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"smooching" poems
We have our dreams, My perfect stranger, Though we never really met, Perhaps; never shall meet. Still, we amble along together, Navigating the lamentable brook, Unfulfilled promises, foaming, Swirling around our bare feet, The cold of reality numbing our toes, Skipping over rocks of broken ideals, Once cherished, but not here, no, They are fractious and discarded. Trickles of tormented sighs, tease, While avoiding guiding ropes of life, Which would snag our thoughts, Straining against friction burns, As they attempt to bind us tightly, Holding us prisoner, when in truth, We are capable of incarcerating ourselves. Although, our minds are free, yes, Living beneath the same impassive moon, Bathing within its stolen light, Stealing our own, moments of peace, As in sleep, we slip away unnoticed, To hold each other, so loving, Above the clouds, sharing caresses, Smooching around, and round, Oblivious of telltale tears on our cheeks. A shooting star arcs across the sky, ‘Shall we wish?’ You ask, ‘Nah,’ I reply; wishing is for fools, Be content; acceptance is the key, My perfect stranger, We have our dreams. © Paul M Chafer 2014
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Jul 16, 2014
Jul 16, 2014 at 7:43 AM UTC
My Perfect Stranger
What happened to dancing? And I mean grooving Moving to the beat of the music not that back to front, raunchy, distasteful, vertical *** on the dancefloor foolishness I don't want any of that unclassy bending over ***** pressed up against a stranger, up in my face, I mean up in my behind business type of dancing. None of that too-close for comfort, get-a-room type of grind I want some of that smooth jazzy, hold my hand and spin me around moving, and I want some of that 80's finger-snappin', and some of those Breakfast Club hip-shaking, arm-gyrating What I don't get is why The moves from ***** Dancing seem cleaner than today's so-called dancing. I want to be able to go to a club And have enough space for myself and you to be dancing like we're dancing at home, with the privacy of our rooms I want to be able to dance, and let us return and have a much-needed cultural dance revolution where it doesn't have to be something your mama won't be ashamed of. I want some of that jiving, and more of that 70's finger-pointing, and fast-feet moving Man, I just want all of us to dance without it suggesting anything more than smooching.
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Oct 27, 2011
Oct 27, 2011 at 1:20 AM UTC
Dancing has Died
the Wonder no longer… I no longer wonder the whose, or is it the who’s, the whys, and even an occasional wherefore art thou, and what’s their real name, are they alive or passed, from whence they came, or, the origins of their names, the name of that movie where what’s his name fell in love with blonde from that tv show, with the detective and the raincoat who always smoked a cigar though was never seen with match or tobacco, these mysteries that nagged, burrs that came mid-sentence, causing grown people to curse and smack their head, now, blessedly put to bed in seconds depending on the goodness of your internet connection… but now I wonder if the world is better off with instantaneous information much of which is hooliganism and mis and dis, made-up-as-you-go-along but now recorded as gospel truth well recall the happy, romantic nature of falling in love across the library table, secret smooching in dusty stacks of tomes, or is it tombs, that were never read but contained the secrets of the universe… but never for too long, for repair and restoration I do take a triple dose of Prevagen, when and if, I remember
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Jul 9, 2023
Jul 9, 2023 at 8:19 AM UTC
Wonder no longer...
She stops before the glimmering mirror, falters and prepares. Gangly and awkward, Legs unfolding, leaning forward she drinks. A slender skyscraper gallops, sashaying. A wet bud uncurls and blooms. Winding, uncoiling, plucks a leaf. Enchanting daughter of heights: Embraced by the clouds, Smooching the stars. Towering sky-queen, ossicones her russet crown. Bronzed cloak, auburn jewels. From protuberant knees to shadowy lashes, a lofty leader, willowy wanderer.
