"nipped" poems
We were both love. I was a rose and you were a snowflake. Both beautiful and gentle but unable to coexist effectively because flowers can’t blossom in the cold.
Yet when it ended, the truth became misconstrued.
Suddenly I was a thorn that pricked you till you bled.
And you were frostbite that nipped away at my skin.
We created false portrayals of each other to make this all a bit easier to deal with.
But the truth will always stay.
We were both beauty, purity, fragility, love.
We just weren’t meant to give our love to each other.
And now we both bleed, because the hardest part is accepting we were never meant to be.
Aug 8, 2018
Aug 8, 2018 at 2:46 PM UTC
your old socks haunt me
as they linger in my drawer
Touching all my innocent matched pairs.
you had slipped them to me
one frosty night when the cold nipped at my toes
An act of a gentleman.
but now what am i to do?
you're gone, but your socks remain
Each opening of my drawer kindles the coldness I feel.
you and your socks betrayed me
none of you comfort me anymore
But at least the socks decided to stay.
May 10, 2014
May 10, 2014 at 11:59 PM UTC
Because one loves you, Helen Grey,
Is that a reason you should pout
And like a March wind veer about
And frown and say your shrewish say?
Don't strain the cord until it snaps,
Don't split the sound heart with your wedge,
Don't cut your fingers with the edge
Of your keen wit: you may perhaps.
Because you're handsome, Helen Grey,
Is that a reason to be proud?
Your eyes are bold, your laugh is loud,
Your steps go mincing on their way:
But so you miss that modest charm
Which is the surest charm of all;
Take heed; you yet may trip and fall,
And no man care to stretch his arm.
Stoop from your cold height, Helen Grey,
Come down and take a lowlier place;
Come down to fill it now with grace;
Come down you must perforce some day:
For years cannot be kept at bay,
And fading years will make you old;
Then in their turn will men seem cold,
When you yourself are nipped and grey.
7.6k
We went through the motions
Until all went motionless
(The otter frollicked turning everything
into a game of joy to being alive)
Touch became accidental at best to our ways
Once we could touch but now nothing more
(The otter nipped at the turtle
flipped about as it played)
Words dripped from our tongues
Heavy like molasses as the intent fades away
(Down the grass the otter slides into the river
Over and over like a little child)
Reason lost to accusations , accusations took it's toll .
Accusations took our time , creating false crime
(I watch as the otter swims on it's way
Dipping , diving to where I can't say)
Now I sit in the darkness with full moon fever
Wondering how could something turn so wrong that once was so right
Apr 30, 2015
Apr 30, 2015 at 8:20 PM UTC
We climbed from bedrock
to Idyllwild the home
of Pines to Palms
and Suicide Rocks
but not for us
only for those
poor tired souls
for whom the world's gone
flat
refusing
the night threw
itself boldly into the fray
of winds which blew
from storm to calm
so this morning we awoke
to a placid knap
slipping on snowy piste
to turn cold snaps
hot
spiced Nepali tea
sipped from ice
nipped cups
I see promise
picks up
from backward leaps
time forward flips
breaking free range igneous
into pan
piped sizzling
congenial song
that carries on the tree line
like spring
water sprung from
creeks to go scurrying off
with wet socks
until pulled up
by old school granite skies
hanging pools out to dry
in sopping blue rinsed sun
ahead any bald rocks
or hairline fractures
are long since dialled in
as baseless fears
knowing this mobile age
can merrily slip like air
through numb fingers
while baseline hands declare
“hold me close to gather”
edelweiss echoes gone
rappelling through time
the route we've chosen's
to be tied to each other's
peaks in the way of sun
and moon
come what may
be it creases in our skin
or crevasses
we'll win the battle to slim line
any overhanging ridges
so I take care to tighten
my girth hitch to top notch
and hold firmly
to both your conviction
and reach
that setting
out to move mountains
we call home
achieves more than
staying home
and calling mountains
so bright
you have me forget
all things too trite
banal office hype
shopworn old hat
mowing lawn weekends
too dishy to be clichéd
you polish off the stereotype
slam the Dior on out of shape
and dull as ditchwater tripe
keeping a victorious secret
or two in the slip knot
too tranquil shade
taking allure to new heights
we'll never drop
down from
tonight
Sep 14, 2014
Sep 14, 2014 at 11:03 AM UTC
Hair mottled like
an aged mare
she descends
the steps
one withered leg
dangles from
a purple dress like
a frost nipped
cornflower.
