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Shofi Ahmed Oct 2018
It’s on everyone's eyeline
where the flying clouds
look down time and again
on this perfectly placed mural.

King Solomon keeps an ear on the ground
the Queen of Sheba tiptoes on this way.
Only to find seas of silent blooms already
musing dipping in sun-kissed dews
on gently tilted roses that won’t drip down
not from this a picture perfect navel-high!

Velvety rose up from the ground
forever green earth is hanging low
in the dew on the rose that won’t fall.
Blossoming, eying on an acute high
evermore hopeful to scale high aspiring
to the faraway awaiting houris’ pool.
They will move neither to the north
nor south nor they go up or down until
Queen Fathima the Queen of Heaven
shows up there on the ‘as above so below’ *****.

There too the newly resurrected earth be primed
to loop into the Golden section at the same height.
Laying the stepping stone on before her
mosaiced to measure on the phi adhered navel-high!
Houri: The Beautiful native woman of paradise.
The Math Behind the Beauty argues that "Leonardo da Vinci's drawings of the human body emphasised its proportion. The ratio of the following distances is the Golden Ratio: (foot to navel) : (navel to head)".
Give it sometime
our minds work in patterns.
worry is a house full of thieves,
Step outside of it and you'll be made able to breathe.

Give it some time
Negative creep is a curable disease.
A faction that misrepresents  a conquerable aberration.
wait for my signal, here have some chamomile tea.

Give it some time
i pray you'll be able to sleep
darkness is approaching, and you should know
i'm here for you for whenever
your wounds start to bleed.
Mark Upright May 2018
"Stop your navel gazing, get out your notebook, there’s a world exploding out there"

Tom Wolfe
Shofi Ahmed Oct 2018
Jumping in the blue
water lilies reflection
in the pond up in the sky.
Lo, the punter sun peeps into
the rose dew down on earth.
Floating just on a navel-high!

The broad daylight pictures
the heavenly blue smile
painting on its highwater mark.
Million and one primula flower
kissing this elfin column.
Not up in the wild blue yonder
nor down on the ground.
Just on a navel high!
KiraLili Nov 2016
Shining ruby seed
Placed gently on bare navel
Warm red juice drops fall
Sensual fruits
patty m Jun 2017
Humpbacked night
full-moon above the sacred mound
gives light to her soft navel.  
Womanly secrets guarded in darkness
spread across the earth;  
Twigs snap, leaves rustle
a haze of pungent smoke greets dawn.  
Autumn walks on silent feet.
Her long raven hair cascades in beauty.
Behind her comes a bristling wind,
while overhead a flock of raven spirits portend
a shadowy doom

Winter catches Autumn unaware,
dragging her to his tepee.
There beneath deerskin intricately beaded,
intimacy plays out between them.
The animal in him crouches
warm within her womb,
but the cold within his heart
freezes Autumn's soul.

Across the village
a sentry cries out a warning.  
Spaced teeth in a ceremonial mask
smile vacantly at our impending plight
and soon a blizzard holds us fast.  

Brother wolf I hear you howling
above the flapping of wings,
fang and talon's hunger calling
blood scents heat in night long flight.
Dead Rose One Feb 2015
"montana-says-yoga-pants-illegal" Look up on Yahoo

we got quite the stash,
under the illegal grass,
in our hidden home,
bring 'em out when
it's just the two of us,
looking to get exercised

o'course we have secret codes,
(yogurt slackers)
never call 'em by their real name
in public,
lest we get sent by drone
to the new
orange and black jail

when we be feeling
under our coats
we wear 'em semi-publicly,
but to blend in,
we only buy black,
seeing as we live
in new york seeity,
where we reside,
black be the only
legal color for approved
illegal street walking

never when we travel domestically
in case we get busted,
don't want to face
federal interstate charges
of inciting others to riot sensationally!

