Obsessed with the thought of you
wondering if it's only me or
if you sometimes remember the sweet things you've said
and if you meant them how I took them
or if I'm just obsessed with what's in your head
Obsessed with your very sentences
Every response I take personal
I know it's selfishness
Have you not noticed my eyes?
They hold secrets that only you can unlock
if you'd just take time to fill the thick juices of my pride
It's just boiling with lust, passion, trust and distrust
and other things I obsess over so much
I find myself writing to free myself from this prison I've created
where only you and I reside
I become confused about what I'm really feeling inside and I
try to rid the thoughts that are highly debated as false and I
begin to cry and
think of casting love spells so that the universe can deliver this affair
I know it's unfair
but I don't care
I'm obsessed with what hasn't happened between us
I'm obsessed with your heart and that the fact that
I don't think you've even noticed my selfish innuendos
and secret undertones that blatantly express my lust
Or maybe you have and you calmly remain in resistance of distrust
If you could only read my mind by simply touching my fingertips,
I'm sure I'd catch you out the corner of my eye biting your bottom lip
I'm obsessed with the passion and thoughts I think you have
Obsessing over an experience that I may never have....
Copyright © humble b | Year Posted 2012
When a woman is just a woman
the world waits not for her wishes and woes
It seeks to rape the rose of her youth and ravage her assertive reason,
she must become more than mortal meat, she must rise to where hot spirit flows
accelerating the bloodletting of her zen into a hostile zeitgist, she makes endurance a weapon,
the gestation of her gestalt confronting the civil and savage alike, sharp beauty is all she knows
becoming a love hunter with no remorse, womb driven, wasting no color of season,
learning to weep over the bones of bastards, to scream through shadows,
reaping light from simple eyes, heart uncommon
Eve believes God as she grows -
Copyright © Justin Bordner | Year Posted 2015
On the River of Time
I built a dam for my love
to capture the moment,
collect the future,
and set our pasts free.
Copyright © A.O. Taner | Year Posted 2016
follow on facebook,
adore on pinterest,
fall in love on instagram,
kiss on a hunch,
all under a tree.
Copyright © A.O. Taner | Year Posted 2016
Wrinkle, wrinkle on my face…
Couldn't you have found some other place ?
What made you furrow between my eyes ?
And all those creams, they are nothing but lies….
When I look in the mirror, all I can see…
Is a silver haired person staring back at me….
Then there are the lines , which run down the sides of my nose…
Running in circles, round my lips, down my neck and into my clothes….
Speaking of clothes , isn’t that where the wrinkles should be ?
Is nature playing a trick on me ?
Or is this a sign “ old “ is sneaking up on me ?
It seems only yesterday I was a young girl .. and had my whole life ahead of me…
So simple..so free……
Which don’t take me wrong I have enjoyed my life’s ride…
And there isn’t much in my life, I haven’t tried….
But it should would be nice if I could just see…
Myself with one less wrinkle…when I looked back at me…..
Copyright © kj force | Year Posted 2013
If there is one thing I remember
It is what life told
Just open your eyes
All that glisters may not be gold
So who is to blame and whose fault I hold
The halo effect, the one in disguise
Manifesting deception in front of thy eyes
Treat one different because of their look
Why read? Judge the cover of the book?
But you do read others because they don’t have the look
If you understand, how long has it took?
The halo effect, we magnify a trait
Condone the flaws, we magnify a trait
Attractiveness, is this what you mean?
All this talk, my perception a feign?
What I see, aint what it seem?
Huh, thanks for this, as well as that.
The halo effect, my mind was hacked.
Copyright © Darian Brown | Year Posted 2013
Written August 21, 2013
There's a girl in the garden
She's messing with your rose bed
Plucking weeds out from your head
And watering the seeds in your bed
But where will she wander
When the roses are dead
Will she come back for more
When they turn back to red
She can run all alone
Write this story in stone
On concrete slabs
Of skin and bone
Copyright © Brandon Carter | Year Posted 2013
It is the nature of man to pursue
And woman’s to be pursued
Man must do the wooing
And woman must be wooed
It is the nature of man to conquer
And woman to play it coy
He must be the strong one
She must act like his toy
It is the nature of man to explore
And woman’s to be sedate
He must push the limits
She must make him wait
Ah...woman, you are to hold back
And make him beg for more
You must keep yourself aloof
And just hint at what’s in store
You must give a only a portion
To keep him from discontent
Must be sparing with your love
To make his jealousy hell bent
For it is the nature of man to chase
And woman to lend to the chase
But learn this from me, angel
These notions are vile and base
For if your man has such a nature
And slights your consuming love
Don’t waste on him your passion
Escape on wings of a dove
For love knows no rules or decorum
It will do what it may please
So do what you fancy best
Be assertive when you tease
For know that when the day‘s done
And you are lying in bed alone
You must be true to yourself
Strip “Nature” down to the bone.
