live,
vibrant and happy,
laughing,
the bottle lying forgotten in a corner,
your hand in mine,
breathing in the scent of turpentine;
because I would like to believe in us.
marla Oct 2017
It fills every crevice
With pleasure.
Drowning out any sorrow
In your heart.
It embraces you
Warmly,
Lovingly,
Silently,
Until you find yourself
Numb.
Then nothing.
Some of the most pleasurable things are also the most destructive.
Amy Irby Jul 2012
My
heart
feels 
warmer
when you are around.    
Not quite a fire,
more like the gentle warmth    
of the spring sun    
melting into my skin.    
pleasant and peaceful,    
I close my lids and could believe    
for a moment, there is    
no enmity in the world.    
    
Your
movements
are
strange;    
fluttering hands and slow,    
nearly stomping strides.    
And sometimes, you sprint    
in parking lots.    
It's dire to get somewhere!  
But you usually get about    
six feet then stop.    
    
    
Your presence 
is 
mighty.    
    
So mighty that many times I can    
Know your feelings    
when words fail you.    
But your words are not always easy to read.    
When you're in a closet,    
a scream only tells me where    
you are, not how to get to you.    
    
Small children, tucked in beds a bunk.    
The clouds' tears would patter on the windows    
and angrily bang pots and pans.    
But the clouds did not wake me.    
I woke to the feeling of small,    
cold hands and feet, wriggling their    
way under my blanket in the top bunk.    
I'd meet the gaze of little tear filled    
eyes, then watch them close waiting    
for them to dream again.    
      
    
You have my blood, my eyes, my promise to be present.    
And without doubt, you lovingly robbed my heart.    
Any stranger could see you smile,    
and hear you chuckle, and you    
would steal theirs too.    
No, they would give it to you.    
How could you not give your heart    
to the source of its warmth.
- this was for my younger brother

Thanks so much for reading friend
zoie marie lynn Jan 2018
"the title says it all,"
she says, breaking the fourth wall.
"i was with a guy,
i know i know, so cliche,
but he really took my breath away."
the audience laughs,
she continued on,
"he told me all these enhancing things,
and at first i didn't know what to think.
the first date was a disaster,
i spilt wine all over my dress,
and the second went a little better,
but the third one was the best."
the audience anticipated the rest,
"on the 29th of September,
he got sick,"
her breath hitched,
"he told me not to worry,
as he layed in that hospital bed,
hooked up to so many tubes,
he'd say anything to get these thoughts out of my head.
he told me he knew all along,
that he had one month left to live,
i broke to a million pieces,
'but it was so worth it,'
he said lovingly as he coughed his last cough.
i thought of nothing else but the way he looked
hooked up like some middle school kid's science project,
and now here i am,
at this amazing poetry slam,
telling you all my story,
because it could be days, weeks, or even years until you discover your forever,
but for me,
mine was simply a month to remember."
babe, stay
Eva Aloezos Aug 2018
In his eyes,
reflects a way of life I despise

he is narrow minded,
blinded
by a 6 foot tall statue of christ

I do not have the heart to break it to him
that in his lonliest hours,
dark showers
pain and defeat
his savior, he will never meet

instead I retreat,
let him be who he is
there is no sense to try
convincing him all he has faith in is a lie.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When he looks into my eyes,
he sees a misdirected sinner
barefoot and wild
a silly child

the irony spans for miles,
because I am far more selfless
all he fails to realize
is beauty I see

I do not mind
that he is not kind
or that his “all seeing eyes”
are in fact blind

I am me,
and he is he

at the alter
the soul next to me will be,
drastically different
someone lovingly free
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