this land is not my land,
maybe it is yours,
but if you come alooking
for us, we got a cabin
in the deep words,
where we practice
dress code freedom,
no ties, shirts untucked,
navel (oranges) fully exposed,
button down shirts always  unbuttoned,
(my high school days
revolutionary first strike)
hoping to escape
the idiots we
place above us
to "govern"
at the navel
part me
with your tongue

lickstrip the human
until primal claws
my soul undone

a shuddering peak
of milky peach
carnal prowess
rippling beats thru me

marking territory
in teeth and cream

latching onto
every inch
of salted slick
tentacle binding
your swell
into my

I drink
your being

shaking thighs exorcise
leaking all I'm not
in glisten streaks

we pry
the edges
and escape
our bones

worlds parting
at ripe lips

surrender me
in drip glitch haven
where your every
eye roll, ****
and murmur

sends me further
than I ever

I could go
mariamme Apr 2018
Moon glistens knowingly in the inky water
watching her pale body sink
the murmuring of night birds       woven
                               into hair of embers extinguished
sooty yet even soot is beautiful, to Moon.
eyes fixated on the navel of the pond
navel of the worlds' doings, of beginning of life & death
           a prayer escapes in the whisper of willow trees
into the arms of Night's gentle air.
           the pond itself is prayer, the water
giving life forth in Moon's embrace;

the woman glistens knowingly in the inky water-
eyes as steady as Moon's rays of borrowed light
              body, a temple of angles and soft circumference
glistening knowingly in the inky water
of Moon's embrace & the willow's whispers.
last night's dream in verse.
i like it, don't know where it came from, but i like it.
Sheikh Muizz Sep 2015
Two silhouettes muttered through cigarette smoke next to the tall, black double doors at the head of the corridor
unfazed by the white rectangles flickering above us. The doors parted
next thing I knew, I was in
a black box of four tall black walls, and a clammy black floor
made of the same padded fabric as the entrance doors.
Riotous bass pummelled through the room like a tortured bull.
There were hundreds of people here; maybe more
but they were all lying docile, faceless and still
against each other.

They were all young. I picked up an inconsistent rhythm of chests rising and falling
like ripples ushered across the sea by a gentle breeze.
Yet it was the overwhelming sense of flesh here that
lit a snarling viciousness within me. How it excited me and how
I feared it.
I was a butcher, afraid of what he could do.

I saw someone I recognised – her brown hair was tied back, her eyelashes
twitched in her slumber. I stepped over and sat behind her. She pulled herself closer to me
and kissed my cheek. I buried my face in her neck and placed my palm on her bare stomach
took my index finger, and ran a circle around her navel.

I can’t remember what happened after that.  Images slip through like
water in cupped hands.
But I remember the raw beat, and the gentle ripple of chests
and how it reminded me of the sleeping new-borns in a maternal ward.
Äŧül Feb 16
I looked at you, babe,
Only to dream about it,
Oh! I experienced it.

In the dream that I was having,
I was happily skiing,
Skiing down the valley.

Down the smooth bathykolpian valley,
I dreamt that I was falling freely.
I went around the navel to *** down under.
My HP Poem #1732
©Atul Kaushal
Nikki nashon Jun 13
Can this be my candy kingdom?
Solipistic modifier
Confectionery sweets make my teeth feebler
the confines of my mind let me linger

Why can't I stop Abstracting
Is that a bad thing?
What is real and what isn't
Catch me navel-gazing

introspective nonsense
Can it be illuminating?
My mind feels fuzzy

I'll tell you one thing
Could this be my candy kingdom?
Water lilies arise from the tears behind her smile.

Irises grow hopeful beneath the sultry shadows of her hips.

Carnations incarnate a sensual silence in the arches of her eyebrows.

Orchids open like the mouth of a volcano spewing magma from her navel.

Peonies shake with pleasure as they penetrate her, first one petal then another.

Chrysanthemums cherish their freedom as they make music rise from her fingers.

Freesias drip with honey as she speaks rubies from her lips.

Gladioluses glisten as they trek along the pinnacles and peaks of her *******..

Violets yield plentiful fields along the pathways of her lungs.

Gardenias open gentle windows in the fragrant hollows of her spine.

Jasmines dance and dive into the warm reflecting pools of her eyes.

Roses rush like lovers along the riverbanks upon her sides.

Daffodils fill the devil's hills that ***** between her thighs.

Tulips glide and undulate like dolphins swimming in her blood.

Sunflowers swirl in the colorful worlds above and below her mind.

Daisies wait in delicate grace for the light to dance upon her face.

Hyacinths reveal the heat and shields that have been covering her heart of late.

Astors cast off their tasteful robes to reveal the beauty of her grace.
Rama Krsna Aug 5
a garland of words
eulogized by occidental cosmologists today
to deify the milky way

for five millennia,
in clandestine chambers of
the temple of the lord with a lotus navel,
oriental sages, finely tuned into
ultimate mantras of the cosmos,
initiated ‘twice born’ namboodris of kerala
into a mellifluous sanskrit verse....

a potent heart melting hymn
where our star-studded galaxy,
milky in complexion,
is seen as a spinning jagged-edged discus,
worn as an ornamental ring
around vishnu’s slender index finger,
from whose whirling lotus navel
the birth of inseparable twins:
warped space intertwined with flowing time

now this is a garland of exquisite beauty!

