"subtleness" poems
Unfamiliar face, with your touch that melts so warm.
Foreign bodies with the same intention, wanting more.
Exchanging breaths instead of words,
No expectations to be heard..
Lines blurred.
Asking nothing but a moment of euphoric selfless bliss
Just thrusts of lustful passion
with pain and pleasure in its midsts
Subtleness.
As we continue to succumb this yearning, pure desire..
this stranger doesn't feel so strange,
like a flame amidst the fire.
-Bobbie Leigh
Sep 8, 2017
Sep 8, 2017 at 9:54 PM UTC
smile…… Manipulate…..complements ...... Manipulate……act interested……manipulate…..show some tears….. manipulate…….white lies….manipulate…..it’s a drug, to manipulate….flirt and manipulate…. escape pain or consequence…manipulate …..socially acceptable to manipulate…to get what you deserve…manipulate….to get what you want….manipulate……to change some one’s mind manipulate…..to be successful manipulate …..O i hate manipulation! i rather have paid every speeding ticket, stood in every long line, gone to jail, paid more than full price for everything, not got the job and been broke…..never been kissed…failed at everything….then to have ever manipulated in my life! O God i hate manipulation and it’s subtleness.. a quiet vice…a secret soul killer…. Call it what you will….swag….cleverness….success…..it doesn’t matter manipulation wears any Word you choose…it’s all self-centered…. me me me me me….. hehehehe…..stop!!!!…. Manipulation must die! Especially in its most subtle and acceptable forms. Even if i have to struggle…even if i lose everything…it must die…”those who save there live will lose it, those lose their lives will find it…………Christ guide me
Jan 19, 2015
Jan 19, 2015 at 8:09 PM UTC
It was not my first intention
Courting, that is
Never my strongest of suits
Known to closest my true emotions
I let my colors speak for me
The crispness of my whites
Radiating pure innocence
The warmth and joy of my yellows
Welcoming
My orange hints
Full of desire and energy
The subtleness of my pinks
Portraying my delicacy and grace
Be around a bouquet of me
The sweetest thoughts of the most gentle sentiments
Will arise alone from my aroma
After having met my thorny stems
You are rewarded by my silky texture
My mesmerizing fragrance
The spectrum of my colors entice
I spread my own rainbow across the skies
I tease, I flirt
All to my liking
However seducing
Although said to be a natural
I prefer to be picked
Coat smooth as the most delicate of flowers
Queen of the Garden
Rosa is my name.
Different needs call for different hues
I am divine.
I am romantic.
The presence of me, pleasant
The perfume I emit, calming
Creative minds put me to good use
A trail lines the hall
Crimson flutters leave a path to your bedroom
Delicately placed aloft the best of Egyptian cotton
What better sight of affection to see?
The flush of color to my cheeks when we meet
The thumping of my hearts beat?
Rose petals on the sheets?
From sponge baths to massages
Chocolate dipped scarlet strawberries
Each affair we have is the most superb of quality
My red appearance not the deepest of color
But its beautiful elegance is the most sought after of shades
A symbol of deep burning undying passion
Signifying the most immortal dramatic love
The Red Rose is The Rose of all roses.
Rosa is my name.
Jul 21, 2014
Jul 21, 2014 at 8:43 PM UTC
I miss you when you're not around
So much sometimes it hurts
Like a pang that vibrates through me
A part of myself missing
You stole my heart with tenderness
And my body with affection
Laid my head down on your shoulder
And slept soundly by my side
You took me with a subtleness
Held my hand as we walked
Took me with you to the highest planes
Whispered things that had no names
I'll wrap my arms around your body
Slide my fingers through your hair
Touch my hands to your soft cheeks
And hold you to my frame.
Some day I'll carry your name.
