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"sizzle" poems
Before long the summer sun will rise in London Like the half of the Ge meets the other half. Like a magic by the Lamp of Aladdin The love flame hidden in the chest lights up! Like a blooming rose in a glowing beam of light, Like a smiling face speaks a gentle word, Like a beautiful sunrise colour in the first light! The summer in London will pop and sizzle We will see a threshold in our land. The rose for a while is tucked away Off the winter and is given to the sun Winter is not forever spring is on the corner Come back in the sun with the early bird Before Cinderella takes on the primrose path. Keeping an eye on a thriller is in the winter’s field Oozy ozone misty land gets a gingerly seasoning What on earth will it strike, will it dish out? Ah, the sun will pop out like a river breeze. Like a southern song singing on a dream scene. a smooth fairy dance facing the Moon a thrill of exposing Stonehenge once and for all a melodious raindrop in the serene pond a butterfly dance on the rose a turned on tall tale of the blue peacock Like a pure belief in heaven without a pinch of salt!
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Mar 21, 2017
Mar 21, 2017 at 10:37 AM UTC
Summer in London
A night owl in the harvest moon was awake till the crack of the dawn but wasn’t surfing online, wasn’t rowing the boat in the digital river. Deep down to a dreamweaving scene that was, in musing, painstakingly creative. Wait till you snap up a witty aphorism. The darling buds of May will be in bloom. The tickled pink nightingale too will give out its voice, singing a song. Save a copy and tweet it to all, but do give us a demo, tell us a bit more. Where does it shine and sizzle? Where did the winter tuck away the rose?
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May 8, 2017
May 8, 2017 at 11:43 AM UTC
A Rose is not only for a Summer
A Queen in waiting, a Princess no less. Each day, a routine before being seen. For some, a shadow and not of the eye. The kind you'd find on that of a guy. An army of pogonophobes in dysphoric confusion. Each purging our wardrobes, a repeated delusion. A leading ******* from a pornographic circus. The ***** under graduate from a school of *** workers. Your Hubby's vision in blue is our secret down south, 'cause he wouldn't kiss you with that ***** mouth. So, I'll stop you there Sizzle Chest with your cans of Stella in your pristine white vest. 'Cause this is real easy, even for you Mr ****** I used to be a Princess but now I'm a Queen, recently coronated after all that I've seen. Poetry by Kaydee.
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Jul 9, 2018
Jul 9, 2018 at 9:43 AM UTC
Princess No Less.
I lay under the sheets, Undressed and yearning, Famished and waiting, For a taste of ambrosia. Knock knock knock! Come now and come in, Embrace your desire, And ravish my senses. Don’t tease me, I am at my peak, Mortally enraptured, By my physical form. Come lay beside me, Put your hands on me, Take me whole, I surrender in flesh. Caress my ******* Moisten my urges down, Hold me tight, And feel me now. Hold me down now, Watch me sizzle, With fierce intensity, Burn my passion out. I need your body, When mine takes over, Come in and take it all, Out ; when I simmer down. Come again when I desire, Hear my carnal call, I want you in me, A taste of ecstasy. I lay here now, Bare on the bed, Ceased by desire, Free me now. Restless feet bother, Kiss them and in between, Soften the bridges, So you may pass. Forward and backward, All leads to ecstasy, Touch me whole, Touch me now .
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Aug 15, 2018
Aug 15, 2018 at 10:20 PM UTC
Carnal desires
Jealousy If I could be but a burning sun, I'd scorch you with my wrath. All your labour and all you loved Would sizzle in my heat, And turn into steam. What I can't have, Why should I let you keep? If I was but an ocean blue, I'd envelope you in my foam. Grain by grain I'd wash away The foundation of your home, Claiming it for my own. I need to breach your comfort So I can have mine. I need to pour onto you Like torrential rain. I need to chill you to the bone, Like some haunted wind. For you cannot, should not Have that which I cannot reach. You snatched it from under my nose, And it kept screaming my name, But you muffled its voice. Your cruelty knows no end, So now you'll taste mine And I promise the pain won't fade.
