"nymphet" poems
admire me
the way I brush paint on canvas
before the purpose finds a footing
before the colors melt together
and the scenery is lifeless
admire how I read books
for hours on end
the expressions that read on a dull face
otherwise marred by furrowed eyebrows
admire the lilt in my voice
and the uncontrollable pitch
that gives away my every intention unwillingly
admire my great feats of prose
my plump, woman body
my awkward hands and pretty clothes
admire me when I don't even come close
to tickling your fancy
admire me because I exist
dote on me and give me your wishes
admire me as I grant what I can with kisses
admire my nymphet desires
admire my candy coated lips
admire me and want me
admire me
Apr 22, 2014
Apr 22, 2014 at 11:40 PM UTC
Favorite word: “nymphet”, but no!
Halcyon, a kind of drug, you know.
Searching through the pages’ mist
And imagined deeds
Of poets’ needs…
I found my favourite word,
As asked,
Neither sacred nor profane
That describes the Venetian rain
In my beloved’s eyes
And the Florentine sun upon her hair:
“Auburn, russet, mythopoeic”.
Oh, it is not fair,
To liken an object
Of my lust and love
To anything as mortal as autumn air!
Nor “October’s orchard Haze”;
She had her own
Inscrutable, premeditated ways!
Rather let me say that she was perfect,
Though her eyes, pale and myopic,
Her shuffling gait and
Graceless limbs, to them Grace lends
Fey charm, the power to mend
My suffering and
Delusions of a poet’s end
As anything but pathetic,
(Her mother’s fondness for vague emetics)
And I left softly hanging,
On a girl’s new taste,
A tang of russet apples on her face,
But no, not that, the sum
Of my love, My Lo!
Then her bleak demise, partly by my hand
That none of you brutes could understand;
The pure love,
So sadly consummated,
Between a lover
And the one she hated
Yet loved once with inexplicable delight,
On one stolen, frightened night…
In which the two of us agreed
To satisfy a simple, yet maniacal need,
And then depart…
But I could not,
You see;
She was my life,
My love, my heart.
Humbert Humbert 1950
Sharon Talbot ca. 2005
Sep 9, 2017
Sep 9, 2017 at 11:11 AM UTC
1.MY MOTHER WOULD STAND IN FRONT OF THE MIRROR AND PAINT HER LIPS RED FOR A MAN WHO WASNT MY FATHER.
2.MY BEST FRIEND STOLE HER MOTHERS LIPSTICK TO IMPRESS A BOY AT SCHOOL AND THE NEXT DAY SHE CAME INTO CLASS WITH A FAT LIP.
3.THE BEAUTIFUL BOY FROM MY FIRST PERIOD CLASS FRESHMAN YEAR BROKE MY HEART WITH LIPSTICK STAINS CRAWLING UP HIS JAW.
4.THE INSULTS ON THE BATHROOM STALLS WERE WRITTEN IN BLOOD RED LIPSTICK.
5.MY GEOMETRY TEACHER USE TO SNEER AT ME WITH SCARLET LIPSTICK ON HER YELLOW TEETH.
6.THE GIRLS IN MY FAVORITE BOOKS ALWAYS MADE ME CRY. THIER RED LIPS STILL HAUNT ME.
7.WHENEVER I’D TAKE IT OFF MY LIPS WOULD STILL LOOK PINK AS IF YOU’D SPENT HOURS KISSING THEM.
8.WHENEVER I THINK OF RED LIPS I THINK OF THE SCENE IN ****** WHERE HUMBERT IS ******* HIS LITTLE NYMPHET IN A DESPERATE ATTEMPT FOR HER TO STAY AND HER RED LIPSTICK IS SMEARED ON HER MOUTH AS SHE STARES UP GLASSILY AT THE CEILING
8.WHEN YOU FINALLY GOT OFF MY BROKEN BODY THAT NIGHT MY RED LIPSTICK WAS SMEARED ACROSS YOUR CHEEK. YOU PULLED ON YOUR PANTS AND ZIPPED YOURSELF UP . YOU THUMBED THE RED MESS ON YOUR CHEEK AND SMIRKED AT ME AND SAID. “GOD I LOVE THOSE RED LIPS"
Apr 6, 2014
Apr 6, 2014 at 12:13 AM UTC
It's year 2050
Every human was born with a symbol etched onto their skin.
you may be asking what do the symbols represent?
