"wetten" poems
i.
I push her against the door
Passionate shove;
I'm wearing a whitened dress shirt
A striped black vest, primeval musk.
ii.
I grabbeth her by her waist
Fashioned spectacles upon her countenance;
She pulleth hard mine blonde lock's of hair
A woman now, releasing her innocence.
iii.
Her balmy breathe, variegated with mine
I trickle around her neck, kissing around her spine;
Mine alleviating rim's, wetten's down to her toes
Starting at her top, I kiss front, back, her dialect purely moaned.
iv.
The ambience was intensified
Tis we went astray, into eachother's eye's;
Whilst the firmament went asunder
Planet earth shook, the sheet's pulled us under.
v.
We struggle just for air
As ourn bodie's sucketh the sweat;
Mine nail's grippeth her frame
A night we shan't forget.
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane nagley dedication
Aug 23, 2015
Aug 23, 2015 at 9:25 AM UTC
This dream will continue,
Now that we switched our places, it's the bad dream we had,
Not thinking about what may be lost in this illusion, such foolishness,
My soul is flying through space in an never ending voyage,
It is the world of nightmares you wished for, for it is enlessly dark.
A world never to be seen before, trapped within the corners of your mind, I assume this means our paths will now seperate and vanish,
The compensation of a heart that was meant to break from the start,
No matter what we may do, this dream, our dream, will continue,
Since this life seems so wonderfully unreal, sorrowful pleasant,
I have already lost myself in the wandering fragnance of nature,
A dream makes it feel real, but you already have gone missing,
When everything else seems to be unrealistic or corrupted,
The embrace of slumber and the sweet feeling of rest may create a wonderful place to inhabit, even if it is just for a very little while,
Don't cry in my arms, don't wetten my robe, you can always come back, to enjoy the sweetness of those nightmares,
Now we are even.
~ Umi
Jul 23, 2018
Jul 23, 2018 at 6:35 PM UTC
Okay, wenn ich mich recht erinnere, hast du gesagt:
"Wenn ich nach drei Monaten immer noch keine Gefühle für sie hab',
wird sie wohl nicht die Richtige sein."
Wenn ich mich recht erinnere, hattest du es verneint:
"Es gibt tausend Unterschiede, die uns teiln'."
Hast du dich blind gestellt
oder konntest du nicht aufpassen?
Sie hat dich längst in ihr Herz geschlossen...
1.) ... und die Tür zugeknallt
Wie ihr lachend auf dem Rasen spielt
dein Lächeln ist eine Kurve, die alles wieder gerade biegt
2.) ... und den Riegel vorgeschoben
Wie ihr euch wissend gegenübersitzt
und wir zwei plötzlich wieder Fremde sind
3.) ... und den Schlüssel dreimal umgedreht
(ich bin cool damit)
Okay, du hältst mich weder für clever,
noch bin ich aus zuckersüßem Kaugummi,
aber wenn Anfassen so simpel sein soll
und Berühren eine Kunst;
um was wollen wir dann wetten, dass sie schwach wird,
wenn du deine Hände benutzt?
Also bleiben deine in den ihren,
so lange du sie dort lässt
4.) ...und Martin:
Der Deckel muss nichtmal genau passen,
wenn er all die Hitze hält
Sep 7, 2018
Sep 7, 2018 at 9:17 AM UTC
You never force my hand
to grasp and plunge into
your sweet circular security.
When I take you in
my mouth you melt down
my throat and I shudder.
My dry lips wetten
and I kiss your cold body
sculpted and curved in crystals.
The longer you sit revealed
the faster you melt
spilling onto the summer sheets.
Mother always warned
that it was a sin
to eat ice cream in bed.
Oct 22, 2012
Oct 22, 2012 at 1:09 PM UTC
She told me that she wanted to kiss me.
I’d swooned over her curves since a long-long time
Dreamt of the moment she was ready to say yes to my 2-year long request to share her warmth.
So, I jumped with joy, but was numb to say anything more.
I thought, she’d be different.
I thought, she’d know.
I thought she’d understood nothing more, yet nothing less
Than what I’d always said-
At the end of the day, leave me alone!
Like most people,
She too thought that this was merely ornamental.
And she said that I hated love because I’ve not been loved enough.
Gwaaah! Such lies.
Such coarse hopes people prison within and dream more about the torture.
But, there was a difference.
I was not one among them.
I had no rousing dreams.
I did not want any romance, I merely wanted her body.
No.
Co-existence without ***** was prettier.
Wetten.
****
*********
and Clean it off with a gush of the jet.
Like most liars, she too lied that she hated commitment.
And echoed with me.
Like more flimsy folks, she was flaying too.
She was not my falancho.
So when I finally told her that I didn’t have time for her.
