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Shofi Ahmed Dec 2017
Every star across the seven skies
wishes to kiss it is a gold dust.

Not to mention the Moon in the centre
waning and waxing in the open and in secret
keeps unleashing longing to rub
this non-sublunary piece on its forehead.

She knows only then the rough seas beneath
her will calm down in the soft raining moonlight
rubbing off such a lucky blossomed forehead.

Oh, if only scarcely they could ever see it
the galaxies since their inceptions longing for it.
The bliss of the eyes tucked away from the scene
Paradise lies beneath the mother’s feet!

The mother is fast is for all and is down to earth
She, the mother Fathima descended down
from up above the heaven that pivotal frontier
only all the prophets’ Prophet has seen.
Then was no Adam nor Eve or Jibreel!

Paradise finds its core with its resonant lore
in the shadow of the original feminine Fathima
the immortal hotspot the original matter explored.
Paradise lived and breathe beneath her
but she touched down at the heart of the earth
without stepping or touching on paradise
only to give away her stake to others!
No land she would take on her way back indeed
Not in her name, know where Fathima’s grave is?
When people visit Islamic holy city Medina they look for the grave of the holy lady Fathima. It has been the tradition since her death some fourteen hundred years ago. There are two graves where she is buried but which one is her is still unknown It's been said that she preferred her grave to remain unidentified.
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.
Rebecca Wolohan Jun 2015
His hands are long,
calloused and inviting.
Scars tell stories,
scattered
across his knuckles.

He has one hand cradled in the other,
tapping and rubbing
his palm
with his fingers.

His mind is a jungle:
heavy, sticky, lush,
challenging to navigate,
surrounded by undecayed green
and unobstructed sea.

“Are you anxious?”
His hands are moving rapidly,
yellow parrotbills
flitting in and out of the tall tree trunks
and violet, epiphytic orchids of his mind.

Turning to face me,
he stretches his lips into a smile.
He assures me that he is fine,
but he doesn’t see any birds.
emily mikkelsen Apr 2017
between the concrete river
& the park where the bums share a bottle
wrapped in a brown paper sack,

there is a cul-de-sac of plastic houses
holding hands & sharing manicured lawns
wooden cars that don't even make any smoke
drive down gray asphalt streets.

fathers that tell mothers they have jobs
wear down street corners sharing beers with the bums,
like they already are one.

all these paper families rubbing shoulders
until everyone has paper cuts.
going home to dinner around a table full of paper love.

suburbia is flimsy
paper towns shining white
smiling neighbors & shared lawns
paper people slowly falling apart.

couples with their tongues down each other's throats,
midnight in supermarket parking lots
dribbling beer in the backseat
they bought off the bums.  

they say,
I love you, I love you, I love you.
until she leaves for a paper husband
& he leaves for a paper wife.

now they live on two separate cul-de-sacs
with the same cutout love,
as the parents they despised.

& when they have kids one day
they will tell them
never kiss before driving,
never befriend bums,
or guzzle cheap beer in backseats,
or on park swings.
& never settle for a paper husband
or a paper wife.


remembering the love
that was flimsy,
but never paper.

100,000 miles away from where they grew up
& 3,000 miles away from each other
3 kids each & plastic houses
rubbing shoulders & sharing lawns

living in a paper thin suberbia
chafing under their paper love.
inspired by "Paper Towns" by John Green
Hg Aug 2018
i’m friends with a chemist
she always got a flask