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Mar 24, 2015
Mar 24, 2015 at 1:40 PM UTC
The Giraffe: a gentle giant
As you sit in the cafe in the shopping mall you see Sophie and her man friend smooching across the table he with moustache and thinning combed back hair and she with dark black hair straight to the collar of her white blouse they purse their lips he closes his eyes leans forward she likewise as if in some French cafe   in some 1950s film you sip your latte watch the show he once worked pushing trolleys in some super store she unsure but with a carer sometimes seen walking the mall or in the bank or shops and some days she’ll come up and say hello in a loud voice as if she’d not seen you in a thousand years other days not at all or she’ll tell you some news about her life or some small trouble that’s got her down today she sits and kisses and converses with the man friend and he’ll laugh and maybe she too and hold hands over the cokes and cakes you sit back in the chair and watch them there repeat their kissing or holding hands the Romeo eyes now open leaning near mouthing words you cannot hear she lips still pursed says loudly of a love she feels or how hot the weather is or how his scarf untidy looks or unbuttoned shirt others who do not know them sit and gawk and make snide comment behind their hands make judgement in their bourgeoisie world but you like others who know them of old sit and drink and make no judgements of what they say or do but watch the kissing and holding of hands like in a B feature at the cinema waiting for the real thing maybe but content to see the movie through having no where to go or other things to do.
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Jul 15, 2013
Jul 15, 2013 at 2:45 AM UTC
NO OTHER THINGS TO DO.
As you sit in the cafe in the shopping mall you see Sophie and her man friend smooching across the table he with moustache and thinning combed back hair and she with dark black hair straight to the collar of her white blouse they purse their lips he closes his eyes leans forward she likewise as if in some French cafe   in some 1950s film you sip your latte watch the show he once worked pushing trolleys in some super store she unsure but with a carer sometimes seen walking the mall or in the bank or shops and some days she’ll come up and say hello in a loud voice as if she’d not seen you in a thousand years other days not at all or she’ll tell you some news about her life or some small trouble that’s got her down today she sits and kisses and converses with the man friend and he’ll laugh and maybe she too and hold hands over the cokes and cakes you sit back in the chair and watch them there repeat their kissing or holding hands the Romeo eyes now open leaning near mouthing words you cannot hear she lips still pursed says loudly of a love she feels or how hot the weather is or how his scarf untidy looks or unbuttoned shirt others who do not know them sit and gawk and make snide comment behind their hands make judgement in their bourgeoisie world but you like others who know them of old sit and drink and make no judgements of what they say or do but watch the kissing and holding of hands like in a B feature at the cinema waiting for the real thing maybe but content to see the movie through having no where to go or other things to do.
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94
Tonight, thinking on you, My mind is ablaze, fully illuminated, Akin to a fabled city swinging in festival, You light me up inside, and I glow brightly, Bathed within the warmth of your sweet love. Tonight, thinking on you, My heart is dancing the greatest dance, Revelling, an unbridled pleasurable release, Passionate love flowing freely in our kisses, Smooching, swaying, in each other's embrace. Tonight, thinking on you, Our spirits are riding upon crazy horses, Galloping over moonlit plains, racing the stars, Our nakedness glistening with heady scents, Mind, hearts and spirits, subtly joined as one. Tonight, thinking on you.
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Mar 14, 2015
Mar 14, 2015 at 7:47 AM UTC
Tonight
You know what I hate? all of this romantic over dramatic gush, I mean come on people I just ate. There you are smooching and touching, running your fingers through her hair, and later tonight you'll probably be ******* Now don't get me wrong I have a girl, and yeah she's kinda great.. and makes my world turn.. And the way her hair falls on her face I just can't take it it makes my heart race and by the time i get home after being with her and I'm alone in the dark and my vision starts to blur i think of the boy and girl and the touching, the hugging the kissing the feeling the ******* and i just can't help but maybe realizing that maybe this romance thing isn't that, frightening.. Maybe that love is actually enticing, not something to hate but something delighting.. So as I sit here alone in the dark, it's twisting tendrils lulling me to sleep, i think of her and I in a park, hugging and kissing, just her and me.
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Jun 13, 2014
Jun 13, 2014 at 10:13 AM UTC
Frightening Love
A praying mantis presides Over and over A congregation of fools Assuming a God-like position, Predicting today, predicting forever. He preaches, the act of holiness, The act of reality, Where smooching is divine, A path to miracle. But miracles do occur The deaf became dumb, The dumb became deaf, The healthy became sick, The sick became dead, The dead….I wonder !