© 2019
vishnu: the all pervading one
namboodris: a sect of brahmins from kerala
Chris Slade Apr 1
What do you reckon? I know what you’ve been thinking…
We’re on a ship that looks unsteady, like it’s sinking…
We’ve made shaky plans to be gung-** and to go it all alone…
But we’re beginning to wonder… are we heading for some kind of danger zone?…
At first we were just floating along - enjoying the passing view
And 2 years off it looked a lot easier …leaving the EU!
But there’s a waterfall downstream…and it looks like a helluva drop.
And once we get too near the edge, well, we won’t be able to stop.

The simplicity of Cameron’s ‘in - out’ referendum question dawned…
Cos, divorce is complicated.  Those who voted leave were scorned,
branded racist, or at least suffering some kind of mental disorder.
“Didn’t you stop to think about the about the Northern Irish border?” (best read in a 'silly', sneery voice).
But - back then there were 2 million Syrians, Afghans, Iraqis all walking toward Calais.
Some thought serious overcrowding problems could come our way.
Single Market,? Sovereignty? Customs Union? What the hell’s all that?
It means you’ll need a visa to go to Benidorm you ****!

Meanwhile Merkel diffused things by taking the refugees in.
But only served to rattle the bars of the **** leaning right wing.
The Spanish got all Oity Toity about us having Gibraltar.
And some of those previously unforeseen problems made Brexiteers falter.
This is David effing Cameron!… Farage embarrassed him into calling for a vote.
And, when the Remainers lost, Dave saw his chance to produce his sick note.
“I’ve done my bit”, he said “so… I’m standing down…  so who do you think should take my dodgy crown.
The Buffoon, the Backstabber, the Right Honourable Lady Home Sec?”
She, the author of  Windrush, Repatriation, food-banks, lower benefits? She got it! ****** heck!…

Hoodwinked by a government you maybe invested your life in, in all the earlier polls
Now we’ve all been tricked by a bunch of, navel gazing, self serving arseholes!
So it’s the blind leading the blind… Well, no.! Misinformed…and maybe just a bit short sighted.
And, you know, Theresa… she’ll most likely still get knighted.
But I doubt this episode will score with generations yet to come,
Deserted by this Parliamentary shambles - sitting on their hands, their collective ***.
The proletariat are cut adrift, and heading for the falls…
So we’re looking for a new saviour - someone with charisma…big *****!

Let’s look forward to this time next year… When some trusty politician re-writes our little story.
When we may be out - but far from down… Well I somehow can’t see it being a Tory…
And if isn’t Jezzer - who HAS got his eye on the prize…
McDonnel, Starmer, Benn, Tom (call me Slim) Watson? Who should THEY try for size?
And, just supposing, by chance, the Conservatives actually crack it
who, amongst the front runners there, could get the job and hack it?
Lord Snooty, Gove, Hammond…Hunt the err… Foreign Secretary,  Javid, Liam Fox (surely not!). Bojo?
With this current stay of Brexicution, for just a couple of weeks… the petition, the march, the chaos, could it still be NO-GO?…
Whatdya reckon?
The complexion of this subject - Brexit (if I hear the word one more time on TV I think I'll unplug the thing and throw it out of the window) changes by the minute so it's hard to pin it down - Here is where we're at up to this point.
In the lazy
late afternoon light
when everything seems dreamlike
she comes to me.
Smiling coyly she undoes a clasp,
her robe slips off the shoulder.
I watch the fabric water like
flow over her body.
Hanging on her *******;
heavy with the ripeness of youth,
it pauses
then slips over her ***** brown *******...
One bouncing, then the other.
Following her curves,
past the hollow of her navel...
exposing her crowning glory,
her woman's furry triangle
so warm and moist and welcoming.
Like an admiring hand,
the falling cloth
traces the wonderful curve of her ***,
and down her long, smooth legs
to pool languidly at her feet.
She undoes her dark hair
shakes her head and lets it fall.
In all her glory she stands before me
eyeing me hungrily...
No seducer but prey am I.
This is my take on Ovid's Amores 1.5
Xallan May 28
teeth that crackle and shift like the faults of san andreas
will the rolling wave, the bathtub tsunami of my tongue,
salive flooding my throat
and I am drowning.

