"saltiness" poems
He wants to
lather his tongue
in her saltiness
his lips caressing
her silky smooth crevice
tip of his tongue piercing her surface
parting her lips of tenderness
the haze turns to a mist
her fate sealed with a kiss
picture the moment
picture perfect
destination pleasure
reaching a ******
given like a gift
and served with a twist
of satisfaction
your imagination
you must enlist
May 9, 2018
May 9, 2018 at 12:33 AM UTC
Connection
An indescribable fragment of life
A journey of finding ones split soul
To cherish and hold
And stain eahothers lips
To bruise eachothers hips
Dance under the glittering moon
Glittering just as heaven
No space,
just bones entwined amongst one another for no gap to be our solace.
Delight filling our stomachs
soft as mellow harmony
the saltiness of the ancient seas
For the warmth of love
And the love of warmth
As I touch your inner workings
I watch your powerful soul become tender
The symphonies sing
A bond of friendship, one so tenacious as vine
Our joy
In one another
For our love to last as long as the tides
We are forever a connection within us.
Our connection as sacred as the stars.
Always
Jun 8, 2015
Jun 8, 2015 at 7:07 AM UTC
as days have past
and so have mine
the climate, changed
and the weather, gone
Nevermore
will i expect
greatness from my own.
as a sea that had lost its saltiness
and as skies earn faded stars
as an old print fades away
and as a tree that shed its leaves
Nevermore
will i expect for you to come,
as for me to wait
the **** has gone,
and the judge has come
to wreak havoc upon my life
but to bring
understanding
to my restless soul.
Mar 27, 2015
Mar 27, 2015 at 9:43 PM UTC
Though you've barely had a ramble
are no wayward canine daddy of note
that brief encounter in our brambles
has left the experts fearing a cancerous growth
So we starve you of your pine nuts and bacon rinds
so we can feed you anaesthetic
and betray you to the thief of time
only to make you, I imagine, feel pathetic
And you often so full of life's exasperate scurry
I worry
will the shine stray from your eyes
those hazel pools of so much of
my feeling mature, just for
pertaining to a creature's care
we all seem in too much of a hurry
to stifle what little spirit
that surrounds us
to wear
down on every minor aspect
of childish delight
in this silent sacrament
of the aging process
and with arguably years
of your fatherhood left
in the very ***** some dry eyed savant
decides it correct we should tamper with
Tomorrow I will snuggle you in favoured, bouncy eiderdowns
that will blanket your unknowing
and treat you as if
you were an eastering child
on cured hams and other saltiness
after you awaken
from those strangest enforcements of sleep
and through our eyes we will trade more secrets to keep
And we will hope, as we only can, that it was for the best
For you, Yorkshire's son, or Sheringham's
And consider with all of your
exhuming breath
That we meddled, stilling over life
To cheat a slightly delayed death.
Apr 11, 2017
Apr 11, 2017 at 5:29 PM UTC
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."
Jul 26, 2013
Jul 26, 2013 at 1:59 PM UTC
Lust
One of those words that turns you
Grabs likes and causes comments
Lustful
Lingering upon lust
Requires courage for we can be trapped
Inside her endless taunting and tasting
Saltiness of you while waves crashing
Cause us to linger...lost
In the luscious luxury of you
Lust...
Shhhhhh...
We dare not speak your other names
***
Passion
Pleasure
Self satisfaction
Sultry sensuous
Luxurious lust...
Sep 30, 2014
Sep 30, 2014 at 5:09 PM UTC
deli meats and cheeses
i look past them at soft crinkling smiling faces
and i drink my java
warms up my hands and ******* and i sweat
in my coat
walking up and down the isles
I see trail mix
and sunchips
and sweet sweet sweets
the yummies
that i adore
chocolates
especially
dark chocolate cocoa orange cherry strawberry berry red brown
it's the sweetness and saltiness
of summer time ice cream
It's the cold crispness
of carrots and snap peas
It's the warmth and comfort
of big muffins and a plate of hashbrowns
at Perkin's
after a stressful morning
spice smells
of pad tai noodles
sourdough bread, fresh baked
crunch crunch on the outside
soft hot squish
inside
(save that part for me, i eat them separate
-you laugh)
how many times did we
laugh
about how you ate that bug
and we were never picky
*cherries
all those cherries.*
we ate nutella
on bread,
washed it down with cold organic orange juice
from a cafe neither of us had ever heard of
and tofu
tofu tofu
always cooked perfectly (we wondered how they do it)
(i still don't know)
chocolate, melting slowly
"you missed some."