It was with a heavy heart
because I had time for her body, but no time for her emotions. Or mine to be shared.
It’s a burden to even think that I may start it all over again.
So ….
When she told me that I will never see her again,
I was smiling inside.
And I silently told her,
**** Off!
Jun 11, 2016
Jun 11, 2016 at 12:49 PM UTC
Die Nerven liegen blank,
irgendwo draußen auf der Straße, ein Penner auf der Bank
Schau mich traurig um, alle gehen einfach weiter
sind egoistisch und schauen nur auf ihre Karriereleiter...
Irgendwo anders ein Schüler in der Klasse
er unterscheidet sich in mehr als nur Aussehen und Rasse
Oberflächlichkeit im Vordergrund,
viele Narben, im herzen der wunde Punkt
Egal ob Ignoranz, Brutalität oder Worte
das Messer trotzdem das Herz durchbohrte....
Referate, Arbeiten und Praktika stehen an
Angst und Stress gehen mit dir da dran
weißt selbst nicht mehr wo vorne und hinten ist
tust was du kannst, verlierst wer du bist
Wo anders ein Träumer
wohnt bei seiner Großmutter,
sie hat Krebs und reuma
hofft sie lebt noch lange
er gibt ihr zum Abschied immer einen Kuss auf die Wange
eines Tages wird sie gehen
dann wirst du alleine da stehen
doch hab keine Angst vor dem Tag
es gibt da draußen jemand der dich mag
Hinterm Fenster ein alter Mann
fragt sich:"was fang ich nur mit dieser Rente an?"
seine Frau bereits krank,
all seine Hoffnung liegt jetzt bei der Bank
die jedoch dankend ablehnt
und ihm nur den Rücken zudreht
Medikament zu teuer, keine Versicherung gegeben,
er will doch nur gemeinsam mit seiner Frau leben.
Die Möglichkeit zu klauen, um das Leben zu retten
könnte enden im Gefängnis mit Wetten....
Zwischen richtig und falsch entscheiden
lieber daheim sitzen oder reisen ?
Gedanken, Hintergründe und Gefühle verstehen
ist bereit dafür Fehler zu begehen
denn irgendwo zwischen Angst, Stress und Wut
findest du Leute, die Liebe zeigen und das tut gut
Sei stark und du selbst
es ist egal das du nicht jedem gefällst
Dec 26, 2017
Dec 26, 2017 at 5:31 AM UTC
Stygian clouds clash,
Drizzles a great squall,
Quenches the parched land's thirst,
The nature's blue wonder.
The shower pours down,
Soaking the natures hand,
Spilling on the dry fields,
Flourishes the farmers land.
Fill the dry lakes,
Overflow the thirsty dams,
Fall the natures cascade,
Drench the lifeless forests.
Trees sway merrily,
In the gusty winds,
Their shrivelled state vanishes,
As bathe them a deluge.
The concrete jungle wettens,
The beings here rejoice,
As falls the rain,
Ends the withered climate.
Droplets dash the ground,
The view fantasise me,
To feel the zest at once,
Out my abode i flee.
To embrace the weather,
I go drench in the pour,
Splashing through puddles,
No worries of muddy clothes.
Streets wetten up,
Slippery they seem
Vehicles slide over it,
In the squally weather.
A scurry i see,
As run people on the roads,
Seeking for cover somewhere,
As rain cats & dogs.
Many tunes i hear,
A "pitter patter" ring's my ear,
The ***** traffic jam,
Disrupts the nature's hymn.
Kids i see around,
Dance in this noise,
Sail they paper boats,
A child in me invokes.
"Red hearts" roam around,
As continues the watery storm,
Spending minutes of love,
As showers this romance charm.
Flows a chilly gust,
Pour and pour the clouds,
Soaks the busy city,
The first squally shower.
Drenched up dear me,
I am back at home,
After natures cool splash,
My hearts quenched now.
Back at home,
I seat by the window,
Relishing the weather,
In the chilly monsoon.
- Kedar K
Aug 1, 2016
Aug 1, 2016 at 7:44 AM UTC
it takes me back to this certain,
particular time
blue flames crawling up the wall
boy sitting in the centre of them all
clothes lined with soot and nothing
in his pitch black eyes
a tongue darting out
to wetten his lips
but what's the point? when
everything's on fire? maybe
for him
it's as normal as nothing
blood red brick walls
eyes making contact to rival them all
the start of something: usually, one
finds a spark to light their ambitions
but what does one do with
a fire presented to them?
at the words directed to him,
he perked up
soot flying around him like
masquering, ill informed snowflakes
settling on his face like freckles
and then began the start of my own
self immolation
Aug 10, 2019
Aug 10, 2019 at 10:33 PM UTC