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absence abuse
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house how i feel
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Long Passion Poems | Long Passion Poetry

Long Passion Poems. Below are the most popular long Passion by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Passion poems by poem length and keyword.

See also: Famous Long Poems

Long Poems
Long poem by Victoria Anderson-Throop | Details |

SEX ON A CLOUD

                                                          SEX ON A CLOUD

                                                            (HER STORY)
                                                      She grabbed his voice
                                                     Through conference din
                                                     Sought to win his gaze--
                                              But crowds of gabbers tottered in...

                                        He missed the sexy nod she sent his way--
                                      Distracted by a phone call--
                                                               faded from his day.

                                                         But oh his face....
                                                      Would not be gone....
                                                                 wild
                                                      bony visage--home
                                                          of passion's eyes--
                                                       Fate teased in him
                                                           her Paradise--

                                                           Upward Man
                                                   Brash Upward Plans--
                                             Such a heart must be attached--

                                                       Her stubborn mind
                                                    holds fast to dreams,
                                                         bows to Fate--
                                                   but loathe to schemes....

                                                   She stalked his dreams
                                                       The night is theirs
                                                          Palm to Palm--
                                                    All answered Prayers.

                                                            Eyes exult
                                                      Besieged by bliss--
                                                     becalmed by thoughts
                                                          of moonlit kiss

                                                       she Owns his Face
                                                 sweet charmed caressing
                                                     that leaves no trace
                                                       but silent blessing

                                                              (HIS STORY)
                                                           Over a shoulder
                                                             behind a pole
                                                            he saw a face
                                                     that grabbed his soul
                                                           wild hair so red
                                                       his heart caught fire
                                                          hands of grace
                                                      could capture choirs

                                                          Laugh of bells
                                                       tolled 'cross the hall
                                                       he moved toward her, 
                                                           then had a call--
                                          stepped out in search of quiet space,
                                                           cut short his call--
                                                          yet lost her face.

                                                           She was gone...
                                                            Another man?
                                                            Abysmal sight....
                                                            a f_cking awful
                                                           maddening plight.

                                                         He's lost his chance,
                                                          in town
                                                                      One Night.

                                                         Her essence brands,
                                                         Flays bare his heart--

                                                          But business tugs him
                                                                   Worlds...
                                                                     Seas apart--

                                                                 Mellifluous--
                                                            tho hard to place--
                                                   She's the tune he can't erase.
                                                               
                                                              a love so fierce
                                                              
                                                           Each night they tryst,
                                                            shake clouds above
                                                    grant them every lover's wish
                                                       
                                                              She nuzzles love
                                                            and slips o-er him--
                                                           encased and blessed
                                                              in  Passion's Glove.

