"mewls" poems
Heart skips
like a warped record,
trembles over scarred vinyl
until "I love you"
tastes incomplete:
(I) love you
I (love) you
I love (you).
My Swan Song mewls off key,
cascades across the
marred terrain of my soul
in a thick lacquer of tears.
Notes flatline
in unison with my
waning pulse
(waning, like the face
of the moon on the night
of my eighteenth birthday).
My breath
resigns to static,
dances in slow decrescendos--
sputters its way
towards nothingness,
slipping rapidly from
my consciousness until
I no longer hold
any recollection of the music
(or the poetry).
Oct 17, 2018
Oct 17, 2018 at 6:00 AM UTC
it was irresistible
coming
with you, unmistakable
saying "come in".
only touched myself
with the idea of freeing you
from your encompassing nightwear
—my red lipstick's affair
not even a feet away from your front door
grasped my wrists and dragged my needy body close
and touching, fumbling with my burning core
without hesitation—lips crashed and clasped in yours
greedy intent pulled me deep in
slick, silky, sweaty, **** kisses
erase the innocence of my tongue
make me pray mantras as mewls become sultry hisses
your name on my mouth, your mouth on my name
a pleasurable orchestral masterpiece in the night
dainty fingers down south, flicking flame
bodies intertwined, bathed in candlelight
push, pull, push... pull...
pushing and pulling and tossing and turning and moving in and out and in and out in a never-ending dance your fingers make
until you suddenly
stop
frantically tried finding your lustful eyes staring right back
only to find you looking down the feast—thighs blossomed open wide
i, the devotee offering to your altar
and my god, you devou—
lick and suck—play and prowl—drink and slurp
voice cracking, sweat trickling
gasping for air, taking your musk hard... breathe in...
breathing you in... so deep...
faster, and faster, grasping your hair for hold
melting and burning and igniting for each and every stroke
and i don't regret coming with you
coming for you..... coming in you.... until it comes... we come... come... co—
crashing down, shaking, crying hard from waves of euphoria—panting, breathless, lustfulness
with the stained bed only becoming more crumpled
when hot puffs of your breath trickled my rose-flushed ear
your voice telling—"this isn't yet the finale you've been waiting for."
Apr 4, 2020
Apr 4, 2020 at 10:22 AM UTC
"Pray 1 Lord's Prayer, 3 Hail Mary's and 1 Glory Be." said the priest behind the confession booth in which I hesitated to proceed knowing seeing you later that day would mean sinning.
From the way you look, to the sound escaping your lips. From your laughter, to your mewls and whimpers.
I was willing to confess everyday, if it would mean sinning for you.
Feb 21, 2021
Feb 21, 2021 at 1:05 PM UTC
Sylvia Plath was always my Favourite writer
Ever since i Realised i was Esther in Disguise
with my trembling bambi-legs and great doe-eyes.
Ruined Bloodied Ruptured
by my First Embrace
The rings of His love-bites held me in place;
they looked like Chains of lace.
i look around me and wonder what people see.
Do they see the same girl that i see
Preserved in the amber bud of His eye?
Shrunken Bruised Browned Buried
Under the mountains of His lies
'Here she lies, Esther in Disguise'.
Or do they see the girl that can't ever make up her Mind?
And just won't Decide
Who she is and what she wants to be?
How did I get here, under that same Bell Jar, like thousands of other women before me?
I'm Cut
Off by the Sea.
And in my Isolation,
(On That island of Desperation)
All I can hear are the forlorn Kisses of the Tide
Stifling Suction on a Sandy Shore
Replacing the musing mewls of knife-beaked gulls
"I am I am I am"
Jun 13, 2014
Jun 13, 2014 at 5:07 PM UTC
When Mr. Brown forgets
leaves his puppy unfed and tied
before rushing off to work
the animal mewls confused
abandoned and lonely all day
watching Dog TV.
The parched houseplant
screams from its porcelain prison
for silent water
wishing only to be made wet
fecund on attention once again.