Obey the voice of your heart, love
Don’t fall prey to “nature’s” game
Be a woman of these times
And put these silly rules to shame!
Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2012
In the kingdom of the Waters
She sits enthroned on its womb
Flanked by the silver facet Atlantic-Indiana
As the barking tides wrestle her marble feet
In the court of the Tropics
She is robed in green foliage of ancient savannah
Adorned with pearls of arid sands,
With ivory mountain and cincture of rift
In the mythic boarder of the Equator
She rests at the footstool of the fierce sun
Comforted by cloud’s tears
And caressed by solemn winds
In the royal neighborhood of Continents
She locks horn with Europe
In the witness of Asia
And her offspring Madagascar
Copyright © Emerho O. Samuel | Year Posted 2014
a bright sun
danced with the sea
on her shades
eyes spoke feelings
only she could see
Copyright © A.O. Taner | Year Posted 2016
Through the lonely woods, I may head,
Upon the autumn leaves, I may tread,
At the secluded horizon, I may stare,
And only you, I may see,
In those symphonies of silence,
In those melodies of calmness,
In those euphonies of quietness.
By the silent lake, I may lay,
Till the twilight fades, I may stay,
Then in reclusive silence, I may walk,
And only to you, I may talk,
Through those toungueless emotions,
Through those wordless attachments,
Through those voiceless sentiments.
In the lone meadow, I may wander,
Along the untrodden paths, I may waver,
In companionless seclusion, I may hide,
And only in you, I may find,
The depths of oneness,
The bonds of togetherness,
The cozy feel of coalescence.
In the wilderness of emotions, I may die,
At the merciless daggering, I may sigh,
Through a million wounds, I may bleed,
And only in you, I may seek,
The balm of love,
The warmth of affection,
The heal of inseparability.
Copyright © Suyash Saxena | Year Posted 2013
I know you.
Candles lit, incense fuming,
You like it when I bite your neck, just hard enough.
Blankets thrown about the room
So recklessly, they refold themselves.
And we roll down a hill together,
Kissing the leaves, tickling with our eyes,
Laughing with our hearts.
"You'll just leave me for the next girl you find."
"Yes," I say. Because only
And it spills through the cracks in your hands
The moment you grasp it.
Like water from a stone.
She bites my neck
Drawing lines of ecstasy down my back with her fingernails
Spilling into me, fighting my words.
"I leave when the sun sets."
Copyright © Jacob Reinhardt | Year Posted 2013
The gods must be crazy to create such bad logic,
To validate suffering, pain and distress, they tick,
To allow their existence, ‘cos that’s what logic’s for,
Logic defines the systems and structures which soar.
They must be mad to claim bad weather, all year,
Intervention only points to their responsibility here,
Natural phenomena stands proud with autonomy,
In independence they have expression in taxonomy.
And those car accidents! Ah, how folks claim them,
As god’s doing, for the victim’s edification, ahem;
Joni Eareckson Tada thinks her diving accident divine,
And happened for a godly reason, for her to consign!
Christians are sour to equate a healthy man with god,
Rather than a woman who’s disabled and LBQT, odd,
Because worship should elevate up only when it should,
As it offsets a prejudice, imbalance or personality mood.
Or even a coloured person as god would be far better,
Than a white male that so permeates art and literature,
‘Cos the subliminal has such a strong, pervasive effect,
That some gods today should be dismissed as a defect.
Copyright © Rhoda Monihan | Year Posted 2015
The animals know better than us. The rain has never poured so loudly in a key so soft.
To the front, the sailing of city buses and mini vans cruising across in this weather makes the water underneath their tires sound like the street is crying out for 5 more minutes of sleep. Up above, the trees are protecting a nest of baby blue jays before they get washed away by the silence of their mother not being there. But with sky blue young spirits, and small empty stomachs, they keep hope alive in the fact that even children know storms and struggles don’t last forever.
