Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
"peeks" poems
Fingers sinking deep                below your surface;                seeping into your *****                caressing your crevices.                leaving their mark; baring pleasure.                coursing ecstasy through your veins.            searching for the highest of peeks beyond measure                scorching heat, blood boiling, the pleasure pains                soothing your aching flesh                in relentless pursuit; of higher depths                guilty yearnings, urges run rampant                as your ecstasy starts to progress                heavy breathing your hands held abreast                pungent liquids; drenched with desire                a seeping puddle stains the mattress                gingerly leaking, outlining your canvas                 a mist in the air, cooling your skin;
0
Mar 5, 2017
Mar 5, 2017 at 9:55 PM UTC
Butterfly
On this carousel You and I Ringing bells Time passes by Scorching bulbs Ornate bobbing horsies Enchanting music Tell of magical stories I am here On this side You are there Same ****** ride Opposite ends Placed we two We can't see But each other we knew Friendly peeks Directed to you All I could afford Keep you in view Still rotating Ride goes on Chasing each other No closer we've drawn Enjoy the ride Soak in the sights Hold at bay Reality that bites Thought about Getting off Don't know how to Come to a solve Can't hold still It's eating me alive Can't just stay Have to strive Hand still holding on One foot dangling Second thoughts play But bent on releasing Take the first step Don't overthink Take the leap Step off the brink Close my eyes Time is now Just let go Fate I must allow Ready now Time came to a freeze *one...two... three...release* Now off the carousel Cloying uncertainty Never been here Unknown territory In the music Found familiarity Unsure if here Is where I want to be What do I do? Wait a little more? Hop back on? Or await what's in store? Glad I waited Glad patience I found There you are... Coming back round
0
Oct 20, 2014
Oct 20, 2014 at 7:58 AM UTC
Carousel
~~¤~~ a pink bud peeks out . . . fearless of the hands that would crush it . soulsurvivor (c) 5/19/2015
0
May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 4:05 AM UTC
innocent
Flying above a layer of cotton clouds, woven white lining clear blue It looks like a snow-coated hill, punctured by snowdrifts and gaps where that blue, clear clear blue peeks through Don’t fall through
0
Mar 2, 2016
Mar 2, 2016 at 11:16 AM UTC
Snow Clouds
The mind of that girl is a pain sanctuary whose aching decreases due to a world that's imaginary. From home she goes out to get away, and all those nights in stranges she relies. The soft morning breeze tenderly dries the tears in her cheeks, and childishly it peeks through her bloodshot eyes looking for a trace of peace. Nobody could really tell if she, bones and flesh, is still alive or if she's just a wanderer ghost. Probably the only one of her kind. The dark circles under her eyes are a proof of the restless crying nights. The tangled auburn messed up hair tells she didn't sleep at home, but no one cares. Picking up flowers on the way back home, humming songs that once made her feel whole. She rests for a few hours and once awake she grabs a pen, she writes down a poem before she gets drunk again. Somehow she finds calm in the simple things of life, and she tries not to think about the coldness in her eyes. Barely getting through, day by day, trying not to be absorbed by all the grey. Amassing countless heartbeats to the final point where life she quits.
0
Mar 25, 2018
Mar 25, 2018 at 10:17 PM UTC
The girl who is in ruins.
A lonely child, child of neglect I see you. Night it befalls, lonely child met.. You meet me. Peeled round waist from belly to back, four pieces do a belt of babe make; stitched and branded. Lonely child of neglect, I bathe in your warm fat. Clouds they roll, stream cotton-frayed sky. Mother's light peeks to say goodbye, to you; -the lonely child whom had to die? I transform. AWHOOOooo! eah, hah-hah, hah-hah, hah-hah... <>...Hunt...<>           C
0
Dec 20, 2016
Dec 20, 2016 at 8:59 PM UTC
Wolf
The almost sibling An almost brother, Or maybe sister, Perches at the edge Staring down Searching for me, An unknown brother Save for short peeks Between clouds, And wonders of the almost life, The almost love, They could have found Amongst us. But the love was taut Barely enough For us to be sustained. I’ve heard mom speak to you, While clutching herself, Asking for forgiveness For taking your almost body out Before a body could be. I hope you know, Crouched there watching, Though I never met you Or knew your almost self I still love you.
0
Nov 15, 2011
Nov 15, 2011 at 11:03 PM UTC
The almost sibling
just like a shooting star across the sky just like a sunshine peeks behind the green leaves with its rays and bright lights all over my dull eyes just like a warm coffee in a rainy days just like the pigeons that fly happily on the big blue sky my world stops when you smile at me and the time stands still when you look at me and i'm so over with inks and papers and words because you are too beautiful to describe and my love for you can't be contained in thousand words.