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Mar 25, 2014
Mar 25, 2014 at 1:30 PM UTC
Jealousy
Paint me a picture Of your skin Does it bronze beneath the sun? Or sizzle and blush Like your cheeks When you’re in love? Is it soft to the touch Like when your palms graze The smooth surface of water? Or rough around the edges Like your favorite book And its lovingly worn corners? Does it melt in the heat Like sweet syrupy treats Dripping through your fingers? Or does it welcome the winter With wide open arms As if greeting a lover? Paint me a picture Of your skin
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Aug 17, 2018
Aug 17, 2018 at 5:05 PM UTC
Matisse
Oh, plate of bacon, how you tempt me so With your sizzle and your crunch I do crave A gift from Gods wrapped in a tasty bow There are no leftovers to even save Why can't I feel myself grow full from you? There are no others that can be as true Your fame is unmatched by any before and it's easy to see with such allure With every new bite, the tears grow stronger This small plate won't last for that much longer As the bacon leaves, I fear what's to come The plate is bare, with not even a crumb Oh, plate of bacon, I still need you so With hope, I pray for more bacon to show
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Aug 25, 2015
Aug 25, 2015 at 4:14 AM UTC
Ode to Bacon
At nine, I asked my mother if I could shave my legs and she said no At ten, I asked my mother if I could shave my legs and she said no At eleven, I asked my mother if I could shave my legs and she said no At twelve, I asked my mother if I could shave my legs and she said maybe later. At thirteen, I had not shaved my legs and my mother asked why, everyone wondered why – that is like asking where I got my molars from or why my tastebuds sizzle when I drink orange juice. Suddenly suddenly I was grown but I had to hide every ****** tissue in the garbage.
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May 7, 2013
May 7, 2013 at 4:37 PM UTC
puberty
Time passing - Is not the tick, tick, tick, of the movies. It is a barely audible, high-pitched ringing in your ears. It is the low thrum of a distant compressor somewhere. It is the sound of the long shadows brushing against the wall. Time passing - It is the fabric rustle of changing your position in a chair. A cat padding along the oak floorboards of the hallway. An electric cube powering a computer. The sizzle of speakers turned on with nothing playing. Time passing - I hear it from a silent telephone, From the idle doorknob and hinges. From wooden steps leading to my front door. Time passing - It is all of this, And nothing. So much nothing.
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Dec 10, 2013
Dec 10, 2013 at 2:42 PM UTC
The Sound It Makes
found grounded bird closed in ribboned-box and buried underneath a willow snapped back to finally relax to decompose and nourish by the lake in drooping shade the felled leaves pile candy wrappers gray snow in parking lot corners with pumpkin spice scented candles with charred letters skirling up the arm dropped to sizzle and puff out white beanies flannels leather boots and jangly bronze-leafed wind chimes I sit on the patio and listen to you speak the chill of your words perched like a squirrel barking on a fence top hibernation preparation and breeze the gospel of your autumn it’s lovely.
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Oct 6, 2015
Oct 6, 2015 at 11:26 PM UTC
october
I Send my words hurling into your airway like swords I bite off your tongue with every sharp response my body conjures I have every witty comeback on speed dial to drill into your spine The way your gays drilled into mine Pull old pennies from my pockets and throw them into your eyes So you may not look at me the way you have for so long You're are barely worth my pennies anyways Here's a donation to your sorry *** How about I grasp your neck, at just the right spot, just hard enough, to crush your voice box To dwindle your air pipe just a little So you cannot throw those trash comments at anyone else How about I crack each of your fingers Push them deep into your pockets So that you can't feel anything without remembering me You look at me like a mannequin in the window of your favorite retail store You try yo put a price on what I'm worth Maybe you can try me on Throw me on the floor Grab another How about I tattoo my name on your chest So that you cannot take off another piece of clothing Take off another girl Throw them in the floor And not remember me You will never throw me on the floor again For I am permanently burned into your chest How about I burn off each hair on your body One at a time let it Sizzle down and sear the skin Let each tiny poor feel the pain one at a time over and over and over again Until you are left, raw This Is the day I speak back when you catcall me from across the street
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Jul 4, 2018
Jul 4, 2018 at 7:21 PM UTC
CatCall
i need it: the concrete floors that send electricity through the soles of my shoes, the ascent up stairs, cold metal under my palm as lana sings to me and i give her my own words in return and the pillars of my past rise up before me. i need the now-familiar halls, the gleam of wood and glass appropriately placed. i need the embrace of cold air, heavy with home smells: vulcanized rubber, sweat, fresh ice. i need my wall, my stairs, my home address: 112, 3, 12. i need my family, related by blood and ice, by joy and frustration, by elation and tears. i need the ceiling off its trusses, the pitch black, the red lights, the resounding bass, the cold and reverent silence as the bulbs sizzle back to life-- the opening face-off, teeth gritted, fists closed. i need the smack of sticks against ice, pucks stinging red pipes, blades scraping up snow, the crunch of the boards, the red light and the deafening horn, six thousand people erupting in screams, one entity, every hand pointed to one end of the rink. i need the urge to bite my nails, an adrenaline rush, i need to clock-watch, i need to ***** and laugh and yell and grin, i need to collapse and breathe when the buzzer sounds, three more points, closer to the penrose, closer to the ncaa's-- i need hockey. i need home.
