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Jimmy Bowman Feb 2013
I can see behind those rocks.
Beyond the solid facade.
They don’t fool me.
You’re eroding day by day.

You may beat scissors,
but remember I've got paper.
Deep within the rock pool
there lies a spectrum.
Lazhar Bouazzi Jun 2018
A mock pack of sea dogs
Lay on the hot, white shore;
Their wrinkles said
They'd been too long
In the sea.
Next to them dozed a tyrian crab
Whose sleep in a foot-trace deep
Commenced to crumble
In the green rumble
Of a lecherous tide.

Then a dark, awkward sound  
(Not too far from the drowsing crab)
Was heard.
He came forth from the mountain
To sun himself on the shore
And send the frightened rocks  
Back to the deep.

(c) LazharBouazzi, 11 June, 2018
Lazhar Bouazzi Apr 2018
As I look back into my life
I think to myself:

"I sped when I was a boy. I sped
To out-distance time."

But now when I look at the dark-green rocks
In my neighborhood, by the trembling docks,

I say to the rocks: "I go, you stay.
You stay for the winds to breathe upon thee."

(c) LazharBouazzi
Lizzy Nov 2016
i know what my problem is,
what my problem has always been.
i hate myself
in every way possible.

i hate the way i look
but thats just the surface.
i hate the way i think
and feel the most.

my mind twists everything
into an unrecognizable image
and tells me that this is the way
things are and have to be.

and i feel with such despair
that my heart renders
my mind useless
in the face of fear.

i can't talk myself
out of a panic
because my heart is so loud
that reason is lost in the sound.

so i hide my heart
and my mind
and i do what i can
about the way i look.

but it's not as easy
when my heart
and mind demand to be heard
when my composure
wears off at night.

then i turn into
the pathetic disaster
i've always been.
the mess of a person
that i've kept hidden.

and believe me,
i want to change.
because i know
that asking someone to love me
the way i am
is far too great a task.

who could look at a person
that screams curses
at the mirror with such relentless
sadness and hate
and decide to love them?
well i was hoping you could.

i don't know if that's
too much to ask,
for someone so beautiful
to love such a mess.

am i way
out of line
to wish that you
would hold me and tell me
that everything is fine?

should i leave such desires
for daydreams and poetry?
because my stupid heart
wants me to beg you
to stay and love me.
September Roses Jul 2018
Sit back and relax
Feel the waves wash over your back
In the melting sun
Looking at the clouds reflecting all the pinks and blues
Over the blooming hill, echoing white noise of chirps and crickets

Listen to the trickling of the slow water over the smooth rocks
Feel a warm wind brush your face
With your eyes closed
Enjoying the radiating warmth
And the soothing crackling of a log fire

Or sit and admire the shimmering spray
Of a waterfall smoothly crashing into the water of a sky kissed lake
Sunlight dancing through the vapor
Rainbows jumping through every droplet

Listen to the pitter patter of the rain, against a tin roof
Inside a warm cabin
Drifting to sleep
Soon to wake to the song birds chorus
And the blissful sun

Bask in it
And relax
zebra Nov 2017
rocks don't care
all stubble and stones
a difficult geometry
so if they don't fit
they are hammered
and
crushed to rubble
jammed together to make virile walls
and if stabbed with swords
care not about
torn bellies and broken necks
soaking them crimson rust
or drowned nautilus
beneath the sea

humans
have futility in common with rocks
except that everything
girds and gnaws
at their belligerent sensitivity

all clouded soft towers
bi-pedal mortal spires
with tender flesh
beaten into place
lacerated
truncated amputees
to fit the outer life
of status and statues
a scandal to the inner coves of self

