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Cné Jun 2018

paint me
with the wet tickle
of your tongue
lingering with affection
savoring my fervent flavor
in bold strokes
of your obsession

color my essence
in heated hues
sending shivers
down my spine
in anticipation
of your warm breath
against my flesh
with every blissful caress
to ensue painted petals
of animation

with your supple lips
gently blur the lines
of my curved hips
softly stroking
the subtle shadows
of warm depth,
blushing
quivering thighs
as I gasp
of breath

plunge in
a primer coated palette
dipping your stiff paintbrush
deep within
the folds of my blanket
manipulating
a trembling image
of your voracious lust.

craze me
again and again
in breathless
****** glow,
your sensual brushstrokes
gently murmuring
layer on layer
in alla prima flow

delve deep
into my eyes
paint splattering
the passion
of my soul
drizzling silken strands
of love
in their entirety,
polishing me whole

and then
in blissful backwash
admire
the tangled limbs
interposed
of your
completed masterpiece
in smiling
sated repose

Muse the Bobbie, Learned and Scrolling Mentor
For screening this Curtain to show our Task
Basic Words you exhume; Trust, a favour
Later allow us with some Sticks to bask
It takes much swallow to go back to School
And strip us bare with Her Majesty's Words
This how you Speak - With a Rod and a Fool
But then, who cares? Forgans are for the Birds
Now all it takes to supple your behalf
Modelled by the Mad Agent done and pleased
We empty our Fillers; and bid Avast!
Upon Graduation your Skills we take heed.
Thank you so much again, Mentor availed
Success is Reward; Laziness is Failed.
veritas Jul 2018
gods and goddesses stilled mid-flight,
immortalized in a glory fast fading.
distilled sunlight filtering through, unheeded,
as a devastating dawn for redemption awakens.

     dust scattering over marble hands, forever supple,
as angels fall from grace,
wings clipped and torn asunder.

the sigh of a thousand lost souls, searching;
the thunder of a thousand chariots, unbridled.

     a wing outstretched, a bow pulled taught;
drawn, not fired.

frozen heroes lifting voices unheard;
     the calm before a storm, a fight unforeseen,
silver linings beckoning victories
of heaven's epics left unsung.

look up into the clouds and you'll see a history unwritten,
for they speak to you in murals
of smeared colors and pure light.

but hush! sweet child,
off you drift into an insincere sleep,
until these stories buried beneath your lips,
     singed, searing, burning away memories of the battles that
   linger ,over your tongue  ,
are no more than a shadow of a flame.

   and as his lashes flutter closed over blue eyes
   and his heavy golden curls fall on white sheets
   she whispers,
        the renaissance was not painted for you.
look up. and then higher than that.
Kenji Apr 4
She walks with grace, and kisses like a seductress.
She handles with poise, and fights like a warrior.
She dances with beauty, and sees with wonder.
She has the eyes of a devilish cat, Cleopatra, a destined goddess.
Luscious lips as she bites them with effortless ease, soft and supple, tastes like cherry.
A dark mysterious demeanor that screams, tell me more.
Skin as soft as silk, toned with honey brown.
Seductive, sultry, sensual, and ****.
Bad, bold, brave, and bewildered.
She is the Taurus woman, a woman to be greatly feared of her undying passion and intense magnitude.
Magnetic and love so soft, it can rip your insides apart till it subsides with hers.
Majestic as the great white horse, flips her mane and looks at you seductively.
Fear not my great ones, we are all just gods in disguise.
Kiss me, touch me, hold me, and **** me.
Brooding with a territorial existence, protective, possessive, and romantic to the touch.
Love me...
As I will love you back, 10 times harder.
The Taurus woman

Sun in Taurus (Stubborn, seductive, sultry, sensual)
Mercury in Taurus (Slow thinkers, common sense speakers, logical, practical)
PrttyBrd Oct 2014
Thick skin falls in pieces
To reveal a molten liquid center
A beauty never gazed upon by another
A glow of heat and pain and ...love
Hidden from prying eyes
Kept safe from strangers and "loved ones" alike
Permanent fists grip tightly
As the center boils hot upon its release
And a trickle becomes a flood
In the right hands...

