"moistness" poems
Born to the night in the cry of wolves,
We are….inked lovers spilling secrets, under velvet skies,
Shrouding the night in silver spools;
The season of silver silence, hangs upon shades of silken soul,
This midnight offering, a white entice;
My hair shimmers brightly, a wet fleece of gold, of shadow and starlight,
And shimmering hues, emerald and sapphire breathe kindred embers into the bellows of passion;
Challenging the flame that burns; entwined....
Whispered intrigue lays in the crescent of moon,
In an eminent blaze of sweetest surrender
Unborn whispers lie entwined with heated petals, silken;
We shiver....I shiver,
I am warm arms embraced;
Your lips hard yet soft against my side,
The feel of flesh warmed to a rising flame...
The long moon steps into midnight;
My ******* full of your hands as candles, pour hard against the ebon fall,
Luscious to the hush of soft smiles
Steeled eloquence flows in ribbon ripples;
Winter sown, blood quilled, in midnights cast;
Cloaked in beautiful, shadow's bed a bouquet of lacy foxglove...
Eyes closed and deep of breath,
Moistness seeps the sugared flower, and longing surges deep;
Shudder me wicked, drench me quick;
The wildness swirls inside as he moves like a shadow over my heart
His tongue eager to swim the gushing urge;
Touching, slick-slide, the soothe of smooth fingers slip past softness;
Lips cross, moist to moan me quick, sliding to quivers.
Thigh's whispering and heart pounding ,
Soft, the wind blows, tapping walls, fingers dancing
And shadow sways to moonlight...
Velvet-soft, the sweet of tongue's mesh,
Fire burning,
The tips of breast's aroused by the touch of a slow hand lover;
Your tongue gently rolls, wet and burning hot,
Hungrily, it feeds diving deep, and sandalwood spires upon the malachite air,
And burning murmurs the silent song, pleasures
Your flame to touch me hot, softly hard,
Against the darting quivering rose, stokes sweet, the flame of conjure....
I weep as you strain to slay this huntress of indolent submission;
Descending into darkness, I squirm upon your touch, lifting my altar upon your hunger,
Eyes lost to ecstasy, the flow quickens from abyssal moans;
Overflowing with need, release bound by gold shattered stars
Suckling whispered thoughts;
With us, for us, in us, in dreams, in thoughts, in love
....And in....time my love..................
Aug 8, 2012
Aug 8, 2012 at 5:31 PM UTC
the rain sifts through my attempts
to grasp it with mere hands:
one cannot understand
without going through its constant
shift and change of faces.
As to another, one learns
to ask the right questions,
naturally, at the opportune time.
Like in all things
Every conversation
Which pass through us
Were never truly there.
Those that do stay are bereft
of meaning.
What remains often
is the damp, moistness
of the late -ber month showers:
regret, loss, a tactless remark.
They share the same fate in all
of this, the slow, uptake for words:
closure, a second chance, a bad joke
like the heavy traffic we always have
to endure - a cartload heavy
-laden with stockpiled souvenirs
with no particular use except
for reminiscing, a flickering hope
for the last bus ride home.
One day, you will
miss all of this.
And the only thing
that is left to endure,
is memory.
14 October 2017
Oct 14, 2017
Oct 14, 2017 at 6:00 AM UTC
365Nectar #60 Devour Me
Fri. November 22, 2013 9:18 P.M.
Devour me...
A provocative passionate pouring
of pillaging and plundering...
A pleasing prowling
of a piercing plunderer...
A lovely, limp nymph
laid upon a sizzling alter...
Smoldering...
Awakening all the senses
a choking of lust
unleashes exhilarating
and
envelops you...
Effortlessly evoking ethereal...
a sinister seduction
seductively seduces
and hungry hips
breakdance with hysterical
Stimulating a surreal surge of a sweet seeping...
waiting...
impatiently...
For you to chisel
an unimaginable devouring...
S slow steady climb to the summit
of the ultimate ******
Time-
Time-
Time... a tool to employ flamboyantly...
immediately...
eargerly...
Expose my conquered heart
that leaks
of streams
of cream
of succulent sensation...
Expose my tamed moistness
that whispery whines
as you build a legacy
of torturous licking....
Seductively...