V. Anderson-Throop
Sept 2013

Copyright © Victoria Anderson-Throop


Long poem by cassie hellberg | Details |

over and over agin

sometimes i talk to myself, 
my mind is racing,
i dont know what to do...
so hard to explain.
depression isn't a stage
or a faze some kids go through
it shatters you...
i saw it all. 
she cried silent in her bed,
blood stains covered her favorite jeans,
her every shirt,
long sleeve ofcourse...
she suffered through it all with few people to call friend
and more to call enemy
even more to say where quite dissappointed....
FAT
her first name in school,
not started by a bully
or a mean rival,
but by her sister, 
and it echoed through her soul,
repeating in her mind... over and over again,
like the ripples of still water
when a pebble is dropped
flash frozen in time
repeating,
over and over again...
It was the first name they gave her,
millions where created over the years,
some unique
some repeating again, just as the first had..
gothic they called her,
emo, fat, ugly....worse things.
but in her mind, things where worse.
everything was repeating,
over and over again,
finally she believed it. 
she asked for help, from everyone
tried to explain to parents she wasnt well,
got called a psycho for asking to see a theripist,
not from a teacher,
not from a class mate,
but from her own father, who wouldn't, couldn't,
believe there could possibly be a thing wrong....
finally, crying, she confessed her bloody secret to a teacher.
rather then giving her time,
she is sent back to class crying her eyes out, as if she wherent going through enough...
she is sent to the principals office a few minutes later, after breaking down in class...
the princlipal says she needs help,
sends her and her dad for a risk evaluation,
her dads crying as she shows him her cuts...
they walk into a hospital room, 
it smells of chemicals and hand sanitizer,
the lady at the desk gives her a smile.
then she goes into a room with a lady,
her cheeks are sunken in and shes wearing way too much makeup,
the girl is gaging on her perfume,
and she looks really intimidating....
her dark brown hair looks dead and flat
even though its a bit wavy, 
and she wears somewhat of a mocking frown.
asks her all these questions,
is mommy beating her?
no
is daddy raping her?
no
is she doing drugs?
not alot
is anyone beating her?
pass...
did anyone molest her? 
pass....
oxcarbezapine, trazadone, citalipran, clinazapam, colonipan,
valium, lithium, more.......
and thats what they gave her,
more... 
some numbed the pain
some brought it out
tearing through her organs,
she became an addict by the time she was fourteen....
over dose after over dose
some for pleasure
some for pain,
gashes on her legs getting deeper,
this time she didnt tell a soul,
not even those she had come to call friends....
wakeup she screamed in her head over and over again
as she dropped weight like it was nothing....
you cant controll it she argued as things became worse. 
at age fourteen she attempted suicide,
she didnt quite succeed.
the medication took away her aappitite....
she liked it
she hated her body
hated herself
felt out of controll
found a new way to cope
as she shoved tooth brush after toothbrush down her throat
to keep her body from nuitrients...
as she whent weeks and weeks spitting food into napkins and making excuses 
I ate at my friends house....
spoken as a whisper
heard like a sentance
echoing in her mind over and over again,
along with that word, all the words,
FAT!!!!!!
ugy, anoying, stupid, fake, worthless, nothing...
one bite she would say
rocking back and forth
craving nothing but food
her body racked with hunger pain
one bite and there she was again
FAT!
over and over and over again
back to a toothbrush
this time she sees blood
she saw her ribs
she saw her bones,
it wasnt good enough,
she almost died, again....
choking on this deep dissappointment in herself,
gaging on everything they where pushing down her throat, 
their words, and their insults, their criticism.... their drugs
all shoved down her throat like candy
and just as she was was trained to do she swallowed despite the bad taste
or the hurt
or the fact that at the rate she was going she would be dead soon...
and you know why? 
because daddy yelled 
and couldnt accept what was happening
not because he wanted to hurt her
but because it hurt him,
and she let him believe,
because she could take the hurt if it meant he didnt have too.
because mommy didnt want to sit in her room all day
smoking weed
doing nothing,
practically having us raise ourselves,
she didnt mean to take anger, or frustration or hurt out on her daughter
she suffered everyday in her solitary confinement,
and from a young age she accepted her bedroom was the cage
 her mother had created for herself.
because sister didnt want to effect her the way she did
she was just frustrated
fed up with the way things where
scared, she needed someone to take her cruelty
and to help heal her pain...
because people in school
who where so cruel
had to have learned from somewhere
and she wasnt going to play into their games,
and they knew she was an easy target
because she would never attack someone so weak
and she accepted her suffering was a sacrafice
to help all these people....
to help her dad,
her mom,
her sister,
every person who was beaten abused or hurt
 and felt so weak at home they wanted to feel strong in the one safe place they had.
because depite the fact she had died inside,
and almost passed away on the out,
it was a saccrafice she was willing to make
so that no one else would have to feel that kind of pain,
and they all inflicted it and broke her down'untill there was nothing left but a shell
of somthing that could have been
and never had the chance
and why? 
because she would take it and wouldnt strike back,
because sometimes "just taking it"
isnt so much about the weakness not to do anything
but about the strangth not to hurt others the way they hurt you...

Copyright © cassie hellberg


Long poem by Victoria Anderson-Throop | Details |

PASSION OF CONVENTION

                                                   PASSION OF CONVENTION

                                                            (HER STORY)

                                                      She grabbed his voice
                                                     Though conference din
                                                     Sought to win his gaze--
                                              But crowds of gabbers tottered in...
                                        He missed the sexy nod she sent his way--
                                      Distracted by a phone call--faded from his day.