I'm envious of rocks
except for moments of
shifting watery kisses
clamorous for love

we remain
disfigured terrains
hunters of souls balmy unguents
while
fluctious immolating moons
unravel
in a hidden grieving

oh countenance of apathy
only to be more like you
a wilderness of stumps
and
dead rock gods

and our aspiration
indifference
our exit
the path of the renunciate
a penitence
feasting only on futility
and the vagaries of spirit
Umi Apr 2018
Silicate, emotionless sedimentary,
Darling, it is cold, doesn't care wheter it breaks or if it is swept away in a stream, cut into small pieces by the sharp rush of flowing water,
While it may hold no emotions, it can be the bringer of hope, bliss, happiness, sadness but also spite and envy, or a simple fulfilment,
Look at the wedding-rings, their stones on top to embellish beauty such as the insurance to be with the other through thick and thin,
Some diamonds are rough, but they are stronger than stones, if that is enough, harder and almost unbreakable, sorted in line moliculary,
When the kiss of death puts us to rest, a tombstone is the sad, cruel remembrence of a former life, sprouting blossoming and blooming, before returning to the soil it once had found its origin, its beginning,
I will try to be your wishing one, your shooting star, racing through the glory of the starlit nightsky to catch a moment of your passion,
Burning up within the atmosphere of your warm embrace, dearest.
Drawn by your gravitational impact on me, I will be your comet, returning to you each day without burning away as rapid as a meteor.
Darling, alike a blazing Sun you make me melt.

~ Umi
I am sorry for these love poems, I can't help it sometimes <3
Mohamed Nasir Feb 2018
There's a flower in between the rocks
Undesireable unless one seek the flower
In cravices in the shadows of ***** towers
Procure trade on whims of nameless men
Openly or in disguise she thrives due to
Demands, in decadence of her world
The underworld enslave her soul
Like the geisha in *******
Decries a social stigma
Imposing upon her
Remove her off
The streets if
you will
But
She
Will
Come
Back sprouting
Amongst people and rocks
Enticing yet perceived as weeds still.
Marta C Weeks May 2017
Some need rocks
To rest bigotry upon
Look down, feel taller
Or throw at others

Others have no guts
Camp on smiles
Feed on indifference
Rivers of promise
Golden tomorrows

Our country is burning
With horror and loss
Buried in traditions hides
Pits of immorality
Walls of racism

Halls filled with assets
Sit in miles of doubt
On hills of sorrow
Growing with fear

Brother, clinging to fear
Differences and inequalities
Hidden from having
While some take all

Sister, must you hate
Wish to **** hope
Bleaching love with hate
In fear of loss

Driven to please
Hating race or creed
Feeding in lack
Altars of fanatical pride
As if there's no God

Walking shame to blame
Taking sides with captors
Tearing all apart
To make what's not

Life goes forward
Insecurity drains hearts
Feeds souls to saviors
With political lies
Trading guts for greed

Builders of distrust
Sell promises if the power
Hiding cruel minds
Open theirs to close ours

Where is forever in now
Convinced we had choices
Wanting more than not
Lost sight of beyond

Cages of greed
Built by pulpits of avarice
Filled by a Congress
Here now, gone tomorrow

Eternal is only the universe
One minute we are here
Without love, there's no power
And soon we die
Holiness lost

Revised 7/7/2019
[email protected]
(had one of those nights, into morning, when my mind spun words  instead of dreams)
Ashley Chapman Jul 2018
Pressesd tenderly,
your carnal flower opens,
its butterfly released,
hovers like a hummingbird
drinking from the bill.

Oh, I too would steal you away
and cage you happily,
to get under your black-fringed skirt; 
to see that pretty dress,
fly off once more,
and see you bare;
burned now forever in my banks,
a first sight,
of dark curls!

As I think of it,
my desire stirs,
but of us
I have already masturbated twice:
jammed,
hips pinned,
sliding over our wet perspiring bellies,
in our jungle heat:
'cause in the firmament of our embrace
- it's hot -
where glued we **** into each other,
stoking flames,
until sleep,
when we disappear from each other.
My mind crowds,
with niggling neurotic inanities;
yours with manic dreams where bed-wetting criminals in cages beg to be freed,
before better spaces overtake.

When I awake,
I am lying next to you,  
Gwen over the horizon of your fertile valley,
a mountain,
white and reposed.
You,
murmuring desire for me.
****!
I can't wait to answer.

It is late,
late morning,
and we are all half asleep.
You have your back to me,
as we lie,
rubbing feet,
stroking hands,
(the oiled bulb at the end of a finger),
your fine shoulders,
(that delicate but persistent bone in your wrist that stretches with pointed elegance);
as quietly inside,  
(warmly enveloped),
my couched *****,  
rocks us:
each diffusing into the other
like the early morning brew.