Oct 13, 2017
Oct 13, 2017 at 8:41 AM UTC
My mind is a garden;
Overgrown,
Blooming far to much for my own good.
Every August a flower appears to shower me with water,
Touch a petal to my cheek,
And wilt away
As each
"I love you"
Turns frail in my fingertips.
A red rose grew
Ridden with thorns;
I couldn't hold on long
Without bleeding.
Garden filled with weeds
petals blocking sun,
Impossible to breathe.
Red as fire,
Borne of blood
Dew turned to rain
Until I couldn't tell tears
From flood.
I loved you still.
Winter came and nipped your neck
But you grew
Into someone else's garden.
And on valentines day,
You made her eyes like daisies.
Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 10:23 PM UTC
Dear magazine and tv fashion
hast thou ever heard of natural passion
you Photoshop you cut and crop
you edit this and that ... Please stop
the real beauties are those that know
you don't have to be a size zero
Sixteen eighteen or all above
can still find joy can still know love
nipped and tucked Kozmo get ******
only chicken skin gets plucked
wax n shave and now vajazzil it
Draba for gods sake don't talk ****
lift em up and shrink that bottom
yet there's something that you've forgotten
men prefer a sense of humour
to all this artificial hoo haw
so girls for reason and for sanity
tear up this propaganda vanity
be yourselves and break the habit
be a bunny girl not a freakin rabbit
ditch the salad bin the chart
Declare today a brand new start
ugly is as ugly does as spoken by the media buzz
today take back your sass and bounce
cause your all woman each gorgeous ounce
men admit it for gods sake
there's nothing **** bout a rake
women should live for more than style
so come on sweetheart chin up... and smile
now let your heart and soul start humming
and as for boys.....
Keep em' comming
Feb 3, 2013
Feb 3, 2013 at 10:01 AM UTC
*I fell asleep as a wave crashed,
Water from the sea of glass nipped
My toes. When I woke, the world
Seemed strange; The same yet
Smaller. Perhaps as a note in
A bottle; words written by small
Hands and sent off with wish
Of such grand adventures.*
Sep 6, 2016
Sep 6, 2016 at 5:47 PM UTC
I saw the monster in you,
****** at his small claws, nipped
at the silvery whip of his tail. I saw
the monster in you and loved you
despite it, in spite of it, because of
it. Your mouth is weaponry and I
kissed you with a soft tongue
unarmoured. I am not entirely
goodness either, I search
our skin for scales. Let
me in under your bed
and I will show you
darkness as it
curves into
light.
Dec 12, 2013
Dec 12, 2013 at 8:30 PM UTC
All our country's taxpayers are becoming enraged
Bailing out companies which have been mismanaged
Countless millions have been forked out
Dollar amounts which are exceptionally stout
Ever the taxpayer is called upon to cough up
Filling the always depleted company's cup
Giving generously has got to cease pretty soon
Helping them is a cost that's gone well beyond the moon
Injecting our hard earned is too much
Just let them stand on their own crutch
Kick those CEO's into a reality check fashion
Let them not receive anymore of our kind ration
Money has been misspent by our former government
Never ending the out flow it's time for some abatement
Offer not another cent to those ailing companies
Propping them stresses the taxpayer's arteries
Questions must be asked about those per unit costs
Regularly increasing and so high are their imposts
Shores abroad can produce goods for lesser amounts
They run a more efficient book of accounts
Under a burgeoning payout us taxpayers are gripped
Vast savings we'd make if they were nipped
We've been supporting the big end of town for years
X marks the spot where we've been left in arrears
Yonder the companies can take their travails
Zilch is what they'll be receiving from our taxpayer bails
Feb 2, 2014
Feb 2, 2014 at 9:15 PM UTC
The shepherds sing; and shall I silent be?
My God, no hymn for Thee?
My soul’s a shepherd too; a flock it feeds
Of thoughts, and words, and deeds.
The pasture is Thy word: the streams, Thy grace
Enriching all the place.
Shepherd and flock shall sing, and all my powers
Outsing the daylight hours.
Then will we chide the sun for letting night
Take up his place and right:
We sing one common Lord; wherefore he should
Himself the candle hold.
