"silkier" poems
Go back to bed.
Why would you want
To leave the warm embrace
Of silken sheets and silkier thighs?
Kiss-swollen lips and a rats nest of perfect hair,
Those shining silver eyes blinking gummily that beckon you with love glimmering in their depths?
Cancel your plans and make no more.
Bring her breakfast in bed!
And joining her, let the day slip away in contented caresses and laughing kisses
For though this month may be awash with work and stress and troubles
In the bed with her there is nothing but peace, love and harmony...
And just a dash of morning *** ;)
Dec 20, 2015
Dec 20, 2015 at 2:36 PM UTC
Oh, Hibernian Honey Child
How my hand yearns to brush your cheek
To feel the warmth of your hair, to rest on your shoulder
An itinerary of joy, how I would delight in my travels
To arrive in your arms as my frail heart unravels
Oh, Little Face
How your wry little smile delights my senses
The sweep of your gait, your delicate aroma
Your impertinent laughter; it's nectar to me
Like a clear crystal fountain 'neath sacred oak tree
Oh, Emerald Daughter
Lustrous princess of the realm of Beauty
Silkier than a mouthful of fresh cream
How thrilling it would be to pull off both your socks
Little Feet, oh Little Feet, human music box
Dec 27, 2014
Dec 27, 2014 at 7:37 PM UTC
i remember you, little earthquake
and all those dark nights trembling together
that was my favorite season.
you and i, we handled each other like
porcelain and that made things awkward most of the time.
but -- thrillingly so.
you first showed me the right way to gather a girl's curves against my own
so that they lined up right and smooth
and how feminine vertebrae just feel so much silkier and
more pleasant under the fingertips.
i wish i could open my eyes one more time to your
head under my ear and your lips (the prettiest lips)
relishing the weight
of my name on them: "lady."
hey, about that time i touched you --
sorry for startling you.
and sorry for backing down so easily.
i wish we could have shown each other
even more of what it means to
feel girls and to
feel like a girl, finally a real girl.
Feb 5, 2010
Feb 5, 2010 at 9:06 PM UTC
Miss Cleaves says,
come over,
bring a bottle,
I’ll put on some music
we can smooch to( Mahler?)
so he goes over,
picks up a bottle on the way,
medium priced,
not the top shelf,
and rings her bell.
Glad you could come,
she says,
her voice silkier
than silk,
warmer than hell.
He follows her
to the lounge,
takes off his jacket,
undoes his tie,
slips off his shoes
(new carpet).
Take a seat,
she says ,
I’ll get us some glasses,
he watches her move,
the best of all *****
he decides, glancing,
taking in,
******* in air,
sitting there.
On goes the Mahler,
the 1st, the Titan,
she said it was, last time,
the time he had
a hard on
before the 2nd movement,
had his hand
up her skirt,
feeling around.
In she comes,
swaying, smiling,
carrying the *****
big eyes,
blue like lakes,
her bust,
busting to get out,
and flop about.
She talks of work,
business doing ok,
could be better,
if only and so on...
He senses her hand
on his thigh,
rubbing back and forth,
fingers walking,
her voice yakking on,
and the music
piping through,
he thinking
of that time
she had him
do her good,
eyes shut,
seemingly blind,
taking her
from behind.
Then the doorbell chimed,
in mid game,
who the heck is that?
she said,
getting off the bed,
walking to the door,
leaving him
buck naked on the floor.
There was laughter;
about to take a bath,
she said,
to whoever.
A painting on her wall,
foxhounds, chasing a fox,
horse riders on a hunt.
He thought, laying back,
relaxing, thinking of her,
wanting her, her lovely
buttocks and ****
More laughter, more talk,
the whoever was still there,
while he lay **** naked
as mother nature
intended, bare.
That was then,
she never came back
for 15 minutes or so
and he had gone to sleep
on her bed, pillow
holding his head,
seemingly dead.
Now she's on the ball,
getting him fired up,
getting his pecker going,
smiling, music piping,
but outside there's snow.
