"outlines" poems
Today’s cloud is a rainbow
Dark blue
Light blue
Orange
Pink
With white
Outlines
Some clouds are Pentecostal fury
Orange cotton burning
With daylight’s rage
Swirling and smoking
Working themselves
Up into a storm of retribution
The clouds descend
Bluish grey beasts
Swallowing
The skies
Consuming
All things in sight
Leaving nothing
But a lone tree
To stand against
The rain and sleet
Sep 12, 2015
Sep 12, 2015 at 4:04 PM UTC
Exploring the outlines
of submission
I find dominance.
Will holding instinct
underwater
just to prove it can.
Topping from the bottom:
use me
the way I want to be used
or I will ***** holes
in your engorged ego
by being bored.
My one control:
showing up to submit.
Your one duty:
Taking what I offer.
Keep taking it
possess me
wrap me around yourself
tight like the skin of a drum
beating me
banging me
trapped in that rhythm
I am finally free.
Don’t you dare stop ******* me
or if you must
at least have the decency
to tell me what to do next.
Jun 28, 2015
Jun 28, 2015 at 6:05 PM UTC
Hazy outlines familiar faces
Echoes of familiar places
Captured moments long forgotten
Honesty in words unspoken
A fleeting smile unguarded eyes
Truth beneath the surface lies
Pause a moment the masquerade
Telling postures now displayed
Rueful smiles and tired eyes
A warm glance melts a mask of ice
And as the frame fades away
Smoke and mirrors back into play
Jan 22, 2017
Jan 22, 2017 at 2:24 PM UTC
breathing the turquoise like lavender,
and sipping the blue summer.
bitter cold clouds glide and morph lava lather,
floating whispers cut by sweet pineapple sunshine.
soon, a moment, now
rhythms ripple the sky like skipping stones
we jump the music like puddles
splashing in the frequencies.
cobalt bass rumbles the earth hungry,
pumps the air with springing spirals
pushing and pulling the senses,
reverberating through cells.
heavy mud humming, stomping
echoes through our atoms dizzy;
balancing tuned body to innate electricity
the fizz of circulating lemonade energy.
we jump the music like puddles
splashing in the frequencies.
strawberry melodies spilling ribbons,
dolphin leaps of the spaces inbetween beats,
lines of colours overlapping,
colliding, mixing, merging, blending
in with the forest.
washing over souls the life fire sparkles
like a clear water cleansing harmonies,
sound waves crashing against inertia.
phosphorescent glow of re-charged love
for the world, for being, animation
flowing through burnt smoky ashes
of sapphire charcoal skies;
dimmed radiation of chlorophyll emerald days.
the smell of salt, dry bark, fluffy carbon mists,
trembling lights softening the eyes'
grip on outlines, loosening lies.
watching the cycles of patterns
tumbling colours through a mill rotating,
and the silence of listening
when the music comes to an end.
May 4, 2018
May 4, 2018 at 8:19 PM UTC
We are all silhouettes
Wrapped in the tapestry
Of a blooming night
Outlines etched messily
Into a cotton wool sky
Beautifully imperfect
A stray wisp illuminates
Sings sweet like our
Honey bee laughs
We smile, always
Endlessly sunshine yellow
For here we are youth
Wild like dandelions
Rebelling against being
A common flower
We paint the word ****
In shining glitter
Send it to outer space in
A paper airplane
Then dance on crazily
Like the night is infinite
Dreaming for a forever
May 4, 2018
May 4, 2018 at 2:09 PM UTC
***Crossing the room in slow motion
She watches his muscles move in the moonlight
Oh how they glisten in anticipation
Sit my pet, in a whisper
At her feet he waits with bated breath
So pleased at his obedience
Proceed
Such a simple command
He inches closer
His eagerness evident in his silence
In his omission of a proper response
An outfaced palm and he stops short
Sitting back on his feet, hands in lap, eyes to the floor
I'm sorry Ma'am, he says
That is evident by his failure to respond
He knows what is coming
Grabbing the back of his hair she forces his eyes to hers
Position, she says disgustedly
She leans back in the armchair as he pulls her hips to the edge
He lifts one leg and gently places it over the arm
Then he positions the other in the same manner
Sitting back on his feet, facing the floor
His arousal is evident, as is his moist anticipation
Respire.