0
May 9, 2014
May 9, 2014 at 9:09 AM UTC
my love
Waiting for the summer heat to eclipse the somber thread of one day, an old man is gifted a brand new pair of sneakers. Father, Son, Holy Ghost? The pinnacle of the "y" axis has paralyzed the saltiness of the old man's overcoat. "Grand dad?" A young boy turns the corner and peeks in while the old man leans over in his chair to reach his feet and lace his sneaks. "You were breathing loudly and I was just making sure you're okay." The boy continued, "cool sneakers grandpa." This reminded the boy of a new student in his class who moved here from Scotland, or Ireland - he couldn't remember which. Guess what the new kid in my class calls his sneakers?" The grandfather looks up and leans back, "he doesn't call them sneakers?" "Nope" the boy replies. "I would imagine he must call them shoes, or something like that." "Not even close. He calls them 'runners'. He came into class one day with a pair of red sneakers and Miss Kerrington had him stand up in front of class to talk about them. She said that people in England probably call them runners as a nickname for running shoes." The old man stood up with a groan and said, "That makes sense. It seems a bit odd, but I like it. As a matter of fact, I am gonna start using that to refer to all sneakers. What do you say we go for a walk around the block so I can break these puppies in? We'll stop for some rootbeer on the way home." The two of them set out on their walk and the old man felt invigorated. As they continued, a light rain began and the old man said, "lets get to the store, this rain'll do damage to my new suedes." When they finally made it to the store, the old man rushed in the door pushing his grandson out of the way. Upon his entrance his eyes met with the shopkeeper's. The shopkeeper's eyes shifted to the young boy coming in behind the man. At this moment the grandfather realized that he pushed his grandson aside in his haste to get inside the store and out of the rain. The shopkeeper turned his attention back to the grandfather who shrugged his shoulders before gesturing to his feet with a smile and said, "I'm breaking in a new pair of runners. They're not gonna dry off as easily as he does."
0
Jul 26, 2013
Jul 26, 2013 at 1:59 PM UTC
Static Viking: New Land Conquered
Waiting for the summer heat to eclipse the somber thread of one day, an old man is gifted a brand new pair of sneakers. Father, Son, Holy Ghost? The pinnacle of the "y" axis has paralyzed the saltiness of the old man's overcoat. "Grand dad?" A young boy turns the corner and peeks in while the old man leans over in his chair to reach his feet and lace his sneaks. "You were breathing loudly and I was just making sure you're okay." The boy continued, "cool sneakers grandpa." This reminded the boy of a new student in his class who moved here from Scotland, or Ireland - he couldn't remember which. Guess what the new kid in my class calls his sneakers?" The grandfather looks up and leans back, "he doesn't call them sneakers?" "Nope" the boy replies. "I would imagine he must call them shoes, or something like that." "Not even close. He calls them 'runners'. He came into class one day with a pair of red sneakers and Miss Kerrington had him stand up in front of class to talk about them. She said that people in England probably call them runners as a nickname for running shoes." The old man stood up with a groan and said, "That makes sense. It seems a bit odd, but I like it. As a matter of fact, I am gonna start using that to refer to all sneakers. What do you say we go for a walk around the block so I can break these puppies in? We'll stop for some rootbeer on the way home." The two of them set out on their walk and the old man felt invigorated. As they continued, a light rain began and the old man said, "lets get to the store, this rain'll do damage to my new suedes." When they finally made it to the store, the old man rushed in the door pushing his grandson out of the way. Upon his entrance his eyes met with the shopkeeper's. The shopkeeper's eyes shifted to the young boy coming in behind the man. At this moment the grandfather realized that he pushed his grandson aside in his haste to get inside the store and out of the rain. The shopkeeper turned his attention back to the grandfather who shrugged his shoulders before gesturing to his feet with a smile and said, "I'm breaking in a new pair of runners. They're not gonna dry off as easily as he does."
Continue reading...
11
Parallel tremors follow your heavy footsteps through the moss that carpets a maze of tired oak. Solemn warnings calcify soft thoughts and point you at the coal on the horizon. Its splinterglow peeks hot squints through the arboreal tangle. Topaz streams convene and braid themselves around your spine. The stones in the riverbed grow smoother and each becomes a grain of sand. You let the sand console your roots as you curl your toes and fall asleep.
