"unfeigned" poems
a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities...
*that's all any man wants,
a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities,
who knows the when and why of differing
cuddling styles...
a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities,
who knows when to leave a man alone
alone in his man-mourning time,
distance needed,
letting his ex-rage dissipate or
watching his red and blue football
redefine ignominy...
a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities,
that when the man low whistles, eyes adrift,
she heartily agrees and is
reciprocity rewarded regularly
with hunk alerts of
"hey-check-him-out!"
that's all any man wants,
a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities,
a tigress in the bedroom
she asking, try this, I'll love it,
served with a desert demo of awkward afterward,
his less-than-perfect cuddling abilities
a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities,
who doesn't abhor partner silences,
comforting they are, in their own ways,
lying side by side, interrupted only by peccadillo body noises unexpected and
sheepish apologies and loving arm stroking
a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities,
who lets the man roar, top of voice,
when imprisoned in car,
his voice, un enfant terrible,
performs with Creedence Clearwater
a sing-a-long in traffic, asking
"Have you ever seen the rain"
while amidst Israel-leaving-Egypt
Sunday beach traffic on the L.I.E.
a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities,
when it's pheromones alternative mode day,
he celebrates Carole King day,
she demonstrates her cuddling abilities,
par excellence, with kisses and tissues
a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities...
a woman, plain confident in her abilities
no matter the situational status,
when confronted by
less-than-crazy-impetuous,
she smiling says "why not,"
when he proposes,
a movie and dinner in a fav haunt?
"plenty excellent enough" her answer,
spoke in a rising voice
full of unfeigned delight
a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities,
accepting the unexpected airport embrace
on a moving sidewalk, unexpected delays
with the aplomb of a well lived life's
long term sustainability perspective
when he kisses her hand for no reason,
while driving 75 miles per hour,
she only winces internally,
the other hand vise-grasping
the other door's handle,
who brushes hair wisps in a dark movie,
celebrating her Bathsheba Everdeen's
duality of strength and tenderness
a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities,
that when on second date he proposes
a non-exclusive relationship,
confident enough to high-five respond,
and laugh about it,
seven years on
a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities,
that when she reads it,
analyzing the oeuvre as
"too **** personal and
as usual
too **** long"*
that's all any man wants,
a woman, confident in her
cuddling abilities
in everything...
even a little occasional criticism
May 17, 2015
May 17, 2015 at 10:45 AM UTC
•
You are the king,
*That catches his queen,
When she fall,*
*Encourages and inspires her,
When she's dejected,*
*Pick and carry her,
When she stumble down,*
*Wipe her tears,
When she cry,*
*Comforts her,
When she feels unworthy to be loved,*
*Sings for her,
When she's lonesome,*
**And will give her all pure love and loyalty,
That the king could ever ever give,
More than the queen could ever ever imagine.**
The queen will be just the happiest,
And will give the king,
All the love he needed,
All the care,
All the attention he needed,
All the time,
All the effort,
All true loyalty,
She will give everything just for her king...
'Cause that's what love is right?
The queen will just give him the best thing,
The unconditional and unfeigned love.
© Earl Jane
♥ E.J.C.S.
Aug 7, 2015
Aug 7, 2015 at 4:21 PM UTC
*Would you mind if I wrote you a love poem
Would you care if I shared it with the world
Would it be okay if I filled it with cliches
As in I am the oyster and you are the pearl*
***Oh my, it'll be an absolute delight
Go ahead, let the earth be smitten
Let your words float in the twilight
It'll be a beauty no one has ever written***
*I ask would it be too much
If I compared your beauty to that of Spring flowers
Or how I could just sit here and stare
As I dreamly while away the hours*
***I'll be flushed with humility
As I am just one of His thankful creations
I'll allow your gaze even through infinity
Admiring beyond my imperfections***
*Would it be to much to say
That you put the night stars to shame
If I had my very own galaxy
On it I would place your name*
***You can ask the clouds and sky above
How your words touched my heart to the core
The unfeigned expression of your love
I'm truly blessed, couldn't ask for more***
*While all above is true enough
Against your beauty nature would lose
I think instead I'll make this poem
A simple "I love you"*
Eudora
Mike Hauser
Nov 24, 2015
Nov 24, 2015 at 7:19 AM UTC
There's a funny sort of emptiness
that passes over me
as I walk past the paperback erotica that tuck themselves away
in the shelves of the local grocery store in places that are
simultaneously completely out in the open yet completely ignored
looking, as I do, with mock casual interest
and unfeigned disdain.
