"wen" poems
Hailstorms with big winds, trees writhing in breezes
Coyotes howling in moonlight, dogs when they sneezes
Alloys and carved toys, stone gargoyles with wings
These are a few of my favorite things.
Skunk smells carried gently on nocturnal breezes
Sly double entendres and tickley teases
Beautiful salmon colored sunsets that make my jaw drop
Smell of pine 'n cedar in my sauna and wood shop!
Dolphins and doggies and toddlers and mooses
Saunas and cold plunges and honking V-flying gooses
Small mutts and storytellers and Pixar cartoons
Crazy call of the Maine dark of night loons
These are some of my nurturing tunes!
Volcanoes with lava and magma all oozing
Cross country skiing just gliding and cruising
Receiving massages unwinding and unbruising
I love my collections of adhesives and strings
These are a few of my favorite things!
So when the wasps sting
When the bored people whine
Wen I'm feeling dispirited and sad
I just think of a few of my favorite things
And I don't feel…so…bad!
Apr 4, 2015
Apr 4, 2015 at 8:26 PM UTC
Choices r needed in life
Choices r needed to find a wife
Choices r needed each year
Choices r needed to prevent fear
Choices r needed every month
Choices r needed to hav triumph
Choices r needed in every week
Choices r needed wen ur at the peak
Choices r needed in every day
Choices r needed In every way
Choices r needed in every hour
Choices r needed wen problems tower
May 18, 2014
May 18, 2014 at 9:05 AM UTC
Profile:
Yuwen Chengdu is the son of Yuwen Huaji, who was a general of the Sui dynasty. He is a warrior of Sui, only secondary to Li Yuanba, who is naturally super powerful. As recorded, he was as tall as ten feet with strong waist and body. In the appearance of golden face, long beard and thick eyebrow, he often hold a weapon as heavy as 350 pounds.
Introduction of ****** makeup:
****** makeup, or Lian Pu, refers to ****** designs for Jing and Chou roles. It originated from daily life experience, describing such changes of expression as white for fear, red for shyness, dark for suntan, and sallow for illness. Most ****** designs attach great importance to the eyes. The ****** designs for the Jing roles are made by painting, powdering and coloring in the basic forms of Zheng Lian (keeping the basic face pattern), San Kuai Wa Lian (three-section face) and Sui Lian (fragmentary face). These types are widely used to represent generals, officials, heroes, gods and ghosts. The Chou actors can be recognized by the patch of white in various shapes painted around the eyes and nose. Sometimes these patches are outlined in black, hence the term Xiao Hua Lian (partly painted face). The Chou roles fall into the following two categories: Wen Chou and Wu Chou.
Features:
****** makeup bears three main characteristics. Firstly, it is the unity and contradiction of beauty and ugliness. Secondly, it is closely related to the personality of the characters. Lastly, the patterns are stylized.
Beijing opera is one of the most popular drama widely welcomed and loved, no matter home and abroad. It is now acknowledged as a sign of Chinese traditional culture. The photos of ****** mask can be found on large buildings, product packages, various porcelains and clothes. It has gone beyond the stage, from which we can see the deep influence of ****** makeup. More and more foreigners have interest in it and begin to explore the secret of ****** makeup.
http://www.toywill.com
Aug 26, 2013
Aug 26, 2013 at 3:02 AM UTC
i took your **** and ran with it,
went miles into distance while you constantly clinged to the past
girl I'm tired of it.
How am I suppose to get in if he still has the original and I was givin the spare key,
I'm me and no where near him reason why you always keep runnin back lookin for a safe haven, but in reality sorry that ******** I ain't takin ,
must be mistaken,
I'm havin you second all the time I made you first,
like an unwelcomed tenet,
or low rank lieutenant,
I'm undermined, while hes underlined,
made into a bold figure,
but I stack real figures,
and don't make you feel bitter like this *****
Just don't mention why you quiver , I know the reason why you internally bleedin , stress in ya eyes swollen from the cries in the night, it ain't right.
but yet you fall back to him , then call me later? I gave you my words, last time was the last. So to bad if it didn't last, and both ends of the ties leave you to grieve and gravel on the gravel , yeah sit there and babble , yeah I ponder the river creeks for years
now im off the love boat, I skidattled , faught the more fishes in the sea with broken paddle promise not to commit unless it was suicide or a contract with a person I don't trust after marriage and can't truly settle with.
so the others who wanted me are shunned, and you ? Is of no concern to my conscience , my once brown poccahauntus who haunted
my nights , and Asian moon cake who left with the wrong shake wen I coulda move mountain cause I was the real earthquake to shake the floor beneath you and let you see the plummit to a deeper meaning. Thank for leavin.