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Apr 8, 2011
Apr 8, 2011 at 4:13 PM UTC
Praying Mantis
No Tell Motel Low rent rendezvous Johnny and Darcy Modern romance She lived at the doctors house With the loaded gun Bang. Both were going out with Dancin' Doug Though nobody knew They always did their dance at noon Poor Johnny, he always came to soon, He was from Virginia City, Nv A small town boy with a cosmic mind Darcy was a runaway from Wyckoff, New Jersey, escaping her family having an adventure she had no where else to go They all lived in the dust on Homer Lane A dusty dirt road Dancin' Doug threw a benefit No one knew what for He scheduled bands to play BYOB Smoke anything tree The moon was full The colored lights were twinkling Dancin' Doug saw Johnny and Darcy smooching to A cover of Dancing in the Dark Maybe it was the Ecstasy or maybe it was the whiskey He didn't know what to feel jealousy, great love, or greed He took all their money And danced on in the dust at Homer Lane Johnny and Sue Headed on over to room 102 at The No Tell Motel Another low rent rendezvous.
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Jun 22, 2018
Jun 22, 2018 at 11:15 AM UTC
Homer Lane
I saw you today. Thought I would be okay. But I wasn't. Opened up to old math notes. Your name written all over the pages. Hearts filling up empty spaces. I knew I'd see you in Spanish. Awkward in there it was. Why did we choose to sit next to each other? I forgot how despairing it was to walk to class alone. To have no one to hold. Twitch at every sound of smooching. Turn when you hear "I love you". My hands so frigid. My lips are deserted. Why cant this feeling let me be? I urn for the chance to wave hi. To say it. To look into your dark brown eyes. Now I stare at you from a distance. And I'm thinking, "Do you feel the same way too? Do you feel so drained? 'Cause I know i do."
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Dec 20, 2012
Dec 20, 2012 at 5:53 PM UTC
drained
the first time, it was a real smooching, there in the rain the passion running down our skin I had just asked her out I had just brought it to a head everything up to that point, the flirting, the jokes, the talking back and forth for hours, had all been leading up to that moment, there in the pouring rain, the water flowing down the side-walks and we couldn’t even feel our feet but I grabbed her, asking what secret she had been hiding from me and she wouldn’t tell me, but she gave this little nod, this little glare, that said “do it now you fool” so I did I did and we kissed, we kissed as the world flooded and our friends partied on and it was magical now we’re not really sure what the future holds we haven’t gone on a date, yet. but that’s what Friday’s for that’s what the future is for and for now, I can deal with having a single kiss a day still flirting, still shy, still unsure but we both know there’s something different something worth smiling about
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Mar 28, 2011
Mar 28, 2011 at 3:37 PM UTC
a kiss a day
I caught a nasty dose of loneliness I'm sure it was from the man on the train Blowing kisses through the window to his children and partner Whose tears trickled au revoir in the rain Or maybe it was from the two women smooching In the night club on the seats opposite me They were gasping and panting, but not for breath while pawing each other with urgency Perhaps it was because I left my window open On a sizzling summer night last week Through which I heard devotions of love being shared By a tipsy couple gaily romancing on the street.
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Aug 25, 2014
Aug 25, 2014 at 6:22 PM UTC
I caught a nasty does of loneliness
It was the scent of juicy, honey dew melon, It was the golden kiss of the sun, It was the warm summer feel that let me know you were the one. It was reggae basses and baritones blessing the air, It was your lips on the back of my neck letting me know that you were there. It was the screech of the fan replacing the tune of the ice-cream van, It's funny how both joy and sadness reside with that man. It's the gentle waves smooching the edge of the tub, those summer nights, when we gently fell in love. T.S.
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Sep 27, 2013
Sep 27, 2013 at 7:44 PM UTC
Those summer nights.