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Aug 23, 2014
Aug 23, 2014 at 3:28 AM UTC
homesick
*The world where I stood was a desert thirsty for a pint of rain; longing for a kiss that never came.* Not until you did. Everything started with a droplet of your essence, Out of nowhere. Unexpected. YOU... yes you MANIFESTED. *Without notice, you took me by surprise. A beautiful surprise I say. For the first time in a while I felt, my worries washed away by your presence. Hot sand turned mud where then I lay. In those moments I lost, all anxieties brought by drought. When through the years I thought I'd never touch the rain I ought to ardently pray for every night. Imbued I was with your* "love". clothes soaked. body wet. soul drunk. *your name the promise I mutter through the drizzle. This body jived to the beat of a million sizzle. Moments passed faster than it seemed. I, taken away by lust of a parched soul.* I slurped. I gulped. I glugged. *as much as I could, never thinking of what I would drink in the latter. When the land runs dry; when then again,* I'm deprived of water. *So then, what caught me by surprise, left without a word... woah,* SURPRISE! everything turned back the way it was; an arid heart in a blink of an eye. *But what makes me wonder is this delusive sense, of your cooling touch amidst this false pretense;* I smell– *Your scent stick to my chest like perfume odour. My nostrils clogged with the aroma of your neck. A waft that distorts the senses of this* consumed man. Thoughts of you linger long after you are gone... Like the fragrance of rain that stays after the downpour.
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Oct 18, 2014
Oct 18, 2014 at 9:06 AM UTC
Petrichor.
*The world where I stood was a desert thirsty for a pint of rain; longing for a kiss that never came.* Not until you did. Everything started with a droplet of your essence, Out of nowhere. Unexpected. YOU... yes you MANIFESTED. *Without notice, you took me by surprise. A beautiful surprise I say. For the first time in a while I felt, my worries washed away by your presence. Hot sand turned mud where then I lay. In those moments I lost, all anxieties brought by drought. When through the years I thought I'd never touch the rain I ought to ardently pray for every night. Imbued I was with your* "love". clothes soaked. body wet. soul drunk. *your name the promise I mutter through the drizzle. This body jived to the beat of a million sizzle. Moments passed faster than it seemed. I, taken away by lust of a parched soul.* I slurped. I gulped. I glugged. *as much as I could, never thinking of what I would drink in the latter. When the land runs dry; when then again,* I'm deprived of water. *So then, what caught me by surprise, left without a word... woah,* SURPRISE! everything turned back the way it was; an arid heart in a blink of an eye. *But what makes me wonder is this delusive sense, of your cooling touch amidst this false pretense;* I smell– *Your scent stick to my chest like perfume odour. My nostrils clogged with the aroma of your neck. A waft that distorts the senses of this* consumed man. Thoughts of you linger long after you are gone... Like the fragrance of rain that stays after the downpour.
Continue reading...
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I'm in love with excitement, turned on by action, enamoured with the arts. Quick moves intoxicate me, I'm all over teamwork & my heart is ruled by high adventure. I was hoping it was you, the one who would make me sizzle, set me on fire, help me live a bit in the edge. And, could it be? O Darling, you can't be serious, leaving me delirious, all alone with mutant turtles!
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Jan 25, 2014
Jan 25, 2014 at 10:53 AM UTC
You Can't Be Serious (Leaving Me with Turtles)
over-caffeinated like a maj-gician (the electricians of existence), Matilda sang her morning brew a lullaby as she convinced breakfast not to panic from the pain of the frying pan- "sit quietly, take the pain, feel the burn- SIZzle! soon you'll be a human being and begin your life as a synthetic deity free within the skin of metastasized consciousness." soon the egg seized in pleasure; a masochistic joy overtook it as yoke splurged from within like ****** ***** during ******* when the gimp has forgotten the safety word, screaming BANANA NEW YORK CODE ORANGE   ! ! ! while the perpetrator continues to scream verses from the Bible and Leviticus 1:3; an audiotape of On Being and Nothingness sends chills down the dark-sides spine in a hyperreal realization of the role choice plays in evils mortality. must we listen while we speak? does reciprocity die in egoic colonization of the African subcontinent of the mind? is this the beginning of an age of autism born within the confines of illuminated rectangles of permissible distance and social hell-frozen-over? man, you weren't even paying attention. **** you.