0
Mar 15, 2013
Mar 15, 2013 at 6:58 PM UTC
Tree of Life
It lingers between small talks, things best left unsaid. All that remains is the silence, so dead. Nervous, little peeks when the eyes refuse to meet. That lump in your throat at every heartfelt greet. Staring into empty space like you lost your muse. Why was the courage hidden if it was of no use? The mind begins to burn and the smoke grows thick. It creeps into the heart and makes you sick. The silence then grows with each passing moment. Memories cloud your eyes and make you repent. The tongue begins to sting. So much to be said. Yet, all that ever remains is the silence, so dead. Things remain unsaid when words begin to fail. That excuse you make is just another tall-tale. That tension in the air when you pass each other by. That lump in your throat stays, and you wonder why. Dodging the questions for there are no answers. Wishing for things to go back to the way they were. They still linger between small talks, things which were left unsaid. All that will ever remain is the silence lying dead.
0
Nov 25, 2014
Nov 25, 2014 at 9:18 AM UTC
Things Left Unsaid
it is hard for the truth to come out of my sealed lips played the victim and I take my role seriously we were just on the same water, passing ships the sun and the moon meeting in an eclipse only for a moment but the moment was potent wishing for more moments like this rips and rips until I finish my zip hours and hours until I finish my shift you are the one thing my mind cannot slip the one man that drives me to drink so I don't think, just a couple of sips now I am covered in my sadness as the sunlight peeks through such a naive little boy, never knowing what to do what to do
0
Apr 13, 2022
Apr 13, 2022 at 12:16 PM UTC
what to do?
You are the sun That peeks Through the window, Letting me know that It's time to get the day Started. You are the roots, Cut and carved from the trees That provide shelter, A place to live, A place to grow. A foundation built From strong roots, That stretch and wrap around me. You are the air that circulates Through my lungs, The air that, if I think about too long, I'll mess up how much You've changed my life. When I am in you, I am not in some house, Nor am I in just any old room. I realize that I am home, That I have everything I need. When I close my eyes, The first thing I see Is you, And how the first thing I want to do is come back To you
0
Feb 7, 2025
Feb 7, 2025 at 10:33 PM UTC
Come Back
Ash outside Sparks - encased Just deny If the world peeks Through the keyhole For it was meant for It was meant for One Whose eyes unlock the door ...barefoot 'cross the threshold
0
Nov 22, 2018
Nov 22, 2018 at 11:23 AM UTC
The Room Chooses its Key
Sugar maple’s immature leaves bounce lively on the breeze Robins frolic through dandelions and freshly cut grass Brilliant brightness peeks through clouds warming my face Families of rabbits skip through budding yellow tulips Lavender lilacs dance with dogwood blossoms tickling my nose Baby woodpecker taps at the sycamore branch Fat bumblebees buzz from cherry bloom to zinnia bloom
0
Aug 27, 2012
Aug 27, 2012 at 1:24 PM UTC
Spring’s Song
Against the sky is the Pillar of Light Hands outstretched ready at our open backs Milky Way our Guardian of the night Is everything that our world hereby lacks Tentative to show its face to our eyes The Red Moon peeks out behind a curtain For a few minutes it will socialize Of our humanity it is certain Along the line our lineage has crossed Stardust lingers in the blue of our veins Our existence was very nearly lost Resilient Stardust helps us remain So you see that we are made of star stuff Because being human was not enough
0
Apr 8, 2015
Apr 8, 2015 at 11:55 AM UTC
We Are Made of Star Stuff (Sonnet)
Elizabeth and God exist in a sunflower grave. Her mother and father slit her stomach open and watched the contents pour out like spaghetti confetti. Tommy, Elizabeth's boyfriend, rode his ocean blue Huffy, until the tread on his tires grew bald and until the grips were blanketed by dead skin. Looking for her, panoramic views of the horizon leapt beside him. Silhouettes of his legs, churned and kissed the orange and caramel dusk. With every tear in his hamstrings and calves, the **** in his sky grew and swallowed the memory of Elizabeth Mendenhall, Honor Student. Margot, Elizabeth's twelve year-old sister, was an idealistic soul. Taking a Sharpie, she wrote on her sister's wall, "Liz, there is no death greater than the loss of self, and no life greater than one where we continuously search for what self is." Margot struggled with concentrating and frying eggs - but focused on the sunflower garden, dangerously and perfectly. Hilary and Brendan were thirty-five and thirty-six years-old. They stabbed their daughter thirty-seven times. They don't know why they did it, they just couldn't think of a reason not to do it. She begged for her life. The yellow petals of the sunflowers caught blood-drops and, after enough struggle, floated down to kiss and lay on Elizabeth's slow-twitch body. Hilary looked at Brendan and said, "What does this mean?" Brendan shrugged and said, "This is new to me." The garden was an oven, and digging her grave was like pulling back on a cheap, plastic latch. Elizabeth had pale, pre-cooked pie crust skin. The slits in her stomach looked like peeks into a cherry stuffed filling. Crinkled lips looked indented by a stainless steel fork, back and forth, side to side. And the soil rained upon her like the reversal of hot vapor, returning home. Elizabeth and the Sunflower Garden.