You don’t want to go With that kind of woman, Henry’s mother said. What kind of woman is that? Henry asked. The kind that offer themselves to men who are not their husbands, his mother replied, sitting back in the soft chair by the fireplace, joining her fingers, forming what she used to call her church. Henry watched her church form of finger forming, his eyes sliding over his mother’s dyed hair, the grey streaks, the nose, the thin red painted lips. But isn’t that kind of women providing a service? Henry asked, walking to the window, watching his father mowing the lawn, sweat on the brow, the eyes dead looking. Service? His mother said, her tone icy, Service? She repeated, that’s not service, Henry that’s sin. S.I.N. Henry raised his eyebrows, there was in the pocket of his pants, a pack of fives, unused as yet. Oh, Henry said, Duncan Smold had this woman in the back of his car, he called it hard smooching or some such word. Henry’s mother eyed him closely, her eyes narrowing. Then he sinned, Henry, he sinned, she said, pushing a hand through her hair, her features going red. Oh, right, Henry said, I’ll tell Duncan next time he’s in his car with some woman in the back, that he’s sinning, Henry turned away, he didn’t want his mother to see him grinning.
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Oct 17, 2012
Oct 17, 2012 at 2:46 AM UTC
HENRY AND WOMAN SERVICING.
I know I can be wrong am not always so strong I say "I don't care" or "I do't have time to spare" and I fight on the phone even talked in higher tone, but every second I spend alone has brought me pain, as it's known I crave to hear your voice smooching,giggling and cries baby I realize, it's so true I m nothing without you.
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Jan 4, 2014
Jan 4, 2014 at 2:35 PM UTC
Without You
Its exactly 1095 days ago.. When the love I knew flee from my path The sweet rhythm turned sour As my heart bolt out through the door Leaving no trail to follow A miserable me turn apart Laying helpless with no heart The warmth of the weather Felt freezingly cold And the comfort of the night No longer suits I could remember my dreams turning into a wild mare And even the cool siesta Was all itchy My smooching pillow grew thorns In my miserable self In all broken mirror Picking up my pieces in no piece Trying to plaster the remnant of me Just 1095 days ago It all seems like the world will end in no good time But in my remembrance of this days I'd found myself lost within The tick of it tide And now, The love that is sure been replaced Is back Knocking at the same door it bolted out Through Just 1095 days ago
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Feb 12, 2015
Feb 12, 2015 at 11:15 AM UTC
1095 days of mysteries
I watched you walk away a moment ago. Quickly. I wasn't prepared for this moment. The loss I feel. The trepidation beating me down, hollowing out my heart. Scarring my existence without the softness of death. I must suffer in this loss, weak and frail – ****** and lost. I dropped my head for one second – only one – so that the tears may fall. I looked back to where you were but you were gone. I wasn’t ready for you to be gone. You had hurriedly turned a corner, dodged into a building and left me on the sidewalk, crumpled and distressed. That I know of, you did not turn around to see me one last time. Perhaps your “one last time” look came when you said you didn't love me any longer and you walked away. So easily they fell – those words – “I don’t love you anymore.” Yes, you said “anymore” not “any longer.” When did that happen? So that I may know, please? When did I do something? When didn't I do something? Please let it be something because I can’t live with it if the reason was simply that I was just being me. To think that being myself, the only person I know to be, could have driven you away. (Into the arms of another!) Oh, is it that?! Someone else? I truly have lost – to someone who has no face, at least not to me. To you, it may be the most beautiful face you have ever seen and you can’t stop wanting to be near it, to hold that face in your gruff hands and smooching it …. Over and over and over and over. Sans the face. Forget about it. I need to know, where did I fail? Please let me know. I fear though, you will not – let me know, that is – because you all but ran away from me, to put distance between our two hearts….mine broken, yours yearning for the face of another. The face. There it is again. This face that I don’t know – mocking me while I sit, sobbing, on a sidewalk – holding my coat tight around me, the cold making the snot run from my nose and down my face. I shiver. I will sit a few moments more – an hour or so, a day – longer to wait for you to come back and pick me up. You will come back, won’t you?