The word is grunted through gritted teeth
He leans into heaven
Hovering an inch away
Slow deep breaths
He breathes in her essence wanting nothing more
Than to bridge the gap with his tongue
White satin and peekaboo lace
She runs down the rules of his punishment
Will you touch the Goddess
No Ma'am
Will you drool on the Goddess
No Ma'am
Will you move without permission
No Ma'am
How long will you hold your position
As long as my Goddess sees fit...Ma'am
Good boy
His breath is slow, deliberate, and heavy
The heat of it permeates the thin fabric
She runs her hand over the object of desire
Accentuating the outlines of what lies beneath
An accidental whimper
Silence!
A gruff command
Followed implicitly
In a slow and graceful motion
A hand slips under the fabric
Opening her flower releasing a hint of nectar
The scent grows exponentially upon the unfurling of petals
A glistening finger touches him just above his lip
Is that what you want?
It's a rhetorical question
Yes please
What will you do to get it
Such a simple question with but one answer
Anything you please, Goddess
Stick out your tongue
He does so in silence, careful that he does not touch her
She uses his wet flesh to wipe her finger clean
Closer she whispers
Now, within a half inch he breathes her in deeply
Mesmerized by the dewy goodness held behind the smooth satin
Watching desire grow in painfully slow motion
He blows out on the growing dampness
As he waits for her next command***
Jul 2, 2015
Jul 2, 2015 at 11:20 AM UTC
- Listening doesn't always mean understanding
- Listening could mean getting lost in your own thought of tranquility
- Or even your own devastational whir
- Listening doesn't have to be with your ears
- Just the exhaustion of emptiness that outlines your skull;
- Or even the numbness that conquers every length from spine to external excellence of your mind;
- Gliding from one emotion to another could be the loudest transaction without making a single clamor;
- Listening doesn't always mean understanding
- But the utter perplexity of ones thoughts drowning in the sound of nothingness.
Jan 10, 2016
Jan 10, 2016 at 11:05 PM UTC
To expel the outlines piled in my mind on paper,
With a light pencil in one hand,
And slice of rubber in the other,
I parent an impression of hope.
Therein lies the potential and the excitement;
A basic figure given the foundation of grandeur,
Amplifying in complexity before me,
With every scratch of graphite.
As it evolves, a heaviness sets in.
And I pause,
And I stop...
I've given something beautiful a half life, again,
As if it was birthed human,
With no flesh to cover its nerves,
And no breath to cry out its agony.
It remains still in my lap,
Eyes blank as ever staring, maybe, at me .
Out of humility, I tack it up on the wall,
A space shared by its many siblings.
I retreat shamefully with the promise to complete them,
Fumbling with the reality of what I do;
Playing God, I shape the husk of a soul,
And drop it when it's still brittle.
Nov 10, 2014
Nov 10, 2014 at 2:26 PM UTC
when the moon has finally succumbed to the flirtatious will of night
and even stars grow weary of guarding peaceful slumbers
the sneaky temptress twilight makes her move and slithers through my window
as she glides into my bed, I can tell she is up to her old tricks
my eyes forget to close and my mind forgets to sleep
the darkened outlines of my room crumble as each breath escapes my lips
and now I remember where I've hidden you, blue eyed boy
how strange a sensation to remember your body
a rekindled sullen mood
your arms are a heavy warmth against my waist
and your legs are clumsy giants that wrestle with mine all night
yes, this is how it feels when your cheek nuzzles the nape of my neck
and even here, your breathing rumbles like a storm rolling out to sea
Your heavy exhales compose a sensual melody as each crescendo crashes against my clavicle
I'm at the mercy of your lingering shadow
I'm the casualty of the pressure in this room
I want to stop breathing because I feel that I could make love to you
in the blackened air my hands trace out your handsome face
and place two gems for your brilliant eyes
and caress the sharp angles of your cheek
your lips were delicate so I use only my right hand
I'd give myself to you so honestly this time
but here, loneliness slowly swells your lungs
a tar that coats the lining of your throat
you are a cruel asphyxiation brought on by the mystic twilight herself
but her ruse won't last forever
I'll drift off into the sweet solace of sleep
and ponder on how you love me more
when my bed is empty, blue eyed boy
Sep 13, 2012
Sep 13, 2012 at 12:50 AM UTC
Chanel No.5 fills the air.
My bleary eyes make out the outlines of a stage.
I catch sight of athletic contours of her body, gold dust covered skin shimmering under a flood of exclusivity.
Chic, Elegant with a touch of class.
All senses awakened by her salacious seductive moves.
Tassels and feathers add to sensual illusion and my eagle eyes are transfixed on her snake like movements.
