"provocatively" poems
An artist,
I’m scared to be left to my thinking atoms and nuclear cells
Why solder my raining thoughts to reality
In my head I can’t trust these clockworks
Rusted gears precariously tricking forward
Tensions unbalance on a pinched nerve ending
Hesitate I retract to others knowing what I don’t know
That once I start I might fail
I don’t do what I want to
I don’t speak when I want to
When I so desperately need to
Before I explode
Violently, into a void
Void of emotionless urges
An artist like me if I so believe I am
Doubtfully attempts to act in the face of thunder
Only to cowardly hide in a cat’s whisker
Inner bricking delays outer progress
Progress I provocatively flaunt to the alive bodies
While knowing the fallacious congrats is unwarranted
I don’t believe in magical rainbow kitten surprise wishes
But I won’t also hide my love
With the internal flame dimming
I want to act the part by flipping over the stones
For the mysteries hidden away
To see them crawling out
My untapped desires
Jul 28, 2018
Jul 28, 2018 at 6:34 PM UTC
exacting in love
possessive by nature
volatile in temperament
and raging like flames
you are wild and untamed
nothing like docile padma!
the strategic placement
of each kiss on
your voluptuous body
you so unashamedly demand
is provocatively seductive
drawing out
from deep within the soul
of this simple flute-playing cowherd
a brazen but besotted lover
© 2019
Apr 28, 2019
Apr 28, 2019 at 2:40 PM UTC
She wears Prada from head to toe
All eyes on her when she steps in..
She...
breathtakingly a beautiful goddess
She...
Femininely revealing ....
Provocatively showing...
Her Silky white flesh hidden and revealed...
Is it the dress?
No..
Is it the face?
No
Its the body
No
Is it the *** appeal?
No and Yes I guess
So help to define **** please....
**** is not always beautiful
Being beautiful is ****
**** in your eyes
Pretty ugly in mine
**** is hard to define
isn't it?
Oct 2, 2014
Oct 2, 2014 at 5:44 AM UTC
Jojo's
Firm
Meaty
And
Massive
Jumbo
Jiggles
Appear
Sometimes
On
Nasty
Dances.
January
February
March
April
May
June
July
August
September
October
November
December
*Amphigouri- A verse composition, while apparently coherent, contains no sense or meaning
Jojo-
Young girl, barely out of puberty, beautiful and seductive beyond her age, dresses provocatively with high ****** drive, not shy to group *** usually attract older men.
"Look at those middle aged men drooling over that little jojo!"*
Apr 3, 2013
Apr 3, 2013 at 11:38 AM UTC
The way your porcelain skin touches light
Your waterfall curls provocatively grace the wind
Those brown eyes take away my virginity
That scent you carry with such promiscuity
You want my intellect
You want my drive
You want me to want you
Don't you...?
I am yours.
The way your jeans caress your curves
Your voice sings to my every being
And the sky delights at the sight of your smile
The celestial sway of each step you take
Each gaze my way, an attribution to my euphoria
My mind wipes clean and thinks solely of you
How I yearn to be get so deep into your imagination
I'll find you beautiful girl
And I'll take your darling breath away.
Sep 25, 2012
Sep 25, 2012 at 7:03 PM UTC
My mother always tells me--
"Sweetie make sure you're not out too late, you wouldn't want to get *****
You never know what will happen when you're walking the streets alone, always carry your phone.
Honey, never dress too provocatively you never know which eyes will see.
So please, cover up. Are you sure you don't want to wear the fleece?
There are sick people in this world
always be aware, you can't trust anyone anymore.
Never leave the house late and alone
You might not come home.
Always pick up the phone.
Honey, I want you to come home."
(a.d)
Oct 9, 2014
Oct 9, 2014 at 10:16 PM UTC
You’re probably wondering why I’m phoning you.
It’s a hello call.
Not exactly.
You’re having a lesbian baby.
No, but I am single again.
Don’t tell me you dumped that man woman.
Mary was the love of my life.
She was a brute, she would give tarzan a run for his money.
Never mind that, do you remember when I was finding myself.
Remember it well, I was entering, you said, I think I’m a lesbian.