                                                         But oh, that face....
                                                      Would not be gone....
                                                                 wild
                                                      bony visage--home
                                                          of passion's eyes--
                                                       Fate teased in him
                                                           her Paradise--

                                                                   an 
                                                            Upward Man
                                                   Brash Upward Plans--
                                    Of course, his heart must be attached--

                                                       Her stubborn mind
                                                    holds fast to dreams,
                                                         bows to Fate--
                                                   but loathe to schemes....

                                                        In sultry dreams
                                                       The night is theirs
                                                          Palm to Palm--
                                                    All answered Prayers.

                                                            Eyes exult
                                                      Besieged by bliss--
                                                     becalmed threshold
                                                          of moonlit kiss

                                                       she Owns his Face
                                                 sweet charmed caressing
                                                     that leaves no trace
                                                       but silent blessing


                                                               (His Story)
                                                              

                                                           Over a shoulder
                                                             behind a pole
                                                            he saw a face
                                                     that grabbed his soul
                                                           wild hair so red
                                                       his heart caught fire
                                                          hands of grace
                                                      could capture choirs

                                                          Laugh of bells
                                                       tolled 'cross the hall
                                                        just as he moved
                                                            he had a call--
                                          stepped out in search of quiet space,
                                                           cut short his call
                                                          yet lost her face--

                                                           She was gone...
                                                            Another man?
                                                            Abysmal sight....
                                                            a f_cking awful
                                                           maddening plight.

                                                         He's lost his chance,
                                                          in town One Night.

                                                         Her essence brands,
                                                         Flays bare his heart--

                                                          But business swirls
                                                        Worlds...seas apart--

                                                                 Mellifluous
                                                            tho hard to place
                                                     She is a tune he can't erase


                                                            the Dreamers tryst
                                                            shake clouds above
                                                               Moon Shadows
                                                                      Glow--
                                                              She nuzzles love
                                                            and slips o-er him
                                                              in  Passion's Glove.

V. Anderson-Throop
Sept 2013

Copyright © Victoria Anderson-Throop


Long poem by Eileen Manassian | Details |

Where Gladiators Fought

Part I

Where gladiators fought for life,
we meet to fight for love
The constellations in the Roman night sky,
celestial spectators, bathe the Colosseum
in the white blood of light
The night is throbbing with the heat of our battle,
our cries, more passionate than any that have gone before

Part II

A short while earlier
A well paid bribe found us in the remains of the Ludus Magnus,
the remains of the old Gladiator School in Rome
where lies buried
a hidden entrance to an underground tunnel 
You pull me with you into dark underground world of legend
By light of a flickering torch,
we travel into the entrails of the behemoth,
coming in time upon the holding rooms
My breath catches 
I hear the sounds of man and beast
carrying through the thin layers of time:
Slaves, criminals, debtors, all awaiting their fate…
Animals pawing, grunting, starved for food
Dying to kill to stave the gnawing pain
Waiting….
Waiting to be lifted up into the arena
Waiting to fight 
Waiting to live or die

Part III

We break into the hypogeum
The crispness of the night air stings us
The vastness of it all paralyzes all thought
Rome comes ALIVE
The resurrection of history enflames us,
and as we mount those final stairs up to the arena,
I feel your excitement blazing through me
Your grasp is almost painful in jubilee
“We are here…HERE!” Your voice is laced with the sacred.
Between those famed arches…XIX and XX
We stand 
You and I all and 50,000 ghost spectators
Here at the East Entrance
The Gate of Life Looms above us
True gladiators passed through these very gates 
Here the applause coursed through their veins
And thundered to the captives below…
Here I stand
Quivering with the knowledge of all this night means to me
That thunder reverberates through MY body
I can hardly breathe
Your eyes are looking up at tiered levels
while mine look ahead
There is the walkway connecting the east to west
At the far side is the Libitinarian, the Gate of Death,
through which dead gladiators were dragged,
their bodies dumped in the Spoliarium 
to be stripped of clothes and armor
Life and death
Here, they converged
Here, they fought
On this night
I know
I will strip myself of my clothing and armor
I will let down my defenses
and give in to your onslaught of passion
Here… I will die to all but your eyes