Sugar **** takes centre stage!
May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 3:39 PM UTC
outlines of red for a head
purple lines for a spine
icy pink run the length of arms
blue and green swirls for hips
silvery golden shins rise above brown feet
colored for heat and earth
the mind is deepest
here all things melt and meld
to slide down the spine
and cool to hardened action in the arm
the hips support and are friendly relief
the shins reflect the stars
and feet ground you to nature
the essence of where you are
Jan 2, 2015
Jan 2, 2015 at 4:39 PM UTC
A tree stands still just outside,
Cast by sunlight through glass windows,
A silhouette reflected on a white wall,
An amorphous imprint of the tree on the wall.
Much like my memories,
Reflected through thoughts,
The abstract outlines of a figure like undefined edges of the shadow,
The changing colors of the background merging into a haze,
The shadows of movement cast by light from unexplained sources,
Define the silhouette of my memory.
I touch the silhouette,
My hand meets the wall,
I cannot touch the tree at all,
Like my memories reflected through feelings,
The tickles from an embrace of leaves that gather and play,
The bits of laughter bouncing off branches, it fades
The comfort of a voice as it echoes upward lost in tangles of branches and twigs
The hurt and then the tears like sap running through a cut,
Are intangible memories of feelings, a silhouette.
The silhouette of the tree,
There is mystery, there is beauty,
A wind that blows,
The branches sway and the silhouette morphs,
Within loss, a freedom that dances and twirls the shadow,
Within anger, a passion runs wild like leaves slicing through a breeze,
Within pain, a compassion that gives and branches forth,
And within my memories,
From the silhouette, from the reflection,
I see reality as vibrant as the tree.
Jul 21, 2016
Jul 21, 2016 at 11:10 PM UTC
The light shines down
On your pale face
And outlines your vulnerable lips
With a heavenly glow,
And bathes your pleading eyes
With pure light.
You look away,
Afraid,
Because you know that the light
Has always revealed your scars,
Your flaws,
Your imperfections.
But I simply laugh
And think
How lucky the sun is
To be so close to someone like you.
(a.m.)
May 17, 2014
May 17, 2014 at 9:58 PM UTC
~
*If teardrops are your jewelry
A frown drawn on your face
And sadness seems a way of life
With dark outlines to trace
When clouded days of sorrowed gray
Now cover up your sky
And questions fill your weary mind
Always asking why
Just know that as the walls cave in
Distorting every view
No matter how alone you feel
I'm always here for you*
Oct 24, 2015
Oct 24, 2015 at 6:22 PM UTC
Island vacation relaxing and calm
Her fluid nature cannot be ignored
Drawn to her heat with the promise of more
There go the lazy days spent 'neath the palm
Enchanted Princess in an island tale
A bronzen mermaid in the deep blue sea
One look, you'll be who she wants you to be
And revel with new found freedom in sail
The water sparkles in the setting sun
Splashes like fireworks welcome the night
Outlines of flesh reflected in moonlight
In the shadows of waves two become one
Reckless abandon, a perfect escape
In her arms he found that dreams could take shape
Jun 3, 2010
Jun 3, 2010 at 9:00 PM UTC
Covering ourselves in night cream, we fight our wrinkles, and buy anything that says anti-aging.
We want our skin to stay frozen.
Frozen in a time when we didn't even appreciate the glow of young skin.
Spent our entire youth hating what we saw in the mirror and doing everything we could to keep it covered.
Under thick masks and dark outlines we tried new products, techniques, designs,
Searching for one that made us feel pretty.
We let - no - we pay doctors to stick long needles into our soft features and change them with chemicals making us less human and more plastic
and that's just our face
our bodies? we do so much worse
Starving ourselves till our heart shrinks in the only thing running through our brains is you are fat, you are fat, you are fat, and who is to blame us when everything we see is telling us to believe that
“I run so I can eat” “I work out because I love food”
These words are printed on shirts that we wear when we should feel powerful but instead send the messages that you don't deserve to eat unless you earn it
Burning every last calorie until we are empty again
We work so hard on fixing our bodies, but maybe that's not what's broken maybe the repair work is needed in our heads and in our hearts tweaking until we can find a connection of love between our bodies and our minds.
The same genuine love you have for your mom, or your dog, or your daughter
Unconditional, Everlasting,
When will we learn to love ourselves?
Oct 23, 2021
Oct 23, 2021 at 10:45 PM UTC
I
Opusculum paedagogum.