now she got a heartache
and a faded henna tat

lately i’ve been lonely
and she’s been really sad

so we took to the roof
we took the ***** threw it back

her finger has a tan line
but we don’t mention it

i can’t hold down my liquor
or my laughter so i spit

she chugs like it’s water
she’s got those russian genes

the only thing i got in blood
are zits and heart disease

the sips leaks out her lips
like cracks within a dam

some drip onto her wrists
rubbing the henna off her hand

i make a drunk comment
on her spiral designs

she says they’re meant to bring
good luck and blessings to the bride

and then she paused the night
by tightening her lips

our feet dangled in silence
hanging off the tiled edge

till suddenly she cracked
her bottled up emotions

poured out what she feels
the wasted years of her devotion

**** love dude, she whispered
**** weddings and white dresses

let him go and **** all of
those delta gamma *******

she looked down at the ground
as a crack of thunder rolled

wiped away her tear and said
love’s just a chemical

she handed me her flask
and i took the final swig

sunset almost ended when
a thought rained on my head

if love’s a chemical
and that’s all it’s ever been

our bodies are just flasks
and love’s just a reaction
©Hg
ryn Sep 2014
Elephant in the room*, shoo the hell away!
Don't stick around; I wish you wouldn't stay

Don't mess with my head, inciting all I feel
I don't need you here, I want to heal

Stop blaring in my ears, your noxious lies
I'm sick to the stomach with my pathetic cries

Resist flapping your gigantic ears
They simply just fan the rage in my tears

Quit blocking my view with your sheer enormity
Get out of my thoughts so better I could see

Halt your incessant skin rubbing against my sores
Chafing me raw on top of my existing scores

Pull out your pointy tusks, they poke and jab
I'm bent in many places; I don't need more stabs

Take your infernal rear out of my face!
I'm self-destructing, counting up the days

Cease your retaliation, leave with no protest
Go find and sit yourself in someone else's nest

Drop your intentions to stomp me broken
I'm mangled enough; almost misshapen

End this mindless rampage...please
Let me iron myself straight, in peace...

Dear elephant, have you gone?
Thank you for the blight of my time, you've spawned
Robert G Page Aug 2013
By
rgpage

The cool evening breeze filled with a scent of approaching rain.
Caught by playful window shears
as it passes through an open pane, to reach their  
length and breadth toward the waiting bed.

He was a lover of music and his woman,
a passionate man with a sensitive heart.
She was in love with the melodic way  
his gentle fingers moved with sensual touch
over her soft silk like skin of art.

He started gently around her ears softly prying
them open with the quiet richness of her melodies.
Each note of his gentle kisses leading her to a sensual abyss,
easing her down from the edge, controlling her descent, to her goal.
Down the swirling dark and light blends of the music rendered from her soul.

She was his instrument on which he placed
his soft loving fingers, moving them effortlessly,
caressing her most sensual delicate keys…Each body part
smoothly rubbed added richness to her sensual sound driven by lust
and loving trust.  

Her ******* he fondled, licking and kissing, squeezing and rubbing.
Silently giving thanks, to her creator for such an amazing instrument.
Both of her hands with long slender fingers tangled in the long dark locks
of his hair as she eases her maestro’s head up tighter against her soft
beautiful mounds.

The loving melody continues with his touch now joined with the sound
of raindrops splashing into uncovered metal buckets and cans. The drops
carried on the breeze through the playful dancing shears came through the other end as nothing more than refreshing cooling mist.

Her body was his loving piano, and as with the 88 keys of his magnificent
Baldwin, the sensual areas of her equally magnificent body, when properly stroked,  filled not  only the bedroom but the whole house with the most glorious ****** notes known to man.  

After a while the symphonic ****** builds as he masterfully impales her with his instrument of love coming into constant contact with the one special key of keys. Its special sound as his strokes came harder and faster brought the whole master piece to a beautiful melodic end as the two lovers bath in the rain’s gentle mist…
Luna Apr 2019
I'm feeling pretty *****.
Or maybe I'm just desperate for an intimate relationship
And I fantasize about sensuality
because I crave the passionate love between two human beings
And I fantasize about skin rubbing skin
the sweat dripping between them
The mixing of two souls and the conjunction of two bodies
The beautiful slopes and curves of her figure
slowly caressing mine
The soft whispers of love that brush against my ear
And trail kisses down my neck
Her soft gasp as I trail my fingers up her thigh
my other hand grasping the back of her head, threading my fingers through her hair
Pulling her closer, ever closer
Her nails digging into my back
Leaving stinging red marks to remind me of her
when I leave for work in the morning
touching the scratches, I'll remember her
In the afterglow
Her arm around me, our legs tangled together
Her hair curled wild around her face
"I love you"
she whispers
Giving me a tender peck on the lips
Before blissfully surrendering to exhaustion
I watch her chest rise and fall
Her soft breathing lulls me to sleep
I'll smile when I think of her
Because I'll remember her words
"I love you"
They'll ring through my mind
"I love you"
Following me wherever I go
"I love you"
Lighting the candle in my heart
The flame growing brighter and brighter with each hushed word
"I love you"