Who are these intended for, really?
Are they for the snuggly-wuggly, ***** cozy-woozy, wishy-washy and warm family of four
comparing chicken nugget prices and
weighing the health benefits of
vegetable medley versus succotash?
Or are they for the uni flatmates
walking huddled together for warmth or protection or both,
seeing as they're wearing only sandals and denim shorts
and this is the first time
they've been grocery shopping without mum,
that giggle loudly together to mask how homesick they really are
while they compare the calories in
Campbell's versus Progresso.
They went with Progresso if you were wondering.
Or are they meant for those who are cooking for one?
For those who have no need to compare prices
or calories
out loud.
For those who are well acquainted
with the old, familiar tiled aisles
as they have no one to take out to dinner.
Is this where they are to find company?
Betwixt the pages of a badly penned,
lighter than marshmallows,
more shallow than the kiddie pool,
more transparent than Casper,
not-good-enough-to-be-bloody-compost
"literary" garbage?
Is this -assumed- female
supposed to curl up with one of these slabs of drivel
and feel **** and aroused
in her baggy sweats and ill-fitting hoodie
after she ate a microwaveable chicken *** pie all by her lonesome?
As a single girl who often cooks for one,
I am offended by this.
Personally,
I think Lestat is ten times sexier than Edward,
Salai is way cuter than Fabio,
and Christian Grey couldn't S Mr. Rochester's D.
What I'm saying is-
Grocery Stores.
YOU are the primary reason for this pathetic f-ckery.
Everything else in the store can be compared for quality.
So why not apply that same knowledge
to the book arena.
Signed,
A Concerned Shopper
p.s. Please extend the validity date on the chicken *** pie coupon. Thank you!
Nov 1, 2013
Nov 1, 2013 at 10:57 PM UTC
** In An Old Cathedral**
She knelt upon a plank, plain oaken
(sable cloak, her mourning guise),
and sensed the breath of distant sighs,
pale shades of pain behind blue eyes…
While clasping close a cross-like token
(holding hope for those in need)
she prayed her Lord "please intercede,
my woes be washed, my soul be freed"…
Archangels, in the skies evoken
(candles flickered, shadows shivered),
through the panes, the moonlight quivered,
summoned forth, the wish delivered…
Forgotten words he once had spoken
(dimly echoed ’neath the dome)
swept sweetness of the honeycomb
o'er distant realms they used to roam…
At midnight's knell, in dreams awoken,
memories of love unfeigned…
Though loneliness of grief remained,
she still held hope… hope hadn't waned…
And when the dawn had early broken,
by the font, in peace, she lay…
As sudden as a sunset ray,
the light of life had slipped away…
Mar 27, 2014
Mar 27, 2014 at 4:06 PM UTC
"my soul to keep"
this prayer
elegant, simple complexity,
comes me haunting,
every evening,
this notion,
a faint ghosting,
repeatedly reappearing
and nightly leaving,
disappointed,
from between my crumpled, sweaty bedsheets,
departing with a demanding unsatisfied, incessant,
coated with a diabolical, unfeigned challenge -
write of me,
relentlessly commanding,
right me
only,
no notions,
come realized,
no poem body, resolved solutions,
are easy offered up
your inner voices,
fettered and deterred,
begging you,
screaming,
this one,
defer, defer,
for better days,
for better poets,
who require
no assembly instructions
cannot improve upon it
my distress, sensed;
the lady of the house,
over the shoulder peering,
sees the moody poem title that
has self-selected to core this poet's core,
for endless torture,
raining down ruinous lamentation
she, ever softly spoken
*"good man,
your soul,