Lust and love,
closing-in,
which for a good while on edge had been:
the weeks,
days,
hours;
faint promises from afar;
sometimes a little closer,
our shadows in daylight cross,
as one over the other storms;
and once (or twice),
a sleeve brushes,
even better,
hair crackles,
as a speaking lip touches lobe,  
and for a moment,
taking in the other's scent,
a hint sublimely overpowers.

And these,
dearest of fancies,
are just some,
with which to penetrate your mind,
as you have mine:
the energy of my yielding tenderness,
inviting you to complete me,
as I spread for you with desire.

Much later,
those daring looks you have,
the way you walk our stage:
your beautiful elongated face,
those quick-fire arousing eyes,
your sultry self-assuredness,
your pre-possessing self.

I could talk about your couple,
of generosity,
reaching up,
beyond mere comprehension:
of the fact that I like Gwen
(his love gift for you, me);
but actually,
in truth,
I prefer to take this moment to make love to you;
to say how wrapped I am,
folded in your limbs,
in our mingling sweat;
how with your joy,
you touch my desires,
into yours,
so they flow,
run rather:
honeysuckle from your blessed nymphae.

You love my smell,
you say,
and I dream of gathering you in pheromones,
of drugging you,
of intoxicating you,
so once again you will find me,
take me,
have me.
Entice you once more like a creature from its shell:
Come!
where I can ravish you,
all of you,
lay naked to me,
flesh,
sinews,
everything,
your very bones;
those fine elbows,
those knees I would like to ******* over;
wash their smooth surfaces in my come:
from these cliff heights,
rain ***** on the rocks below.

To once more cast aside your socks and get at your toes,
to pour oil on 'em,
to rub and squeeze' em,
while in the moist cavern of your insides,
we ****,
half washed over by our own tide.
And as we do,
I quail,
speaking sweet nothings of appreciation;
from full lips,
your sounds return,
the hypnotic rhythm of your breath:
I engorge and in our labyrinth,
- the maiden and the bull -
we consume ourselves.

There,
Sweet Lentiform,
you did it,
you got me rolling in flesh,
lusting after your intimate parts,
wanting you in bed as I know you must have me:
pulling me on you,
kissing and biting;
my arousal in your palm,
pops,
as you run a curved finger over my nethers.

Lying,
lying,
side-by-side,
lying prone,
lying ******,
never unconsumed,
because,
please,
please us,
with more;
so rarely,
unfucked even for a pause,
nothing doing more than sleeping and carousing;
our sustenance barely enough to keep us at it,
an occasional comic thrown in.
Oh,
God,
throw the ******* comic at me,
will you?
Beat my ******* flesh with it if you like.
Anything to see you standing in all your pearly naked glory!

And if you can,
keep texting me,
so I can hang on your every word like a ******* puppy!
Beautiful
long-haired,
skin tight,
upright,
wise,
gorgeously wild,
woman ...
Now pull me by my **** into your **** -
where I love it best.
Allyssa Buenafe Oct 2018
I could tell you that I tip toe across the cold wet stones,
Careful with every movement,
But I’m not.
I’m unsteady,
Unsteady as the current rushing beneath me against the slippery rocks.
I could tell you that I’m dainty,
Soft spoken and polite,
But I’m not.
I’m brazen,
I’m honest,
I’m emotional.
I’m clumsy and I don’t have good balance on the moss beneath me in the water.
I crack under pressure,
I’m an anxiety filled vessel.
I hate to be the rain on your sunny day,
But baby I’m sorry,
I’m nothing but the girl who fell into the rushing waters below.
River
sunprincess Oct 2018
How do we save a country and every citizen?
Is there a big red button to rewind us back in time?
When life wasn't so complicated
When so many magicians didn't rule the land
Handing everyone rocks
and saying they're high quality diamonds
How to solve this ongoing problem
There must be a solution
Apathy Mar 2013
Starfish on the rocks
Buffeted by the ocean
They never let go.
jane taylor May 2016
precious innocent soul
skipping rocks
on cobblestone roads
vulnerable untarnished pure
no residue of earthly soil

return me to that naiveté
unburdened by layers
of fake masks
and perfect capped teeth
in narcissistic societies

but I shan’t grasp
at ethereal edges
of nebulousness
and ephemeral
innocence

i shall endure
what I abhor
a master’s soul
cannot be forged
in paradise

wisdom’s essence
‘tis not pristine white
hints of ivory
tinge the effervescence
of the sage’s breath