Asmathic or not,
I remain breathing.
by Emmanuel Hernandez
aka
Linguist Musician aka Deep thought
Dec 11, 2015
Dec 11, 2015 at 6:31 AM UTC
’Tis evening; the black snail has got on his track,
And gone to its nest is the wren,
And the packman snail, too, with his home on his back,
Clings to the bowed bents like a wen.
The shepherd has made a rude mark with his foot
Where his shadow reached when he first came,
And it just touched the tree where his secret love cut
Two letters that stand for love’s name.
The evening comes in with the wishes of love,
And the shepherd he looks on the flowers,
And thinks who would praise the soft song of the dove,
And meet joy in these dew-falling hours.
For Nature is love, and finds haunts for true love,
Where nothing can hear or intrude;
It hides from the eagle and joins with the dove,
In beautiful green solitude.
3.4k
You stumbled upon my fantasies
wen I let you look into my eyes.
You shout,
"Our reality gets better."
But how?
Convince me and
I want to be convinced.
I am ready to
give up my dreams for us.
May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 1:34 AM UTC
In summer's heat and mid-time of the day
To rest my limbs upon a bed I lay,
One window shut, the other open stood,
Which gave such light, as twinkles in a wood,
Like twilight glimpse at setting of the sun,
Or night being past, and yet not day begun.
Such light to shamefast maidens must be shown,
Where they must sport, and seem to be unknown.
Then came Corinna in a long loose gown,
Her white neck hid with tresses hanging down:
Resembling fair Semiramis going to bed
Or Layis of a thousand wooers sped.
I snatched her gown, being thin, the harm was small,
Yet strived she to be covered there withal.
And striving thus as one that would be chaste,
Betrayed herself, and yeilded at the last.
Stark naked as she stood before mine eye,
Not one wen in her body could I spy.
What arms and shoulders did I touch and see,
How apt her ******* were to be pressed by me.
How smooth a belly under her waist saw I?
How large a leg, and what a ***** thigh?
To leave the rest, all liked me passing well,
I clinged her naked body, down she fell,
Judge you the rest, being tired she bade me kiss,
Jove sent me more such afternoons as this.
2.9k
sdrawkcab lla si ti
semitemos
sgniht ta kool ot yap t’nseod
eb dluohs yeht yaw eht
ytilibats pu evig ot nrael
ytiugibma fo ssenteews eht ecarbme
ekil-gurd si rewop sti
sevird ti sa sessessop ti
shpmuirt taht ssendam a
tniop noitanimluc eht ta
ytivitaerc fo ecand eht
egru na ;regnuh a si ti
tcepser a sdnammoc taht
lausunu eht ,euqinu eht rof
!ylpmoc ohw esoht staiwa dlrow wen elohw a
-em evig
noitanimreted emos noissap emos
!ylf dna sgniw eht hcterts ot ssengnilliw emos
- em ekam
seil dna sevil taht sselraef a
ytirucesni nwo sti yb detrofmoc
- Vijayalakshmi Harish
27.08.2012
Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
Aug 27, 2012
Aug 27, 2012 at 2:27 AM UTC
i love my baby. sometimes i call him maybe , i text him a lot but people call me a thot i don't care wat people say bc I'm not but they can say wat they want but I'm no thot I'm wouldn't feel complete with out my baby
i try so much to make him happy but i do he makes me happy and i love it but wen i get home I'm just feel dead inside
Mar 17, 2015
Mar 17, 2015 at 6:31 PM UTC
The Hour Glass represents us. Confused how.. Let me elaborate it to you.
You do see the sand that is seeping slowly off the orifice between the two bowls..
That sand shows the flow of love from ur heart to mine. But wen the flow stops. U just have to revert the glass and u vl see that Ur love is not just taken in, it is adored, processed, felt. Its warmth and the care that is hidden in it is scrutinized. And then it flows back into u.
This is the way we are. Due to this our love always wins from our fights.
U widout any selfishness and greed give me all that u ve got inside u, planting banyan trees of love to make it live for years.
And here, Its me, trying to provide the carbon dioxide and water for helping the tree to grow and feel the fresh oxygen, extracting each amount and inhaling it wid full greed. This greed, Which Comes like a reflex only fr u, is not a devil's one but a Loving one. How can it be possible to share u wid anyone else in the whole world. I cant help it. I cant share u. And I am proud of being greedy fr u.