I am inhaling my jaw, and all my little teeth
will slide into my organs and form crystals
in my kidneys, in my liver, in my gall bladder
my tongue wraps itself about my trachea
holding my breath in a vise
my mandible collapses, my trachea collapses, my skull collapses
I am in compression
and my insides are crystallizing to diamond
under my skin, which is oxidized and without lustre

I cannot see within the mirror
the hinge of my mouth,
the muscles that droop
or, the eyelids that swing like a door to the floor
water floods my system

if I do not clack my teeth together
I fear my face may have moved out of place
to my lungs, to my fingers, to my navel
and my nose has become buried by my breast
and all of me is collapsing
my neurons, my veins flood, my ears flood
I replaced bone and muscle
with liquid
M-E May 18
To twisted wires and stringy muscles
That the sun and moistness dug in
BODIES shifting back and forth
From liveliness to languor

To hammer heads and chisel hands
To forged forearms and arms
To hardened knees and tibias
To wooden ribs and rubber sinews

To batons, to bullet fingers
To spinal ladders and saliva hooses
To band-aids and gauzes

To Argan oil and grains of wheat
Shriveling raisins and dried sweat
To clean dishes and full stomaches
Beds made well and hearts swell in happiness
Shoulder to navel, back to breast

To painted skins and vocal cord's plays
To palms reaching for poems and pens
And to the senses within

To the beat of life
Now and then
Travis Green Dec 2018
When I'm alone, I find myself fantasizing
about your vibrant brown skin, the rhythm
of your delicate touch caressing my soft
plump ******* and around the passages
of my navel, beautiful bright pores
of astonishing angles, hypnotic
geometry, supersonic equations of
exuberant joy.

I can dream your swirling chocolate
of fineness crawling over my body,
massaging my favorite spots, deep
invigorating fragrances of fascination,
soothing relaxations, spinning
rotations of melodic escapes,
as my fingernails circle the pad
of your arms, teeth-biting and heavy
heartbeats, a thrilling spark beyond

And as our feet intertwine, the sensual
beats of it all, love flights soaring
towards intensifying desires, flesh
filled fancies, the harmony between
inner and outer worlds sifting into
each other, while we lay on the beach
breathing in the sublime landscape.
Matt Shaw Feb 16
I turn for a Moment
And stand at the bow
The wind whips the sails, and
It's buffeting, Now

A stretched out horizon
What lies in its arms?
The future is silent,
It sounds its alarms

It's what makes me feel so stupid in moments of navel-gazing,
Or personifying unity as if it were a thing like me
It stands there with a kicking womb
To birth the monster of my doom
Its noise ful-ly concealed behind a veil.

My childish virtues,
They withered and wept
They wilted for science,
They felt quite inept

But new virtue turned 'round,
And weathered a storm
I turned for a moment
She's tethered and warm

Well, I lost my **** for a grip or two
But I picked the rocks out of my shoes.
It's time to grow onto my spine
And resonate this body's mine.
Twinkly stars

I do really like this poem.

The first line of the fifth stanza serves as a pivot point and I used meter there to emphasize that, meant to be read louder and slower, a contrapoint.

And the conclusion is meant to be a casual aside, same as stanza 3

It purposefully has this dynamic between formal and informal. The true self vs. The socially constructed self, reflected in that last stanza.
Vivek Raj Aug 2018
It's always been you!

If only you realized how much you mean to me,
Not a moment goes by when I don't stop to think about you,
Your peculiarity alone can do that,
And, that's always been you!

What makes you so special?
In layman terms,
You are my greatest strength
And, my greatest weakness.

The serenity in your halcyon heart,
The charisma of your captivating eyes,
The elegance in your illustrious smile,
The tenderness of your seductive lips,
The spark in your gentle touch,
The gracefulness of your alluring neck,
The radiance in your dazzling lustrous hair,
The lure of your hypnotizing heaving *****,
The haven in your scintillating navel,
The holiness of your ravishing waist,
The sanctity of your fascinating hips,
The wickedness in your mesmerising curves,
For my hopes lie on,
The gateway to your heart,
That is now open,
Through the divine pathway in your sacred forest,
Filled with untold and concealed secrets,
And, mysteries unknown to man,
For I hope to touch, nurture and caress,
Every deep wall in you,
For you are the prayer to my appetite,
And, the incarnation of my desires,
It is now that I get the privilege of being a being,
To realize,
You complete me!

