"traipses" poems
The audacity
that you would write a ***** a love letter
That you would in so many words announce your affections for a **********
Thay you would pour out your heart
to a harlot
But here in hand i have it
written in blood turned tan from time travel
caligraphy cornerstones that mark the foundation for forgiveness
lithography laden with agony for the cause of love
It's as if even now, i can watch your quill
as it traipses across parchment
fabricated from your very own lamb's skin
still marred with scars
rough and red
tears at it's edges
and holes torn by gashes
the audacity of that "I love you"
scrawled in the crucifix cursive of the creator of the earth and its
universe
unfurled to cut the mundanity with meaning
The audacity...
I am wordless.
My soul is far from speechless.
Apr 30, 2012
Apr 30, 2012 at 2:02 PM UTC
Extreme Poetry
Fights, fumes, resists, entices, twists, endures, seduces
Rhymes at times
Or so rarely you want it to explode, implode
Or just mellow out
But you don't stop reading
Unless it bores
Or you're just too tired
Ditties and sonnets
And ABAB and the like are all very well
But real men and women go for
The rough and tumble of truly free verse
Where words are the masonry
Spitting at you in spurts
Confounding, astounding
Welcome to consternation nation
Where assonance bucks up against alliteration
And the inevitable invasion of syllables and vowels
A perverse form of Password that traipses over diction when it wants
Because there are no rules in Extreme Poetry
Sep 27, 2016
Sep 27, 2016 at 12:17 PM UTC
Drifting down canals in Venice.
Gondola on peaceful drift.
Look to the right sun shines bright.
Over the public house on the bank.
While aged horse traipses by.
Through Suez Canal drifting the world, with no sighs in sight.
This morning I rise,
My teeth they are screaming.
My root canals are in need of filling!
(C) LIVVI 2014
Jan 27, 2014
Jan 27, 2014 at 2:19 AM UTC
~
*Desert pond,
idle sun.
Salt, shadow,
and the revealing light of midday.
She traipses from
the safety of the car
to the danger at the water's edge.
One hand shielding her eyes,
the other,
her over-exposures.
Discomfited by a lack
of self-confidence.
Loving the water,
hating her thighs.*
~
Jun 28, 2022
Jun 28, 2022 at 11:54 AM UTC
His name,
well it is Dominique,
wants to be a woman,
perhaps,
as he slips into his plaid skirt,
thought it rather itchy,
he could be rather ******
Starts off in high heels,
yes,
Then he dons his rubbers,
I said Dons,
not Dom's,
then feeds his fetish,
pulls up his welly boots,
into rubber you know!
He traipses to the shop of ***
there he buys a gimp suit,
gives his girlfriend whips and chains,
she locks him up in the cellar,
he's a really funny fella,
I'm sure he is okay,
but, I guess I'll never know!
(C) Livvi
May 21, 2014
May 21, 2014 at 1:04 PM UTC
how terrible it must be
to have only two feet to walk with., my sweet.
how abhorrent, the torrent of gimp.
you are not kind, but kinda die more than our lasting -
and have ever been fasting in the break of our ventures...
suturing the succulent bog of my wound till blown glass is ****** dry... humorlessly.
you are with me... but
not with I
that stalks the reason.
you are with the one
whom's cup runneth over, and traipses thru the flint gleam
of our founding urge. the dirge forge of our burning inert !
' We' are where it hurts... and you might be clever
but you slug at love's light speed
to put the brakes to a freight
of infinite need.
Apr 24, 2013
Apr 24, 2013 at 2:07 PM UTC
Did you ever ask
how long it takes to write
you out of every verse
and all the lines and pages
crumpled in the wastebin
and beads in your hair
and lips drawn like mannequins
and some unsavory sounds
muffled and escaping under the door
Tap tap slap with accent
and headache and eyeroll
while matching shirts stain
in the same exact places
and the low powerhouse hum
hovers somewhere between C and D flat
while beachy melody traipses
over mutual bored expressions
Everything is borrowed, have you ever
built anything with your hands?