Each symbol is an indicator of your inevitable death.
I am Cole Adams and I've been an outcast my entire life
and its sad since I am merely 17 years old.
My symbol has a gun and its very uncommon especially since
I've never seen a red gun symbol before, which is confusing.
We grow up accepting our death and understanding it can be horrible, or for instance
if your symbol is a bed, you die in our sleep.
The people in my school who have the bed symbol are 'popular'
meanwhile loners like me who have the not so popular gun symbol OR symbol containing
a lightning bult. Its the rare ones like us who are subjected to being laughed at, which I don't understand.
Anyway I am just writing my story to explain my life.
I was 15 years old and I had fallen madly in love with a nymphet gorgeous girl, the stained pink dye in her hair with her chipped black nails struck me, I never thought to fall for a girl quite as unique as her.
I'm simple, brown hair brown eyes 5'7 and I never thought she would fall for me, but yet, she did.
We had a beautiful teenage love. We lost our virginity to each other, and in our world its not common to lose it early, just because our deaths could happen anytime.
Her symbol was the cancer zodiac sign, and it did mean the illness. It was uncommon for a girl with such a popular symbol to fall for a boy like me, but she loved me anyway. Her dark empty eyes glowed when she would look at me, she made me forget about my symbol, my thoughts would be gone around her. I loved her.
10 months in and she began to be distant, she didn't kiss my cheek and ruffle my hair. She didn't shoot off love signals as she once did. Her touch felt unknown. She fell for another person, she loved him like i've never seen before.
I never would of thought my symbol meant suicide, but it did.
With my last breath I still loved her, I loved her forever.
This is my suicide note/ story of my life.
I died on April 10th, 2051.
Dec 2, 2013
Dec 2, 2013 at 3:19 PM UTC
A nymphet,
A fruit never to be tasted
Forbidden.
And sadden it would be wasted.
Stollen
Never asking but demanded.
Ravished
A desire never to be sated.
a youth wasted,because we never waited.
The weight I bear it well.
Tempting the fates
I dreaded hell.
Our death awaits.
Dipped to deep in her spell.
Aug 6, 2016
Aug 6, 2016 at 12:27 AM UTC
White hot Flash
Drums of Vibrato
Echo down the Spine
Cold and Sticky
In the Chest
Pulling an Aching
Mind down to
Recollections of Oleander
And Saltwater-
Bloodshot belladonna Eyes
Poppy seed Vision
A loose-lipped Smile
Blurred hands
Violet fingertips
Pale white Translucent
Blue veins dark Stained
Iced concrete and Jasmine
Be still my Soul
Long enough
To Comprehend
The Nymphet Tragedy
Of timid Thorns
And soft strums on Steel Strings
Written longways
Read sideways
Neglected underneath
Rocky steps
Buried deep
In the salted Soil
And mossy Tress
Dec 14, 2015
Dec 14, 2015 at 3:26 PM UTC
they call me a nymphet
my narrow hips budding *******
my glowing skin rosebud lips
in the sun where i rest...
older women are fat and cold
with porous skin and dyed hair
they haven't their blades like gold
salient and bare
they haven't their thighs like ivory
of thin ivory are mine
i'm british and brattish
they're just fine
they call me a nymphet
with my schoolbag hanging
from my frail shoulder
decadent and delicate
please just for a while
not a nymphet
but a hurting child
May 13, 2018
May 13, 2018 at 3:49 PM UTC
Nymphets like me grow up,
and guess what?
I am not any scared or scarred
In a parallel world,
Angela invited Lester to her wedding day
and it's realer than death
There's nothing to heal - no sight of old pain
Am I really strong?
I am not sorry - I am not hurt
Even if I did break a few hearts
This nymphet got a job and she dyed her hair
She got to her destination -
but she's not done yet!