0
May 21, 2015
May 21, 2015 at 5:37 AM UTC
Elizabeth and the Sunflower Garden
Elizabeth and God exist in a sunflower grave. Her mother and father slit her stomach open and watched the contents pour out like spaghetti confetti. Tommy, Elizabeth's boyfriend, rode his ocean blue Huffy, until the tread on his tires grew bald and until the grips were blanketed by dead skin. Looking for her, panoramic views of the horizon leapt beside him. Silhouettes of his legs, churned and kissed the orange and caramel dusk. With every tear in his hamstrings and calves, the **** in his sky grew and swallowed the memory of Elizabeth Mendenhall, Honor Student. Margot, Elizabeth's twelve year-old sister, was an idealistic soul. Taking a Sharpie, she wrote on her sister's wall, "Liz, there is no death greater than the loss of self, and no life greater than one where we continuously search for what self is." Margot struggled with concentrating and frying eggs - but focused on the sunflower garden, dangerously and perfectly. Hilary and Brendan were thirty-five and thirty-six years-old. They stabbed their daughter thirty-seven times. They don't know why they did it, they just couldn't think of a reason not to do it. She begged for her life. The yellow petals of the sunflowers caught blood-drops and, after enough struggle, floated down to kiss and lay on Elizabeth's slow-twitch body. Hilary looked at Brendan and said, "What does this mean?" Brendan shrugged and said, "This is new to me." The garden was an oven, and digging her grave was like pulling back on a cheap, plastic latch. Elizabeth had pale, pre-cooked pie crust skin. The slits in her stomach looked like peeks into a cherry stuffed filling. Crinkled lips looked indented by a stainless steel fork, back and forth, side to side. And the soil rained upon her like the reversal of hot vapor, returning home. Elizabeth and the Sunflower Garden.
Continue reading...
8
I've never thought less of you than in begging moment, flipped on smooth river rocks, arms wide on expanded hips, smile fake and expectant. You paddle kayaks in awkward plaids and throwaway sweaters, grinning sweetly at dimples and polished toenails and forgetting my name while I repeat yours in echo. On tall bicycle, you look down at tear-strewn carpet, at lingering rain, and you lean to one side, precarious balance while the sun peeks through the blinds.
0
Apr 20, 2014
Apr 20, 2014 at 11:01 AM UTC
Camping
I know you don't see me the way I see you I know you don't love me the way I love you I know you don't waste hours by hours crying over me I know your smile and your laughter are not for me And I know all of these scenarios that I have made in between my dreams and my sleeps are not true And I know my dream is just a dream and soon, it will be fading away But I will still admire the way you chase the sun I will still admire the smile you wear when you see the stars I will still admire your aura that reminds me with the bright sunflowers in summer days I will still admire the way sunlight peeks around your eyes and the way sunrays play with your brown hair I will still admire the way you are; a beautiful person who changes my world, and also my perspective in life And even if you don't feel the same about me, It is okay.
0
Jan 24, 2014
Jan 24, 2014 at 6:41 AM UTC
Okay.
Press your lips against my **** &juice; me. Thirst for my juices as you, drift into my Yoni! Kiss my flesh as eye nurish your Soul. Sink into me as we dance into the candle lit stars; become me, as eye become you &as; one.. We make Love until the sun peeks through the cracks! Kiss my Yoni; feel my Power!
0
Jun 10, 2015
Jun 10, 2015 at 10:12 PM UTC
Nubian.