Slithering in spicy spirals
of stirring screams
from stormy shivers
of steamy anticipation
of your redefining touch...
Suddenly...
drowning in the sticky sensation
of all that is us...
A tender luscious love liquefying flesh
and penetrating souls...
We blend in blazing bliss
tapping taboo for titillating thrills
you rock a rowdy ravishing
inside me...
I whisper wet whimpers
and beg for bitten breast...
Our wrestling hips
hug, ***** and groan a hungry growling...
Pounded into saturated submission
I linger in lubricating dreams
for you-
to...
devour me.
Jan 8, 2014
Jan 8, 2014 at 6:42 PM UTC
our love making
early this morning
was slow and exquisite
and made me think of moss
all green verdancy and
softness,
gently enveloping moistness
always close to water
the ultimate source of life
simple but enduring
green earth velveteen
a soft place to fall
but then....
it may have just been
the feel of your soft scratchy
stubble
against the tender skin of
my inner thigh
either way....
thinking on it now
arouses me....again.
again... again.....
moss
Aug 17, 2014
Aug 17, 2014 at 2:05 AM UTC
moist moist moist moist MoiSt mOisT moIsT MOIST
now stop reading it, say it
moist
it's a weird word
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
a storm is coming
and I can smell it, feel it
MOIST
on my skin- slick
it wisps into my mouth
dirt patches aren't meant to be stoic
the storm approaches from the north, northwest
I am headed that way- north, northwest- approaching it
we have not yet converged but I can feel it
moist
it tastes of dry dirt
not local
nomadic
the clouds are foreshadowing --- foreboding
parting only to show more grey
we have yet to converge but I can feel it
the grey
the parting
the moistness
I am not yet there but I can feel it
wisping through me
I am not meant to be stoic
nomadic
the first d
r
o
p
refreshing
I can feel it. really feel it.
moist on my skin. weird.
the clouds are parting
lightening [effect] thunder [effect] convergence [effect]
I am the storm; its core
moist
grey
parting
wisping
can you feel me
approaching...
Jun 3, 2014
Jun 3, 2014 at 7:51 PM UTC
A BIRTH
Twelve hours in velvet dark
I waited for your shaft
to penetrate my channel of desire
birthing purity and long lashes
You came without a doubt
Acacia branches making curtains
their feet digging deep for
the numinosity of life
Wisdom of Time feeding a
*********** into pink moistness
Deeply hidden thorns created
a serpent circle of protection
Descent spiralled into eardrums
eyeballs, silently swirling light
dividing with space, minerals
unfolding with Earth’s rhythm
Her sister shed joyful tears
for her soft arched feet
whilst ***** petals fell
for dainty fingers curling
As missionary I buried a sticky
cord beneath Acacia
Understood the elixir of truth and
your departure into shadows
©GhairoDanielsPoetry1997
Sep 14, 2025
Sep 14, 2025 at 4:55 AM UTC
How to design a killer society
by president whiteness
the imperial imagination
drone culture
drone language
drone purpose
a rough process
of putting your conscience
back into yourself
far away from what you look like
while having your experience
surrounded by those who fear
having their experience alone
awkward comparisons of experience
acting out in play
called
“how normal melts into experience”
you ****** expired
you are looking now
at yourself having been experienced
expired and ready for the next program
I destroyed leisure
white celebration
single handedly
found its brittle structure
and took it apart
piece by piece
as it squeezed and begged
I smiled as it crumbled
down back to nature
begging for mercy
begging to be taught how to live
how to be alive
i can give time
I can take it away
does time need electricity
to be charged
does time need to socialize
the harder it seems
the more easy my words come
the better they touch you
graze your skin barely
tickles
like I could never with my hands
I want my words to be a spark
I want you to be flammable
I want you to be mesmerized
by the flame I made out of your attention
I want you to feel warm and cozy
burning passion
scared of fire out of control
spreading
you need
yet fear so boldly
desperate nuclear dissociation
like the affection of whiteness
stampeding innocence
feining my writing
like drugs needles
love
too deep in limbs
they are coming
imperialism
*******
longing for
bodies
I want your mind
keep her body
naked hostage
of imperial lust
what happened to your attention
being an adult
I don’t know what the **** is in the future
but I do
so do you
I wanted to write to you
so I could just focus
on your eyes the next time I am with you
your moistness
melts my desire
I become more of a mystery
more mystery
until nothing but mystery
and then nothing at all
Oct 11, 2018
Oct 11, 2018 at 6:43 PM UTC
Noon had barely finished his circuit
when I engaged the Sun in conversation,
wondering if her healing rays were a golden ode to pain?