I know, it was bad timing, but you taught me a lot.
So I did, my Cv now reads, think you’re straight, I’ll change that.
How would you like to do it again.
Okay, you’re beginning to worry me now.
No, I realise you can turn people, you have a gift.
What do you want to turn into.
I want to be a straight lesbian, sort of.
I would love to help, but I’m in a relationship.
That’s okay, I can wait a week or two.
That’s quite funny, see, only lesbians could make jokes like that.
I know, I think you can relesbianise me.
Are you on drugs or something.
No, I liked being in bed with you, you never done anything for me, but I appreciated the effort.
Gee thanks, I’ll update my Cv. Think you're straight, I’ll change that, you’ll be a lesbian tomorrow, with straight tendencies.
See, that’s what I like about you, you’re never bitter. You did say it was a battle to get me into bed, now I’m offering myself on a plate.
I appreciate that, but how does this make you a reborn lesbian.
That’s simple, I won't enjoy it with you, then I’ll realise what I’m missing.
Do you mean you’ll fake it.
Yes, but you won’t know.
I won’t.
No, I’ll dress provocatively and make all the usual noises.
I knew this would happen someday, the twilight zone would come along and take me away to a place where fairies would serenade me with
tea and biscuits. Okay, just realised, thats an old folks home.
Okay girl, let’s get faking.
Mar 6, 2016
Mar 6, 2016 at 9:57 AM UTC
The Tall Tale of the Pantomime Horse!
Lifted his tail and cantered off.
Into the burning out sunset he rode.
A malady of loves principle disaster.
The pantomime horse he rode.
She caught him for his final wind up.
Danced for his audience.
On the stage.
He jumped and frolicked.
Wore nothing.
Save only but a bright red polka dotted belt.
Provocatively indiscreet.
The belt that concealed his other half.
His better half of course.
His other half was delicate.
Her malady was him.
He was the star performer.
Made all the ladies grin.
She sent him to the knacker's yard.
When his ladies had all gone.
She had one further use for him.
She turned him into glue.
Stuck the pages in her book.
Suggest you take a little look.
At all the poems in her book.
And the remnants of the pantomime horse.
His last ever performance of course!
By ladylivvi1
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
Dec 17, 2013
Dec 17, 2013 at 5:01 PM UTC
Let me tell you a bit about me
A bit that I haven’t told anyone
Here goes nothing…
I listen to Lady Gaga
A lot
The smell of whiskey doesn’t burn my nose
Rather it smells familiar, similar to maple syrup
I love to dance a lot when no one is looking
And really provocatively
I doubt my ability
Yet fear my potential
I kissed a boy in first grade
But don’t know why I have literally hid this all my life
The book “Charley and the Chocolate Factory” changed me
And I never like chocolate until this year
I am afraid of dogs
I grew up with dogs all of my life
I really dislike my arms from the elbow up
But play off my flannel shirts and hoodies as a fashion statement
I bite my nails but not nervously
Rather because nail clippers make my nails feel weird
I watch ****
No one really admits that one but most of us do
I love not washing my hair
But I hate going out in public that way
I love most people but pretend I don’t
It’s easier that way
I love the feeling of crumbling sheet rock
Especially if it is wet
I have cussed since I was probably 7…
I think I cuss less now than I did in fifth grade
I generally admire those farthest from me
They are what I’ll never be
I could see myself as president
But just as easily a stripper
I have to try really hard not to cry when I think of my childhood
Especially young memories
I have tweezed my eye brows
And my toes
I have worn makeup while no one was home
Mainly just to try it
I love eating raw sugar
Especially chewing it
I am pretty sure I was delusional as a child
But sometimes I feel like either I wasn’t or I still am
I don’t feel like people ever really know me
Especially my family
There is a chunk of me
Please don’t waste it
Apr 2, 2013
Apr 2, 2013 at 10:36 PM UTC
I could write erotica
Words flushed with heat
And lust
A bare trace of plot
Sliding through the lines
like soft skin on silk sheets.
I could paint pictures
with sultry poses,
long limbs entwined in a battle of flesh,
pictures to bring a tingle,
a shiver dancing across your skin.