In the right heart
The stiff grip loosens
And new skin, soft and supple
Replaces the old
Stronger than one could have imagined
Sweeter than one could hope
A butterfly against the odds
And a struggle ends in .....**love
100914
For that sweet one, the one no one else can truly see.
Marla Jun 7
The moon changes subtly
Whenever we gaze away,
As our worries evolve swiftly
And our joys stay the same.

Perhaps she is a beacon
Baring light for our souls,
Enticing us into her depths
With glimpses of the heart's gold.

Blessed enchantress,
Affixed in a gentle way,
Dragging all from ached misery
And harboring us in her supple bay.

Reject ye thy sun's beating rays
& dispel lightning's spiteful bright tase,
Look only to the night sky as it glistens
If you seek to bask in nature's grace.
The Heart's Gold is more a subject of the soul than it is of heart.
P E Kaplan Apr 2014
First I spied the neck, sagging innocently enough,
one might even say blissfully, reflected in the glass laptop.
The phrase "whodunit" came out of nowhere,
and a low, silky, voice whispered,
"Aw, don't stop before the good part."

The villain left a few clues; the wispy hair strands;
some scattered age spots, skin tags, a few moles,
listless, crinkly, skin pale, lightly pimpled,
and a weird, wrinkly crevasse teased,
"Aw, don't stop before the good part."

Totally hooked, curiosity piqued; southward I spotted
where a once perky treasure "chest" was hidden,
two solemn, half-empty grain sacks, laying sideways,
basically lifeless they lazily muttered,
"Aw, don't stop before the good part."

The final chapter, the mystery solved,
no crime, no villain, nothing stolen, just flesh alchemy.
Where once a taut, flat, plateau of supple skin, resided
now a lumpy, bumpy, flabby belly, murmured sweetly,
"Boston Creme Pie and a cup of tea would hit the spot."
John Niederbuhl May 2017
Each day I watch the ocean swell
Sometimes with hope, sometimes despair;
The ocean's faces ever change
Like the fashions of their hair:

Monday:

Like a waterfall of brown
Through golden culverts flowing--
Sweeps me far away downstream,
Without her ever knowing.

Tuesday:

Rippled clouds at sunrise,
Supple, damp and red,
Combed out, twisted in a braid,
Or just left loose instead.

Wednesday:

Of her black hair a single strand
Sweeter than Midnight's darkest land;
When it lightens up again,
Its sunrise on a beach of sand.

Thursday:

Like golden floss on top of corn,
Silky, curly, fine,
Rising from a thick, black band
Above blue eyes that shine.

Friday:

Whipped up like a hot souffle,
Luxurious, soft, held loose
With ribbons, combs and perfume,
Tempting like a mousse.

Saturday:

Her pony tail we follow,
Like the Christmas star;
Maybe we're not wise men,
But then, maybe we are.

Sunday:

Her hair flew up out the vent
Like a flame,
When we hit an unmarked bump
(Not big).

The top slid shut,
And her hair almost caught,
So I reached up
And pulled it in quick.
Seven different people
Michael A Dec 2014
Palms
Supple, calloused
Wandering, connecting, belonging
Two hearts, one pulse
Transmitting
zebra Nov 2017
i feel like talking tonight
reciting poetry to your big blue eyes
and raw pink mouth smiling
high as a wind whipped kite
discussing
art, ontology, and existentialism
sitting like lotus
at the
Cafe Figaro on McDougall st
in the west village
the  belly of a ghost
lost in a vagrant memory

afterwards
we go to a
little one bedroom flat in the east village
haunted by the vapors of history
a slight stench of ****
and dingo tongue
dripping toilet
all peeling walls
intimating births, cheer and squalor

after a hot bath
of lathered torsos
we would follow each other naked
winding around a table
into a swaying bed
that beckoned
**** here my darlings

and i licked and drank out of your drenched
rose red blossom for hours
it licking back
I salvaged my soul between your thighs
like a wounded dog whimpering
thanking God with every graze and ******
of your all supple shifting limbs
and
your company
your company
your sweet droplets
of company

