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FathomIf I could fathom your thoughts,
Sway the mood,
Ride a crest the best half-step
closer I've taken in awhile,
Roll the ripples into waves
of misbehaving tonight, then
seagull witnesses would whistle
under wonderful moonlight.
MeanderYou shoot a look back at me, and
my thoughts meander round
The way your moulded shoulders
slow roll, all low
slung, swung confident
as you can manage,
Your hiding hands trembling like
you feel you've lost your way,
And the quiet in your eyes
of the things you dare not say.
Strangers on TrainsThe train is a cradle,
The engine a lullaby,
The people inside unlikely dreams
in beams of sun
that come and go, and
the squeal of brakes, released
Poem for youYou have a voice
like slipping out of the driveway
late at night,
And hands tiny like twisting the key in the lock
smooth and slow
There's a a surf-roll wave of change in the room
When you pull a smile, it is like
watching the tide slide out
and the sun fall down,
I can hear only our breathing
and I'm shaken but bold
I see nothing but us as we're getting old.
Nike of SamothraceLike in old Greek stories
I can see Victory hanging
one winged over us,
Battered and broken and
along the way
she lost her head
But she's there all the same,
Standing still with robes in full motion
and flowing like the moonlight moves over
cars slipping out of town,
Gliding legs, marble smooth
and not making a sound,
And cold and cracked the Angel
withstands unsteady ground.
Some NightsI still whirl the circles
some nights, and spin
fired rings round Tartarus,
See suffering giants of men
Tears frozen to hot faces,
Pole-axed by paradox
and shuddering many levels lower
than the Hindu mountain make-believe
I'd promised myself we could achieve.
I'm still wreathed in you
some nights, and feel
the peppered smoke around my head,
See myself tiny
in the little hammock-curve of shoulders
watching the flicker of thoughts across
your gentle face,
This was once the way
I could escape that place.
And then comes the morning
and I am born again
and in me it began
and in me it ends.
Hannibal CallWe could matter,
And impose tiny toes
on entire fleets of feet out of
retreat, bring the heat of battle back to burn
the extremities, repeatedly
shake complacency off backs,
Crack-of-dawn and shaking blue fingers
bring the Hannibal call,
Sinew-twist with hair raising spin
of crooked axe,
trip a tank in its tracks
beating heart rhythms on busted shields
we'll see all their fates sealed -
It will cost almost all
for it all to be healed.
I'm awake and full of knowingI'm awake and full of knowing
there's a girl who's right for me,
Whilst I lie and do nothing
and so does she.
Maybe... Perhaps...Maybe ... because our encounters are given as numbered...
Perhaps ... there could be no poets in the world, but there will always be a poem for you...
Maybe... I want to eat you and fill me of you because I don’t know when I will have you again…
Perhaps... where my heart burns and rests, I will find you, my beauty...
Maybe... because there is no map to the place where we go...
Perhaps... because all of your kisses are stolen…
Maybe... Darkness and light are the work of one mind, features of the same face, blossom of a single tree...
Perhaps... Something special for you, whispering to the foolish hearts like mine...
Maybe ... because you decided to not stay with me...
Perhaps ... I have to resign myself to run away with you...
Maybe... As long as there are eyes that reflect the passions of the eyes who look at you...
Perhaps... The eyes can’t fit on the face of the world, and the eyes do not fit into the earth to admire your beauty...
Maybe ... Suddenly I found
love poem for a pianistyou make me think about
how heavy negative space can be.
the space between your fingers,
the space between notes,
the space between us
in this small, soundproof room;
every empty millimetre
in my chest
She + She"I like how our feminine gazes cross, from dawn till twilight
This honeyed voice of her, every time
She says she's deeply fond of me. Mellifluous sounds.
The way we roll up in the green watered grass, innocently
Our burning hands melt under our youth's sun beams.
After years of wandering, I'm conviced
I finally found how I should live.
Her arm around my pleased waist."
said Laura, with an indelible grin on her chubby face.