This sand which keeps on seeping consists of all memories stored in it about us.
All of them, Staring wild eyes with the rays of Innocent Infatuation, Then the seed of frndship that we planted (Actually u planted), And then My extravagant feelings converting that seed of frndship directly into a plant of love, Then the rains and the hot sun that the plant faced between these paceful yrs we were together, Then the Era of wisdom that attacked me and made me construct a good shelter to protect this plant from heavy rains and hot burning rays of rageful sun..
All these memories. That we lived together. Which we now remember and smile, sometyms cry and sometyms even laugh after crying. And I promise to give u more, good, to be confident, fresh and best memories in this lyf ahead so that while taking our last breath these wud give u the best smile u ever had in ur lyf.
And if this hourglass, ever, accidently or unfortunately breaks, dont be sad. cuz these memories are stored in every pinch of the sand it contains not the outer body that consists it.
Love You
Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 10:56 PM UTC
by Gary Snyder
One afternoon the last week in April
Showing Kai how to throw a hatchet
One-half turn and it sticks in a stump.
He recalls the hatchet-head
Without a handle, in the shop
And go gets it, and wants it for his own.
A broken-off axe handle behind the door
Is long enough for a hatchet,
We cut it to length and take it
With the hatchet head
And working hatchet, to the wood block.
There I begin to shape the old handle
With the hatchet, and the phrase
First learned from Ezra Pound
Rings in my ears!
"When making an axe handle
the pattern is not far off."
And I say this to Kai
"Look: We'll shape the handle
By checking the handle
Of the axe we cut with–"
And he sees. And I hear it again:
It's in Lu Ji's Wen Fu, fourth century
A.D. "Essay on Literature"–in the
Preface: "In making the handle
Of an axe
By cutting wood with an axe
The model is indeed near at hand."
My teacher Shih-hsiang Chen
Translated that and taught it years ago
And I see: Pound was an axe,
Chen was an axe, I am an axe
And my son a handle, soon
To be shaping again, model
And tool, craft of culture,
How we go on.
Sep 5, 2015
Sep 5, 2015 at 2:27 PM UTC
I wonder what makes pets so special…
Is it the love or some other essence?
Is it their honest love?
Or just their sincere presence?
Why is it that when your furry kid
Ruins your fav. Shoes once in a while..
No matter how mad you wanna get..
You just cant help but look and smile…
When things go all wrong and ugly
When youre stuck home on a stormy day..
You look at your pet again and again…
Smile & Cuddle your loneliness away…
And that beautiful moment wen u get tempted..
To plant a kiss on your sleeping pet
You wanna give em all the love..
All the love in the world you can get..
And that day….when they are out love..
They thank you to say a last goodbye…
I bet that’s the only moment…
When your pet will make you cry…
Feb 21, 2014
Feb 21, 2014 at 5:55 AM UTC
You never said it with your words
hugs weren’t what We came to do
you said "Mountain Girls don’t cry"
I held it in to make it true
Don't worry Daddy, I don't need em
I know "I love you's" just words
So many stories in your eyes
never needed a gift or an alibi
We always knew it through and through
the way my heart looked into you
funny really, the truth
to us “I love you” are just words
I knew it at my ballgame
when you appeared in the bleachers
made you proud to all my teachers
don’t worry Daddy, I don't need em
I know “they’re just words”
Was confused when my lovers wouldn’t say it.
Wen't for a long journey don't the path of "maybe I didn’t deserve it"
there and back again
Now I know the truth, I'm worth it
it all happened in the start
it’s me who thinks “they’re just words”
so it didn't bounce back reflected
Now we can have it all
It’s ok to say “I love you”
can be freeing if you want it to
paint a picture with the rainbow
let love guide you
Don't worry Daddy I'll never need it
and they'll never see me cry.
But watch me Daddy as I ride
the craziest bull of them all
having both Love, it's spoken word,
hugs and all.
Dec 2, 2020
Dec 2, 2020 at 7:29 PM UTC
The Magical Date
Last nite was a celebration!
And before it all begun
He held me by my hand so close
We were off to leprechaun land!
The naughty elf with his impish pranks
His sinful teases and wanton ways
His playful gestures, fractious delights
He rushed me off to his wilful fays
We found ourselves in a Keatsian bower
In 'embalmed darkness', 'mong 'white hawthorns'
It was fragrant with the jasmine veils
That covered the roof of rosy thorns
we laughed and sang old happy numbers
we talked our hearts out gleefully
After aeons of blue moon we'd finally met
A magical date it had to be!