I will go searching, till I find a sun
Shall stay, till we have done;
A willing shiner, that shall shine as gladly,
As frost-nipped suns look sadly.
Then will we sing, and shine all our own day,
And one another pay:
His beams shall cheer my breast, and both so twine,
Till ev’n His beams sing, and my music shine.
2.2k
As I swallowed my miseries,
the pain consumed me,
the weakness nipped my heels,
I felt fear.
As I sat in the hospital bed,
the ocean drained my sorrows,
the needle pierced my soul,
I felt weakness.
As I closed my eyes in group therapy,
the sins of others spoke to me,
the sins of myself consumed me,
I felt nothing.
But as I sat in the caged courtyard,
the wind embraced me,
the sun caressed me,
I felt peace.
Jan 19, 2015
Jan 19, 2015 at 3:40 PM UTC
new from sat 24th april back to Sandman
into a Lycan,a Viking-a Bearsark warrior beast,
to rip the hearts from my enemies and then just feast,
run through the forest with the rest of my pack,
Howling at the moon,rolling on the snow on my back(pack,back,Pack,in the back,pack in the back ..gradually louder then quiet)...
but in the back of the red mist was a small voice,
at first I ignored this little pup by choice,
but he nipped at my hindbrain pulled on my tail,
until I listened to his reason WE CAME FOR THE FEMALE
Suddenly the bloodlust left with a bang,
no longer a Beast I felt less than a Man,
the scene before my eyes is hard to put to words,
I was blood drenched the dismembered pieces of the herd(no! GANG-you're a man)I had just been among,
lay around the damp dungeon from whence they had come
even the most hardened warrior would have flinched at the sight
of the remains,the brains,the silent ones who didn't fight,
but one body was missing from the pile of the dead,
one beautiful corpse white afflicted already dead
***** with an itch had escaped by a trap door,
now my destiny is War,and it was trapped in the floor
Apr 24, 2016
Apr 24, 2016 at 11:49 AM UTC
in this reality
we created something out of nothing
nipped uncertainty in the bud
i buried it softly
among the weeds and the dirt
in this reality
i didn't rip out my roots from the ground below
i watered the seeds with kindness and love
threw insecurity to the wind
and let my heart show
but, my dear
this isn't my reality
i still claw at the dirt
with love bitten nails
digging for an answer in unfertilized soil
searching for a life that was never given
even the slightest chance to grow
no life will blossom here
the flowers will wilt and be rotten from the core
life cannot grow from a loveless garden
the petals will fall before they're formed
and thorns will sprout and puncture the delusion of something more
teasing this noose, that is wrapped around my heart
in this reality
the weeds will strangle the light from the sun
rip away the facade of a blooming aftermath
deprive my flowery veins of water, write me off as done
and kid me into an illusion that
the seeds will sprout into a thousand colors
not one of them real enough to describe
the color of my aura when i see your face
feel those hands on mine
your touch out of descriptions reach
cos in this reality
and every reality after
love will never be a word that can be defined
nor described, by any set opinion.
love is a vast and bottomless pit of beautiful and scary uncertainty
made from the memories it creates
built on the foundations on which we were born
and bred by the emotion we feel
Mar 10, 2018
Mar 10, 2018 at 8:55 PM UTC
Somewhere, in some unknown corner of this world,
A mother cries in agony, and is almost about to heave a sigh of relief
As out comes her little baby, into the world, outside of the one that has been
Nine months of wait, finally over, and now comes a new being, an offspring
She lies back on her bed, trying to catch her breath, wiping sweat off her brow
And just as she thinks it’s all fine, the doctor hands her the baby – a little girl
A daughter; and she is in shock looking at her, cursing the gods in their heavens
As a little pink crumpled face cries out for warmth, that she doesn’t want to give
All the dreams, hopes and aspirations fly right out the window
And nightmares come along just as quick to replace them
As she sees her past flash before her eyes, as her daughter’s future
The torture from the family, their helplessness as she grew up
Dreading the marriage, yet awaiting desperately to get her married off
Get rid of the burden that she seemed to be, tie it on someone else’s head
Saving up an entire lifetime’s worth of wealth, and giving it all away
Just so she’s accepted by another family, a wife, a daughter-in-law, a mother to be
To bear sons to her husband, as a show of her devotion, her only duty that could be
And then her mind clears of all these thoughts, and all that remains is stillness
A clarity that brings along with it decisiveness from somewhere deep within
And as she takes the little girl in her hands, eyes barely open
She twists her neck, until the baby cries no more, and the hands flail no more
And the stillness is all around, not just in her mind anymore, but also in the room
And quiet hidden tears are all that flow down her cheeks, no remorse
But a twisted sense of victory – a bud that got nipped even before blooming
Apr 11, 2012
Apr 11, 2012 at 6:59 AM UTC
you might have to stare into neutrons
to un-bond the Marmaduke con
your large doggerels are farcical in a feline fashion.