Below the trees, nature has found a name to call it’s own. From the hole dug by the little boy next door, a family of three foxes have named human nature sanctuary, and burrowed their problems into the sediment to rest for a while.
To the side of the hole, a flock of ducks are swimming in the water with eyes open wide enough to where you can see their loyalty to love one another rushes wild.
To the right of the pond, caged up in a man made blanket, and lost in his own mind, is the boy. From what he remembers, last night was like a train accident; A head on collision of two people he could’ve sworn he saw holding hands just the other day. He hears the sound of plates shattering in C-minor, and the chorus of words that his parents screamed in F-sharp, so he imprisoned himself in his own bed sheets, accompanied by the courageous corduroy bear who he swears keeps hearing whisper “everything will be okay.”
It’s raining outside, and the crescendos of screams have been silenced by it’s peaceful security.
The boy, sleeps soundly now. The rain has protected his ears, and guarded his heart from being washed away by all of his nightmares.
He doesn’t care whether he wakes up. The baby blue jay, the resourceful fox and the brave little duck are all he wants to keep dreaming about.
Maybe he’ll run away into the rain? Or maybe into the arms if his mother?, whom he prays he can still recognize. To the left of his bed, he picked up the blank page of his coloring book and a crayon, and became a life long poet in that moment that morning. Taking a deep breath in, and giving a soft breath out, his first sentence was
“The animals know better than us.”
Copyright © Spenser Jones | Year Posted 2012
they were up there, on the stage,
" exotic dancers", the term they
gave; the tall one "Avalanche",
the shorter, "Aurora"
long black limbs , Aurora's, graceful
steps so Avalanche, her marble feet
they intertwined and caught our men's
eyes, as we looked and fantasized of
being with one, or the other, (or both)
and the tepid rhythm rumbled on, from
speakers in the curtained roof, while mouths
dribbled and trousers moved, like stallions we
and as the caravan of tempting lust, swung the
hip and charming bust, the distant sound of beer
and jar, chinkled from the busy bar
and down the mountain slope she came, Avalanche
a wild chicane, lit by Aurora's northern light,
G string gone and tassles free, thundered on
the mountain slope and sky,
and soon on trapeze across the room, over tables,
drinks, and cloudy hush, the twin nature's beauties
wearing only their bush, and below, the valley
the mountaineers, sweating in expectant gush
and when I trek among the peaks in dangerous
snow and coloured skies, I remember the twins,
one black one white, their avalanche and northern light
Copyright © Peter Lewis Holmes | Year Posted 2015
I am the Antiope of Canada,
Amazonian, but not breast less,
Snowy bosom like virginal gems,
Swelling lips moderately full,
Savoury odor felt all around,
Crystalline throat striking the eyes.
Meandering, churning, darting, dashing,
Transformed from blonde to brunette.
Here alluring, benign, attenuated,
There corpulent, colossal, capering,
Practicing calisthenics all the time.
Raquel Welch in ‘One Million Years B.C.’
Wily Cleopatra, the Scythian of Ordzhonikidze,
Carnal Marilyn, matured Helen of Troy,
Venus in Aries, Mars in Pisces.
Broad bellied, middle-aged, deep,
Now bulging belle of Detroit,
Encircling the wooing Windsor,
Yet the Blithe spirit of Pelee Island.
March 15, 2014
Dr. Ram Mehta
Form: Free Verse
Eighth Place Win
Contest What Am I by PD
I have used: Personification,Alliteration, Hyperbole, simile, metaphor and synecdoche :
Copyright © Dr.Ram Mehta | Year Posted 2010
a young, pretty girl!
(she's a heartbreaker, a vamp,--
still, he adores her.)
Copyright © Ngoc Nguyen | Year Posted 2014
Lies saunter through bent brow’d occasion,
teasing the elegant disposition of
wilting Dixie flowers.
Glass clinks together,
in unison with a common cackle.
Snakes in the grass;
Coming to suck their eggs,
but there’s no ruffled feathers here.
It’s just another warm southern night,
amid the fire;
Nature will take it’s course.
-James Kelley 2013, All rights reserved.