Dec 3, 2013
Dec 3, 2013 at 3:50 AM UTC
it’s crazy what people deem “beautiful”. you leave your girl for one with darker hair to compliment her fair skin. you choose her because if her softer lips, clear skin, silkier hair, brighter eyes. that’s always what it is. you leave for what social media deems beautiful.
Oct 4, 2018
Oct 4, 2018 at 12:22 AM UTC
The roads have answers to everything
The stuffs which you explore
Or the one which you left behind
They know everything
You just need to remind
The speed have no limits
They are boundless
The faster you go
The sooner you reach
Follow the signs
Which have some meaning
You will remember
The way they teach
You will find many paths
Some will be rough
Some might be smooth
The fact is
They make you fool
By showing the easier way
Which makes u cool
If your way is clear
If they don't have any obstacles
If they are silkier
Then you are in the wrong way
But if it is full of fear
You are searching something new
Walking on the knife
Then you are in the right way
My dear
You need to fall
Before your rise
The harder you dive
The deeper you find
Searching for destination
Never ends
Nothing is permanent in this world
Smooth will be rough
Water will be ice
Wood will catch fire
Easy will be tough
You cant stop anything
Because you are nothing
You cant stop the sun to rise
You cant Change the flow of river
You cant hate a lover
But dear beloved
You can change the paths
Which you follow
The learning
Which belongs to them
Are now your own
The brakes which comes from them
Are now in your hands
Don't follow the roads
Discover them at your own
Because
The roads have answers to everything....
Jul 28, 2019
Jul 28, 2019 at 3:24 AM UTC
The first time I got *********
I told you that I loved your eyes
Because I could see my reflection in your left
And our past in your right
You laughed and told me to just shut up
Because I couldn't tell left from right
Loving you was kinda like that
I could never tell left from right
I could never tell right from wrong
And I could never quite tell
If you loved me or not
You see when I was drunk
Everything was marked up
"I love you" was stained with pretty colors
And purple bruises
Sharp edges that always cut when hugged
Hands that always squeezed too tight
When I wasn't drunk I couldn't stomach being with you
Your affection always ended up crashing like glass it was never real or true
It was false
Cheap plexiglass
It was supposed to keep me from falling
But now my blood rains down with shards that fall down to the ground
Crystal stained rain
Pretty to look at
Harsh to touch
That's like what loving you was like
A stained porthole of worry and doubt
Longing and rejection
False laughs and artificial sunlight
I always wondered if you dipped our happiest moments in sugar
It was only confirmed when fire ants started to eat me alive
The minute you slid that slipper onto my foot
I thought that it was something perfect
Until it became stained with my blood
Different shades of red
A sick blue
A fractured pane of glass is all I see
As the color slips through it
Silkier then a lovers laugh
Aug 21, 2018
Aug 21, 2018 at 4:47 AM UTC
Trudging by
Sifting through tar
One tug after tug
Pulls after pulls
Twists after twists
I'm clawing away from my homestead
Grasping for the surface,
Clearing my path with
One stroke after stroke
Grunt after grunt
Push after push
I'm dreadging along
Each inhale a prayer,
Each stomp getting softer,
Smoother, silkier.
Simpler, with that sliver of warmth
Nov 14, 2023
Nov 14, 2023 at 4:38 AM UTC
my hair surrounds me like a halo,
fingers of keratin, adrift like seaweed.
softer in the pale bathwater,
silkier in its soapy film.
my phone is on the toilet seat.
i count how pearls of water fall from the shower head,
pipes and joints loose from wear.
after 20 i let the water pool over my cheeks,
settle over my eyelids,
bubbles surging to the surface impatiently.
submerged, i let the starvation in my lungs grow urgent,
a sleepy thrill i can play with to pass the time,
as i wait for my phone to never ring.
we used to lie together in my room watching
my walls become immersed with citrus,
and how remnants of day
would soak into the earth and the walls and the houses.
i would love to watch the watered down grapefruit
undulate in the horizon amongst milky clouds.
you are newly adrift; pace has taken a liking to you.
you dance from place to place as if being chased,
but i am no different than before.
i feel like i could lie on my bed watching the sun droop
for hours.
Jun 22, 2019
Jun 22, 2019 at 9:51 AM UTC