Everything sits silent
in the close confines
our life's domestic drama
just waiting for us to realize
we are born to notice
the cries of who lies closest.
Yet no one is to blame
for ignorance;
it is the Dog's karma to be abused,
the foliage to dry and go discarded
for no apparent fault of their own.
It is Mr. Brown's karma
for his dog to die
with a broken unfed heart
to toss his plants in the trash
to find his home unadorned and silent once again
and wonder over and over
why is life so barren?
Feb 11, 2013
Feb 11, 2013 at 7:00 AM UTC
"Pray 1 Our Father, 3 Hail Mary's and 1 Glory Be" Said the father behind the booth in which I hesitated to continue knowing seeing you later that day would mean sinning.
From the way you look, to the sound escaping your lips. From your laughter, to your mewls and whimpers.
I was willing to confess everyday if it would mean sinning for you.
Nov 1, 2020
Nov 1, 2020 at 9:09 AM UTC
In my cabinet
no one comes
tapping. The
slap of my
thoughts
like the strike
of steel drums
on the walls.
No one calls.
My breath
booming; a
bass string
plucked in
panic. The
air around
opaque as
top-shelf
ignorance.
With me weep
my shoulders,
stooped, my
hands, curled
and catching
the precipitation
of grief. No
mewls, no
moans – my
voice, too, has
left me heaving
and weeping to
the sounds of
my seclusion.
Mar 8, 2013
Mar 8, 2013 at 12:15 AM UTC
is lovely.
She mewls
and purrs
and sleeps
and eats
and *****
like there is nothing wrong with it.
Aug 6, 2010
Aug 6, 2010 at 9:01 PM UTC
Ever seen a cat get hit by a car?
You hear a SMACK,
And then nothing.
Just silent mewls,
Yelling for help.
I've seen that happen,
The blood mixing with rain water.
The sight blurred by my tears,
The sound of my choked sobs echoing in through the darkness.
Dead it was dead.
Died of shock? Blood loss? I don't know.
But all I know is that it was dead.
Princess was killed.
A hit and run act.
R.I.P Princess.
Mar 21, 2014
Mar 21, 2014 at 6:36 PM UTC
what i never had the chance to (let you learn)
was that I dance with the shades up wearing
nothing but the sun, telephone wires casting
cuts across my lips, small ******* that don't
swing heavy but fit in palms,
how much
have you changed since you were casually knocking,
since before you might have thought I was
untamed but a conquest you had already mapped--
realized I was a bit more to hold, (you did)
But that I so often go back to those two nights
telling myself I should have whispered your
name, to gauge a reaction, to hear your last
name tagged onto breathy mewls--I shouldn't
be this way, knowing i forge relations through
fingertips, I dunno why kissing is such a problem.
Probably because they write you into a chapter
that goes on for hundreds of pages afterwards, after the
supposed ending, even after I tell you that I'm done,
what is it like to be you? To be them?
to be able to move on so quickly,
and replace others with others with others
Sep 9, 2016
Sep 9, 2016 at 10:36 PM UTC
a man, some would
debate; who prefers
the co. of pussycats
& dolls is someone
obsessed w/ *******
[ all kinds but snooch
is a body part of another person;
who, although not as cute - ]
as bright little yellow eyes;
mewls at midnight too
[I do like pussycats]
[sleeping calico kittens:]
looking like rolled up
Argyle socks; [mother],
is that singular role adopted by
whomever it happens
to fall upon - mothering:
licking & petting her little
blind brothers & sisters:
Jul 11, 2018
Jul 11, 2018 at 4:45 PM UTC
the moon mewls in melancholy
as the sun snatches his soft shine
each day he's chased away
but the night returns to grant his passage
i'll sail up in my soaring ship
and befriend the lonely lost one
because we all know a searching soul
and they must be protected.
Jan 13, 2019
Jan 13, 2019 at 11:34 AM UTC