And I might have to leave
all of those nymphet, stylish things
no more daddies on the scene
but my inner fire still burns deep
let me resignify what I mean
when I wear my heart shaped glasses
when I feel all pink
that's eternal, it has no age or anything
It's true, I am not ******** anymore.
Isn't that a whole lot more fun?
I am a full woman now
and I am not backing down
(I always was this, waiting to come out)
So I look in the mirror,
and my inner nymphet eyes back,
"you're doing fine, I am proud of who you are"
Nov 17, 2020
Nov 17, 2020 at 10:13 AM UTC
She is captivating:
She is my pet,
She is my fire,
My little nymphet.
Annabel, dearest, of sea-word waves,
Of sandcastles torn down by hungry waters.
Even now, the scepter of my passion
Stands at attention with memory.
As Humbert ages, his desire stays
Grown ladies don’t suffice.
As he dreams of Annabel in sea-word waves,
Nymphets become his vice.
But I am no liar--I am no ******
Ladies and gentleman of the jury, be calm.
And recognize that Humbert’s eyes
See your every qualm.
Nevertheless, she is captivating:
She is my pet
She is my fire
My little nymphet.
Feb 11, 2015
Feb 11, 2015 at 6:52 PM UTC
my mother told me that
I was nothing but a nymphet,
young, frail and beautiful
with lips tinted with the colour of a rosy floret
my mother told me that
I had turned into a goddess ever so divine
young, shrewd and elegant
with lips tinted with the colour of red wine
my mother told me that
I was a rose that bloomed ever so gracefully
for once I was the damsel in the distress
that became the damsel in the scarlet dress.
Sep 20, 2013
Sep 20, 2013 at 12:39 PM UTC
Girl, so rare art thou like a comet.
You're a fair and comely nymphet.
Feb 4, 2012
Feb 4, 2012 at 1:38 PM UTC
Prologue: The Devil and the Nymphet
There she ran to the moon lighted alleyway.
Her heart beat fast, blood pressure hyperventilated.
She might be a runaway from somewhere else.
This nymphet seemed to be lost in thoughts.
There by the lamp post stood a coffee shop.
Inside, a silhouette sitting figure awaits.
Every sip dictated the nearing of the nymph.
Suddenly, the door's chimes sang like their head's insanity.
A lost soul meeting a devil of liberty!
Jul 30, 2019
Jul 30, 2019 at 7:28 AM UTC
You are a summer sky on your own.
Funny as the stars.
Handsome like the moon above.
And in your eyes, there are a million little windows;
Bridges to all other worlds that I've never known.
I saw pearls and diamonds in your hands;
And your skin shines like one thousand starry nights.
Ah, perhaps I am being too deeply overthrown
by my own fantasies,
Fantasies that deceive and are just full of mysteries;
I am like a young little nymphet that craves for your stories.
But if I have trust in you, would you be my love?
My darling that hails from heaven and twin delights above.
I have never been to Lincolnshire at all;
But these feelings are again too strong.
There may be another maiden in thy heart, anyway,
For your love was nowhere and unseen to me.
I could not grasp it, for it was not there;
Although I stood and watched out for it everywhere.
It was like a lost story that had been told;
It was around me, but one you did not allow me to hold.
Perhaps your love was in your words;
Yet I could not see it--why anyway, when I should have seen?
I am a literary lass, with poems on my tongue;
With braids of love perched deep in my lungs.
But if the ivory rainbow emerges again tomorrow,
Would you wait for me behind the shady snow?
I'll look for you now, again, and again;
You whom I told my heart was a darling best friend;
But in whose soul dwells an idyllic nest of love.
I will pray again tonight, as you softly asked;
But I will think of you again and dream of you once more.
Perhaps I have been dreaming and all is not true;
Ah, Sebastian, you took all the answers away with you.
Jun 5, 2014
Jun 5, 2014 at 11:29 AM UTC
Here witnessed the haven of the nymphet-
the pure embodiment of physical struggle;
an angel that was thorn off of its wings.
"How much trust are you willing to feed me."
With anger on his lips, the barista answered
"Trust me you do; trust him answer your own!"
While pointing a finger at the figure.