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Mar 25, 2013
Mar 25, 2013 at 1:08 PM UTC
The face
I watched you walk away a moment ago. Quickly. I wasn't prepared for this moment. The loss I feel. The trepidation beating me down, hollowing out my heart. Scarring my existence without the softness of death. I must suffer in this loss, weak and frail – ****** and lost. I dropped my head for one second – only one – so that the tears may fall. I looked back to where you were but you were gone. I wasn’t ready for you to be gone. You had hurriedly turned a corner, dodged into a building and left me on the sidewalk, crumpled and distressed. That I know of, you did not turn around to see me one last time. Perhaps your “one last time” look came when you said you didn't love me any longer and you walked away. So easily they fell – those words – “I don’t love you anymore.” Yes, you said “anymore” not “any longer.” When did that happen? So that I may know, please? When did I do something? When didn't I do something? Please let it be something because I can’t live with it if the reason was simply that I was just being me. To think that being myself, the only person I know to be, could have driven you away. (Into the arms of another!) Oh, is it that?! Someone else? I truly have lost – to someone who has no face, at least not to me. To you, it may be the most beautiful face you have ever seen and you can’t stop wanting to be near it, to hold that face in your gruff hands and smooching it …. Over and over and over and over. Sans the face. Forget about it. I need to know, where did I fail? Please let me know. I fear though, you will not – let me know, that is – because you all but ran away from me, to put distance between our two hearts….mine broken, yours yearning for the face of another. The face. There it is again. This face that I don’t know – mocking me while I sit, sobbing, on a sidewalk – holding my coat tight around me, the cold making the snot run from my nose and down my face. I shiver. I will sit a few moments more – an hour or so, a day – longer to wait for you to come back and pick me up. You will come back, won’t you?
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17
sleep crumpled, doe eyed and snuggly, little mr just about four, climbs up into the big old bed. his tousled, towheaded blonde curls bouncing and plants a smearing, smooching kiss on my lips, before climbing into the middle bit of the bed, the bubba spot. then bestowing the same loving brand on da's lips and wriggling like a fish, he makes himself.... comfortable. king of the bed and hums himself back to sleep. we look at each other, over his nodding head and smile. he is the gift , we did not know we wanted, but are so very glad, we recieved and we marvel at him daily. this bit, of you and me and god. we doze all three,   and the blucat beside a knot of happiness and love, in the big old bed. contentment, nestles, rich within our hearts our minds at peace together again.
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May 18, 2014
May 18, 2014 at 3:42 PM UTC
to be contented.....
Lively,long love-loving life, Turns a dreaded dull daydream. Strenght of the strong string of love life Vanishes and vignette vile vipers. The snippy stud snaps and snarks After his smooching snare you slipped Lurve life turns longeurs. Bleak ,black and blinding strife Leaps in and heaps havoc, You hassock and hassle But bed-burning coal you heaped. And the time has come For payment to be made. A nugatory,now you are, You will die the the death of the naughty.
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Jul 3, 2020
Jul 3, 2020 at 4:40 PM UTC
PROMISCUITY
Sonya and I ate out in some Parisian restaurant outside in the air at a small table candle lit wineglasses menus in French what you having? she asked you later I hope I said no now I mean to eat she said I scanned the menu can't make out what's here my French is poor so she told me what was there in her broken English (she was a Danish dame) I'll have the soupe au pistou followed by that quenelle I said and white wine she scanned the menu then called the waitress over (a nice dame with a nice *** and ordered our meals and drinks the waitress walked off with a neat wiggle Sonya gazed at me do you always watch women so intently? yes pretty much all the time I said even when you are with another woman? she said I only look and compare I said compare what? she frowned (beware of women that frown) how they look and carry themselves and hold their heads and walk and how their hair is and so on I said but you are with me am I not enough for you to look at? a couple nearby smooched his hand on her knee of course you are but just because I have a beautiful Rubens art work doesn't mean I can't look at other artwork I said she watched the couple smooching I gazed at her at her eyes (lovely icy blue eyes) her nose her lips her chin how her breast was neatly held by her dress their first date you think? she said probably is I said glancing at the smooching couple (his hand was on her upper thigh) Sonya sighed why do men do that? do what? get all amorous at the wrong time Sonya said you mean there's a wrong time? I said yes it is wrong here she said o I see I said Benny this is for meals and eating not for foreplay she said the waitress brought our drinks on a tray and put them on our table and walked away (neat *** have you finished that Russian novel you were reading? she asked (changing the subject) almost just the last chapter I said how's the **** book you are reading coming along? she looked at me and smiled you will see later she said (I did later in bed).