-------just an excuse to kiss me.
i giggle
peanut m&m;'s
turn my tongue colors.
Watermelon at a potluck
wedding cake
cheesy potatoes
and an extra helping of bread
(we laughed so hard at the white bread, squished into a cube)
ruby red
made you wince
I drink it straight from the bottle
and smile
remembering every kiss
that tasted of grapefruit
in that tent
every kiss that tasted of salt
from the eggs?
or from the sweat on your lips
the sweat on your lips.
we kiss more
i smile into your lips
i remember that, especially
we never got sick of each other
nutella on everything, now.
especially on s'mores
i smile with every memory
i put my hands in pockets, the cold rushes to meet my face
in the ice cream aisle
i cool down as i graze
through the tubs or corn syrup and double churned triple churned
cream with extra fudge
sherbet
i chuckle to myself
memories memories
of sitting up high
with you,
sand on our toes
chocolate caramel fudge coffee
on our tongues
love
in our hearts
you remember.
the taste of that summer
Nov 9, 2011
Nov 9, 2011 at 8:12 PM UTC
Touch me, I am fragile but I know I will not break. If you look at me long enough your eyes will start to water based on the saltiness of my skin because of the sea's I've swam to get to the place I'm in now. Open, closed, I've ran back and forth a hundred times, I am the weakest link and the leader of the group. If you sawed me in half you'd see three things: my barely pumping heart, a toxic amount of love, and a will to survive.
Touch me, but be gentle, because although I learnt to withstand even the deadliest of summer heat your cold heart isn't something my body is used too. Close your eyes, count to ten, am I on your mind? No. Throw me into the ocean. I'm no use to you then. It's cloudy but it doesn't rain, mid 70's but no humidity, my heart is sore, but I'm breathing. Oh god, I don't know how, but I will continue.
Touch me, be rough, ***** make it a melody and prove to me all I'm missing out on by not being enough for you. Afterward, I want a list of ten things I can change so that I will be enough for you. Make it a hundred if you have too, I just want to be enough for you. Staple it to my forehead, toss me in the ocean. I'm not here for your approval, only my own, and I don't think I'll be content in who I am until I'm something you think is worthwhile. Push me on the ground and kick me as hard as you can, make this pale skin your canvas, I want bruises and blood, six broken bones and a concussion to match. Make me hate you. Babe, all I've got is love.
Touch me, one last time, but don't let go until the end of this lifetime. This love became a competition long ago, and boy do I love to win. Tonight the universe spoke to me and it told me here is where I need to be, and I think it wants me to fight. Put on your armor, give me some weapons, I'm here for the long haul and I'm taking every prisoner I can. Touch me because I am weak and I need to learn to be strong so I can withstand this, 'cause baby this love feels like seeing a doctor coming towards you with a needle the size of your head, "oh don't worry sweetie this will only hurt a tad", ******** I still felt it a week after. But this one, **** I'll be lucky if it doesn't still sting in a year...
Touch me, please. I'm begging you. I need to feel alive, but you've been suffocating me and my heavy heart. How am I supposed to survive when loving you feels like death?
Nov 8, 2014
Nov 8, 2014 at 4:01 AM UTC
People who live by the sea
understand eternity.
They copy the curves of the waves,
their hearts beat with the tides,
& the saltiness of their blood
corresponds with the sea.
They know that the house of flesh
is only a sandcastle
built on the shore,
that skin breaks
under the waves
like sand under the soles
of the first walker on the beach
when the tide recedes.
Each of us walks there once,
watching the bubbles
rise up through the sand
like ascending souls,
tracing the line of the foam,
drawing our index fingers
along the horizon
pointing home.
4k
this swirling roaring wind that blows homeward from the sea
saltiness with eucalyptus blending in twisting my fear
the knots in my chest and stomach entangling
deadly mocktail of emotions surging
with every howling whoosh
a new green life falls breaking
life prematurely ending
storm violently shaking
every limb of every tree
an attempt to blow anxiety
into each living breath
a drenched vision
of a couple of crows
seemingly meditating
in the midst of the tempest
holding their own
***in the eye
of the storm
they find
Peace***
- Vijayalakshmi Harish
01.11.2012
Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
Nov 1, 2012
Nov 1, 2012 at 1:08 AM UTC
Screeeeeeeechhh!
Thud!
Silence!