The pears are not viols,
Nudes or bottles.
They resemble nothing else.
II
They are yellow forms
Composed of curves
Bulging toward the base.
They are touched red.
III
Having curved outlines.
They are round
Tapering toward the top.
IV
In the way they are modelled
There are bits of blue.
A hard dry leaf hangs
From the stem.
V
The yellow glistens.
It glistens with various yellows,
Citrons, oranges and greens
Flowering over the skin.
The shadows of the pears
Are blobs on the green cloth.
The pears are not seen
As the observer wills.
5.6k
Third weekend in July
I love canoeing out on Northwood
Lake, early morning hours melting
into the pines, as I head toward the
island where the wild blueberries
lie. Tiny morsels, abundant and packed with
the taste of summer and beepollen and freshwater
and snow. Minnows nibble my toes, each one
a solid worm for the biting, as I slowly
fill a one-gallon jug, berry by berry,
to use for breakfast pancakes and
Belgian waffles cooked golden from
the waffle iron. Some of the ripest
berries plop into the lake. I swipe
them up before bass or sunfish
see them; always leaving the
green berries behind.
Pausing to taste some, they
split between my incisors;
I marvel at the flavor
while a loon’s haunted red
eyes stare at nothing.
Blueberries split like
relationships
occasionally do,
sour at times, always
leaving a taste on your
palate. Families, young
lovers picnicking on the
beach lake, confused couples;
they branch off, moonlight
silhouetting their outlines;
silent elegy softly blossoming
downward as their paths skew.
They won’t cross again.
My jug filled, I oar
back to the dock,
ears filled with
humming of birds,
insects, boats;
brimming with
the bream from berries
splitting apart,
and the intense
silence of blueberry
picking in late July.
Feb 26, 2015
Feb 26, 2015 at 3:09 PM UTC
i love it when the sun is setting and all the trees turn black
something about the dark outlines are so beautiful and there's nothing i love more
except you
you are the marvelous sunset behind those black trees
filled with hues of pink and orange and purple and yellow and blue all mixed together into one thing that is way to beautiful to even be real
but it is real and all you wanna do is save it and hold on to it forever but you can't
because eventually the sun will set and you will be left with black wishing for all those hues to come back
no memories or pictures could ever really capture it's beauty
that's how i feel about you
you are the sunset behind the black trees but i know you won't last forever so i'm going to admire you for as long as i can
until eventually my whole world turns black
Nov 22, 2014
Nov 22, 2014 at 10:55 AM UTC
Hidden from the burden of conversation, you graze your toe across a rock
-- slice.
Pain, creeping
wrapping its hot oils up your calf
it hurts more
no one wants to share
who understands?
don't be silly!
you’re on your own now
no one will be calling your name
So desperate
for a box you search
to hide your grief, happiness, and doubts in
some are presented with one
a carved handmade one
with gold outlines
who knows how they got one
the unlucky stumble upon the rich boxes of others
smothering them with inpatient finger prints of hope
but why
why they plead
in their constant prayers
why must they have the ***** leftovers
the cups recycled
used in a previous place for ***** samples
too small even for three people
they clean it and make due
what else can they do
Wait.
that’s what
But. Why?
are they not worthy?
ugly?
already fortunate?
I guess that works
and most are happy with it
see it around them
everybody has a *** cup
but what happens when everyone gets lucky?
You hide Envy?
no ignorant ones
Alone.
Dec 30, 2011
Dec 30, 2011 at 8:52 PM UTC
We are shadow puppets, you and I
Dancing on the walls after dark
Floating between empty spaces
Surviving off of the single light
The single light which is embers
Embers from a ferocious fire
A fire from our tainted love
Untamed and free
I seek the rim of your silhouette
Playfully chasing
Painfully embracing
Embracing the darkness and embers thereof
And when our passion runs wild again
When the fire burns brighter and stronger once more
Slowly, we’ll fade out, leave the walls to the brightness
See as it eats us, nothing to discuss
Nothing to say, but a touch left to have
But we’ll meet again, don’t worry, my shadow puppet friend
When the fire burns out, passion is glory
Embers are present, embers are all
And I’ll see your outlines, I’ll hear the shriek of your call
Because what else is there to a shadow
Than the life of a light
A light that we hold
Until the last ember do us part.