Copyright © James Kelley | Year Posted 2013
Silver women with fragile spines
Lonely during the week, they must be doing something right
The loneliness doesn’t affect them, and they don’t want to scream and shout
Daily feelings of sadness, sometimes are beautiful and sometimes are loud
These women transformed themselves in statues made of seam and dreams
So they can stay in their days willing to give, care and redeem
Time isn’t the problem, but let there be courage to move forward old days of resembling habits
Make them brave, and they would be the Sea Lion Woman of their own credits
Copyright © Andressa Monteiro | Year Posted 2014
Where I come from
Women are morale formed
Symbol of sanity
In a world of insanity
Mother Nature in personified
Mother to old and young alike
Better half of a man
A man ages above her
To be better, she is submissive
Submission, made possible by respect
Through the ages gaps the respect becomes natural
To love a man ages younger is unnatural
Therefore unwomanly, though women are blameless
Blinded by the illusion of sexual expressionism
And freedom which is not needed
With the presumed weakness, comes the strength
The strength that is fast eluding us
You don’t have to be men women
Because we men are jealous of women
For they always stoop to conquer
Who ever said age is just a number lied
Age substitutes wisdom and experience
Nature made it so and nature is woman
on the contest- Cougar Effect
Copyright © offor ujunwa | Year Posted 2011
Hurl me stones as much as you like
To shear my skin from bone
Bereaving me, you can boast of your custom
Your end is just,
Theirs to make me silent
But millions to millions crawls,
Same way every day and night
Might be there, your pebbles storage can go empty
Nature should remain thinking to construe stones
In faster rate to heat me like desires born again
But my liking, desires cannot go in vain
There is back up of almighty pushing me to do
Being forwarded again and again
Don’t be afraid of them they are thieve
They loot bag satisfy them self every night by same routine
Only they publicize you in the name of adultery
Penalising killing, devouring your flesh with stone
I’ m behind you to support my dear
If this time they peel off you
Next time I scrape their mind with same and right vision
They are doing wrong, wrong worse
What you liked is nature, my system
How they dared to halt, my other beloved
I ask to creator think in it, and change the devise
About such timidity where is weak
In your generation, stop to fill cruelty.
Copyright © Deepak Chalise | Year Posted 2014
Some people see the thorns;
others the succulent petals;
others smell the melodious fragrance;
perceptions to what a rose really is.
A woman is like a rose….
Some people see her beauty;
others her vulnerability;
others her dressing;
others her personality;
others her dangerous seduction;
others her voice……
perceptions to what a woman really is.
Copyright © Teddy Kimathi | Year Posted 2014
When the rains come down
And the dark clouds fill the sky
The old men go walkabout
When the rains come down
And the earth no longer dry
The old women praise the Lord
When the rains come down
And the dams are overflowing
The young men learn the secrets
When the rains come down
And fertile fields start growing
The young women long for love
Copyright © Margaret Foster | Year Posted 2011
The night air is cool and collective,
Running through my hair and face.
Even when I’m with people, I feel alone
In this cold blooded space.
It’s like walking through a garden
Of all your favorite foods,
But none of which can substantiate
For that one so special mood…
that beautiful frame of mind.
I only go there with you,
And only you can make it unwind.
I discovered a passion unlike any other
And in my finding I opened a world,
A world I did not know existed.
I’m on cloud nine every time I think of you,
Just the thought of you brings joy to my heart.
This garden holds many beautiful things
Many delightful pleasures,
Many cold nights,
Ecstatic times and unsystematic times!
But they mean nothing to me,
While I’m alone…
Walk with me through this garden.
Copyright © John Paluszek | Year Posted 2013
Surely to know the ambrosial quiver
Of stiffened fruit, ripe and swollen
With stolen fragrance and lovely flush
Of seeded solvent all down a furtive face
And up the greedy pink arms of cloud-ward reaching children
Is to know also the jealous rain
Her green glances gorge on mellow delight
Indulgent and impatient with quick eyes
Snatching strokes of waxy flesh
Torrid caress under an austere guise of gray
She is a lean and idle glutton
Who lashes in strife with quickness and lusty strikes
It will be a feast of soul
If you do not slay her first
Copyright © Chelsea Westerfield | Year Posted 2013
A VIP while making pee
looks like a not-quite VIP.
Copyright © Volodymyr Knyr | Year Posted 2014
The newest Leap Year beckons women to make a heartfelt move
while promising to be true to the soul and actions
I have knelt down because it's time that I propose to you,
even impromptu, promising to say "I do" with Celtic words: Aoibhneas, Baile.