I could whisper salacious stories
with my lips just above your ear,
hot breath and a teasing lilt,
testing the boundaries of self-control.
I could pass along this poem,
lay forth my cards,
exposed provocatively on the table,
making my intentions known.
Jan 26, 2021
Jan 26, 2021 at 10:18 PM UTC
A certain somebody has the most actively attractive eyes when he grins,
they actually twinkle like proverbial stars;
this fact may be what I despise about his existence most of all.
I do not appreciate the cranking in my stomach when I see his perfect, warm skin stretch
and his ****** muscles proclaim positivity
and his strong calcium teeth blind any unsuspecting victims.
I hate the little fishing hook that rips uncleanly in a jagged form in my blood-pulsing heart
when I feel he hasn't properly paid me my much deserved attention.
I outlined my eyes in dark chemicals and fluffed my hair provocatively to lure his lust
for what?
To realize that I do not contain the proper combination of personality traits to appease such an animal soul
and never will.
I really hate the pitiful state of longing and admiration his uninterested being reduces my willing heart to;
to be strong and independent is desirable,
but to be his is a complete necessity.
May 22, 2012
May 22, 2012 at 6:12 PM UTC
I shut my bedroom door
now engulfed by the bindings of paper and pen
and I roll my chair to grey desk
stacked high with Dickinson, Bronte's three, and Alvarez
I pull out my writing tools and begin to contemplate
ideas that dare not be discussed in the public of society
Why is it that God must be a man and
What make the human taught ideal of modesty such a binding force
flow through my brain and I breath again
without measure or discernment I am free
in my freedom i think
back to the conversation my mother and I held this morning
A girl had stood in our line of view her hemline resting mid-thigh
My mother had turned to me
"Ellis look at that girl! I can see her ****** face aghast
I nodded
"It is disgusting that girls these days dress so provocatively!
Thank God I have a modest girl!"
I nodded again
and I thanked God.
-Modesty Is A Human Construct
Feb 16, 2019
Feb 16, 2019 at 7:33 PM UTC
No, I wasn't drinking
Yes, I was dressed "provocatively"
No, I didn't come on to him
I didn't say he could touch me
No, I wasn't giving him "bedroom eyes"
No, I didn't lead him on
Yes, I shared a cab with him
No, I didn't say he could put his hands on me
Yes, I was naive
No, I didn't say I wanted to put my hand or my head in his lap
No, I didn't ask the taxi driver to help me
No, I didn't refuse to let him put his fingers in me
No, I didn't tell him I wanted to go home then
Yes, I let him take me to his apartment
Yes, I let him take my clothes off
Yes, I let him inside me
No, he didn't use a ******
Yes, I took a morning after pill
Yes, I regret it
But he didn't ask,
so I didn't say no
Apr 13, 2016
Apr 13, 2016 at 7:45 AM UTC
my subconscious writes me letters
gentle urgings -
from that deepest space
where dreams go to rest
and fears go to hide
little fragments of inspiration
that dance provocatively
only to vanish
when i rise from my stupor
little ghosts of memories past
present and future
bound up together
as unfailing reminders
that wherever i go
i will always be me
-Vijayalakshmi Harish
30.11.2012
Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
Nov 30, 2012
Nov 30, 2012 at 7:00 AM UTC
Oh my my, this Facebook thing,
has a world of trouble it can easily bring.
Long, meaningless chatting, a cyber-fling,
And it only began from a new chat box ding.
The one thing you must at all costs avoid doing,
Is basing opinions on these girls, then actually pursuing.
As you tell her you’re interested, her brain will cook.
“He’s into my heart! Not that picture I took!”
The one that she uses as her seductive hook;
but as most cases play out, this is not how she'll look.
You can try and deny this, but proof lies in plain sight.
There are some exceptions, but mostly, I’m right.
A long legged appearance, instead has a midgets height,
and oh goodness, those rolls! Her "abs" looked so tight.
Well, at least she is chesty, there is no faking there!
But her best friends a water bra, life just isn’t fair.
You meet up and they’ve shrunk? Can’t help but stare.
And her clear complexion has changed? She has acne to spare.
So provocatively she chats, you can't resist, so compelling.