Jun 14, 2019
Jun 14, 2019 at 7:10 PM UTC
Twisting thoughts of a bed left yearning
Stretching across sheets that thirst for a touch
Embracing blankets that cover your naked body
Taunting ****** outlines begging for me to clutch
Beckoning pillows call out as they frame a pretty face
Wandering thoughts as a dimming light begins the learning
Twisting, I shed the clothes left yearning
Stretching sheets smile as they accept my touch
Embracing blankets warm me with the heat of your body
Taunting shapes shift from two to one under a lover's clutch
Beckoning lips begin to prepare for the reception of your beautiful face
Wandering hands of ours begin their journey of ****** learning
Aug 4, 2011
Aug 4, 2011 at 6:03 PM UTC
I let my hands glide,
slide
ride up the back of your shirt
Flirting finger tips slowly dance a pas
stall
bra slips while other fingers edge your skirt
Gently waltzing the inside of your thighs
sighs
eyes closed as the sensations tingle and spurt
Violin fingers soon find a pantiless lip
slit
**** where strumming fingers begin to flirt
My lips start creeping down from yours
slower
lower until you're forced to remove your shirt
Rhythmic breathing gets heavier as my lips meet your chest
breast
invest my tongue along outlines of your vicious curve
Pressing with tongue and fingers until there is an uncontrolled moan
groan
hone in until resisted shivers race through before fingers insert
stroking you as tongue dances its way down gently
slowly
violently, your quivering lips utter a shaken moan to release a blissful squirt...
Jun 21, 2011
Jun 21, 2011 at 1:58 PM UTC
armed and dangerous, 20 oz. of hot hot coffee, tablet on lap,
sitting on the deck overlooking the bay, and once again,
unusual for me, I am touched by the sanctity of the serenity
pervading, assuaging, by waves just loud enough to sway to,
the off/on chatter of the early bird's convocation of the morning's
blessing, have survived another night to greet greatly the outlines
of loveliness in the all~of~surroundings, which hacks my brain,
for I am by forty years of habitation more accustomed to a rough and tumble city boy trader, screamer of:
buy/sell/straddle/strangle/crush/kill/mercilessness, no quarter,
no mindfulness in me naturally, until nature robs my tools of
denial, and I smell the sanctity of fresh sheets laid on bed, the
warmed blood, vein coursing, suggesting just listen, listen,
the hot shower water eradicating the prior day's sinfulness,
the highly valued sensations of sensational emptiness, and
words drifting from the surround movie theater of a vista beloved,
coming for to fill and fulfill this always~in~mourning soul by the
overhauling of a crisp, cleansing day break
I, familiar with notions of perpetuity, and at best, conceptual, though
my mind permits a drift to the thoughtfulness that this place, this moment, this performance art of spectacular breathing of another
dawning day, after thousands upon thousand of its predecessors,
and the possibility, not remote, but not promised, to anyone, just may
occur at least once more, and one must learn contentment from but
that idea, and sip the cooling dregs of coffee, the sounds of human
interference, car door slamming, the heaving breathing of morning joggers, the wind rising, the white caps snapping, precursors and
signs that natural perfection is never permanent, always in transition,
and a whispery smile crosses my cheeks, as a silly thought invades,
nature is so very human~like and yet, immortal…
composed between 6:30 and 8:30 am this day
Wed Aug 20 twenty twenty-five
Silver Beach
Aug 20, 2025
Aug 20, 2025 at 8:34 AM UTC
my room was a mess,
and we added to it as we undressed,
because I couldn't wait any longer.
I love the feeling of you on me,
as I try to be quite
You came in my mouth,
gripping my head,
my neck,
you tell me, "moan baby"
you love to hear me moan,
you wanted me to moan so loud the whole town could hear,
when I do I feel so happy to be with you,
I lay next to you,
wrap my body around you,
I hold ur hands and make a face that says everything were going to do,
is going to be *****
but I want to love you,
I kiss you to the point there's no point in stopping,
and when our fingers are unlocking,
they stroke your hair,
hair I love,
you grab my *** and spank it hard,
and I move my hands down your body never pausing,
but I can feel every part of you,
I know that this time its not frightening,
I make my way all the way down to your ****
and I put it in and we go off,
our ********** feels like it never stops,
we took the time to trace the outlines of each others bodies,
we looked into each others souls,
and now I'm getting ***** faster than eminem's Rap God,
and his body feels like a god,
the *********** begins,
and i'm pleased within,
moaning louder than before,
really hopping the neighbors aren't home next door,
and this is how loving you should feel.
so unreal,
even though its all real.
Jul 2, 2015
Jul 2, 2015 at 11:16 PM UTC