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Jun 7, 2013
Jun 7, 2013 at 3:06 PM UTC
trading dreams for dollars
I burned up in your atmosphere Just trying to Get close enough to touch you Just trying to get Close enough to hear you say “Yeah, I love you too” You do? I started a book about you Drenched in ******* sweat And drunken verses that you would Never really get unless You took the time to listen And hear me The sizzle and crackle Of everything about me Burning Because of you. I only know how to Write about heartbreaks Or heart beats And could have beens Because you taught me that, You showed me that It wasn’t poetry until I destroyed everything about me That once was That could’ve been. I’m good at free falling And floating Pretty good at burning Up for only you.
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Dec 26, 2014
Dec 26, 2014 at 7:40 PM UTC
icarus
Mesmerized. No other word can describe the feeling I have right now but that. The crickets chirping. The sound of the wind. The clairvoyant light cascading from the moon. The cold wind against my bare chest. The hot air filling my lungs. The sound of the paper sizzle as I draw a breath. Mesmerized. I look at the moon, pondering something great, longing deep into the moons light, looking for a Theocratic meaning. Mesmerized. I notice a glimmer. Soon another. and another. like a fire starting a chain reaction, twinkling glows slowly appear, joining one after another. That moon is not alone I come to realize, As it is connected to all the little lights. One by one, as my focus clears, dazzling lights shine over my fears. A little light show all for me, All dancing, wanting to be seen. I bask in this euphoric moment, my prayers answered, I peer shyly at this gift that I have captured. The wind kisses my ears, slowly going down my neck, it kisses my navel, giving me a loving peck. Mesmerized. No. Not mesmerized, but in love. In love with the beauty I have been able to witness, Her beauty. I stare longingly into Her. The lights in the sky seem to smile at me, Knowing just how I feel, Warmness filling my heart, creating a seal. In love. I am In love.
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Oct 27, 2014
Oct 27, 2014 at 11:21 AM UTC
Mesmerized
When I'm near you I'm anxious. At any moment I can explode. A coloration of floral hues printed across the sky, Covering you; the night. Appropriately expanding. A sizzle awaiting detonation. Catapulted high. Nothing to do but fall. Fall in love with you. Plummeting down unable to sit still. Your hand the stripe that surrounds me. Stars; echo in a crackle. Change is inevitable. The glory of being held close, Counting every second until we burst into pieces. Wandering around your essence. Wandering in turquoise yellows & purple strawberries exhaled in smoke. The moon forever jealous Every night July everlasting. The closer I get to you
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Jul 2, 2018
Jul 2, 2018 at 9:43 PM UTC
But Fall
***Estranged in summer rains'        landscaped  dissolution        evincing season's discontent       neath sun's suffocating alienation; used to rhyme with warmth              and effulgent delectation,    emotional realms fizzled in a               heated  halfhearted sizzle             of down-pour's restless manifestations***
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Jun 18, 2015
Jun 18, 2015 at 7:33 AM UTC
Downpour's Discontent
He walks outside to watch as veins of electrical light sizzle in the night sky. The rain strikes against the pavement. The water on the road slides by. The man stands tall, his shoulder aching from his previous operation. He looks at the blank, dark mauve sky with a frown on his face from the whole situation. His wife sits in the kitchen, crossword in hand and letting the news play like white noise around her. Their children, all in bed; all of them unaware of the storm parading outside or of one another. Three out of the four are asleep while one records these events, sleep stinging her eyes. She should sleep for her dreams take her away from the darkened skies. But for now she will be hypnotized by the veins of light illuminating her night. She'll watch the light pour through her window until her eyelids are too dreary for her to keep sight. So goodnight, goodnight, goodnight
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Aug 8, 2013
Aug 8, 2013 at 9:29 PM UTC
Poem