I love you for your distinct virtues. Please, do not misconstrue this vow that I now renew.
You're likely to be amazed by such words of praise coming from me
But you should know that I love you verily; I've reappraised the situation,
And I'm all aglow when I think of the stargazed dream
Such a marriage could set us free and raise our expectations, we who are Vikings!
If I don't take the chance to propose during our dance, four years will pass again with less romance; thus, it's best I write these words of confession to you with my own pen rather than to keep them suppressed, all the while,
Promising that my vow will be acknowledged by God above who blesses our love, still expressed while un-professed
My mind reaches out to you, boundlessly and timelessly, no matter what you say or do, thereunto, without any borders to keep my love away; I invite your imagination to fly with thoughts of the magnificent adulation and how I'll reveal my heart to you, going on a mountain rendezvous, with vegetables overgrown in your garden where they thrived,
Undervalued for such a long time while nature embraced you in a breakthrough,
Growth arose with the sound of bells nearby--chiming, dancing, and chanting in rhythm, the mountains, all the time, dipping into the valley to meet you in peace.
This year will be Leap Year, it's true, and all I want to do
Is marry you. No more, no less, only to achieve heartfelt happiness.
I'll view you through the misconstrued residue of my own true love.
Copyright © Laura G Sweeney | Year Posted 2016
Good women are like golden fruited bananas
Peel them to find a delicious exotic taste inside
Bad woman are like bad fruit and taxes
Beautiful exterior but nasty inside
And who likes taxes?
Young woman don’t know what they want
Old women know what they want
And it ain’t you!
I can’t speak on the subject
Being from another planet and all
But if I had my choice
I would pick the girl behind door #3
Copyright © Earl Schumacker | Year Posted 2014
I do not know?
The toot of a lute
Rang through the air
The carnival was uproar with laughter
A little boy's eyes
a much larger size
at the sight of what he was after
A stale piece of bread
Sat in the trash
It made the little boy in rag's mouth water.
So he reached through the gate
as soon as it got late
Hoping to avoid his slaughter
For stealing was a crime
Even from a trash-bin
They'd have his head off in seconds
A guard caught his eye
But before he could cry
Fate thought he'd need a hero, I reckon.
Some strangely dressed women
appeared from the shadows
and drew their shiny swords
The strangers fought
In the dead of night
The boy was lost for words
One of the women
She approached the child
She bent down to get another look
Seeing his starvation
The pain in his eyes
And the energy that life's stresses had took
"Come with us," Said the women
With a friendly smile
She offered the little boy her hand.
"You'll be safe with us,"
The women explained
"No more getting kicked in the sand."
The boy gave the women
a cautious look
He greatly considered her offer
His parents had just died
Of a horrible starvation
Tonight, hunger wouldn't take another
The little boy agreed
To join the Gypsies
Together they ate and they danced
They traveled from place
To place to place
With a merry smile around he pranced
But what they didn't know
Black magic was brewing
The pagans couldn't sense it upon them
But the hungry little boy
Had always had a gift
He knew when trouble was near him
Immediately he ran
To alert the Gypsies
He said something dark was coming
The pagans all stopped
The music died down
They'd send this enemy running
With candles and an altar
Some herbs and a pendant
The pagan's had formed a plan
They'd cast out a spell
That would protect the people
The animals and the land
Suddenly the sky darkened
Rain started to fall
Their magic wasn't working
With no wind blowing
A candle tipped
Danger was definitely lurking
The fire spread
through out the camp
Tents burned down to ash
The gypsies all panicked
And fetched buckets of water
These problems surely couldn't last
The next two moths
were full of bad luck
The boy got covered by glances
"These problems didn't happen"
"Untill this boy came along."
They said getting rid of him would raise their chances
Of surviving in this
Horrid world we live in
They shunned him within a matter of hours
The boy wandered the earth
With tears in his eyes
His cries rang out with power
So on he walked
Following the road
As his gypsies had taught him
Though his spirits were crushed
and his body hungry
Nobody in the world would stop him
Copyright © Daryl Joplin | Year Posted 2012
Emma was asleep in
an unrealistically graceful position
It had much to do with
the calmness she felt
as she listened to the sound of rain
hitting her window
It seemed her mind was always so
that the slightest moment of peace
an intense euphoria
So the moment at which she fell asleep was
the only pure one of
the entire day
Copyright © Emma Caparula | Year Posted 2016