or maybe I'm just *****.
Robert G Page Jun 2012
by
rgpage

outside the walls a cold wind howls
in the dark of a wintry night.
yet in their bed so soft and warm
a young couple's fancy takes flight.

fresh candle light flickers in challenge
to the outside winter's cold bluster.
yet safe in their place they lend a soft grace
to light up the lover's growing luster.

under warm blankets naked bodies entwine
she's backed in to outline his form.
his free hand parts her raven black hair
his lips track her neck....his breath warm.

her whole body shutters as his hand softly traces
her side from shoulder to knees.
his kiss' grow hot between shoulder and neck
for more her breath sweetly pleads.

his hand travels back and stops at her rear
caressing her flesh firm and slow.
her hips gently roll into every firm squeeze
starting nature's hot juices to flow.

again on the move his hand travels up
past tummy so soft to her *******.
while each one he fondles and cupping its weight
his hips grinding soft in the quest.

outside the wind's howl has grown to a roar
yet inside the light slowly wanes.
with bodies so hot blankets kicked to the floor
wrapped up in love's rapture gains.

now facing each other they give to each other
their gentle and sweet surrender.
a play ground of lust yet filled with love's trust
and touching so firm yet so tender.

she reaches her hands out to stroke his desire
so hard yet so smooth to her touch.
and likewise he bends in to suckle her *******
hands rubbing her hips full and lush.

as is natures way there's time in love's play
when exploring and pleasure must grow.
spreading her limbs to let him pass in
she shudders with love's natural glow.

gentle and tender yet rhythmic his strokes
the room fills with sounds of their pleasure.
their hips rise and fall in love's intimate dance
this dance, love's most ultimate measure.

faster and harder they urge one another
as closer to ****** they gain.
kissing and rubbing expressing their love
'til euphorically numb they became.

out side the winter storm rages
a most punishing wind at play.
yet lying inside in each other's arms
our  lovers drift off and away…

Dec 4, 2011
Tammy M Darby Nov 2016
Crept in sinister and foreboding
Announcing their warnings in silent contrails of clotted red
Though the signs were not heeded
The impending extinction civilization was to face
From this reality humans turned their eyes away

The war was soon in coming
The blood parasites set their war machines humming
Singing songs of death and gold coins
Rubbing their hands with mad glee
As death profiteers cackled and rejoiced
Veiled widows sobbed quietly resigned and forlorn

Black strangling stench of rotting bodies and lies
The look of defeat in helpless glazed eyes
Tears running down accepting streaked faces
The sounds of fading souls and lost dreams
The screams of the dying lessened and eventually ceased