Part IV

I walk, quietly, with purpose
Here….in this place...
my virgin blood will be spilt
Halfway between life and death, I stop
I turn towards you
My voice reaches you on the night wind
“Come to me!”
I see you move towards me
My mighty gladiator
You who have fought my demons
You who have slain my nightmares
You who have held in check
A savage desire for possession
As you stand before me
I wonder if you know
Tonight is the night
You will plunder and ravage
to your heart's delight
your just reward

Part V

You find a place to keep the torch upright
You see the blanket I’ve spread on the ground
I answer the question in your eyes
With the curve of my lips
I steady my hands as they work to undress me
I feel my body burn in the warmth of your presence
Your eyes undress me faster than my hands can,
and yet... you are....immovable
You stand transfixed
You wait until my only covering
Is my flowing hair
"Make love to me
Here, now...be my gladiator
Come...claim your prize."
I reach out my hand to you
and in a moment
before my next intake of breath
you've come to life and crush me in your arms
Your mouth claims mine
like never before
seeking more
your tongue explores
demanding, commanding
it takes what it will
You pull me in to you 
Your hand in my hair,
my breath is raptured by your sheer strength
Your mouth travels along my neck
Hungry….like a famished animal finally set free to feast
You devour as you reach my cleavage 
I lean back to let you savor my breasts
For the first time
to taste 
You’re down on your knees
your tongue encircling my navel
going round and round and dipping inside
This prophetic dance of what is to come
washes over me
as you lower me to the ground
In a moment, I’m looking at the stars
The two brightest ones being your eyes
You are above me
You are everywhere
Kissing tasting touching feeling pleasing
Finding my voice, I pant...
“Don't...be gentle
not...now!"
I’m gasping with the effort
of all I need to say...
of the weight of feelings...
raging within me
"Don't...hold back anymore
Take me...
Take me...now."

Your hands reach for mine and pin them down
My breasts heave, my body rocks
as I feel you plunging into the moistness 
that your very presence always creates in me
But never...to this luxuriant degree
Pain mixes with pleasure again and again
As I hear your grunt and groan
Your ecstasy comes in manish moan
And I close my eyes to the Roman night sky

I sigh
I die
To the world
I am reborn in you
I hear your victory cry
And feel your jubilant release inside

Part VI

They fought for life
We fought for love
My fingers run through your hair
Your head is pillowed on my breast
My heart beat a reminder
Of what you have won
A gladiator’s reward...

LIFE
found
in the arms
of the woman
you
LOVE


For Justin Bordner’s Contest
Make Love to Me in that Ancient Place
November 16, 2014

Copyright © Eileen Manassian


Long poem by Jack Scott | Details |

Monofilamania

It is so hard to let go of love,
lovingly.

It sharks, 
unpeels more gut more quickly
than reel or reeler ever lost
in all those years of lazy inches
in and out:
casting,
winding in and playing out,
hardly fishing, rarely catching
anything
from the deepness out of sight,
hardly ever losing . . .
anything.

Blisters lust into the greedy thumb.
Impatient,
sore,
the startled brake lets go.

It dives full length into the never,
finds the limit of its leash,
pounds against its half-round prison,
demands unknot
at end of end of rope -
Let go!

Got you, shrieks the reel and reeler
cranking in the give and take.
The line is taut,
the weight upon it heavy, 
throbbing,
not docile,
numb, 
and waiting . . . 

. . .waiting for adrenaline:
explosion
against the angry, smoldering thumb.
Caught to catcher,
fish to fisher:
let me go!

It tries too hard to turn to something else: away.
Away and bottom still beyond the knot,
the creature climbs toward the light, 
the something.
Easy,
free,
her leap, an alchemy:
silver unto gold.