And so when i looked up to his eyes
It held mine in a purple gaze
In a trice of a second he was off with me
Speeding through the verduous maze
Help! i cried but held on tight
Our windswept hair, our amorous plight
His fervour, vigor, force and power
Was all i felt that wondrous night
Elf or gnome, genie or sprite
A naughty brownie or the nisse vampire
Bogie, goblin, fairy, nymph
He carried me through the forests dire...
So just wen I can close my eyes
Just when i feel im missing him
He's there as he says hes there with me
Off we go into the woodlands dim
We dance a waltz, a salsa true
A foxtrot, a ballet in embrace tight
In white moonshine, in purple rain
When dewdrops catch the morning light.
And then again with every dawn
The magic wanes, the elf resigns
To mossy groves and sylvan lands
And the elfin grottos of my mind.
Dec 20, 2011
Dec 20, 2011 at 12:37 AM UTC
Hahaha
Quincy Valero, once again on crutches
He always manages to do this to himself
This time he was in his required exercise class and dislocated his knee
I just laugh at this
When we were younger he got roaring drunk and began doing an inebriated salsa
"SALSA KING!"
We all chanted
All of a sudden one leg wen one way and one the other way
He screamed in pain
It was a hairline fracture
Another time he had a lovers quarrel with this girl he was seeing
They fought all the time
Like all the time
And one night in a furious rage
Quincy punched a wall and fractured his hand
A few weeks later I had a pool party
And Quincy had to wrap his damaged hand in a plastic bag and hold it at a 90 degree angle the whole time
He takes all these injuries to heart
He's the kind of guy who has always got to be moving
He's always gyrating, talking, laughing
And when he's even the tiniest bit immobile or disabled
He goes into a short period of depression and self pity
It's just funny to me because just when I think he'll be okay
Some how he manages to just get himself hurt
The clutz haha
Even now, I'm talking to him
He hurt his thumb the other night at a party he threw two days ago
LONG LIVE THE SALSA KING!
Apr 14, 2014
Apr 14, 2014 at 4:06 PM UTC
I hate dull poems with no point
That makes no cents at all
I intend to laff it off and
Blame the alcohol.
Yes, Jaegar Bombz and Jello Sots
As far as i can tell,
Are fool fuel to propel my work
George Strait to Poem Hell.
I was gettin’ almost sober, SO
Had another Jaegar, and a beer (or two)
Lean closed to George and whispered in his ear
I’m here for a good time – juss like u
Yeah Iss country singin’ at is best
If u king n rite the kind that sell
But I get;n kinda sleepy
Stink my peom bombses swell.
SO moreally the story, if you right pomes wen yur drnuk
Beddter wate till til the mmornnimg lite
To post it post it post it tooo
That Hallowed Pomes site
LwP$@Qx)911 ^^(
Jun 10, 2015
Jun 10, 2015 at 2:10 AM UTC
Mi fatha
Mi fatha wer a miner,
a big owd man wer ee,
wi an eart so bold it wer solid gold
en that wer plain te see,
al si thee yung un he wud sey
as off te pit eed trot,
mi mam ed never know if eed be
cumin bak or not.
**** denaby pit e wud gu
a dank en dusky hole,
twer not much gud fer a man like im
ee wer’nt a ****** mole!,
bak brekin werk wer hewin coyel
en freekinin dark en all,
en colliers werst neetmare
wer wen th roof ed fall,
trapt **** pits n’ha way tu dee
en that ah’m tellin thee,
tis gud advice tu stop up top
ah’l tell thee that fer free,
ah’l allus remember copper
e cem a knocking
mi mam she fear’d werst
wen ah’la sudden
a flooda tears did berst,
n’ha th pit ed got mi fatha
ee wer’nt cumin om at all
twer th coliers werst neetmare
th roof.. ed ad.. a fall.
Alan nettleton.
translation for non yorkie's
My father was a miner
a great big man was he,
with a heart so bold
it was solid gold
and that was plain to see,
I’ll see you young one he would say
as off to the pit he’d trot,
my mother never knew
if he was coming back or not,
down denaby pit he would go
a dank and dusky hole,
it wasn’t much good for a man like him
he wasn’t a ****** mole,
back breaking work was hewing coal
and frightening dark and all,
the colliers worst nightmare
was when the roof would fall,
trapped down the pit is no way to die
and that I’m telling thee,
it’s good advice to stop up top
I’ll tell you that for free,
I’ll always remember the policeman
came a knocking,
my mother she feared the worst ,
when all of a sudden
a flood of tears did burst,
now the pit had got my father
he wasn’t coming home at all,
it was the colliers worst nightmare
the roof it had .....a fall.