Her lungs suffocated, as well as the atmosphere;
the development of her being is now shaded with fear!
Aug 6, 2019
Aug 6, 2019 at 6:18 AM UTC
There it ended in the coffee shop.
A ****** of a nymphet by someone's hands,
or rather a death by a demon's will!
It is utmost tragedy that it was evil
chasing the helpless nymphet-
a young girl blinded by trust,
a pure soul stained by betrayal!
It is without a doubt a ****** killing-
not neverending but also not always occurring!
Aug 30, 2019
Aug 30, 2019 at 5:44 AM UTC
Chapter 1: How do you do?
A lovely night it was for the barista;
tranquility of the resting shadow by the table;
desperation from the asphyxiation of the nymphet.
Through the night, there encountered strangers;
scattered by time, gathered by fate!
"What been shall delight that tongue, my dear?"
Offered by the old man.
"Moment may only tell why the three of us meet."
"But don't worry, it's safe; outside is the threat!"
Jul 31, 2019
Jul 31, 2019 at 10:32 PM UTC
The nymphet's limbs were held by him.
Slowly tearing her tendons and cartilage!
Her body fluids were pouring out of every joint.
"It is I, your demon, that feeds from your fear!
O my dear nymphet, you are a delicacy!
A delicacy beyond my palate!"
The nymphet's severed body was cold on the floor.
Fear in one's heart is a curse
but fearing it a lifetime is worse!
Aug 13, 2019
Aug 13, 2019 at 2:10 AM UTC
Everything that lied between us was fiction;
To me I saw Romeo, begged you saw Juliet somewhere in me
Wrong time, wrong tragedy.
Reliable narration has never been a fact of love
I would give myself up to anyone who could find me
Anyone who would notice, listen, care
I couldn't see, so blind
Romeo died long before our tale
I became your nymphet, a toy of a girl
****** was so pitiful, she's the shadow of my soul
And as we uncoil unknown scars awake
I miss your light, I miss your pain
I miss the things you took away
Jun 27, 2017
Jun 27, 2017 at 8:03 PM UTC
Tiago's words
cut like knives
but oddly now
they make me feel right
Tiago's words
are way too much
but I scratch
I can see where possibly I am
They soak me like an emergency
They are made of three quarters pain
And the rest pure life.
Maybe Tiago is right.
His words are like light
In such a pitch black night
You could be using me
playing with me
A non-loving Humbert
for this ever nymphet
you'd be
Aug 11, 2017
Aug 11, 2017 at 1:38 PM UTC
11 - lonely weird starving loyal obsessive
12 - denial rejected fighting mask all over me
13 - I explode, cannot hold no more. Hell begins.
14 - emo, doubtful, open. Wounds, scars of the soul all over.
15 - a pro, a loser, a loner. About to get lost. Over me, charms and curse.
16 - a wallflower in flowery shirt. Tranxilium pills. Hospital angels, a survivor in the make. Breathing slowly the air of life.
17 - at a fight, Courtney Lovesque. Afraid, angry, in love. Wounds bleeding, destroy my world. I walk, without aim. Sinning deep. Am I aware?
18 - I break down, no one picks up my pieces from the floor, so I have to do it on my own. Fearful, psychotic, fake, unable to breathe. Enigma to myself, cannot touch my flesh.
19 - the nebula grows, my mind drowns, to reach shores. Obsessive, perturbing, odd, dependent, byproduct of what?
20 - I've been polluted for years. This is the consequence: I break, once again. Seas of loneliness and meaninglessness.
21 - the truth spills out, cannot sleep with a corpse for life. I try to reach my core, at once. The word comes: schizotypal (not surprised at all)
22 - Humbert Humbert knocks again, and like a never dead nymphet I greet him. We fall in love again, silently, coyly, mysteriously. Pink haired spinster confused happy healing slowly do not disturb.my mind strangles me, but I am strong!
23 - my head sparkles in pink and so does my heart. My pen shakes. I laugh. Frisky, dubitative, poet, free.
24 - after the travel, I almost heal...
Mar 11, 2018
Mar 11, 2018 at 2:35 PM UTC