your poems -
both mine to take
and
mine to keep
this title,
this poetic obligation
fulfillingly, fittingly,
my responsibility
mine to write
mine to keep
mine to right
mine to mine
for its
bejeweled contemplations
render easily unto me
what I have Caesarean seized,
pried lovingly and forcibly
from thee within
though seemingly rightfully thine,
title has passed,
legally, tenderly,
into your lover's arms
banish poet thine troubled assembled,
ensemble senses,
this particular poem's journey
and the soul that bears it,
released and relieved,
for now,
mine to take,
mine to keep,
and
thy soul,
in mine to dwell,
and
mine to complete"*
~
Mar 7, 2017
Mar 7, 2017 at 8:35 PM UTC
Stars look down on Earth in light unfeigned
Judging not in kingdom or people reigned
They cast light when and where they please
Lighting even the darkest mood with ease
When I feel alone and cold at night
I look up to the stars so high for light
They haven't failed me yet, nor will they ever
Encouraging always, and following every endeavor
I hope you lie in the grass one summer night and stare
You'll soon find stars are not simply in the sky, but everywhere
It takes a fairly trained eye to see them below
And an even closer eye to see them grow
You don't see it yet like I do
But the brightest star I see is you
Nov 30, 2014
Nov 30, 2014 at 7:28 AM UTC
Imagine a world without terror outer
and inner, sans famine of food and water,
where every soul is well-sated; a world
sans sickness and disease, not by the cord
of morbidity and death held; a place
where huts are mansions, every shack is
a castle, and each flat a grand manor;
where the roads are built with pure gold
and the bridges with resplendent diamond;
where the day does not change in colour,
except when full moon in its full array
once in a month has its own display.
I mean a planet steeping in love
unfeigned, bristling with true hospitality
of the soul; a world bereft of danger,
and of every mind-and-heart breaker;
a world with the similitude of the garden of
Eden, hung on the shoulders of harmony--
where man at another cove's lovely dove
will not leer, where there are
no split and divorce. The genre, stuff
of life where one's pigmentation is
not the cardinal, but the inner essence.
A sort of society where ****** Hussein
and Laden-like fellows and all their
coterie of killers do not have a lair
of habitation, i refer; where besetting sin
has no confederacy with the rotary heart
and mind of man; where the leagues
of villians are non-existence. An earth
where conglomeration of wicked cliques
is non-operational: where everyone be
holy--no child soilder, nor forced labour;
where women are not ravaged in cruelty
of acts, and is void of conflict and war.
Such a place "the world" is not called
but "heaven: governed by the Almighty Lord.
Jul 13, 2013
Jul 13, 2013 at 3:20 AM UTC
Let's...
See the stars
Dance in the rain
Feel the sunrise
Climb high in the trees
Flow with the breeze
Let's..
Smile
laugh
Share
express
Let's
be naked
Let's
be free
Let's
You be you
And I'll
Be me
Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 4:02 PM UTC
•
*Come here closer my king ooohhhhh so dear,
Let my tender lips touch you softly in the ear,
Then I'll whisper my love to you so clear,
With your heart leaping with mine in cheer.
Let my embrace speak my love with no fear,
Be with each others warmth in an endless year,
This love we'll make as an impregnable gear,
That no one will ever ever make this tear.
As I kiss you so passionately and sincere,
Our love carry us into the paradise we steer,
A sweet aroma fill our hearts, we cohere,
With an everlasting unfeigned love we celestially wear.*
with love <3
© Earl Jane
♥ E.J.C.S.