When Crimson skies in the morning
Crept in sinister and foreboding



All Rights [email protected] Tammy M. Darby Nov. 28, 2016
jeremy wyatt Mar 2011
Poor wee cat lost in the dirt
trodden on when wee and hurt
lived on worms and ***** things
insects crawlies all with wings
you fell lucky furry boy
found a family full of joy
hunted you until they won
took you in for love and fun
now you weigh a lot of pounds
your belly drags along the ground
but such a baby you're so sweet
rubbing all around our feet
"Dry me off then put some food
in my dish please don't be rude!"
I have to say that in my mind
a cuter moggie can't be found
If am born next as a cat
I'll be like Wilson soft and fat!
xavier thomas Nov 2019
Rubbing your shoulders
While stroking your curly hair,
Your cherry kiwi scent
has me walking on thin air.
I softly push up against you,
The sweet melanin skin
Letting you feel me as I feel you
As a chuckle comes out and I begin to grin.
Happy to be your Companion
My life, my half, my best friend.
Because love tonight has been delightful
I don’t want this to end
story about a couple going to the park + 5 senses of the human body
Francie Lynch Sep 2019
Its commensal, at best,
This house fly of a guest;
Who frequents your home,
Alits on a chair,
Rubbing its hands together.
It shows no regrets,
Feeding, slurping and buzzing,
With a self-made bequest.
I can tolerate a bar fly;
A barn fly, a sty fly;
But,
I've the bottle fly,
That plunders my fridge,
Swarms over my beer
Like a blood-thirsty midge.
He's a house fly,
And ignorant,
So fly paper won't do.
I need a SWAT team to shoo
This house fly adieu.
Do you have a house fly?
Chloë Fuller Oct 2016
i've shut down
like a factory building typewriters or VCRs
you left a rotten tingling in my mouth
pepper-flavored rubbing alcohol
slap me like you check yourself out in the mirror
maybe that will set my brain back into motion
sparks and blue soda
i gave you too many chances to ruin my life
bald spots on my head
lungs black because you made me start smoking again
turn around
the back of your head is the only part that doesn't make me cry anymore
and yet it still does
build me up like legos and take me apart piece by piece
we had brooklyn and bagels and trains and hangovers and sheets
religious conversion was avoided
i just realized how unhappy i was with you
all of you
all of what you gave me
which was nothing
taker.
taker.
Harley Oliver Mar 2014
the pain that i feel
is no where matched,
to the love that you give
the soft touch of your fingers
running over my body
is like rubbing silk on satin
the feel of your hair
makes mine stand on end
and the touch of your lips
makes my heart stop within
one more second is all i ask
if i could turn back time
i'd do it again
every moment, every tick
of the never ending clock
cause every time that hand moved
i was falling in love with you
Neo Aug 2018
The other night
I spent all of my tears & paid all my prayers,
I had hoped it would end it all.

My pillows
cashed in the huge streaming check
from every drop my eyes spilled.
My blanket held me down
while both thought took turns
throwing hard punches & kicks
at every square-inch on my body.

Then
my bones crunched
with every attempt
to fully drain the hope-
-ful air in my lungs.
I could only lay there.
Twitching out breathless cries,
rubbing blood out of my eyes
& taking it all in for the whole night.

The following day
I brought these thugs to work  
but no one else seemed to notice.
My doctor tried to numb me with pills,
& I must admit
although they did work at giving it all the cold shoulder,
it didn't take long
before I struggled to use my shoulder
With their knives & spears steaked into my skin.

Every night now, I sleep to their stories
& their bullying,
eyes-wide,
cut-throat,
focused on breathing all night.
I thought I could fake my way through it all
but now
these noices have started making sense
& I
don't know why I'm breathing anymore.
Jade Charlotte Nov 2018
I am a sensitive creature
A body of water
I swell
    I sink
My bones clammer
    clink

    I glug herbal concoctions of bourbon and chamomile

Lillies like stars float upon a still lake
    Whispers of the wind cause the surface to ripple

Darling
    I'm going for a walk with the night
I will be back in a little

    Remnants of honey comb crackle beneath my boots
Honey seeps through my fingers

    The sun rolls across mountains that protrude from the land like gods

Sweet and sticky

    6am Tonatiuh lights his orb by rubbing two sticks together rigorously
The most intense of fiery friction

    Wrapped tightly in a wool shawl
A coyote at my ankles
    I turn white
        To light
             To air

Everything becomes nothing and if you look closely you'll find anything everywhere.
Enia Dec 2018
Accumulated dust on the window pane,
left unclean for a seasonal detain.
You swing out the casement,
powder clouded the air,
But you don't care.
Instead, you lean out,
your face caressed by the outside breeze,
tousling your hair.
Sun rays landed on the cheek, 
shadows on the crease.
You try to breathe.
Your eyes squint, 
the dust might have been.
But,
some blurry
distinct entities
of love, pain,
hate and shame
comes running down your cheeks.

Rubbing incessantly, 
      blaming the wind.
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