Abruptly interrupted;
shirts' silk thread dripping displeasure,
at the sudden moistness of its condition.
In return and in much the same verbal position,
I chided this thread,
intoxicated with sticky saline libation,
much less for the distraction
as opposed to the - parley intrusion,
citing;
“My dear shirt it’s impolite to gravitate beyond one's social inclusion”
Instinctively,
back and fingers joined this spoken foray
distancing themselves in unison
from the sozzled garments' argument.
Arching and pulling away,
his company no longer entreated,
whatever beauty he had,
now lost,
in his present
dis - position.
In agreement and sunshine unabating,
I attempted to continue our once lovely conversation.
But she;
her glow unwaning,
had moved on,
no longer finding such small talk entertaining.
© Qwey.ku
May 18, 2014
May 18, 2014 at 12:41 PM UTC
I am dream, made flesh!
Cut
from your design
Burning,
Inflamed,
Caressed by your
Love.....
Purrrrrring softly...
Naked heart-print's press upon the tissue
Of trembling thunder;
I bend
Beneath his breath
While he permeates
A rake of glittered stars
Across my skin;
The barrier
Between his tongue and my scent...
Scarlet
He holds me ... liquid,
Framed to his eyes,
Teased
******* hard;
The melt of ice, fed on
The heat of his tongue;
Shedding night's skin
In shades of twilight...
Dark, eyes gaze through mine
Caressing
Silken pleasures;
The moistness of a stolen kiss,
Willing, wet,
Tasting the tender;
Of palpitating curves,
Of Soft thighs, quivering
Moving
Slow enough to
Swallow...
A tigress, unleashed, beneath
Her tamer's trance
I vary my pose,
The audacity of my savage
Innocence
Meets his gaze,
River-wild and dark,
The moment.... opaque
Darkened silk;
The slide,
Palms down,
My skin alive at the burn
As hips gyrate
On the rub
Burning where shadows curve,
Creating the fire of
Hunger...
A writhe of craze
A pause to breathe
To shut hard
The breath of me
As he inhales
Slim ecstasies, skin
Seizures
Immersed in milky secrets
Weak, with love.....
Oct 16, 2012
Oct 16, 2012 at 3:15 PM UTC
Adios England's Venus flytrap
May you ever overflow inside our rectums
You were the ornament that inserted itself
Where spunks were pelted to pieces
You ********** in the open air to our promontory
And you squirted to those inside ********
Now you reciprocate to Abraham's *****
And the black holes crack spew out your barber's pole
And it seems to me you tasted your *****
Like a cigarette lighter in the diarrhoea
Never drooping with knobs on the cherry lips
When the ooze congeal within
And your smells will always regurgitate here
Along England's juiciest blast—offs
Your cigarette lighter's exploded spew out long before
Your whiff ever go the whole hog
Voluptuousness we've jiggled
These frenzied wombs of time needing your clenched fist
This lava lamp we'll always get pregnant
For our breed's fair—haired brats
And even though we have a finger in
The clean breast seduces us to moistness
All our foghorns cannot ****
The ecstasy you stimulated us throughout the age groups
Apr 2, 2010
Apr 2, 2010 at 3:21 PM UTC
July 8th - Where am I? What is this place? Why do I remember everything & nothing all at the exact same time?
July 14th - This is a place where the dying go to; I don't understand.
July 24th - I feel this sort of pain, but it's nothing I can't handle.
August 1st - I miss my pillow the most.
August 17th - I don't know how I ended up in here. I don't know how I ended up like this.
August 20th - I was created to please, yet lived to only disappoint.
August 21st - I'm so cold. They don't have blankets in this room. Just walls.
August 22nd - Why hasn't anyone came to visit me? Why doesn't anyone care?
August 24th - I can't breathe. These walls turned into a face mask & I can feel myself slowly disintegrating.
August 28th - A cookie may be able to crumble, but I could crumble oh so much faster; & crumble I shall.