But just remain unresponsive, asleep, and safe in your dwelling.
Is she hot or bad-looking? Well there’s no way of telling.
But she won’t look nearly as good, trying to save you from yelling.
So I hope you get my message, best to stay away from that game,
But I am assuming you won’t, teenage flirtation is impossible to tame.
I can only offer this advice, hoping it will keep you ridden of shame.
For as of now, if she tricks you, you have only yourself to blame.
Nov 1, 2011
Nov 1, 2011 at 5:54 AM UTC
The natural attribute of my inquiring intuition
Coerced me to tread passionately in the wake
Of this provocatively, entertaining creature
To analyze the abstract desires of her mind
She peeks just up over her lovely shoulder
Capturing the dazzling quality of my image
From the corner of her harlequin green eyes
As she licks her lips insatiably with hunger
Ultimately this woman approached me fearlessly
Exuding the very spark of unmistakable attraction
She then began stroking her fingers through my hair
Caressing my face with her assuaging touch of heaven
Softly rubbing my chest while whispering risque enigmas of pleasure
Oh, how I could feel the air of her pacifying breath blowing in my ear
While her alluring cave of magic chafed against my yearning serpent
Not one word was spoken for she could sense my crave to fornicate
Aug 28, 2011
Aug 28, 2011 at 4:53 PM UTC
There's no keynote
Or some particular issue
In my mind
It's just the void
Trying to fit in
There is no predicament
Its just these words
Trying to find space
Provocatively engaging my mind
To work on something
That ought to be done
Like it's some imperative assignment
Just these consonants
Camouflaging and slaughtering
That empty space
These characters from one
To twenty six
Continually withering
In search of a place
With Some connotation.
Jan 15, 2014
Jan 15, 2014 at 12:23 PM UTC
You lay so innocent,
kissed me so provocatively,
infected my soul
with your learned behaviors.
Your step-by-step instructions
about intimate things,
mutually pleasing,
became carved
into my granite
like commandments.
And how can I describe
your taste,
your raw primordial stream
intoxicating me into
other realms,
spellbinding me forever?
I can’t.
Dec 15, 2013
Dec 15, 2013 at 5:09 PM UTC
CRESENT OF SINS
full and half empty bottles of beer;
scattered broken glasses,
deranges the cracked brown hued floor
music gales from an old c.d changer
inebriated guzzler mumbles in incoherent murmur
denuded nubile cavorts merrily
their sleek oiled frame shimmering in the fuzzy light
ghoulish **** silhouette walks in fluid and sinuous manner
fog like smoke chokes the room
marijuana and cigarette smoke amalgamates
swirling up merged into an eternal marriage
heels clad trollops clatters in the room
swaying their assets provocatively
boozers gapes intently with hazy eyes
raising their neck in unison
they ogle at the lure with entranced lust
two vague humanoid shapes lurks in a corner
moans escaping in raspy staccato
musk,booze,drugs defines this room
besotted species lie on filthy squalid floor
vocalizing dirge melodies
lost in muddled blur
dancers prances up and down
crushing cans and glasses in spirited tempo
yelling their lungs out
as the music drown their voices and worries
deep in the gist of the city
irrational rants emanates from every angle
sundry light floods the clear night
as merry goers sip cheap and expensive liquor
sloven hookers milks cash from patrons
the night conceal this cresent of sins
everyone is on a business
the party continues
the music get more stentorian
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
[{chronicles of the dumb speaker}]
Sep 11, 2015
Sep 11, 2015 at 8:16 AM UTC
You gave a smile for me today.
I knew I'd impressed you.
I must've said something coy.
You turned and gave an
I've told you about this one
look, to a face across the room.
Do it again, please, but look at me this time.
Lean your head back again,
raise your eyebrows provocatively again,
I've told you about this one
Shrug your shoulders again
Smile like that again.
I've told you about this one
But this time look at me.
Jun 4, 2012
Jun 4, 2012 at 5:37 PM UTC
Sporting the battledress of the warrior queen.
Her eyes wide open.
She's unfurling black banners,
while spewing venom, at the blackened retching sky.