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Dec 8, 2015
Dec 8, 2015 at 2:31 AM UTC
BEFORE A FRENCH MEAL 1973
Sonya and I ate out in some Parisian restaurant outside in the air at a small table candle lit wineglasses menus in French what you having? she asked you later I hope I said no now I mean to eat she said I scanned the menu can't make out what's here my French is poor so she told me what was there in her broken English (she was a Danish dame) I'll have the soupe au pistou followed by that quenelle I said and white wine she scanned the menu then called the waitress over (a nice dame with a nice *** and ordered our meals and drinks the waitress walked off with a neat wiggle Sonya gazed at me do you always watch women so intently? yes pretty much all the time I said even when you are with another woman? she said I only look and compare I said compare what? she frowned (beware of women that frown) how they look and carry themselves and hold their heads and walk and how their hair is and so on I said but you are with me am I not enough for you to look at? a couple nearby smooched his hand on her knee of course you are but just because I have a beautiful Rubens art work doesn't mean I can't look at other artwork I said she watched the couple smooching I gazed at her at her eyes (lovely icy blue eyes) her nose her lips her chin how her breast was neatly held by her dress their first date you think? she said probably is I said glancing at the smooching couple (his hand was on her upper thigh) Sonya sighed why do men do that? do what? get all amorous at the wrong time Sonya said you mean there's a wrong time? I said yes it is wrong here she said o I see I said Benny this is for meals and eating not for foreplay she said the waitress brought our drinks on a tray and put them on our table and walked away (neat *** have you finished that Russian novel you were reading? she asked (changing the subject) almost just the last chapter I said how's the **** book you are reading coming along? she looked at me and smiled you will see later she said (I did later in bed).
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122
I need a cat, a shape shifter Sleek in the night, stalking my toes I need to feel in danger of the pounce Anticipate the fluffy acupuncture assault Then the soft recompense, the rhythmic purr Sound of engine running in a furry chassis Curl of warm belly around my hand, Snugly trusting. I want a cat, a ballet dancer Graceful gymnast, lissome acrobat How the hell did she get way up there? And she’s so pleased with herself. Twinkling cabochon peridot eyes Ancestral spirit homes, divining the future Seeing worlds to which my dull human sight Remains insensible. I long for the feline trip-me-up The periscope tail strutting around The up yours attitude, possessive head **** Tail in my face, weaving round ankles **** plonked on the page I’m reading Voice of a cranky, unmelodic angel The regal pride at the table trespass Gifted bug at my feet. I need a cat with a jealous streak Wise to my other feline indiscretions The accusatory looks, and petulant shunning I need to plead for mercy, to reassure To bestow the favourite treat as consolation I want the day long cuddle that follows Punctuated by tiny acts of punishment Put in my place. I miss the chaos and the havoc The ritual corruption of the Christmas tree Random bursts of ecstatic craziness Thunderous houseruns in the wee hours I need the smooching when I’m melancholy The comfort of determined, kneading paws The little upturned face searching mine, in Uncanny empathy. I need the kitty litter, and the up chuck The inelegant realities, however gross Little things that bond two simpatico souls Aren’t always so glamourous I need the mythic vision and the everyday plain Extraordinary archetype and simply dear kitty Faerytale heroics, **** In Boots, “Memory”, Alleycat blues. I’m a cat lady in the making A cat lady-in-waiting I need a cat I need a cat I need a cat.
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Aug 14, 2018
Aug 14, 2018 at 9:04 PM UTC
Cat Lady
I need a cat, a shape shifter Sleek in the night, stalking my toes I need to feel in danger of the pounce Anticipate the fluffy acupuncture assault Then the soft recompense, the rhythmic purr Sound of engine running in a furry chassis Curl of warm belly around my hand, Snugly trusting. I want a cat, a ballet dancer Graceful gymnast, lissome acrobat How the hell did she get way up there? And she’s so pleased with herself. Twinkling cabochon peridot eyes Ancestral spirit homes, divining the future Seeing worlds to which my dull human sight Remains insensible. I long for the feline trip-me-up The periscope tail strutting around The up yours attitude, possessive head **** Tail in my face, weaving round ankles **** plonked on the page I’m reading Voice of a cranky, unmelodic angel The regal pride at the table trespass Gifted bug at my feet. I need a cat with a jealous streak Wise to my other feline indiscretions The accusatory looks, and petulant shunning I need to plead for mercy, to reassure To bestow the favourite treat as consolation I want the day long cuddle that follows Punctuated by tiny acts of punishment Put in my place. I miss the chaos and the havoc The ritual corruption of the Christmas tree Random bursts of ecstatic craziness Thunderous houseruns in the wee hours I need the smooching when I’m melancholy The comfort of determined, kneading paws The little upturned face searching mine, in Uncanny empathy. I need the kitty litter, and the up chuck The inelegant realities, however gross Little things that bond two simpatico souls Aren’t always so glamourous I need the mythic vision and the everyday plain Extraordinary archetype and simply dear kitty Faerytale heroics, **** In Boots, “Memory”, Alleycat blues. I’m a cat lady in the making A cat lady-in-waiting I need a cat I need a cat I need a cat.