September 1st - A window appeared. But it's always raining outside of it.
September 4th - I forgot how to speak. The rain is much louder than my voice, & i'm starting to realize that's how it's always been.
September 5th - I don't remember the feeling of dry eyes. I can't tell if the moistness is actually tears or if i've just been standing by this window a little too long.
September 15th - I like to pretend that this feeling is normal.
September 16th - Everyone won't stop asking me questions about when i'm going to get released & seem to never stop wondering what's "actually wrong with me".
September 17th - Maybe I can just act like everyone else are the ones with the problems.
September 21st - I need to be alone, yet I haven't even seen anyone in what seems to be months.
September 28th - I don't know how long i've been in here, but i'm starting to feel at home.
October 2nd - I finally met my doctor. He seems like a nice man. Hopefully he can take this feeling away, whatever it is.
October 3rd - I haven't opened my eyes all day; i'm too scared to see that you're still not there.
October 5th - The doctor keeps telling me that there are no visible sign of anything being wrong, he says i'm free to go.
October 5th - I don't want to go.
Oct 5, 2014
Oct 5, 2014 at 10:06 PM UTC
She has sunshine
in her hair,
like sun
on fields of corn.
I walk there,
brushing my fingers
through the softness.
She welcomes me in,
in I swim
through the waves
of her love;
she is my siren,
I, a drowning ******
Her lips are as fruit,
I am upon them
as a child greedy
for sustenance;
her moistness
embraces me.
Her thighs are ocean-like,
I bathe as one
needing salvation,
ablutions to a new end,
will this release
the dead me
or mend?
Jan 30, 2015
Jan 30, 2015 at 2:37 AM UTC
Kiss me.
You are my woman.
Fearless, **** ruled by Saturn.
My muse.
Fiery and timorous.
Hair of a lion, lips that sooth my body and soul.
Natural, scorching beauty and a mind like a whip.
A goddess to be touched with the love.
Love from thy fingertips encompassing every inch.
A body of beauty to gaze and ravish.
A mind of beauty to watch and devour.
Mine for always.
Kiss me.
I am your woman.
Untamed, nurturing, ruled by the moon.
Behaving in balance with stellar pulls.
Hips for bearing, ******* for worshipping.
Internal beams only you can see; smiles gleamed in the moment.
Listen to my soul and touch my heart.
Yours for always.
Kiss me.
Let our tongues wander the inner walls of our mouths.
Kiss me where our secrets and anecdotes lie.
Mouths straying from lips to necks,
Necks to *******
******* to what lies between the thighs.
Moistness and anticipation building between the ears and legs.
Unyielding instants of uninhibited eye contact.
Rapture. Pain. Relief.
Everything rises to the surface.
Ours for always.
Dec 4, 2012
Dec 4, 2012 at 3:43 PM UTC
We are buried under the sand.
for us, no sun-kissed June day,
no moistness of a morning dew,
no soothing waves between our toes,
no jubilant trumpet to herald our return,
no voice to cheer freedoms new dawn,
we are forever buried under the sand.
© H V Swan
Sep 4, 2014
Sep 4, 2014 at 8:05 AM UTC
A bouquet hung in afterhour pantry,
A bell to ring the starved noise,
Two spirit's gathering extraterrestrial information,
A stairway chalked by toys!!!
A damp moistness to bleed out ourn Laugh's,
No docteretic sources,
Just serene gleams of minds alike inbathed!!!
Abundance of sizziling swelter,
Bogged heavy in due rain heat,
A voisterous composition,
The crow polishes ourn two's feet!!
I tasteth her plum need,
She gravels our toes,
Fulminations children breed,
In translucent clear clothes!!!
We wither in feathered juiciness,
Where fences are none to find,
Wherein camera's we make to shiver,
We break back's on massage oil chyme!
She reaches over to take mine fears,
She maketh me a warmsome bed,
Different valley's in singular astronomical view,
Both alive, yet so dead!!
Ourn peritonium's hunch in closer,
As ourn cartilage gets renaissance,
Were two alike, a Shakespherian Poe poster,
A darkness and light of Dupont!!!
Puzzles with missing pieces,
Though we ourn selves fill the gaps,
Where none can enter between us,
For ourn chapters are ammophilously wrapped!!!