Alan nettleton
Jun 12, 2010
Jun 12, 2010 at 9:44 PM UTC
me amd me ded arr heppie
wee plai calll ob dutie togeter
hourr favoorit movee id het fozz
wun dai he sai to mi
hoedw olds arrr yyou
i sai i an 176 h3 sai wen i *** urag i
*** 177
it mak noo sensse too mre
Sep 12, 2017
Sep 12, 2017 at 2:24 PM UTC
"Two bee oar knot two bee..."
Seams knot too bee well honed
Wen awl ewe knead four align too fail
Is won to many homophones
Jul 9, 2015
Jul 9, 2015 at 3:35 PM UTC
Save my tears for bedtime
you,ll hear me laugh
you,ll see me smile
but im still sad
alll the while
saving my tears for bedtime
i joke around
and act the clown
but deep inside
i still feel down
saving my tears for bedtime
i talk the talk
i act the part
but i still got
a broken heart
saving my tears for bedtime
got to be strong
for my kids
but my whole life
has hit the skids
saving my tears for bedtime
the tears i cry
no one will see
just my pillow
for company
saving my tears for bedtime
the sun will never see my tears
only the moon and stars will know i cry
wen you see me in the daylight
i,ll always have a smile in my eye
cos i,m saving my tears for bedtime
Mar 20, 2016
Mar 20, 2016 at 12:19 PM UTC
Wi yer eyes stingin n wet wi tears
N muk bungin up tha nose n ears
N a white rimmed ed where thi's ad thi hat
Up tha floats on't lift like a drownded rat
After twelve hours tha's pretty dun in
Whilst t'other folks as been kippin n dreamin
Tha's bin diggin n drillin like summart daft
Now up tha floats on't hydraulic raft
The cold morn air meks tha lungs urt
Cause tha's bin breathin muk n dirt
Fer nigh on forty years or more
That most folks wudn't ave on't floor
N as tha washes all't muk away
Tha knows thas sum that'll allus stay
N whilst outside tha luks nice n clean
Tha's stuff inside thi th't'll never be seen
Until o course tha's gon n died
N them docter fellers tek a look inside
N in amazement they'll stand n stare
At all that muk th't shudn't be there
N wen tha's ded it'll be nowt new
Not too a bloke what's lived like you
Fer now tha's on'y six feet under
Wen undreds is what thas bin used to
N't Crowner'll say thi ad a natural death
Not like them th't had their last breath
At sixteen, seventeen, twenty or more
When sum big explosions brought ceiling t floor
But a doubt if tha'll think it wer thi turn
As tha lays there nattering t worm
Crawlin in n out o yer ears
Not much t show fer sixtyodd years
Still what else cud you ave dun, that's it
But follow yer old man down pit
A mean even his dad was a facer tha knows
Kem out at thirty wi' ands like claws
Ah well it's time fer sum grub
Then half-a-dozen pints't pub
Wi an hour or two o noonday sun
Then back t wife fer an hour o fun
N be six next morning I'll be feelin well
As I teks yon raft t bowels of 'ell
Thirty shillin a week be summer the reckonin
Ah but then they can't see yon worm beckonin
Remember this is a 'Performance Poem'
and the style of writing acts as a
speech prompt. The accent is loosely
Yorkshire. A 'Crowner 'is an old word
for a Coroner.
I hope you enjoy it.
© David Irwin Phillips 2008
Mar 31, 2010
Mar 31, 2010 at 2:03 AM UTC
little bird
cant fly; cant fly
eyes always
looking at the sky
Never heard of a bird that can't fly
**** up lil bird
cold soup;
is all u gonna ever try
feed ur lovesick heart
lil bird
lovepotion is losing its high
oh lil bird
dont freeze wen ur parents
tumble you into this wholehell sky
dont get cold lil bird all dey want for u is to find ur own sky
bt shame lil bird ur mind has found its own neverland sky
oh lil bird ;if u could just fly
i know lil bird how u like the high
jst try; just try
ur siblings are shouting from the sky
u watch them lil bird with awe inspiring sigh;
and u turn your face lil bird
coz u cant face d lack of same love u find in their eyes
are u not trying lil bird???? tell me or have u jst glued your
eyes to the sky
fear lil bird has it turned you to
a box of ice and u keep looking for fire to turn you from cold to nice
in the night ; hiding in the shadows comes ur fight
keep fighting lil bird searching for dat thing dat destroyed you
from the start
an enemy so variant even u wont recognize no one sees it lil bird
but u know lil bird how it is dat u hav to fight keep fighting fight fight fight fight fight fight fight..........