I think of mom often. Like when I read anything by Jack London or Ernest Thompson Seton. Her memory swirls around me when I see a dead opossum by the roadside it reminds me of the one we had as kids. Yes, we had an opossum. It wasn't a pet as much as it was a wounded soldier, convalescing in a field hospital close to the front and cared for by Florence Nightingale, except the field hospital was our carport under a suspended Old Towne wood canoe, the battle, with a Ford or Chevrolet, on the main road near our house in Connecticut. Florence was Mom. She peeks at me around corners in the kitchen when I make fish, or soup, because I hated fish as a child. She made us eat it because it was healthy and the blocks of frozen Turbot were cheap and she was a single mom at forty two with three hungry mouths to feed. She tried to make me think it was exotic because it came from Iceland. I thought Turbot was Icelandic for "more bones in your mouth than you ever thought possible". Mom was, however, an accomplished homemade souper. She's by my side as I explain wild things to other little wild things which hang on my every word. Words put into my head which make it seem, to the under four foot set, that I know everything. Knowledge put there by her in our yard, by the lakes of New York, the mountains of West Virginia or deserts of California. She is in every frog that jumps, whippoorwill that calls or each stalk of Jewel **** which is a cure for poison ivy by the way, that grows near a stream in the woods. But then today as my daughter opened the overhead sunglass holder in her car for the first time, the Subaru she inherited from Mom over a year ago, and Grandma's sunglasses fell out, there were no thoughts of lessons learned or knowledge imparted. Today, I just thought of her.
0
Jul 14, 2013
Jul 14, 2013 at 1:10 AM UTC
Grandma's Sunglasses
I think of mom often. Like when I read anything by Jack London or Ernest Thompson Seton. Her memory swirls around me when I see a dead opossum by the roadside it reminds me of the one we had as kids. Yes, we had an opossum. It wasn't a pet as much as it was a wounded soldier, convalescing in a field hospital close to the front and cared for by Florence Nightingale, except the field hospital was our carport under a suspended Old Towne wood canoe, the battle, with a Ford or Chevrolet, on the main road near our house in Connecticut. Florence was Mom. She peeks at me around corners in the kitchen when I make fish, or soup, because I hated fish as a child. She made us eat it because it was healthy and the blocks of frozen Turbot were cheap and she was a single mom at forty two with three hungry mouths to feed. She tried to make me think it was exotic because it came from Iceland. I thought Turbot was Icelandic for "more bones in your mouth than you ever thought possible". Mom was, however, an accomplished homemade souper. She's by my side as I explain wild things to other little wild things which hang on my every word. Words put into my head which make it seem, to the under four foot set, that I know everything. Knowledge put there by her in our yard, by the lakes of New York, the mountains of West Virginia or deserts of California. She is in every frog that jumps, whippoorwill that calls or each stalk of Jewel **** which is a cure for poison ivy by the way, that grows near a stream in the woods. But then today as my daughter opened the overhead sunglass holder in her car for the first time, the Subaru she inherited from Mom over a year ago, and Grandma's sunglasses fell out, there were no thoughts of lessons learned or knowledge imparted. Today, I just thought of her.
Continue reading...
37
~ A bashful sunrise peeks through the curtains as we greet the dawn beneath satin sheets creating our own glistening dewdrops before a wide eyed blushing horizon
0
Jul 28, 2015
Jul 28, 2015 at 7:14 AM UTC
Glistening dewdrops
Tearstains unlock doors You reach out in darkness and Ask for me to come inside We sit in the space in your soul for Hours pouring out our hearts Until the light peeks through the Crack under the door Stepping out you dance away Into daybreak without farewell Leaving me in an empty shell My poured out heart is A puddle on the floor that You didn't embrace the way I did I might see you again When it gets dark And you recall Just how miserable Seclusion is Welcome back I've been lonely
0
Jul 15, 2014
Jul 15, 2014 at 11:31 AM UTC
Black Balloon
dandelion eyes, rose petal lips counting down the seconds until our next kiss like rolling thunder, impatience rumbles through me because even wrapped in your arms, I finally feel free the time passes as slow as the color of your skin honey, sweet, honey… oh, how I yearn to drink you in and as the sun sets on yet another lonely night I delight in the way it peeks through the blinds rays of gold shimmer in, finding rest upon my cheek all I feel is your warmth and on my heart, havoc wreaks for even in this golden hour — the time that reminds me most of you — eons will pass  before I am once again close to you
0
Aug 15, 2022
Aug 15, 2022 at 2:07 PM UTC
golden hour
The long hours of the night highlight our inner insecurities Relating to the change slowly disappearing in a clanking machine My stomache burns I didn't suggest to pay this, indebted to the alcohol No filter to the lewd humorous words we speak As we cruise away from the wild eyed life, bits of lint collect on the drivers glass The mistakes and embarrassment blinds our minds A push of a button, watching the grey fluff slide down the wind shield Turning into a tumble **** rolling down the loneliest highway No commitment to the grief The clouds smother the brown smudged mountains A white submissive canvas, I see My metaphoric future becomes one with the peeks My heart weeps as they come back into view The world once teaching me, is now background beauty Where shall this car take me
0
Apr 29, 2016
Apr 29, 2016 at 1:20 PM UTC
A discovered dynasty of drunken views