a summer balm

we looked in the mirror
reflecting on my secreted glistening face
all red raspberry
lips emerald hydras
laughing our ***** off at how artsy i looked
smeared
with your blood painted thighs
appearing as if half eaten

and you growled swallowed  and
licked big butter stick piggy
till your nose ran like the Ganges
gagging
eyes bloodshot pools of fire
cooing and oowing
driving me maniacal
with every ****** of your wild glinting tongue

we poured our selves into each other
viscous creels gushing
coursing like tidal waving lava  
radiating

and finally used to the marrow
we found ourselves drooping
our eyelids  leaden

the night mist fell upon us like breezing shade
and we drowsed
in careless embrace
our *** shriveled
like cast-off umbilici
and we fell to sleep
steep steep
floating
like two buttermilk clouds
adrift

your company
your company
your sweet droplets
of company

a summer balm
*** *** ***  love memory fiction nostalgia
Puissant piquant and predatory
And observant from afar
He looks down on your slumber
Like a door that's left ajar

Plying with his manly vice
A reckless male visage
A rogue of masculine device
Seeks entrance to your mind

He saunters with a swagger
A macho savvy moxie
To personify virility's incarnate
His dream zone's metier

He sifts your ****** entourage
In search of sprawls recumbence
To tantalize climactic fervor
With lambent photic scenes

Grasping at your revelries
He spies the wanton lust
With swanky strut appealing
Your primal urge to sate

He leaves undone resistance
With innate resilience seized
The lavish wayward implications
Of unrequited livid deeds

Like passion's lurid lecheries
An insatiable torrid sooth
You wrestle with his adamance
Your  carnal ecstasies revealed

You pounce on his exsertion
You splay your agile form
wriggling like a supple nymph
You accept his blatant storm

You writhe in your abandon
In a euphoric supplication
His machismo ****** enveloping
Your wildest latent needs

With no regrets or reticence
you awaken from this dream
To find yourself alone again
Like it had never been
I of we all create our own incubi and succubi and we should pay attention to their parameters
Valsa George May 2016
When I look into the mirror
And stare at my own reflection
I see a stranger sneering at me
I see the patch of dark around my eyes
I see my hair going grey
I see the blotchy skin and wrinkles on my face
It all makes me think
How rapid is the flight of youth

Once I was a bubbly girl
Full of charm with dreamy eyes
The golden vistas cheered my heart
In my dreams I scaled to touch the skies
Love vibrated every nerve
But now a sad change has come over
It all makes me think
How rapid is the flight of time

Once I thought how bright and sweet was life
Agile were my movements, could walk miles
Fatigue I never knew, supple limbs never ached
Life was a roller coaster ride
Today when I look at the young
With wind in their skirts and sunbeams in their eyes
I see the stark change that years have brought
And wonder how rapid the onset of old age is

Though my beauty has burnt away
And my bones have a brittle grate
Still I would like to hold on stubbornly
Looking at each day for what next day brings
As I still have a hopeful heart
And wish to embrace life as it comes
To make it a sweet labor of love
So I ‘rage, rage against the dying of light’!
david mungoshi Mar 2016
i see you
in the magnificence of your aura
and in your splendour
a supple aesthetic comma
with cupped hands
i see you
scoop up the water and let it trickle through your fingers
even as the weaver birds chatter ceaselessly outside
i see you
in that magical moment, a rainbow on your *****
as the fine rose sprays your body with resplendent water
in a wondrous fusion of sun, water and glowing inner warmth
i see you
break into a lyrical smile brimming with beauty and belief
and i think to myself
you're the story still to be conceived
the epic poem in heroic couplets in the making
you're the holy grail men have sought in their pilgrimages
i shall create a chant and a mantra in your honour
even as your person and your image vanquish me
and that's what love is
you're consumed by your mate in the fashion of the black widow
a ravenous spider that eats love
I have reworked this poem and now offer it anew for perusal and your appraisal
supple skin braille
concave instigating
letterpress caress