Hearts stopped
Faces turned
Jaws dropped
Prayers began
He left his assembled bricks and wood and furniture
and ran
ran towards the sunset
with nothing
but his silhouette following him
even years later
it felt like yesterday
possessed
he ran as fast as he could
Prayers began
blurry shapes hoarded around the car
his eyes refused to close
against the horror
of what lay beside
his high crushed
into water
his delusion failed him
his brain froze
He ran as fast as he could
to the beach
wanting to walk into the water
wanting to stop breathing
seeking unfathomable peace
that final peace
His brain froze
get out of the car
people shouted
was a life lost
he didn’t dare to find out
he just wanted
a few seconds back
just a few
seconds
back
please
That final peace
eluded him
waves silenced
by his cornucopia of emotions
his eyes now refused to open
the saltiness of the beach
was overcome
by tears
that flowed in secrecy
inflaming everything within reach
embracing his cheeks
toying with his lips
Please
callanambulance
sheisbleeding
somebody
tieyourshirtaroundherbleedinghead
isittoolate
is it too late
Toying with his lips
tears turning into questions
could I ever forgive myself
his sobbing heart
didn't acknowledge the question
it just faded
he lived
with himself
he died within
Is it too late
his wife asked
holding his hands
breathing heavily
her eyes averred
every moment that they shared
their feuds
their make ups
their teasing
their loving
her eyes were done speaking
and now they rested
He died within
wailing like a baby
he slept there
with parched eyes
reminiscing her parting words
etched in his heart
etched so deep
that it bled internally
bled and ached
to release a shriek through muteness
muteness, deafening
deafening his emotions
making them oblivious to his existence
his fists clenching
the vacuum of solitude
the moon and waves began their tango
and the water rose
higher and higher
embracing him within
maimed to be saved
releasing a gushing hymn
for she was now deemed
forever with him.
Jul 28, 2012
Jul 28, 2012 at 11:38 AM UTC
The Sailor Who Went Down
There's a frown on the sailor's face,
Who lost the sight of shore,
He knew how drowning felt,
Though he never swam before.
In a distance far too far,
He saw a faintly shimmering light,
He found the lighthouse to lead him home,
Or an old trick by his head, played through his eyes?
The saltiness of the water,
Mixed with the one in his eyes,
With bones melting and heart pumping,
For a brief moment, he was alive.
The mist however made him lose his sight,
But he would just wait for the light to shine,
He lost it way too many times,
Once more, I promise and I'd never look back.
The starry night granted him a wish,
"Let me see my salvation one more time"
But some wishes they never go through,
The sailor never saw the light.
Old and drunk the sailor thinks about the shore,
The warmth of the sun felt like her breath,
He gets kissed on the cheeks by the waves,
Playing with the sand like his lovers hair.
But as the storm came crashing in,
Cold water stabbed him multiple times,
The sailor who never swam before,
Was drowning once more.
Jan 11, 2016
Jan 11, 2016 at 1:47 PM UTC
you are so underrated.
It's all my mistake for not making you my inspiration to write.
It's all me, who holds back and keep all those little confessions for my thought.
you are so underrated.
For you were my muse, long before we started all these.
& I'm sorry for neglecting all the poetry,
that were meant for you..
Holding all the words,
Just because I'm just too afraid to write again.
you are so underrated.
Despite the fact
you are everything that what I need.
I never make things so easy for you.
Yet, you are still here.
& making it seems so easy to love me.
It needs me almost a year for me to finally say;
"I love you" back to you
Yet, in the moment when I remain silent,
you will still say "I love you" to me.
I'm a cynic.
Yet, you still hug me
& laugh at my saltiness.
you take me as I am.
It takes you a year before I finally stood up,
& kiss you.
Yet, you still want me the same, consistently,
everyday.
Feb 3, 2019
Feb 3, 2019 at 10:22 AM UTC
I love them,
They don’t love me.
Why would they?
They’re hot,
Juicy,
And delicious,
And I’m just…
Salty,
******* them down to the bone.
Buffalo wings rip up my insides,
They’ll inflame my chest and belly,
Giving me heartburn,
As I power through my consumption of them,
And yet I still crave them on a frequent basis,
As if I didn’t learn my lesson the last time.
Bone in or bone out,
It doesn’t really matter at this point,
I gave up trying to develop a preference,
As I’m committed to my hankering,
And seek regular satisfaction,
From the sensation and flavor they provide me.
Eyes full of tears,
I power through the pain,
Believing that each and every wing is worth it,
Even if I know they don’t agree with me,
And know **** well they are not good for me,
It’s like hitting yourself in the face,
But laughing at the sound it makes.
Wings come in all shapes, sizes and flavors,
But I choose the buffalo wing every time,
For the mere fact that they taste the best,
Even if they end up causing the most damage.
