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Dead Rose One Nov 2017
<>

No, He said.

I want you
wanting.

I want to taste the miracle of your desperation,
lick the sweet sweat of tense from the hairline well hid
on the back of your pleasuring neck.

I need your needing constant completion,
but not succeeding.

The airborne aroma of your desires are fiery, arousing,
stimulus sensating me by the unending beauty of dissatisfaction,
this virus desirous, infection, makes my perpetual wanting  
for an incomplete perfect woman,
forever seeking betterment,
perfectly complete.


<>
11-15-17 11:51pm
mixed up emotions re this one; who is the striver, who is selfless   and/or selfish;  can be understood in many different ways
Tronel Aug 2018
Broken phrases
Heap
like plastic
in our oceans

Words don't rhyme
Anymore
they're drifting further from the shore

Writing stops
abruptly.
Cause: writers block.
The words no longer flock
like birds

A heavy pen
ran out again
No ink
No colour
hands find another lover.

Sentences stay
incomplete
pushing us
towards defeat

We write
the words that discover
our lovers'
uncharted perks.

We're all just longer poems
that needed a little work.
-Tronel V.
ceara Jan 2011
I tried
to throw it out
along with the bubbles,
the yellow duck,
and the knickers the dog crudely
chewed

pushed it amongst silled plants,
now it stands,
between Thick Cut Marmalade
and Chlorine Free Baking Cups
a token, painted green with white
Maori dots, symbolizing
the small dreamings
of a tortoise
                                                    
and since this house
is my body, see
how I have placed you
in the kitchen

and I cannot get beyond,
the simple meaning,
of daily needing
love like water, air

and how I don't seek
to see it fully
yet often find myself
checking if its there.
any suggestions on layout??
AIA Nov 2015
Sorry
For texting you, for bugging you,
for annoying you.
for thinking of you day and night.
by being clingy and possessive.
for staying by your side every time you push me away.
Sorry I get worried about you.
for needing your attention,
for being needy to you.
Sorry for loving you.
I'm very sorry... I can't unlove you.
Audrey Sep 2018
A poet is no more than a person
A mother
A daughter
A lover  
Someone needing release
Or someone needing to recover


It’s the art they create when that ball of ink or stick of led dances on the canvas they so perfectly prepared.
And when the end result and their purpose become perfectly paired.
fearfulpoet Aug 2018
school starts soon
smoking joints on the weekday afternoon

in a sidelined shady
freight car, property of
Norfolk Southern

debating if this car will be
northbound or southbound
and master-bating our fantasy
where we want to be taken

knowing full well maybe one of us -
(and they all looking at me)

will get out of this car and live to
see foreign places without having to
return in a body bag

we argue lazy who should go get the beer,
collect the quarters and sweaty dollar bills
and **** if I am not reappointed
leader of the beer fetching

besides it’s my
tan lab panting needing water so it’s my
responsibility and the nasty liquor store owner don’t hate me that much as the others so he’ll sell me beer without too much **** talk (some for sure)

asking where I’m laying low on a **** hot day like this one

tell him i’m getting on a train getting out of this two bit town which makes him reminisce and ask which direction

could be northbound could be southbound
hell could be west
but for sure won’t be
going eastbound

cause I seen the Atlantic and didn’t like it

too **** big and too **** cold,
too **** mean
somewhere between the fourth and fifth
load of laundry,

sometime after breakfast~lunch,
now served in the USA at home,
as an all day meal, per the edict of Mcdonalds,
start fixing dinner, take a break, walk to the mailbox,
retrieve the post and quick retreat back inside,
ah that Texas sun, bilingual chili hot,
toss the unopened on the prior weeks pile,
cause everyone loves company

the home-cold-brewed ice coffee needs a filling
for the fridge has decided not to help
by automatically refilling the pitcher

even if it could
I, busy folding,
needing two hands
and all my teeth
for folding

sheets

my master observes with one of his alternating demeanors,
this one, super silent watching, announcing that  I need a nap:

“don't you always say, baby,
take a nap when you can, baby,
for when you need one, baby,
you probably won’t be able, my baby”


with selected-hand-led fingers, he lays me down to sleep,
bids me to slow sleep, dinner will keep,
curling inside my frame, hands a cupping my *******,  
telling me a drowsy tale, inherited from his mother’s womb
and his granddaddy’s eyes and mindful history

there, is where, they find us, dinner fixings burnt,
me and my five year old baby boy,
still sleeping fast, around 5pm, bodies enwrapped,
tied by blood and entwined in old nursery rhymes,
Texas tall tales of Pecos Bill,
me and my very own

nap-ster master

<•>

p.s.  and they call me by my other name to wake me, momma
Vicki Kralapp Aug 2013
You are my beginning and end,
the very breath I breathe.
My heart, my life, my soul,
my all.