365Nectar #42 Don't Be Judging Me Mon. November 4, 2013 8:26 P.M. Volcanic velvet voices vibrate the night like thunder in the distance. Booming Bassmen blaze and burn like ****** fire on a dark corner in the dingiest part of a rumbling city that never sleeps. Sensual saxophones shudder singing prayers of saints and sinners while hot horns hypnotize in perfect high compression swirls tithing in the holy temple of Jazzy Blues. An alluring flutter of silken harmonies. A spine tingling spike of don't be judging me jazz filled blues. Scorching strings splinter melancholy prison walls. Stomping out a seismic sizzle tempermental tones of tickling trumpets torch the menacing hurricanes of life with warm rushes of excitement. A spine tingling spike of don't be judging me jazz filled blues. "Take Me" Vixens tantalize tucked up crowds with thrilling tongue lashes of silken harmonies. A spine tingling spike of don't be judging me jazz filled blues. Full flaring flutes gently ****** with inquisitive fingers and stir a groan like a religious ritual. A playful teasing floating enticingly like a sly fox. Such a succulent piercing of moonstruck madness pulsing mercilessly leaving fields of fire of a funky boogie menace for a wild child. An alluring flutter of silken harmonies. A spine tingling spike of don't be judging me jazz filled blues. Copyright ©2013 Don't Be Judging Me
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Nov 11, 2013
Nov 11, 2013 at 11:52 AM UTC
Don't Be Judging Me
I watched her from a distance, Glistening lake gently flowed, Flowed down her bare body, The moonlit drop of my dreams, Glistening in my eyes . Ravenous thoughts rapture me, Engulf me in the chasm of desire, My gaze unmoving and still, Yet flows down with the trickle, On her bare ***** A million stars sizzle a spark, I want to capture them, Little droplets of water , Making their way softly, On her bare back. I watched her from a distance, The silk of her wet hair, Wrapped me in a rapture, Unmoving I stood there, My gaze so still, Yet flowing with water, That she bathed in.
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Aug 11, 2018
Aug 11, 2018 at 12:41 AM UTC
Lady in the lake
the weight of a hand resting in yours the resistance to the touch of a single finger upon another the sizzle of a thousand hairs between fingertips the dampness of breath upon your cheek the redness of pair of lips ...or of a blushing forehead ...or of cheekbones under droplets of perspiration the silence of an empty room the sense of someone close ...who is a thousand miles away ...and thinking of you
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Sep 20, 2014
Sep 20, 2014 at 4:09 PM UTC
Unenumerated Senses
Contemplating the versatility of Mayo And all that can be done with it From the slathering on whilst sun bathing To globbing it on my bologna sandwich I find it tantalizing to the tastebuds And it sure does sizzle in the sun I once applied to much and set my toes on fire Lucky for me I lost only one Thank goodness I was near the water When my foot went up in flames I guess that's why God gives us ten toes In case we lose any along the way As with anything you can even get bored with Mayonnaise That's why I strive for different ideas So I put my brain juices into overdrive And came up with this amazing list Instead of milk in a shake you can use Mayo Please wait till the end for all the applause I'm still having trouble dealing with thickness And have yet to get it through the straw Perhaps if I leave out the ice cream And just add Mayo, milk chocolate, and ice I guess I'll just keep on experimenting When it's ready you can be the first in line And who doesn't like mayonnaise on anchovie pizza The perfect combination at best Even better than peanut butter and jelly If only I can figure out how to package it Mayonnaise is also the perfect conditioner You could leave it in your hair for days I suppose But try to avoid to much time in the sun After all...remember the toes I'm going back to my room for more ideas now Or as I like to call it..."The Mayo Think Tank" I know my family thinks I'm a genius Cause they always leave me in there for days
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Sep 23, 2013
Sep 23, 2013 at 3:47 PM UTC
"Mayonnaise" You heard right..."Mayonnaise"
The gurgle of the coffee maker, The clink of your spoon on the frigid counter, The sizzle of bacon residue in a frying pan, and an egg cracking over it. The murmurs of the news reporters on the tv, The distant roar of a train in the background, The dive into sensory pleasure, while reality dissipates. The smell of hazelnut creamer and cinnamon, The taste of a waffle with buttery syrup, The warm sun on your face through the window, today is good; today will be different. The giggles of the waffles and coffee, The light conversation and hard laughter, The feeling of home... within them, a sudden shift in atmosphere. The sharp loss of appetite The grieving of what wasn’t lost The shared remorse for nothing you’ve done they tell you that you’re pathetic. The despair in your mug dropping into the table The swallowed tears and screams The chaos that covers every square inch of you distance between you and hope still stands. The ***** kitchen and your empty stomach The distressing moonlight that creeps in the window The anger in thinking you’re liberated this time sounds of an empty home stir. The cold seats that have accompanied nobody The wallowing roar of silence The jacket of despair that wears you your average day.
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Feb 3, 2021
Feb 3, 2021 at 4:37 PM UTC
Your average day