Midnight crisp approaches,
as she grabs the sullen one,
Smashes through his barriers,
She is the chosen one,
And she sings to him, provocatively, luring him in,
dashed onto gilded rocks,
For he too is the chosen one,
the son of sighs,
deliver me from death,
I beg,
oh so unholy one,
Once again, he smiles at her,
deliverance curtly,
through teeth ,
blackened by his spite,
As morning light breaks through the sky,
he stops and stoops and wonders why.
On hell and Earth, in spite of heaven,
Why did he bid goodbye to his wild warrior queen,
the royal one,
So regally attired in ebony black.
For you woman,
you seek only the sycophant,
Believe him not,
It's all a fake, a disguise behind which he hides,
Forget her not, she still wants you,
Wants to rip your **** in two,
no chance at forgiveness,
for making the lady blue,
You,
with the faces of loyal Gemini,
you state,
categorically state,
the woman, the one,
that woman,
And f**k, as inside you walk, right in again,
As inside you go again,
Here you go again, letting your passion, cause more pain.
(c) Livvi
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 5:15 PM UTC
Perhaps I should have known better, after all it is against the law to stalk a person, but I was overwhelmed with her. She danced so erotically and I couldn't take my eyes off her in the nightclub.
Her hair was raven black, with pale skin, blood red lips and a face that screamed perfection. Attired in a red leather jacket covering a skin-tight black dress that moulded the impeccable figure that lay beneath. I didn't intend to follow her. I just hovered behind her almost dragged along by her scent.
I watched as she entered the building and just couldn't help looking up as I saw the light in her flat illuminate the full length window. My mouth watered as she undressed provocatively, eyes glazed as she removed her clothes.
She undressed almost as if she was aware that I was watching and seemed content to continue with such entertainment. I could quite clearly see her clad in her bra and ******* suspenders and high heeled shoes. When she looked out of the window and beckoned me with her finger I nearly **** a brick but I was unable to stop myself from entering the building.
I do not remember walking up the stairs but it seems that I must have because I was soon standing opposite the open door, the entrance to her apartment. I followed the scent of this ***** like a dog on heat, led on by animal lust and entered the property. I didn't notice the door closing as I walked hypnotically up the hallway. Glimpses of leering faces from passageway doors never penetrated into my psyche as I continued. I was deaf to the footsteps that trailed behind me as I haplessly followed my desire.
I shivered with delight as I entered the room to my voluptuous temptress, watching in awe as she rhythmically seduced me with her sway. She danced around me like a tigress and I was thrilled to the core as she enveloped me in her arms. I was delirious with pleasure as she feasted on the blood that flowed through my arteries. So high was I with gratification that I wasn't even aware of her minions who had indulged themselves in this banquet, even though I was indeed the main course.
Now I am one of those minions. My first death has seen me walking alongside the vile, feeding on the stupidity and wantonness that is mankind.
Aug 28, 2014
Aug 28, 2014 at 1:05 PM UTC
I'd always loved the way your black hair touched the tip of your ears so barely,
and you'd brush it out of those big brown eyes that sparkled in the sun.
You may not have had the smile of a model,
but it was my favorite sight that I could think of.
And the way you touched me, not even provocatively,
but the way our fingers intertwined,
the way you'd put your hands on my face
or the back of my neck
when we kissed.
Oh my, you kissed like it was the only thing keeping you to this earth;
so addicting,
so refreshing;
so eager
yet so patient.
And maybe the thing I loved the most
was the way you would let me call you
Nickolas.
But that summer we spent was frozen over
and buried by the lovers you've had in your bed
since our times.
Drugs and *** became your passion,
while mine became crying in my room,
and burning my skin.
You shaved off your hair, your eyes are so dull.
She traces lines on your body that I once drew.
But I see the way you kiss her and it's not the same,
I remember the way you looked at me
the last time we talked.
The way you hugged me when I was on the verge of breaking down,
in the middle of the cafeteria.
Maybe our time together was not in vain,
maybe we'll be together,
in another life.
But then again I could be wrong, for when I called you Nickolas;
you flatly replied,
"It's Nick."
Oct 20, 2013
Oct 20, 2013 at 10:09 PM UTC