You've made this life worth living.
The way that you love me,
with your kindness, understanding and joy,
I am moved.

Your heart, so sincere and trusting,
draws me in, making me whole.
All others, that came before,
are but faint counterfeits.

So wonderful are you that I melt in your arms,
not needing more, nor wanting for more.
One half of a whole was I...
You have come to complete me.
All poems are copy written and soul property of Vicki Kralapp.
the down keeps me up
needing to crash but thoughts beckon
i know i must pay tomorrow
full moon tonight
what’s your excuse?
if you’re a woman don’t misconstrue
i’m not a  misogynist
true misogyny neccitates great admiration
full moon tonight
what’s your excuse?
i don’t care tonight
gonna stay awake till collapse
i dreamed Apple traded
$99.00 monday morning and i bought it
i’m not your type
not your type not your type
i read Flaubert, Zola, Nabokov
i know it’s hard to see
i imagine angels
what do you like in your cup of tea?
while taking care of neighbor’s cat Oskar
decided to replace porch standard white with green light bulb
i hope they like it
they’re burners
they’ll be gone for two weeks
P E Kaplan Feb 2014
They will meet again,
the sensitive, weary, nervous,
daughter and her mother the same.

They will meet again,
to talk, to listen, to sidestep the usual
misperception, misinterpretation, miscommunication.

They will meet again,
and acknowledge their identical desire to be understood
forgiven, accepted without judgement.

They will meet again,
their tender, hearts, needing a gentle reminder;
knowing they must never, ever, give up on Love.
Kapi Laur Sep 2018
Hello World,
the other day i almost killed myself
but then i looked outside
at all the beauty in the world
from the dead it'd surely hide

Hello World,
the other day i looked in the mirror
and squeezed my rolls so tight
hoping they would just pop off
and roll into the night
but then i remembered
these squishy things
have held some favorites of mine
and they are beautiful in every light
regardless, they are mine

Hello World,
the other day some boy i liked
told me i was weird
that i was crazy and not his type
what i had always feared
but then i heard his jokes were lame
and we can't have that here
of all **** jocks
he was the same
high school boys not worth their tears

Hello World,
you have so much left to offer
i have only just begun
all these problems are temporary
so worrying is just dumb
Sammie wells Feb 2013
She runs through the woods
panting for breath,
needing to rest

she listens out

dogs barking

they're growing closer
eager for blood.

She hears them in the distance,
Men,
she lets out a cry,
   
  weaving round tree trunks
going under Bush,  
they draw closer,
Her lungs feel crushed.

Her beautiful red coat
is covered in mud,
twigs and leafs,
what ever's under foot,

terror curses through her vains,
she's been chased for hours
feeling drained.

Startled by a blow on a horn
she comes to a Holt,
petrified she urinates
as footsteps fall in behind her

they're here!

Cornered now
her hair stands on end,
tears drop
as death creeps upon her,
She has no time...

The hounds pounce!
  
tearing
tugging
And ripping

They do their masters bidding!


Fox hunting a fun sport for all...

(SW)
juneau Nov 2015
do any of you get a rush of elation
starting from that first notification
that sense of peer validation
from a selfie with a random quotation?
it fills me with so much frustration
that i can't go a single days duration
without posting content for admiration
each time needing more and more adoration
with each and every notification
for my self-esteem's preservation
November 26, 2015

fifty-four
Sister Carnalis Aug 2015
alone .
strong, wise, driven, loyal.
He has lived and loved,
and chosen to be alone until something better comes along.
something better than physical love.

He found what he was looking for.
Her soul was vibrant and beautiful;
a goddess muse.
She kissed him and knew it not;
her naked words and firm young flesh of substance splashed bravely across the page excited him...
his wealth of wisdom and experience mocked him for falling in love with a soul ...

the old man had a need to feed,
she was a hungry young goddess needing to be fed.
Where is her champion? Who cares for this young sprite?
He reminded himself again that it was only her soul,
but still, he touched himself... saying her name to make it a little more real, "Chloe," he whispered.
Then he listened ... just in case.
Katie
Carla Aug 2018
Her eyes stand out,
On a canvas full of ink,
The contrast between them,
"Nothing better," I think.

Her eyes reflect her heart,
And the liveliness of her soul.
She's like a problem, needing an answer,
And her eyes are the main goal.
This was a challenge given to me by my good friend, Lila, and the poem is describing her eyes as she was the giver of this challenge. The goal was to describe someone's eyes without using color. If you'd like to try it, go ahead, it's a lot of fun.
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