They don’t even fill me up,
But they do make me feel like I’ve had enough.
How many buffalo wings would it take,
For me to try a new flavor?
Is it the saltiness that appeals to me?
Is it the spiciness that enslaves me?
Is it the drippiness that seduces me?
Why not something sweeter, like BBQ,
Or savorier like Parmesan Garlic?
Why not choose plain old wings,
With a little bit of seasoning to keep it interesting?
Nope, I’ll always go for the buffalo wing,
I’ll always have that craving,
Because sometimes, living on the edge,
Knowing the risks and going ahead anyway,
Makes loving wings all the more worth it,
Despite their destructive ways.
Oct 30, 2023
Oct 30, 2023 at 8:29 PM UTC
let me lick the lipstick stain you left on your coffee cup
i'll do it subtly so no one will be alarmed
i'll lick it and enjoy the taste of your makeup
i want to taste you and all that you are
i want to watch you all the time
i want to see you at the moments you are most yourself
the moments that
you pretend don't exist
the 2am searches on pornhub
the you that hasn't left the couch for days
with your hand in a bag of potato chips
let me lick the chip crumbs from your fingers
let me put your finger in my mouth
i want to taste the saltiness you savor
i want to taste who you are
the you that you hide from others
i want you to call me a pervert
and slap me
i will kiss your feet
and lick the soles
tasting the salt and dirt
of all the places you've walked today
you will cringe and say i'm disgusting
and i will smile
let me taste the you
that is you
when no one else is around
let me taste the you
that is you
after a long day of work
let me taste the you
that is you
when you ignore me
Feb 27, 2016
Feb 27, 2016 at 9:25 PM UTC
When I was young
I learned how to dive into my emotions
I learned how to wrap myself
in my regret and fill myself
with relics of isolation,
I learned that my tears
were to be compared to the bottom of the ocean
for both the saltiness
and the amount of them.
I learned how to cheat my way
into straight A's
because suddenly I wasn't at the top of the class
I was diving to the bottom,
with the druggies and the criminals.
I learned how to move my fingers
along the fret board of another man's "love"
and how to make him sing louder than a microphone
would ever allow for
I learned to dive into what most would consider immorality.
I learned to inhale whatever I could,
tobacco, *** and whatever lingered in the oxygen in between
and I learned to dive through the labyrinth of smoke
that it would produce.
I learned to steal for what I needed
because I didn't have the money to eat lunch
or for new clothes
I learned to dive into the world that I'd scoffed at
a year ago
the world of the beggars and the choosers
the stealers and the 'losers'
called out by self-proclaimed winners.
I learned to trace raindrops on a window
and recite my dreams in the form of broken hearts
and song lyrics
I learned to dive into myself.
Nov 27, 2014
Nov 27, 2014 at 8:29 PM UTC
I think divorce papers taste like the ash of a cigarette falling from his lips when he told her the news.
Like whiskey burning fiery hot as it slides down the back of your throat,
with bitter sweet tears pooling in with umami ink, the saltiness hitting the tongue like the papers to the floor, a weeping widow who does not suffer from a death but an absence.
I think divorce papers cut up throats like the edge of a chip, swallowing the news over and over again does not seem to make it go down any easier.
I think divorce papers digest like a cheap meal, the kind that you know will give you trouble, but also know is better for you in the end.
Mar 23, 2021
Mar 23, 2021 at 8:20 PM UTC
Honor. Valor. Dignity. Love.
Honor. Valor. Dignity. Love.
Three things amaze me
Four I do not understand
An eagle in the sky
A snake on a rock
A ship on the high seas
And the way of a man with a young woman
Honor. Valor. Dignity. Love.
I will always take the fall, I say
And I won't push back when you push me away
I will take the flack of a full frontal attack
And I will turn the other cheek when you slap me across the face
But I will not be known as meek!