Sun shining.
Sea smiling,
crinkled all about.

Sad,
slow motion 
flight
of glints 
and droplets,
arcs,
returns,
displaces,
splashes;
gone, 
the yesses.

Million mile amnesia.
Buddha flashback:
a flash of tooth,
then placid lips close over any sign of youth . . .

. . . as if the fish had never been.
Gone?
-the fisher wonders:
gone?
gone forever?
Gone?

The line is limp
as if . . .
for all the years of it,
nothing at its other end.

A flash of recognition:
she leaps another time, 
not knowing if what held her holds.
Silver fish scales golden ladder
a sunbeam at a time,
and all the rungs of memory -
so slow,
breaks air an instant.

The line has held
and as she leaps, it claims her,
a thunder clap.
Arrested in her flight,
and broken,
she drops deadweight into the bucket sea-
fish to air to gold to water,
too bad.

Of the gold,
an afterglow centered in the thumb.
Did it happen?
Was she really there?
Was I?

Air turns to air once more, 
the fisherman to memory,
pig-a-back the job at hand,
because-
one slender monofilament insisting: no! 
Monofilamania,
and memory, another plastic,
refusing to let go.

Another time:
Kite,
my pretty lovely,
so flying and so softly spun,
you seemed the air to me.
So high and free,
so very near the sun,
my tears dissolve the earth’s connection.
The line my hands are holding:
to limit freedom at its height,
impossible without restraint-
the line between us,
  	subtle and so gossamer.
 		There, it glinted,
there! So very real.

Real . . .
The hook is realer.
Tangerine transfusion from the fastened lip,
transfuse dilution
bleeds unreckoned into the larger blue.
The sea - as wide as weakness -
sucks the strength without a hunger.
Tired, the hooked,
and tiring even more,
the line grows stronger, 
shortening toward the bobber boat.
I’ve got her, cries the fisherman,
orgasmic,
raping at dead weight,
dragging mystery toward the kitchen
-on his mind is steak.
Slaughter, separate from supper,
passion with a knife, 
the knife . . .


. . . the knife is ready
held tight between the skinless thumb,
and vendetta fingers -
five Sicilian brothers 
waiting for their sister to come home.

The other hand around the rod
is closing on the lover’s throat.
The rod’s erect,
the reel is angry.
Come, my dear, come, come.

She hears the music of the end,
the bowstring whine of gut
still lean and taut from her weight alone,
hears the rhythm of the reel
and tries to run once more
-provoking lust to snatch still harder-

but can’t . . .
. . . is free at last
of strength
surrendered with the last of blood:
quicksilver nearing zero-
and two dollars worth of ice.

Maiden fish,
(a virgin: never dead before)
betrayed and penetrated,
(it’s time now to give in, enjoy)
rests her weight upon the line,
sinks upward,
drowning,
unrebelling
toward the bottom of the boat.

The whore! I see her in the water!
She gave me quite a fight.

The captain, ready with the gaff,
the lover, in his rented swivel chair,
seize her from the water.
The maiden’s heartbeat
is faint and futile as a final cry of rape.
Her breath is fear, yet sounds like passion
at the very end.
Her swoon is now complete.

Her swain is prickled with his heat.
His blood pounds within his thumb.
He gloats,
is left alone with her.
He ponders . . .
. . . while he does,
she pales and sheds her rainbow.
Her eyes turn glassy from the air,
and death.
She’s turned to meat.

He lusts at memory for a moment,
then dries the little sweat
and goes forward for a beer,
and band aids.

The captain’s seen it all before,
surgically removes the hook
and tidies up the gear.
He and the mate carry her to the ice 
and lay her out within the cold.
The mate disinfects the deck
with sea water and a stiff brush.

Returning with his second beer,
a badge of gauze and Vaseline upon his thumb,
the lover is confused.
The deck, shipshape,
so bare 
of scales and blood
it all might not have happened.
Then there would be hope.

The mate calls him to the ice chest
for the viewing,
opens it . . 
I’ve lost her. There she is.