crescent palms grasp
milkrose hourglass
suppressing sand

as we
glide the sky
midnight to bright

Venus dimples
when she smiles
from behind
Kewayne Wadley May 2018
And when I dream of you.
The pages turn.
Highlighting a million and one things.
All captivated by the sound we touched with our eyes.
Each played in beautiful melody.
I'd chase behind you.
Playing a symphony each time you'd smile.
Between the pause we were soft.
Supple.
Forgetting which one of us was sleeping.
Revealing all of our secrets.
You taught me how to sing.
Forgetting to move my mouth.
Each emotion thrown from my stomach.
When I dream of you,
I see all the colors.
So vividly played in beautiful color
Robert G Page Mar 2013
by
rgpage  

the days of age are finally here
and me now old with body cold,
my life has come a struggle.
our children now grown and out on their own.
with their children to guide from trouble.

yes the time is fall the sky is grey,
the leaves are red and gold.
the seasons parse our waning days
much shorter now, as we continue growing old.

my wife I see, not old like me
in the course of the many years.
her supple skin magnetic smile
my memories of her youth so clear.

my thoughts go back through numerous years
our children then were small,
to friends then lost with all our tears
in youthful days, i see them one and all.

back then no thoughts of getting old.
no worrying about a future maze .
we couldn’t see through a foggy haze,
we lived our days so bold.

the days of age we didn’t know
nor did we give them thought.
we were young and life was fun
we didn’t see reality’s sting, or
think that we’d ever be caught.

the days of age are upon us now
life’s circle almost complete.
with family and friends that have gone on ahead
we’ll see them again when we meet.
KiraLili Oct 2016
It started with the single glass
Unsupervised teen on a summers day
Sophisticated youthful rebellion
With Bacchus fermented grape
Warming slowly loosened inhibitions
While dipping into a supple red velvet glass
Even holding a glass now connects me to relaxation
Most uncomplicated relationship
And fulfilling libation
From your pale silken smooth white Muscats
Tempting vibrant aromatic Cabernets
Too full bodied deep thick red Merlots
And hot blooded Spanish Rojas
We go to many places together
Totallly captivated by your legs held in crystal
The sweeter the vintage the longer they are
Rolling those viscous tears over my tongue too music
Laid down in the cellar and aged you are more sought after
Mellower and softer you become no longer brash
Our love affair was quick in youth serving one purpose
Now this long lasting co dependant connection has deepened
Gone is the stained boisterous raw coupling and slamming of drinks
Replaced by long savouring wet warm moments
You had me so long ago at the first sip
#wine #lover
zebra Sep 2017
oh i saw you my darling
looking up at me
bug eyed beauty
in your spider web gift store
waiting for a fly

i felt so close to you
like we where in love
although you trembled at my immensity
can you feel how much i care for you
i blew my soft wind of grace
like a souls supple kiss
at your tendrilious daddy long legs

i wept feeling your patience and hunger
wanting you to know
heart to heart
that you could stay here with me as long as you liked
that in you i felt the pain and the love
of the world soul
of every child and creature
of every foreboding
of every passion and cruelty
and the terror of being eaten

are we not the same
you and i
bound
by desire, effort and destiny

so spin your gorgeous web
my pretty one
may you know only kindness

please stay with me
i hope a fly comes soon
that you may have a juicy morsel
i love you little spider
Marla Jul 16
There's a lot you can't see behind these coaled eyes:
A world of mystery, splendor, and supple surprise.
Many times I've given my heart to cold hands
and even more still I've lost myself to vice,
yet I'm still here...full of stories to tell.
No allusions to talking sticks,
or metaphors of a chrome plated god,
because it's only life.

I can make use of a woman
with supple ankles stepping off the bus
kindling my hips and heart,

(but you've heard that one before,)
and, it's only life, so this might
just read like an instruction manual,

or both halves of a confessional,
but there will be no use made
of dancing dogs or moonlight

in battle, because it's only life,
and I have never really known
what it is I want to say to you.

It’s something like, "I love you,"
but asides from just being
very frightening to say,

I also think, it's more.
If it's only life, it's also
only death,

and what can be said that penetrates
death. What can be said
that won't collapse like engine failure

in the span between you and I,
if I try to say an "I love you"
that's truer than death.
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