You are desire,
You are passion,
The inspiration for wanting more in life,
The personification of loving life itself.

The paragon of my eroticism,
And, not an end will there be,
For my ***** crave,
To be destroyed,
By the ****** dynamite you are.

An eternal pleasure in sensual misery you are,
And, a heaven in my hell,
The zenith of all climaxes,
And, the paradigm for my resurrection.

The yearning for the man in me,
Annie, you are!
Katarina Aug 25
You spoke in nothing but riddles and metaphors and rhymes
And yet all the poetry in the world could not describe your beauty
The way you held every little thread of wonder, every gasp of pain, every drop of melted wax on unadulterated skin in the eyes that reflected the goddess in all three of her forms, and every god she bewitched
And the eyelashes that fluttered like the lilac butterflies
We liked to talk about so much

And it still kills me inside knowing that you are so close and yet I might never get to feel your lips on the back of my neck again
Or the way you grasped me just underneath my ribs and made my spine arch, just for you, or the way you grabbed my throat and pulled me close to you, without ever touching more
Because that would be breaking rules
The rules that I was too scared to break, even with your lips turning blue from the cold, your skin broken and your throat raw from the thin white lines dripping over and over

You used to place your hands on my belly, and trace little love hearts, just below my navel
And in each love heart plant a little kiss
And leave me staring, mesmerised
Your lips would brush so gently on the soft baby hair on my skin, until it stood up on end, as if in anticipation
And you’d smile and promise me,
“One day”

And now you hold another woman’s child and show him to build fires, like the ones you kept me warm with

I can’t look at the crystals anymore without thinking of their reflection in your irises as we unwrapped yet another ounce, and she spilled into our hands, purple and pink and orange shards
That we used to laugh about
Philathylamine connections to bring the coins spilled into our hands
For our future, you said
Pure love, or was it but a chemical love story?
When they all started to trip and turn to monsters
And you stayed pure
Mandy showed me ecstasy, and you embodied that, untouchable
Ecstasy and agony, do they always simply co-exist, or are they merely the same?


“Sober as a Judge”
Finally I had the courage to put that summer into words. Growth is beautiful, I thank you for showing me the butterflies and jesters. The universe giggled
It's 9 in the evening,
Coffee rings on the table that was once
filled with parchments where your touch was the ink
and I was the pen
We glided on the parchments, writing pretty whispers
on our skin.

It's 9:09 in the evening,
I remember kissing the faded pink scar beneath your right jaw.
Nobody said it was easy,
when all I could remember were the dips and divots
the slopes and curves
all the jagged edges and velvet eyes,
of how you used to look when we
made love until the sun rose.

It's 9:17 in the evening,
We got into that van and
suddenly we found ourselves up north.
The cold winds froze my cheeks
and my teeth chattered with loneliness.
But you were a familiar summer breeze and you turned into
an amber sunset and finally
I was warm again.

It's 9:32 in the evening,
I keep your letters,
Someday, I will bury them on a mountain so high.
If a wandering soul should ever find them,
They'll know my heart was in pieces there.
Plus the large framed art of us both
as cartoonish figures,
as foolish as how cartoons are make believe
just like how you loved me.

It's 9:55 in the evening,
The sky turned indigo
and bled into streaks of tangerine.
If this was change seen with red eyes
Then I will start building walls of
porcelain, steel and gold.
Tied with the titanium fibers of
old promises, old wounds.

It's 10:03 in the evening,
I have shed the skins of past lovers who have
left bruises and feather kisses,
who have bitten and tasted with tongues
of impermanence.
A wolf came by, ate my insides.
Then a fox trotted and
kissed what was left of me.
Yours is the skin I keep ripping,
from my ******* to the navel.
I will keep ripping, tearing, all of it apart,
Because I wanted these scales to stay
But I am a child of the Air
They said I was a phoenix.

I burn and **** and hate and love and burn again

only to be reborn

A cycle it is.
Without you in it.
NP 19h
I went looking after her smile, but it seemed I was given the wrong map. As I understood it, a smile wavers between lips and eyes, but I only came across a nose. I kept exploring, and rethought the directions I had, but remained lost. This time instead of a nose I stumbled upon a navel; so I kept looking. Searching. Can it be that one smiles with the whole body? I uncovered every last inch of skin with a thorough gaze yet wasn’t able to find where the smile hid. I looked from afar and real close, but never got close enough to your smile. Perhaps if you were still here, I’d be able to find your smile.
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