what harm you do -
fondles the rabid scabies
of our scathing
debutantes.
we are
an affront to the baklava
where the syrup is fierce
and yet the spirit
is amber
locking swift Hymenoptera
into place....
you might have to stare into space
to see me...
but be me,
and you might
gain a wee thing as fabulous
as when we bent knees to no god
but had demons
in our **** larceny.
you polished the rogering,
you foggy bogged
the biscuit.
had your druthers whisk
the cinch a
bit.
till we nipped, went.
had our coffee
spent.
Mar 12, 2013
Mar 12, 2013 at 2:53 PM UTC
Summer brings such beauty and bliss
while the misty dew summer mornings and rain help sustain
Yet when dawn breaks near week eight
and beauty is nipped with the whip of autumn's foreplay,
The beauty holds strong to hang on to what's left
and the greenery screams til it's out of breath
and nature's carpet takes a blow to the chest
And the flowers that once stood tall.. fall.
Sep 15, 2014
Sep 15, 2014 at 9:24 PM UTC
The garden of remembrance sprung into life.
Yesterday's pleasant silence has died.
Today, the puffed up, speckled sky contains a breeze, makes all things bend.
They bend not or fall, nor doth the rain drop.
The breeze today tickles with touch of a child and the trees all seem to laugh.
A fox breached the morning at the break of dawn, almost rubbing his eyes and starting to yawn.
Back to his den through the long grass he ran, under the fence and through next door, looked up again and saw him no more.
Nipped up the garden a little bit wet; went out to seek his route of escape, followed his paw prints right up to the last, but with the daybreak there came a dead end; makes me wonder if I'll see him again.
Perhaps, just perhaps, he heard my dog, coming huffing and puffing off out for release of this morning river.
(C) LIVVI 2014
Mar 2, 2014
Mar 2, 2014 at 5:18 AM UTC
You are so **** and hot to look at
When you gorge on that strawberry
I remember the time you showed me
How you like your fruit to be -
You licked it making sure it’s wet
I gasped when the coldness hit me
You nipped and peeled the skin gently
My ***** heaved wantonly at the touch
You ****** with ardour all the juices
My mind ran havoc not knowing what to do -
You stare and wink at me naughtily
That devilish grin now you just make
You know that I recall what you did
When you tasted and I was your fruit
Jul 24, 2016
Jul 24, 2016 at 10:21 PM UTC
That night I did cry,
That night in July,
As I read the note which told me of the demise
Of the man made of glass
Who lived atop the mountains, so high.
His prismous chest lay in pieces
Upon the rocks
Which never knew his name.
And the light he reflected for so many years
Never again would know their singular form,
And they scattered their rainbows
On the blanket of water below.
For the summer, before,
All he had known
Was the new cougar in the jungle below
Who sat and watched
And swirled its long tail
Through the glass man’s light.
The golden cougar lay still
With its tail so long
And lifted its paw
And purred when it saw
The man atop the tall hill.
And the man did grin
But knew not of the sin
Which awaited the summer sun.
The next day he awoke
With the sun in his chest
To find a golden cougar
Licking his smooth, glass toes.
It purred and it purred
And its tail was so long.
And the man’s mouth formed a crescent.
The cougar swirled its long tail
And nipped at his toes
And clawed at his shins
And scratched at his knees;
But the man made of glass
He let it all pass
Although his feet grew frail.
“Could this be real?”
Did this cat feel
The skin of the man
Made of glass?
“I feel like a man!”
And each day he ran
To see his idol feline.
And this went on for weeks
And the day of which my note speaks
Came with a whip of the cougar’s long tail.