u laugh lil bird ...about how u thought once dat ppl were so high now u see them in the real light
dey got blood on their lips lil bird fools think that smearing lipsticks can make it hide
but in the same light can u see urslf too lil bird
******* off of ppls love to make u high
oh sick lil bird how is ur idealism
love is your drug; yellow avian
and u want it unadulterated even more than your diet
even a slight impurity; u r spinning out of sight
stop dreaming lil bird come back from d neverland sky
maybe dey r jst ppl
and maybe dey r jst trying to survive
even with blood on their lips
and even with a foot that has
never touched a shoe for life.
so come lil bird come down from the neverland sky
they will never know how it feels to see the world , and want to change everything from left to right, to see someone in pain and get their own heart ripped apart
or how a song can make someone feel alive
and how when you watch a movie and for a day become the character u like
funny lil bird how u remind me ....
and when you want ppl to understand you without words.....
watever lil bird jst come down from d neverland skies
Jul 13, 2016
Jul 13, 2016 at 12:23 PM UTC
1.
Princely I am, as Michigan loam,
as carefully turned mud,
as old, old dust––
my breaths are still and unresolved
and don’t dissolve in alcohol
like snakes or dead, bloated fish––
I am nothing monumental.
2.
Stuttered breaths lie in limp open circles around our feet,
hanging by threads of unmade promises––
symmetry was never my forte.
The bent nose,
the crooked lips,
the slow-ballooning wen where nitrogen bubbles––
my flesh is like untilled soil,
all raw and swollen with possibility.
3.
You asked me if it was probable
to find life on Mars
where the iron-leeched sand
crumbles like dried hemoglobin.
I don’t know about amino acids or genesis
or the first man of Dust,
much less mysteries of lovesickness, respiration,
really good ***
We’re barren in different ways;
your dust comes from dreams, from heaven,
crimson and majestic
and dead as Olympus Mons
while I am like moon dust,
just as cold as your bone-dry lakes of carbon dioxide,
but paler, heavier,
and more remote.
Dec 20, 2012
Dec 20, 2012 at 11:22 PM UTC
Blissful silence in the dark
Breathing sounds could be heard from afar
As i got closer it got louder
In the pitch black room
All around me was darkness
The breathing got rougher and louder
With a mourn mixed in here and there....
I could feel strength leaving my body
Daring myself to move closer
In the pitch black room
I could make out figures
Looking like an enormous beast
Devouring its prey
Swallowing it whole
I lost the strength to run
Or scream
A shouting heart jolting my trans mind
Like a rolling rock on a steep slope
I Moved forward
In the pitch black room
Right in-front of me ......
A scene i couldn't fathom
Two silhouettes panting and mourning
Even without a clear picture
Even without the sound
One couldn't help but swallow a mouthful
Of saliva
This hunger inducing scene played out
As my heart started racing
A bright light flashed blinding me
In a now bright room
The two seemed unaffected
Like the illumination from the light
Wasn't visible to them
I could clearly see a figure
A figure so thirst inducing
One could mistaken it for aphrodite
And wen she mourned
A sweet melody
Compared to that of the music of apollo
Lost in the beauty of this beauty
And the melody she was creating
I heard a name
As she said it again
I opened my eyes
Opening my eyes to gaze into hers
They seemed to blaze with a flame
One that felt inextinguishable
One that would devour any soul that came close
This beautiful yet dangerous flame
I knew if i went close there is no coming back
Yet a deep sense of belonging came from within
A cold yet familiar sensation was flowing through me
She moved her down my chest
As it moved i felt it.....
For the first time
Pure craving
Like an electric current running thru me
Leaving chaos in its wake
Like a drum-roll
My heart cried out
With it melting the cold sensation
Like a beast unleashed
My body was brimming with strength
Moving my hands towards her
Like a black hole
Like Jormungand
Every cell in me was screaming
Shouting
And scratching
Trying to heed her call
Getting ready to devour her
Swallow her whole
N show her how deep the abyss went
Jul 12, 2023
Jul 12, 2023 at 7:22 PM UTC