Jan 27, 2013
Jan 27, 2013 at 2:18 PM UTC
Matilda listens to make sure they’ve gone out knowing Mr Doozie the cat is licking his milk the slurping sound fills the now silent room but she has to be sure her aunt and uncle have gone she can’t allow Moses to come in by the backdoor until they’re long gone and in the town buying and selling their wares she places her hands on her head and closes her eyes to focus her listening to close out Mr Doozie’s sounds the saucer of milk being pushed across the floor the purring but she cannot hear them now cannot hear their voices can’t hear Auntie’s whines and Uncle’s bellows can’t smell Uncle’s pipe or the aroma of his farts or Auntie’s sour body odour and sniffs the air and puts one leg up on the chair and lets the skirt fall back revealing her fine thigh and underwear something for Moses to see and get excited about not that he needs any encouragement especially after the last time he came around when her aunt and uncle had gone off for the day to market on the old bus and Moses had sneaked in the back door his eyes peering around the door and she saying They’ve gone out you can come in and he did and while Mr Doozie sat on the end of the bed watching disinterestedly Moses had kissed her all over her body and after games of foreplay he’d entered her with subtleness and moved in a slow motion so that the bed only moved and rattled slightly and did not disturbed Mr Doozie and they had only just dressed and was letting Moses out the back door when Auntie came in the front door followed by Uncle with his arms laden with shopping and moaning about the prices and the shop girls and how there is no manners anymore and she feeling Moses’ ***** easing down her thigh and stood there with her innocent stare but this time Moses would need to be quicker as they had only gone to town and wouldn’t be long and if they returned earlier and caught her and Moses undressed and ******* with Mr Doozie sitting watching she doesn’t know what they’d say or do although knowing Uncle he’d chase off Moses with his walking stick and tan her hide until she cried and cried but Moses hasn’t come and she listens out hushing Mr Doozie with a shush shush and scratches her thigh and strains her ears was that him? She sighs opening her eyes sitting up looking towards the door waiting anticipating feeling the body’s urge the body’s need wanting Moses to come through the door and hurry with her up the stairs followed no doubt by Mr Doozie and quickly ********** and into her bed and setting aside the kissing and messing get on with the ******* but the door remains closed the room is almost silent apart from Mr Doozie’s licking and purring and the soft tick tocking of the grandfather clock and her heart thumping boom boom boom boom like a small drum all around the room and inside her head and she disappointed frustrated with no *** with Moses just a small empty bed.
Oct 5, 2013
Oct 5, 2013 at 2:15 PM UTC
I used to hang out with subtleness
But she bruised my ego so I stripped her bare
Inviting promiscuity to be my friend instead
Open and easy my smiles come quick
Especially for him
The intensity of his gaze hugged close to my glistening curves
Heavy intentions tempo my movements deep and slow
The dance floor is crowded with seeking bodies
His eyes locked only on me
Devouring
I'm going in for the ****
Licking my lips, him chasing my hips
This is gonna be quick
Major rager tenting his chinos
I want some. Real bad.
His breaking dawn sunset scent making it impossible not to salivate
Closer. Come closer to me.
I am as close as I am going to get
Without falling
Hard. At his feet.
Begging him for just a taste
He doesn't know it yet
I am going to **** him down
Wants it but doesn't know it
I am going to swallow all that juicy ***
Craves it but doesn't know it
He will be the one begging
Begging for more
Jun 4, 2012
Jun 4, 2012 at 5:36 PM UTC
I'm speechless,
Held back by your words,
Of faith and harmony,
I place my hand on your face,
You heat me up,
The warmth is arresting.
We waltz through the barrage,
Of profanity and hurt,
We take no action,
We stand and watch the failings,
We intertwine and keep our hearts,
From being strangled by the hands of mistrust.
You're the one,
With a waist the size of a line,
Painted on the road that leads to paradise,
We're unbreakable.
The sound of the music,
Enlightens us,
The sweetness of the piano,
The subtleness of the violin.
I need you,
You're my medication,
The drama queen,
The artist of the painting that hangs,
Above the unmade bed.
So we have it all,
You have the attributes of a genuis,
The character that a fable yelps for,
I am the disaster,
With hands that shake like an earthquake,
We're unbreakable.
Jul 4, 2014
Jul 4, 2014 at 4:32 PM UTC
The sun set sadly on the settled window frame
speaking with the new dew soon to form.
the sweet singing voices rose from the garden
where you bathed with your sister
while your mother and father drank cherry flavored wine
on the porch in the melting sun.
when the stars began to rain you felt something new
staring up where the sun is commonplace
you felt little better than you did moments ago.
but when your sister,
hand on your spine,
whispered in your ear,
your hair stood up,
and your mother,
and your father,
waved goodbye to the Hendersons going to Florida for the weekend.
Jun 19, 2013
Jun 19, 2013 at 3:41 AM UTC
The special subtleness
that you use to bite your lip
is cunning.
And when your white,
soldier teeth,
come looming from between your gums
your subtlety is lost
rashly breaking the surface
so to speak
malevolently, or violently, or rather vehemently,
sexually, and lustfully
aimed down wind,
in my direction.