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53
I could live here Dalya said if I could that is if I didn't already have a job and place to live but yes I fancy it here we were in Oslo and had returned to base camp yes that cafe was good and Oslo is my kind of place too I said I’m going for a shower she said see you later at the bar and if the Yank dame is off some place we can get down to it if not then not I watched her go with a big towel over her shoulder and a wash bag swinging at her side she had a nice *** I liked the way she moved it side to side as she walked off to the shower block I sat in the entrance of my tent and opened a can of beer and sipped and smoked I looked at the late afternoon sky thinking of that night in Stockholm when the Yank dame had gone walk about with some German guy and Dalya and I (after a drinking session and smooching game) settled into her tent and while rock music blasted from the base camp speakers and laughs and yells and shouts from crowds that went by we made love hotly beneath a dark Swedish sky.
0
Sep 24, 2015
Sep 24, 2015 at 4:07 PM UTC
DARK SWEDISH SKY 1974.
smooching cotton clouds soars higher as burners roar reaching wondrous heights — Marsh
0
Oct 15, 2018
Oct 15, 2018 at 7:22 PM UTC
❝hot air balloon❞
I wake up and look out of the window, Breathe some fresh air and embrace the morning glow.. In a balcony opposite to my flat, I see a girl skimpily clad.. She maneuvers her hair to the right, And gazes at the street with such serenity in her eyes.. Suddenly a man comes and hugs her from behind, She is shocked, she laughs, she kisses, she smiles.. I reach my office, and what do I see, An official flirting with another right in front of me.. The natural forces make me hear every word they speak, I don't wish to hear such things, when not meant for me.. She sits on top of a table, As their hands entwine.. Their lips are at striking distance, Seems like some **** about to unwind.. After an exhausting day, I desperately need some peace, I go to a park and my thoughts break the leash.. I see kids playing with their parents, As happy as they should be.. And then just nearby I see something, That just keeps chasing me.. A couple smooching behind a Not so secluded tree.. I know I am gonna be alone, I am making peace with me.. May be it is better this way, To be independent and free.. O' lover, not everyone is as lucky, As you are and will be.. But you won't bother understanding, Because you are no more one like me..
0
Mar 15, 2014
Mar 15, 2014 at 11:12 AM UTC
Get a room!
For the first time when I saw you You were gossiping and giggling with your friends which I assumed them to be Second I saw you being pinched in your naval by one of our classmates After a year or so we had a good bond When I saw you smooching that very guy It felt a little bad , but still hadn't an issue Days went then weeks and months That giggle, your behavior had changed a bit We had exchanged our cell no's Had been talking late night You're the one who gifted me something for the first time in a long We had started altering our schedules with each other's priorities It went for few months when I decided to break the ice between our friendship-cum-love I proposed you on the day of our board exam You didn't replied for days ,just to say BK I do love you BUT...... And that was it . At least from your side You never called again nor did I Friends made fun of mine when I cried Just cause I'm a boy and boys don't cry It's been 2 years now I still go through our conversations, Your pictures and every moment I could remember ..... Just to remind myself that how cheated I'd been Never to fall in that situation again Weather it was my "pious love" or " you attracting beauty that lead me to have a infatuation towards you"
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Oct 20, 2018
Oct 20, 2018 at 1:21 PM UTC
First love or infatuation