May 27, 2015
May 27, 2015 at 9:33 PM UTC
Geraldine
riding home
on the bus
after work
sitting there
in the crowd
thinking of
her lover
sweet Holly
lying there
in the ****
all the night
her small globes
kiss ready
legs parted
hotly moist
waiting for
Geraldine's
snake like tongue
spider like
*********
between thighs
watery
sea blue eyes
uttering words
I love you
between the
oohs and ahs
whispered sighs
of just there
gets me hot
just that spot
she sways slow
to bus's swerve
a bell's pressed
at the front
but all that
Geraldine
can think of
is Holly
and Holly's
moistful ****
Dec 15, 2013
Dec 15, 2013 at 2:59 AM UTC
I have been deeply
French-kissed
by the Sun.
My skin
unmistakably glistening,
reflecting;
the sensual moistness of her tongue.
Scorched by passion
from the very beginning.
A frenzied possession,
so deep,
now genetically smitten.
A torrid affair
by certain perceptions.
Unshakable,
defiantly unbreakable.
To wit questionable,
sometimes unbearable.
But...
I must confess
her kiss riles me,
and with it,
guilt
forgivingly
hails me.
Too,
the jealously of men
contorted,
merely
by
the sheer beauty
in her embrace.
?
I am at a loss, I despair,
I don't understand it.
Driven mad
simply,
by the affection of her face.
© Qwey.ku
May 30, 2014
May 30, 2014 at 3:52 AM UTC
Far away, a bird sings
a song of spring's sweet arrival
High trills, low moans
Is it yearning for love,
or desperate for renewal?
Suddenly, his fingers find mine through
green blades and slide
over the back of my hand
A quiet breath escapes my lips
as we sit on dewy grass
But I do not feel moistness
only a warm kindling
in the pit
of my stomach
"It's beautiful, isn't it?"
His amber eyes are glowing,
illuminated by the rays
of the afternoon sun
A cool wind brings the scent
of leaves
and all else that is spring
Brings his arms like a blanket
rubbing away goosebumps
spread on my skin
And somehow the sun
warms my spine enough
to seep in me
a morsel of courage
a slight turn of the face
a nervous murmur
And then I can taste
spring on his lips.
Jan 26, 2013
Jan 26, 2013 at 12:21 PM UTC
Do you feel how the air moves
Autumn, my love?
I have a secret to confess
Autumn, my love.
I have been blue like the summer sky
Among the cordial zephyrs
Those crowds and their pleasantries
Alight everywhere
As the trees in plumage
Concealing so much as they reveal everything,
Autumn, my love.
It has been a feverous summer,
Mad Augustine march of the southern breeze
Into the remote Tuscarora contemplation
Of lascivious concealing,
Autumn, my love.
You chilled my hands, leading me up
The logging path,
Ignored my glance and kept pulling
My insecurities up to the surface
The grief and lethargy I feel
Stomping through the moving pictures
Of the concealed revealing
Soon the sky will be very clear
And your darkness passes across your face
Much sooner now,
Autumn, my love.
Why did you bring me here, to the edge?
You pause and wait for the sky the perfect
Blend of grey and decay.
You speak and the leaves fall around me
And I feel myself melting into your *****
Covered by your many hands
Curving around my body, enveloping,
With your gravity putting me on my back
And carve my every sacred cerebra
With the twists and moistness, the cool
Air scent of the sleeping earth
Of your belly
Autumn, my love,
I wish to have you always,
Autumn, my love.
Your cracked embrace swims down the ravine
Seeming to wave goodbye.
It’s in time likes these,
Autumn, my love,
I cannot bear the thought of an equinox of passion,
Where the golden sun is soon on its way to setting
Autumn, my love.
You look out, where the sun will rise,
Your footsteps gliding over the edge
Where I cannot chase you out
The valley of your body and you giggle at the fact,
Autumn, my love.
A single leaf falls from your hand,
I wish to have you always, too
But this joy can only perch on the precipice
Of despair
Each day must flee quicker and quicker
You tell me, you’ll love me more when I am gone,
Autumn, my love.
Sep 15, 2018
Sep 15, 2018 at 11:41 AM UTC
Nothing as lonely, as
a lonesome man traveling.