©2016janetaylor
King Panda Aug 2017
my hands swelled
blue and purple

to match the
glassy doe-eyed

stagnancy.
I saw a pair

of cocoa
moon rocks

heavy with
music and a

queen bee trapped
in a flash

of departure.  
mine and yours

one in the same
corpulent and

greased trembling
at the lips.
Lizzy Apr 2015
I say I live as a burden,
My mouth sealed shut.
So that I may not utter the words,
Of my weighted thoughts.

These truths weigh a ton,
And I've far too many for just one head.
For even mine.
My head bobs to my shoulder,
Weakened necks can't hold this.

Now I'm shaking,
Trembling.
Because I gave you the rocks,
The stones that broke my neck.
And you are fading,
Drifting all at once.

Give me your boulders,
And we will be even.
Give me your mountains,
So I can rest easy.

My burdenous brain
Broken neck
Heavy thoughts

I never meant to break your neck too
BEK Nov 2018
I was like a third grader on Show and Tell day with a boring rock collection
Although it took me years to create
And much resiliency through countless voyages
I had no intention of having it on display

But you were there
A rare and unique beauty
For you, my show went on and on
I displayed parts of me, piece by piece, by piece
Hiding nothing away

"This is from the time I sat on the beach and let the waves form me."
"This is from the time I was boiling hot and shot out of the earth."
You politely asked questions at first
An "ooh" and "ah" here and there
You're kind in that way

"This is from the time I surrounded myself with lots of other broken rocks for far too long."
"These are my remains from the time I jumped off a cliff."
I forgot to practice good showmanship
Leave them wanting more
I thought, maybe if I go on, you'll stay

"This is from the time I was under enormous heat and pressure."
"This is from the time I stumbled down a gigantic mountain."
I was consumed by the hope of captivating you
Maybe there was at least one noticeable rock in my bucket
Or perhaps a chance that I have quite an impressive array

I regained my senses
The clouds of hope that had muddled my view had now cleared
I noticed I ran out of "cool" rocks
Or maybe I never had any
I realized that I lost your attention long ago anyway

You were preoccupied with thinking about how cool the magician that came before me was
I thought, "Pleh, how cool is creating illusions and disappearing just to reappear in a box somewhere in another room or making you jump through flaming hoops?"
Or maybe you were anxiously awaiting the Show and Tell Grand Finale
The kid with the adorable puppy
I guess I really can't say

I decided to end my show with a bucket full of unseen rocks
I walked back to my desk shoulders slouched
Head slumped, level with the creaky old floor
I made a wish for the magician to return to thrill you with endless spellbinding tricks
Or maybe you'd be able to go home with the kid with the puppy
How cool is geology anyway?
Steve Page Jul 2018
I've been ceaselessly sweating since June
And without fail every day around noon
My arm pits are sopping
My ****** are sodden
I feel about ready to swoon

It’s been glorious weather since June
I’m not sure if you’d think it too soon
But top up the icebox
For Pimm’s on the rocks
And celebrate all afternoon
TOO HOT!  or  JUST RIGHT!
a rise of debris
gestures in a fallout
created with a swing
smash and crush
pebbles scraping
gravel spilling free
clinging dust
bruises and cuts
pause to breath
the loyal winds
toss about scatters
letters of hope
words etched in stone
cement rows of sorrow
beg and borrow
the weight of belief
a place of need
raises high
and falls again
forward and back
the click and clack
pebbles to stones
rubble to ash
cinders of past
a shadows leap
wake sandy bones
dusty faces beneath
holding dearly departed
pressing a burden
angles to gravity
provoke
the weight of a hammer


Terry D'Arcy-Ryan
Anya Sep 2018
Sometimes,
I feel like a little ant
Scrambling
To find purchase on the rock
Known as my mind
m h John Sep 29
after climbing onto the rocks
and to the top of the cliff
he feared now not
feeling the comfort
of the whirlpool
because while standing
above the sea
he found new meaning in life
now that he realized
he is free
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