Why so soft and exhausted,
you ***** Why don't you stand and fight back?
Unknown monsters disappear
into shadows and thick smoke
leaving a trail of tired descriptors
and false intention
Jun 28, 2014
Jun 28, 2014 at 7:36 PM UTC
Wan flesh stretched thinly
Against brittle bones,
The flower of youth much
Wilted by the bitter moans
Of winter winds and
Snows, and such;
She traipses through so dimly.
The surface so ghost-like—
Sickly, pale, anemic—
Though she makes the Madness
Seem so vivid, so scenic
Against drab backroads,
Gray towns, and the sadness
That longs, aches, to strike.
And I wonder what are
Those cracks in her skin,
Violet line-art patterned on
The wan flesh stretched thin;
They creep up to her eyes and
Within moments are gone
By a blink, a single star.
Her fingers are shaking
When she tries to speak,
Like spiders spinning nervously
A web that must be solid, not weak,
To carry the weight of several—
Thus, they weave it fervidly
In a manner quite breathtaking.
Sep 5, 2018
Sep 5, 2018 at 12:37 AM UTC
to the perfume of impeccable smell ever drawn
with even the bitter tasting people left bereft
of speech, the hour is blue and it is blue hour
time lapses and traipses into its mystery
I keep wondering where or what that scent
came to, a heavenly starry view and a whimsical
wanderlust left in the hearts of every princess
out there with a man who takes
the mantle of the journey to crawl inside
such a tight beating space of her chest
To all my friends saying I am not up for
that decision, I am too dramatic and predisposed
to derelict conversation and intellectual thought
the rainbow comes with the rain and the LGBT
my heart is titanium and too heavy to fit
inside another's perplexing palm-
You tell me I am just like her and it crushes me
that I sit in the same spot, that passenger seat
of your jeep you hate as she did and I want
to explode in reds oranges yellows greens
blues purple yell at you that I loved her too
but she fell for you and you ruined it for everyone
Live in the white city, slip into the blue hour
again, and to all my friends saying I was wrong
that you're all right about your opinions of me
and I am misguided, I should just go to the bars
with you all and cash in on the next person
buy me a drink, like I have fun in the face
of funerals and if I make it tonight we can arrange
my own later on I guess
Jan 23, 2017
Jan 23, 2017 at 6:16 AM UTC
She traipses softly through the lavender fields.
Her Love walks gently across the meadows .
Her body flows gracefully and to no one yields.
Her voice pours softly from her lips and settles;
Settles on the chords that bind our hearts together-
Evening and morning have carried our heart,
From secrets of passion and moments apart.
As the night sky our blanket,
from mornings bright glories.
We listened to warblers
Whistle beautifully our stories-
We hid under darkness
and played under stars.
We kissed under Orion,
Made love under mars.
Yet when morning came,
And the nights vices had fled;
There you stood standing,
Adorned from your head-
Head to your toes was the light that had blessed you.
To your face it caressed, as proudly I knew.
It accented your curves and danced with your eyes:
The eyes light had danced with, would not let night die-
For although daylight had ended,
our stage of freedom and grace;
In those eyes the echo of all that had happened,
Forever will sing a glad song in this place.
Apr 15, 2014
Apr 15, 2014 at 6:46 AM UTC
To hide,
Make opaque the details
Sympathetic outlines
Obscuring what I should be feeling
Imaginary traipses through
Verbal scenery
Clutch your denial between your legs
Drink it while I'm not watching
Mouth agape, skin pulled tight by your truth’s fingers,
Another hot gush of “denial” arches your back and forces shut your eyes
You aren't watching either
We're blurrier than we were.
No definition,
What we are exists in 240p
I'm straining my vision against the harsh grain of a flickering lcd
I'm watching the most important part of your story disappear into sporadic outcroppings of dead pixels
I'm grasping an empty metal frame and begging until I feel like screaming,
“I can't see you anymore”
Sometimes I think I shouldn't.
Mar 27, 2018
Mar 27, 2018 at 3:32 AM UTC