Jun 19, 2013
Jun 19, 2013 at 10:39 PM UTC
Images slip thru’ my heart ~ my mind
My soul quakes with fleeting memories ~ my thoughts
The subtleness of a breeze ~ the whiff of a familiar scent
can set my heart and soul into spasms of delight ~
or heart wrenching, aching sadness
A home once filled with our love ~ with our memories
Have all been emptied ~ thoughts wiped away
Tears once shared ~ dried, but not gone ... no never gone
Feeling lost in the why’s, what’s, how’s ~ the maybe’s
Frightened to start a new romance
Fearful to take another chance
Déjà vu reminds me I’ve walked this road too many times
Too many years
Now...
I feel lost when the skies rain their shiny tears
The thunder rumbles its voice
And yet~
It’s not so new - this feeling…
Of losing you…
~~~~~ and you, and you, and you ~~~~~
Apr 19, 2013
Apr 19, 2013 at 9:38 PM UTC
I pick out a picture
A captured moment of us
There ain't a picture showing that smile
Displaying the ****** wickedness
I loved the other side of you
The other 'rotten' side of you
For it disclosed you
Far more than lust
Far away from good u were
My deep conscience spoke
Yet not at first
But slowly
You hid a split
Cracking my wit
The jeopardy increased
Your subtleness unleashed
Into more lies
White lies placed in our lives
Blank goes my face
When first saw you
Not on beauty,nor on those eyes
But on a mystery that binds
Rather I came to end you
You being a demon
A heart like gold
People say you have
Are they blind
I seldom sneered
Now,the broken breeze fears me
No one questioned those ***** eyes
Coz it hid under a mask
U masked man,I screeched
Open up you monster
Show your truth,you traitor
And now the storm showcased terror
I look at him,straight in his eye
A glint of venom reflected by
Mercy didn't exist in his heart
Which held a murderous view.
Mar 5, 2015
Mar 5, 2015 at 12:27 AM UTC
I see your face in stages
As I flip through the pages
Following your story as the war around you rages
Significant in elegance
A cruel world's recompense
But fervent in your rarity and ever present subtleness
In no history books are you written
A blip in a grander vision
A story of mistake and scars from varying decisions
But I flip through and see you
And in this your story rings true
And I see the flaw and wonder that only living can accrue
Mar 8, 2017
Mar 8, 2017 at 10:13 AM UTC
*oh yeah... and i just spotted a crow pecking a pigeon's ***** with a pecker the size of an elephant's trunk... give it a 100,000 years and you'll see a new species... like that saying: when pigs grow wings.*
because the current theory of darwinism teaches
us we interbred with lesser species
and justifies ********** -
the dualism is horrid, i prefer parallelism -
parallelism and our own individual lives,
rather than mediating two extremes...
and indeed i prefer to think we were uniquely
classified from the start... but i guess there's
a fetish going around the joke about the welsh,
sheep and cliffs... i want to ask you:
when did **** insapiens emerge, or rather,
when did he actually manage to integrate
into our species with such subtleness
that we actually proclaimed some men mad
when they weren't, and assured ourselves
that some mad men were actually sane?
how to decipher this conundrum?
he did so... bringing us *** and other presents...
and indeed his identity will never be known;
indeed, who is this unhygienic brat?
Apr 1, 2016
Apr 1, 2016 at 8:24 PM UTC
In this unconscionable soul rests a being
Void of knowledge, yet engaging in life
He has become stranded in his path
Nevertheless, he knows where to go, but reluctantly does not follow
The inability to stick with his logic has become a downfall
Blinded by the subtleness of repetition
He continues, unsurprised
Caught up in his unrequited lust for more
Sometimes, however, he finds truth in the greatest parts of his life
But instantly the figure appears, blinding
The figure haunts his memory
As dark as it is, he refuses to release it
Some unknown burden holds him closely
Entangled from years of darkness
Is it possible to even discover light?
Or is he eternally traveling with bloodless hands, outstretched in potential?
I find myself only able to whisper softly among the screams echoing in his head
Is it worth your life?
Without this burden you can truly find yourself
Can’t you see what it has made you?
Nothing more than a spec of dust in the ground
Worthless, beaten down by others
He placed himself in this state
Continuing to wander, as he desires
Hoping that in his brokenness he can bring life to something
The only influence he has is the darkness that consumes his soul
At one moment was change possible
Yet once again he has turned away
To find his worth in the loneliness of states
Unable to find redemption in his hollow face
Jun 6, 2011
Jun 6, 2011 at 9:10 PM UTC
What are you reading?
Atara asked.
Book on Schopenhauer,
I said.
Dull reading.
Depends on what you like.
She sipped her coke,
her eyes studying
the cover of the book.
Is that him?
Yes, old photograph.
She looked at me.
Why do you read
such dull books?
Maybe I'm a dull guy.
She smiled.
Not last night.