"I especially liked our fortunate meeting
I remember everything, every purple clouds among morning mist
Sprites sowed seeds of love on my path.
When I saw her, one word bolted in my stunned mind,
This stunning aura of her, just left me speechless
Spring butterflies in my stomach,
Each new sapphire moon with this girl is a gift."
said Charlotte, tightly holding her darling's hand.
"A dyke? Meeeh it shouldn't exist, th
RosesRoses are read and violets are blue
I gave my entire heart over to you
You took it from me and dumped it in the trash
I should've known; beauty never lasts
Roses are brittle and violets will wilt
All I did was try and ask you for help
You took me under your wing and crept into my heart
Then you made sure to take your time in ripping me apart
Roses are dead, the violets are too
How did I ever convince myself to trust you
Still, it was nice to think I had a friend
To bad I was just a toy to you in the end
when you came into my life,
your brightened it so much.
your first kiss eased my pain
and began to set my soul right.
your touch soothes my worn nerves,
bringing my anxeity down with love.
your soft words bring me inner peace,
giving me the strength to continue on.
your embrace smothers me with love,
letting me know that you really care.
never leave me, always love me true.
Just as much, honey, as I love you.
GoodbyeRight now I don't want to remember,
And I hope I won't regret this,
But I know I won't want to forget this
Those final hours, and that lingering last kiss
Was the type of moment dreams dwell on,
No I won't forget this:
If that was the last time I held you,
And thought we'd have time,
The last time I tasted you,
And felt your skin slip against mine,
It's the type of goodbye
Writers write about,
Singers sing about,
And dreamers dream about.
Well, I'll scribble about missing you,
And about wilting flowers;
I’m always looking for a story, darling,
And 'goodbye' may be the best of ours.
Loud SilenceMy tongue cannot convey as much emotion as my hands can.
My hands can dance a dance of love & ecstasy, as I caress your beautiful skin.
My hands, they can express how much you mean to me with a gentle stroke of my thumb over your knuckle.
They can scream in anguish and displeasure as I pull my hand from yours, my futile attempt to
shield our awkward affection for one another from your eccentric, pushy family.
They can experience a euphoric sensation as they, ever so slowly, part your silky hair, silent pleasure emanating from my fingertips.
And they can aid in my eternal struggle, -to express my love for you and all you stand for, with a simple squeeze of your smaller hand.
Love calls, homeLove,
I hear you calling me home.
my heart is bleeding, alone.
Should I pick up the phone?
My love is calling me home.
And, he's calling me home.
our home bigger than the universe
a walk on the shores
on a quiet evening
and your hand rubs mine
in shades of crimson
melting across a vast horizon
the wind is beginning
to brush its chills
across my cheeks
the touch of your fingers
bring warmth inside me
that is manifesting today
counting every silent breath
I remind you of love's true lessons
that I follow thoroughly
into my veins gushing
like chants of a holy book
at the cusp of twilight
I hold you
in the image of my god
I am devoted
toward the presence of your soul
into my life
and I honor the oneness
of us together
blessed under the ecstasy
gifted by the divine
the whole of me belongs
but parts of me are divided
for the service of the ones
who need me
as much as you do
my home lies in your arms
but my world is extended
toward healing broken minds
and mending shattered hearts
that have been ignored and hurt
I want you to understand the plan
is higher and larger
than a universe dispersed
between you and me
pray into my collarbone
let your snake tongue slither
with the syllables.
i wish for soft-chested nights,
and the trickle of champagne down crystal glass.
poppy-lips, lull me to sleep,
nurse my coiling tongue with yours;
tap my scalp like a silent drum,
and wind my hair in between your fingers
like broken guitar strings.
(serenade me with the buzz of pollen in your kiss.)
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^Nyx-Valentine arrived in our community and started whipping everyone into a frenzy with her relentless desire to bring the Artistic Nude and Fetish galleries to the fore. 9 years later, and it's safe to say that Nyx is not only a leader as a photographer in these galleries, but she has also established herself as a much saught after model. ^... Read More