With the company of his thoughts
and some ideas.
Many problems and no solutions.
Music as his company,
the plane isn’t so boring.
Last week’s red wine,
(in the form of *****
on his notebook,
has allied with the moistness
of his room.
So he skips a page
and writes a poem.
Apr 13, 2012
Apr 13, 2012 at 1:13 PM UTC
Ghosts
The ghosts float about
sometimes above my head
sometimes in my chest
they wrap themselves
Oh to be lycan
I saw a wolf in the northwest covered with snow
blue eyes looking right through me
as if to say wake up you stupid human
stuck in the mud
float in snow my man!
I feel the heat on my inner thighs
creeping upward tickling enticing
as if the summer is trying to peak its head
through cold winter soil
the shiny black snake coils
around my ankles
squeezes telling me to be not afraid
of the primordial divine impulse
to take my earthiness and embrace it
bring it to the heavens where it belongs
with my spirit.
The Woman
The long thin silk scarf around her neck
***** and flies off her left shoulder
like angel wings in the wind
caresses my cheek and neck
wants me within her feminine self.
Ah! what sweetness to behold!
her soft skin gentlizes me
takes my hairy clunky body
lifts it into my dreams
into her moistness.
Awake
And now I am awake
to spring in its irrepressible green
daffodils at the base of the pear tree
direct my eyes from earth to sky
like an organic gothic arch
long puffy clouds stand still
against the bright azure sky
heaven on earth.
Mar 18, 2021
Mar 18, 2021 at 2:26 PM UTC
Soft yellow moistness
leaves nostalgia in my mouth
Little seeds that get
stuck in your teeth
that your tongue
struggles to get out
When you use your
fingers your mother
chastises you with a soft smile
Sweet and tangy
You lick the crumbs off your plate
“Another!” you say,
but you already ate them all,
too late.
Feb 5, 2017
Feb 5, 2017 at 7:22 AM UTC
In my fantasy
You are already naked
Inside my mind
I already have you
Your lips are wet
Fingers & tounges
Sliding to new depths
Scearching for
the moments unkept
I love the moistness
of sweet juices
flowing wet
Sep 3, 2011
Sep 3, 2011 at 11:51 AM UTC
what's rain to a city?
gloomy, gray drops
brutally gritting
in drizzle people's hopes.
its wetness is inimical,
its moistness - whimsical.
no sun, no, no happiness;
cold gales beget haplessness.
rain, Rain, rain!
wash away-away
disdain!
(never mind, never mind
pain...)
(c)kRu, 17.09.05
Jan 30, 2010
Jan 30, 2010 at 12:34 AM UTC
Of course there's
always
the other side
of the things
we so adore.
O My Sweet Honey,
knows just what to do,
how to pleasure me
even more.
I stand tall
straight above her,
regal & rigid.
And in our naked-splendor,
she kneels in mock-reverence,
looking up bright-eyed,
I see her gorgeous tail.
It takes my breath away,
playing a god like this.
Her firm-warm magnificent-grip
begins a sensual-rhythm
as she engulfs my tip
with her raw-moistness.
Her flick of wondrous-tongue,
so gentle, so kind,
reveals to me
her true beauty,
her inner
sensual-tenderness.
O My Dear Lady,
I do crave,
this dreamy-state
she takes me to,
if she only knew.
O My Dear Love,
she is indeed
an angel from above,
her fine-motions
do save me
from any sheer folly.
I want her, I need her,
I will seed her with
my almighty love.
With heightened friction
& such lovely lips,
she takes me to nirvana.
My knees grow weak as
I grip her thick-hair,
stare lovingly
into her pretty-face
causing such hot-commotion.
And in my heated-fervor,
I shoot & shoot & shoot
do flow
my sticky-potion deep
into her wanton parted-lips,
I adorn her loveliness
with my gladness.
Having reached
our place of fiery-ecstasy,
she stands to kiss me,
softly whispers,
"Baby do you want me
to do it some more?"
And why of course,
she knows my answer.
I love to romance her,
'cause her interest in me,
all of me,
unconditionally,
is the reason
she's the one I so adore
& this stellar-act,
just one more hot-reason,
I want her so much more!
Dec 29, 2013
Dec 29, 2013 at 6:51 PM UTC