I closed the book
and laid it
on the table.
I sipped my beer.
Does he talk
about ***
She asked.
Not that I’ve read
so far.
If a book doesn't mention ***
it isn't worth reading.
Maybe I should read Freud.
Why read?
I looked at the waiter
passing the table,
his clipped moustache,
his deep eyes.
You read,
I said,
not heavy stuff,
but you do read.
I like my books
like I like my men:
not too deep and fun.
I said nothing
about my books
and women.
She didn't have
the depth
and she taught me
nothing,
although
that session
in the bathroom
had insight.
The way she had it
right down
to a fine art,
the subtleness
of her limbs,
her gyrations,
her lips and tongue.
What now?
She asked.
I fancy a walk
on the beach,
catch some sun.
You go,
I said,
I want to chill out
with a cold beer
and watch life go by.
She pulled a face sulkily,
but went off,
her hips doing
that thing they did
when she was annoyed.
I watched her go,
sipped the beer,
icy cold
like I enjoyed.
Jun 23, 2014
Jun 23, 2014 at 3:29 PM UTC
Each moment I
need an escape
from the
day-to-day grind,
i go deeper
into my
inner corridor
and ignite the
search light
in my soul.
Therein is the
brightest sun and
the day-star of
my soul shining
with so much
radiance it could
swallow up any
darkness within
my heart.
Within the depths
of the spirit
is drawn the
strength to conquer
and overcome.
Hidden within the
framework of
my spirit is
linked with the
power of love.
The joy of
oneness in love
is strong and
so mesmerizing,
it's power can
subdue anything
negative within
the mind.
With sublime
subtleness it
penetrates the
impregnable and
softened the heart
of even the
hardest offender.
©2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.
Dec 22, 2018
Dec 22, 2018 at 7:00 AM UTC
Oh you lady, you glanced at my sight,
The might of your stare shook my stride.
A glance that my eyes craved for,
A glance that opened the window to the soul.
Way too shattering,
Yet ecstatic.
Oh you lady, you spoke in my mind,
The words that filled up my life.
A speech that sparked the light,
A speech that left me with troublesome nights.
Way too engulfing,
Yet enlightening.
Oh you lady, you touched my heart,
Left a lingering subtleness of your palm.
A touch that my heart longed for,
A touch that made it who it was.
Way too provoking,
Yet calming at par.
Oh you lady, you clasped your heart onto mine,
Showed me what love is which no one else could find.
A firmly tied thread through which I dangled,
Reality and serenity cast me into a fight.
Way too catastrophic outside,
Yet all gentle inside.
Love in my eyes,
Liveliness in yours.
Fathomless trust of yours,
My dauntless promise to be by your side.
Feb 20, 2019
Feb 20, 2019 at 1:06 PM UTC
*The subtle makes an impact
Our eyes are enticed towards embellishments
Blinded by the glare*
Aug 24, 2014
Aug 24, 2014 at 12:40 AM UTC
Marcus eyes
Amy's frame
how she walks
the slave girl
who shares bed
with his wife
while he's off
fighting wars
keeps her warm
(his cold wife
without him)
his wife said
when he asked
about her
stops rumours
his wife said
that some man
comes to her
in her bed
while he's off
(old Marcus)
on Caesar's
war campaigns
the slave girl
blushes red
as he stares
taking in
her subtleness
the nice *******
lovely eyes
if his wife
were away
he'd have her
(the slave girl)
in his bed
absorbing
his dull seed
but of course
he cannot
his wife takes
the young *****
(the slave girl)
with her on
her travels
leaving him
to whore's whim
or in night's
****** freeze
his own big
hand to please.
Jan 10, 2016
Jan 10, 2016 at 11:08 AM UTC
And I said to her that I need more than a friend.
That I need that compromise that calls for her immediate attention.
That my head has been the beneficiary of her shoulder for quite sometime.
Through the laughs, the jokes, the long talks that end with a deep stare.
To be as honest as I can, I revealed the fact that I've been digging her for quite sometime now.
You know that subtle weakness that makes it hard to say no to the smallest thing.
That cool but uncool moment every-time the phone rings you hope its who your thinking of.
That one person whom makes it through that thick fog of possibilities and it could be's.
That sometimes your right, sometimes your wrong. Gradually bidding your time until they call subtleness.
Revealing that the small moments we've spent together equates to somewhat of all her time,
And with her busy schedule and all that it's all she has to give.
And trust me that's all right with me.
That I am blessed to stare right into her eyes and be able to feel the exact thing
Holiday felt. The pause that captivated a audience until the end of her performance.