Aug 13, 2015
Aug 13, 2015 at 8:48 AM UTC
O to be loved without want or condition,
Cared for with utterly unfeigned conviction.
Despite dozens of duties he’d doubtfully done
Her love wouldn’t wane for her wizening son.
May 26, 2016
May 26, 2016 at 12:06 AM UTC
Time is the ruin of humankind's love for all. Nothing shall be loved long after its gone, as unfeigned too which it was in its lively form. Humans are but ghoulish creatures; to whom nothing is rightfully sacred. Humankind should be as pious to life as most are to their gods they claim had made all in his image. They try to make us believe with their disenchanting tales of greatness that you hear of as a naïf adolescent. As society crumbles to the sound of our own beating drum, another builds up of mindless drones that feel no pity towards anyone. There is no one to accuse but ourselves In this spiral of disillusion. As time ventures forward into the endless span of time, our morality lessens, as do our feelings towards what we should cherish.
Jan 20, 2013
Jan 20, 2013 at 2:58 AM UTC
a million little miracles
standing in a line
laughing at the little man
who chooses not one time.
crowded, there.
elbows and hellos and farewells.
dream
after
dream
after dream
withering
decaying in a flash of images
of people that will never be
and chances that will never be
taken.
encounters
that will never
occur.
again, a new dream
stands up to take his place.
his place,
and the air rushes in
to fill the gap
where the old dream is no longer,
and the new dream has yet to be.
the air rushes in,
closes in,
fills it all in
and when the disappearing dream
declines all else but its own
decay
it blinks.
vanishing into a single point of
light
a frozen face
a
fractured
(smile)
a piece of god
of self
of soul
and when it
blinks
it winks
it darks
and it is gone.
the dream is
worse than dead.
the dream is
worse than gone.
it simply never was.
it simply never was.
the air rushes in
again
always filling in
and the new dream swells with pride.
i
am the dream
that will make
the miracles
and save this man
from the self he
secretly serves.
the new dream opens its eyes.
the air
rushes
out,
grows thin,
breath becoming ragged
before it has even begun.
eyes tear.
drip and run and **** sadness
and water and cloud
at the heat
left behind
in the wake of the evaporating atmosphere.
refusing to gasp or swat at tears,
the dream stands straight and tall.
i
am the dream
that will make
the miracles
and save this
man
from the
self
he secretly serves.
one moment of attention
a second’s worth of will
and the air would be endless and free.
the dream would be endless and free.
before blinking
the first
(and only)
time,
the newborn eyes
swollen, itching
eyes
grow wide in unfeigned horror.
dream after dream
from the footprint under his shoe
to the ****** horizon
of crimson and death and loss
stood screaming.
dream after dream after dream
standing and screaming and
weeping
clamoring to be heard.
a cacophony
so loud
so very ******* loud
his newborn crusting eyes
saw the sound
through the red tint
of sorrow
and loss, the tint
that in mere moments
had become
the only vision he would ever know.
saw the sound
he
saw the sound
so loud
the fragile air
pulsed and scattered, convulsing.
the sound so loud, he saw it
before the sensation
of hearing
occurred.
before hearing
before blinking
but weeping, always,
weeping . . .
he saw the screams of all the dreams
through eyes that leaked decay.
one instant.
one flashbulb spark
second in time
to give this dream
(any dream
any of these dreams
any ******* dream at all)
breath.
one second to pause
to give
one thought
to give
one chance
to give one breath.
to give. to give.
and the air would be endless and free.
the air and the dream,
both endless,
and free.
i am the dream
he chokes,
his eyes burn and
weep,
itch and weep
that will make this man
he cries,
ears ringing
forsaken dreams
******* screaming
crimson and ****** and loud
save the miracles
he secretly serves
he shrieks,
hands clenching
into futile fists,
&
Apr 28, 2012
Apr 28, 2012 at 4:45 AM UTC
Love unfeigned, how can it be
Truly known: by deed or by word?