“I’m bored,” purred the cat
“And just for some fun
We can go up and run
To blot out the sun.”
The man didn’t fret
Thought his feet felt so wet
And he nodded at the cat
For peace for him
Came in the form of a rat.
They ran up the mountainside
And looked down at the tide
Which beckoned to them below.
But the man need not worry,
Said the cougar,
“It’s all just for show.”
And she playfully nipped at his ankle.
At this the man heard a noise
And began losing his poise
And felt the wind on his face.
He saw patterns on the approaching rocks
Brought from his chest;
And his shattered ankle to the left of his head.
On the cliff top, above
The man could make out a golden figure
Swirling its long tail.
And it was this action
Of fatal attraction
Which noted the fast growing refraction
Appearing on the beach below.
And with a frail hand,
He wrote in the sand
“We are not the players
On the stage of the world.
We are the riotous crowd
With tickets in hand,
And we can be shattered with but
One,
Single
Word.
Jul 8, 2010
Jul 8, 2010 at 11:07 PM UTC
Timid August rain hits my roof.
It’s cold and all the air's aloof.
But not warm, either.
The rain picks up and dies off often
beating shingles like fists on coffins.
Inconsistent, indecisive
Never mean but save the niceness.
Laying without motion.
No emotion, a resting ocean
Big and blue and deep with notions.
My breaths are natural,
spaced and quiet.
When I breathe in, it's like a diet.
Too hot for sheets; can't sleep exposed
Burning hands and nipped, ice toes
Trace my stomach with finger tips
Part the sea, my ****** lips.
Carving goosebumps on my forearms
Digging in to sever; no arms.
I’m not thinking but, my mind is full of thoughts.
I’m not dreaming, but not awake.
Not listening, but church bells ring.
My mouth's not dry, my cheeks aren't wet.
Memories I can't forget.
I am not here, but nowhere else
I am inside my own sad self.
Jan 26, 2012
Jan 26, 2012 at 3:29 AM UTC
I glanced at the clock,
The taste of longing nipped at my lonely heart.
The mere wish to turn back time,
Could I be happier without you?
The desire to run away from this torment,
The pain of my unrequited love took a toll on me.
Maybe if we never met, I wouldn't have seen your beautiful smile.
Tears would no longer fall.
If the warmth of your hand on my shoulder disappeared,
Would our eyes have met?
If words of encouragement were never voiced,
Would I still see the side of you I love?
If I never met you,
The hurt I contain would flow away.
The rusted chains that bind me to you would break,
I would be free from the image of you.
Jun 30, 2013
Jun 30, 2013 at 6:40 PM UTC
The young lady asked the Yeti
“What is your name…do you have one?” As the kissed.
While kissing, the Yeti said that he had no name. So the young lady
Massaging his chest gave him a name
Vajramrita… after the fierce deity
For he was a fierce lover.
He kissed her on the fore head.
Vajramrita and the young woman kissed
Their tounges me and dance erotically.
She sat on her lover while kisssing and rode him and rolled her hips.
He ****** with her ****** rhythms as they coupled.
Soon enough the Yeti got on top of his delecate lover.
He entered her and gently jumping
As if trying not to hurt her
The yeti thengot between her legs
She could feel his face bewteen her.
Then she felt his probing tounge.
He gently yet passionately kissed her womanhood
Again not to hurt her.
Even monsters need love and defection.
The young woman stroked his head and he looked at her.
She took him my the scruff and pulled his head closer to her
And kissed him. As they kissed monster and human explore eachother in an embrace
The young lady went down
And kissed and nipped at his member.
After she was done with his member
The kissed and they slept in each other’s arms
Body twisted and entwined together
Nov 17, 2018
Nov 17, 2018 at 2:17 PM UTC
He nipped
her lip the first time.
Back against the brick wall.
Bottles warming,
soon forgotten at their feet.
There was something
so urgent
in the way they fell--
limbs tangling on
or against
any surface that
could hold them.
But those surfaces were edged
in pasts long hidden
and razor-sharp,
wrapped in caution tape.
And they remembered their fragility.
So they tucked
in their elbows and
side-stepped each other.
Trading bitten lips
for shattering glances,
they told themselves
No.
But sometimes,
in quiet moments,
the Yes still breaks through.
May 13, 2013
May 13, 2013 at 2:49 PM UTC