The same thing Stevie Wonder felt, that sort of superstitious that causes pause whenever I go to speak.
It's that urgent manifestation to tell you that I miss you, that if your not too busy stop by after work.
As her voice is the transportation that takes me from one job to the next.
That energy that could otherwise be describe as divine.
That is why it's important that I need her to know this.
This certain philosophy that she is needed to get through the day.
And here I am at my window seat seeing the world from a totally different view.
No longer sitting at the bus stop watching the world speed pass a moment at a time.
Without need for a transfer, just bidding my time without a thing to do. Tossing my bus pass in the wind.
At that moment I said to her that I need more than a friend.
What I need is that feeling that only you can provide
Dec 20, 2016
Dec 20, 2016 at 2:47 PM UTC
are you sure that we're supposed
to be buried in earth,
earth the closest we resemble
as ash...
are you sure?
just wondering, because i've
just stopped looking through
my grandfather's rea ding glasses...
and what i saw through them...
was akin to having your eyes
open, underwater...
perhaps this whole one-size-fits-all
coffin packaging is great
to cut corners and run the treadmill...
hell, floating murk
of cremation on the Ganges...
if the druids were to be stirred...
the eyes of man,
ought to be buried in the sea
or lake or river...
the other body parts?!
dunno...
because that would rob
me of the authenticity
of where I'd like my eyes to be buried...
or rather dropped into...
apart from the eyes and the brain...
i guess the druids would prefer
the modernised version of events,
given the progess of science...
donor flesh...
even the heart doesn't
exactly fit a burial worthy of
the earth... you could in earnest
bury a heart of a wild animal,
when performing a burial rite...
but there's something
comical about the inverted necrophilia,
a higher tier of hue...
there is a dead man,
but a part of him is still living,
in another...
hence my sour taste in,
peace be upon him, Christopher Hitchens'
atheism, banking on genes,
and an eternity solely via genes...
genes are but atoms...
i see...
a heart of my calibre
beating for 10 more years in
a foreign body...
and all this...
with the exausted poetic eucharist
of Christianity...
and before the techno-tenticle
explores...
a complete inversion
of necrophilia...
a subtleness of life...
and the endless possibilities therein...
at least by cremation:
nothing is sacred, all is elemental...
not this, from dust you came,
but unto wax you shall return...
Madame Tussauds *** doll
precursors, and a stag night joke
about ******* a helium sheep...
with all due respect,
peace be upon him,
there are more avenues to eternity,
than in the immediate sense,
atomist, procreation and the passing on
of genes...
unless you are of course
a modern day Portuguese ****
with the no. 7 roy-al white...
less about prostitutes tier C,
certainly not tier B (strippers and
the sugg'ah daddy teasers)...
no, we're talking Gattaca ******
tier A... surrogates.
Apr 12, 2018
Apr 12, 2018 at 5:47 PM UTC
Dream of the day,
dream of the night,
are just,
subtleness of neon,
you on the ground,
stars in the sky,
are an,
integrated part of,
a trance.
May 18, 2015
May 18, 2015 at 1:34 PM UTC
You can never
separate yourself
from the source
of all souls.
Here every single
soul is unique
like a song
and a flower
in their varieties
and so beautiful,
even so is,
all the stars
in the sky
different in their glory.
Everyone you meet
carries a bit
of heaven and
is so beautiful
and divine.
As beautiful as
the ocean,
profound and mysterious,
untapped and intriguing,
inviting and yielding,
yet sacred but
so scary.
It let's a
person look at
himself to find
out if he's
uncomfortable in
his own skin.
With a great
sense of awe
and reverence,
we approach
the beautiful with
sublime subtleness
and singleness of
purpose.
Beauty of
the spirit through
heart explosion
expressed itself
as desired.
Guilty as charged,
everyone seems
to feel the
same warmth of
love so beautifully.
©2019,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.
Apr 30, 2019
Apr 30, 2019 at 4:27 PM UTC
I don't ask for much
It is only everything
Only the world
Only that you would help me
With unadorned sincerity
Subtleness and humility
Piety and virtue
Show me mercy
Nov 24, 2015
Nov 24, 2015 at 11:41 PM UTC
The only way to learn is the hard way
so some people say.
I like subtle teaching.
Let it hold sway
but if you think you're dense
then there's no false pretenses here,
getting hit on the head
with the truth thru a can of mace.
You obey.
Why not obey is an
institution emphasized
societe'.
"Get in line."
"Cooperate
and graduate, or else."
"hear what I say.
It's all the same.
May 31, 2017
May 31, 2017 at 10:54 AM UTC