Take old Sisera for example, my lady,
Who fled with his glittering sword
To the tent of Jael, the beloved wife
Of Kenite, from the face of Barak.
And of her requested he for his life
Water, and she in action was not slack
To offer him milk instead, and did cover
Him again with a blanket. Sleeping in peace,
She crept softly to him with a hammer
And nailed down his temple with ease.
Yet to her did he entrust his safety,
Seeking from the smasher vain security.
Consider Joab, too, how he by his fine
Speech killled Amasa his worthy cousin;
Taking his beard with his right hand
As though he would give him a kiss grand,
Whilst his left hand had a thirsty dagger
Waiting; and he pierced the good feller
Through with his wicked blade. How the tongue
Of men do flatter oft in order to do wrong!
Feb 23, 2012
Feb 23, 2012 at 5:42 AM UTC
unfeigned love letters
conflagrant desires
newfound treasures
affection beyond measures
indestructible barriers
fearful fighters
"we should have done better"s
star-crossed lovers
Sep 10, 2016
Sep 10, 2016 at 10:12 AM UTC
The wisps of smoke in the air,
the hazy vision from the short-lived high.
The cheap thrills on the road to nowhere,
drunk off stolen ***** from the cupboard of your house.
The pulse of your heart in beat with the music,
the remedy of your depression coursing through your veins.
The unfeigned laughter and guileless smiles,
this is what it means to be part of the misguided youth.
Mar 3, 2015
Mar 3, 2015 at 2:00 PM UTC
she's gold on one side
silver on the other
heartened and free
she runs like a car wreck
racing at breakneck speed
trudging through sand to conjoin
two-fold into one.
little passes by her that goes unnoticed.
she drinks in every opportunity
to swallow what ever happening will feed her today's lesson.
equanimity hostility frivolity passivity.
she knows the streets have taught her more
than she will ever forget.
and she can remember how it felt
to taste ***** in her mouth
when she looked in the mirror
that mocked her every breath.
she tries to back step
and unmake a bed
that she's told she made
and must lie in
for the rest of her life.
she wants to call consignment
and have it undelivered
but they won't take
bug ridden
**** stained
sprung and un-stuffed
pieces of junk that carried
peoples dreams in the dark.
there's no worth, they say.
so she's left
carting around holes and dead air.
melted glass and ***** cartridges.
spent fits and broken tin.
wondering
what kind of legacy this is
for a very pretty tousle haired girl
that trusts her with unfeigned eyes
and believes in super mom?
she cries at night
and tries in the morning
being as tangible as they expect-
but in that socketed place
that holds spun sugar contemplation
she buries herself.
one two-fold parades all day
playing puppet gurrl games.
she lives in a land of
pots of gold and rainbows
clover and blue moons
moving one step at a time
towards what's expected
because she knows nothing else.
day in and day out
running like a car wreck-
gold on one side
and silver on the other.
Jul 12, 2010
Jul 12, 2010 at 12:04 PM UTC
Sometimes I forget and the bells are unrung
Prayers unsaid
Hymns unsung
Sometimes I forget and the dirt is unstirred
Sky unrained
Birds unheard
Sometimes I forget and the worms are unfed
Bough unblown
Leaves unshed
Sometimes I forget and your face is unframed
Bed unseen
Stone unnamed
Sometimes I forget and your voice is unstopped
Flowers uncut
Life uncropped
Sometimes I forget and my smile is unfeigned
Nights undark
Days unpained
May 15, 2019
May 15, 2019 at 9:38 AM UTC
"Dim light please",
I softly wheeze,
as you seductively tease
the nape of my neck
and I sensuously shudder
in my fleshly hearth.
Playfully,
I break away
as my heart sways
in a hitherto unknown desire....
a desire;
that took its time coming
and which is now ablaze
in your eyes so scintillating
that it makes me skip
an already fluttery heart-beat.