For to be meek is to be mild
And to be mild is to be tasteless, flavorless, and vile
Devoid of passion
Crawling with passivity
Embodying all that is apathy but trying to pass it off as some kind of charity
If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you for even sinners do that well,
Try loving the ones you'd rather see burning in hell
BUT IT CANNOT BE DONE
If you agree say aye,
I, think you're just too afraid to try
Well blessed are the meek,
for the will inherit the earth
Blessed are the peacemakers
for they will be called children of God
Blessed are you when people insult you, persecute you, and falsely say all kinds of evil against you because of me
But I'll be tossin' temple tables and chasin' people out with whips and cables
If they say my God is not able
For a city built on a hill cannot be hidden
And a man under God cannot be smitten
So I claim the love and grace in which I have been placed
And I claim the calling into which I am falling
And when the enemy comes a calling
I raise my sword in the air and boldly declare
DEVIL THIS HEART HAS NO ROOM FOR YOU TO SPARE
FOR MY GOD IS SO GREAT IT'S NOT EVEN FAIR
SO PACK UP YOUR TRICKS AND TEMPTATIONS AND TOYS
FOR GOD HAS MADE A MAN OUT OF THIS FRAIL LITTLE BOY
He said YOU are the salt of the earth but if the salt loses its saltiness it is no longer good for anything, except to be thrown out and trampled under foot
So I take hold of love and grace
And I proclaim the name of the one holding me firmly in place
I lay waste to the lies replaced by fear in mine enemies eyes
And lift my hands up high
Honor. Valor. Dignity. Love.
Surely I am only a brute, not a man
I do not have human understanding
I have not learned wisdom
Nor have I attained to the knowledge of the Holy One
But I know I have found the truth.
And I will not let go.
Jan 24, 2013
Jan 24, 2013 at 10:42 PM UTC
Words are made of thoughts.
I wish they'd intrude. I am lonely,
unemployed with a nine to seven routine
of various activities.
A malignant trend courses through the head.
Broadcasting it outside in the realm of trust
where I am blank but set to go, it would have
the appearance of a finely ambient glass of chocolate milk.
Sometimes I'm asked why the relevance hinges on me.
If I had to say, it's because I keep getting vignettes, like something
out of a beggar's bowl, a wooden saltiness
that becomes increasingly less involved. And, like, everytime
I think about it, it's something similar to trying to walk
on John Carter's Mars; and all of this trivial, like, asinine
things can never match up to the draw, the pull of
whatever has been dropped, whatever has been shorn
unevenly like a badly eaten candy-bar. Or something.
I don't know why it has to be about me.
I don't, pull my weight, and recently I feel cold in the summer;
I have slept under a bedsheet since June.
That's not what this is about, or what I, want to project.
This isn't a prerogative, a jarring hiss of due-dates
incoming inevitably. I just **** Which is not a surprise,
like organic web shooters is a surprise, or, thinking up
something like a dead polemic of a sewer draining
the sordid leftovers of a consciousness.
Oct 12, 2018
Oct 12, 2018 at 2:00 PM UTC
i wish, i wish, i were a simple fish,
that spends a thoughtless life in salty sea,
is hooked, and fried, and ends up on a dish,
deboned and sliced to pieces silently,
for i have been too human-like for me,
and cry out salty rivers held by dams,
for losses that, to fish, would never be,
with words upon my inner teeth enjambed,
yet if i were, the salt would grow by grams,
the sea in saltiness would **** all life,
before the fish had any chance to scram,
avoiding death to live with heavy strife,
for all my tears in water'd be unseen,
fish mouths agape would know not why they scream
(C)2012, Christos Rigakos
Jul 6, 2012
Jul 6, 2012 at 1:48 PM UTC
Quench the unquenchable thirst
let the water just through in every direction
Don't be afraid
It knows what its doing
The water knows where its taking you
let the saltiness sting your eyes and throat
To remind you your still alive
Become a rad doll of the ocean
Don't worry about where its taking you
it knows where you need to be
Let the water reach deep into your soul
Filling the secret hold you hide behind you smile
Quench the unquenchable thirst
Don't be afraid
The ocean knows exactly what you need
Let the saltiness remind you of all that is rich in your life
Don't fight it
The ocean is much bitter than you
It knows what it's doing
Let it take you to a better place
All it to quench the unquenchable
Let it remind you that your still alive
Don't worry about where its taking you.
Oct 9, 2014
Oct 9, 2014 at 11:32 PM UTC
The ocean
Is the embodiment of sadness
The saltiness
Does not come from minerals
Or rocks
But from
Every tear
Ever shed
The conch shell's song
Is every scream of pain
Every released
Silent or not
The blue color
Is the color of sadness
Of everything the ocean has endured
And the grey
Is from all of the anger
The ocean has taken
So if you're ever feeling
Sad
Down
Or alone
Remember:
The ocean is there for you
To take your tears
In its vastness
Your screams
In its shells
And your pain
Sadness
And anger
In its colors
And if you can't take the pain
Any longer
The ocean will take your body
As well
So you are not alone
For the ocean is the embodiment of sadness
Jun 14, 2015
Jun 14, 2015 at 4:57 PM UTC