You proceed gently
and speak softly
about my mischievous smile,
my expressive eyes,
the curve of my lip,
...... my shapely hip.......
You stroke my hair
with ardent flair
and I listen blithely
to your unfeigned oratory
about a man's intensity,
...his unbridled frenzy.
I hearken reverently
to your admission of piety
and pledge you my fidelity
as long as there is light
in my impractical, dreamy eyes.
As we submit
to the fiery delight
I finally see
beyond the crevice of duality;
into my integrated embodiment
of anatomy and sentiment;
...that I am
and always was
a unique, solitary singularity.
Nov 28, 2019
Nov 28, 2019 at 11:19 AM UTC
I see the growth—
its alignment,
its accessibility.
Its patience
where I lack it.
Its competency
beyond.
Remember warmth.
Remember care unfeigned.
Remember scent.
Remember
guidance through the illusion.
Sep 10, 2025
Sep 10, 2025 at 8:26 AM UTC
i am fighting a disease,
so i became a ******
my drug of choice: just to run.
to run each day with an unfeigned grit.
the medicine for my mind.
no need for a doctor to fill the prescription.
my morphine.
my high.
ease my anxious mind
and uplift my heavy heart.
calm floods my insides,
immersed in quiet rapture.
****** exhaustion settles in
and silences the disease-
those incessant, enslaving urges that regulate my every move
are replaced by stillness.
this
is bliss.
Feb 18, 2014
Feb 18, 2014 at 5:28 PM UTC
Craving more than tangible.
Tendrils of smoke curl around smouldering hearts.
Pleasurable shudders reverberate throughout.
Bodies move with fluid grace.
Coming together like they already know the steps of the dance, like they've danced together before.
Perhaps another life.
Excitement lust and passion shine in their eyes
Souls recognize eachother
Two broken beings coming together for comfort only to realize they are not in fact broken but strong and powerful
Eascences come tovether and meld into one another neither knows where each respectively ends or begins. Nor do they care for its no longer important.
Elations rings out exploding the body mind and soul as they ley fused for a few breathtaking moments.
As the disentangle they come back to themselves but still connected in a way.
Leaving one another with a piece of themselves in te proccess. Craving more than tangible
Delusion illusion. Or unfeigned authentic.
Aug 23, 2017
Aug 23, 2017 at 11:15 AM UTC
A hundred thousand times I've sworn I will not mope.
A million million suns still remind me I'm the ant;
And all I'll do? is wake...again...and cope
With my first thought: you; but know I can't.
Can't hold your attention for more than that
Couple of hours you let me hold you hostage here.
I can't convince you to admit what you know: at
Any given moment: I, alone, calm you through the year.
When the sun has hid his face, and the storm crosses your brow,
I have been the stone that has anchored you somehow.
And yet, through all the proof,
Though my body shields your soul;
Your heart is still aloof....
You refuse to complete the whole.
In the calamity of my unfeigned grace
Where my body has broken and bled,
Your heart has given mine no place
To rest my weary head.
Look to your friends, who've pulled you down; find a drink to sorrows drown.
I will not be the stone you crushed to reach your thorny crown.
Jul 3, 2013
Jul 3, 2013 at 11:55 AM UTC
Golden flecks danced on the lake,
Your eyes casting prisms unfeigned.
But even a Midas touch cannot mend,
Green leaf of youth could not be contained.
The rippling water looked so enticing,
Ice prisms reflecting on my skin.
I should have realized it was frozen, but you took my Hand and pulled me in.
Hope as shattered as the barren landscape,
Looking out at the shards I wondered
Why we find destruction so lovely.
Even a perfect Man not left undisturbed.
Through the ages we have ruined for pleasure,
Families, countries- broken.
It's in our nature to batter
What beauty we have been given.
Only one can heal the pain,
The glue to put this puzzle back together.
One day we'll see no pain,
The antidote washing away demise forever.
Jan 14, 2014
Jan 14, 2014 at 5:25 PM UTC