The smell . . . it must wash off !
Time to go home.
The sea is empty.
It is over.
Done.
My thumb!

Copyright © Jack Scott


Long poem by J. W. M. Earnings | Details |

My Fruitful Flight During Nightfall

I’m getting tracked down by nightfall
Hear me…hear me…out as I fall…
Hear my call; my heart’s pounding in appall 
I fall down – hear my pleas and answer my call
Don’t hang up on me at all!
I’m losing my head – it’s nothing new…
No one has a clue that I’m feeling blue
Steer me…steer me…Out of darkness and the abyss 
Let us float away from the ebony skies of lies
It’s so spooky in this solitary cave
But, I’ll remain brave…brave…
I’m alone – are you alone?
I’m getting tracked down by nightfall
Hear me…hear me…out as I fall…
Hear my call; my heart’s pounding in appall 
I fall down – hear my pleas and answer my call
Don’t hang up on me at all!
I’m walking in the woods with no one by my side as usual
I’m sleeping on the branch of a giant tree…
Hear my lament in this song of sadness and slight content
Things could be worse today – 
I sway like the wind…so free and gay
You put a spell on me like a Disney movie…
You are my treasure to discover under the wild, blue sea
Feeling shady and rather terrible today
I’m getting tracked down by nightfall
Hear me…hear me…out as I fall…
Hear my call; my heart’s pounding in appall 
I fall down – hear my pleas and answer my call
Don’t hang up on me at all!
Friends cheer me up all the way all day long – yay! 
Let’s have a magical duel! That would be cewl!
I have outlandish, yet epic pals, 
Filled up with passionate and eccentric fuel! 
They have answered my many calls!
I sing with so much heart and soul – I sang with effort and pride!
Confidence has leaded me along the way – don’t swallow me up, sorrow tide!
You are my emerald compass…
Not leading me astray…
Filling my heart up to the brim with cheerfulness and hopefulness
I’m getting tracked down by nightfall
Hear me…hear me…out as I fall…
Hear my call; my heart’s pounding in appall 
I fall down – hear my pleas and answer my call
Don’t hang up on me at all!
I pray I would remain happy forever and ever – I want you to stay!
I want you to stay and motivate me to push forward
I know, dear child – sometimes, I can act awkward! 
The spotlight is staring me down like a hawk, looking for prey day and night
I pray…I earnestly pray 
That I sing well! Might as well take divine flight
However, I’m getting tracked down by nightfall
Hear me…hear me…out as I fall…don’t kick me around like a ball!
Hear my call; my heart’s pounding in appall! 
I will remain as robust and firm like a wall 
I will not fall down anymore – I will not give in to you
Hear my pleas and answer my call! Healing from the love flu
Sick with the love flu still…and you still don’t get the clue, do you?
I love you…but I’m lost in the maze of bewilderment…
I throw a fit like a 2-year-old infant! I must be bold and be made whole with content 
I hate being in my skin – I’d rather be in someone else’s shoes
Don’t hang up on me at all!
I pray…that you would stay and not stray!
Do not stray…obey and go this way!
My flight during nightfall
Is extraordinary – I must stand tall and give it my all! 
I must stand tall and give it my all
I must stand my ground and give it my all…
Don’t make me feel invisible…
You’re so irresistible…irreplaceable!
Walk with confidence
Let gladness and joyousness enter your heart 
Be optimistic and take fantastic flight with me! Perlease? 
Take action and the chaos will cease…you have heard my pleas!
You have heard my pleas at least! 
It feels that the atmosphere is negative 50 degrees…
You caught my dreamy gaze
Your friendship is a priceless deal
Your maze – I would gratefully graze!
I wish you would emotionally heal
Conceal the sorrow and reveal your high hopes in Tomorrow! ~
What are you waiting for? Explore the Joyous Island with me, please?
We used to roam the fields of innocence 
We’re just a few minutes from Home – am I of any significance? 
I have memorized your face like the lyrics to my favorite song 
Do you have enough energy to finish the race?
I can tell you’re putting effort into your work by the sweat of your brow…I long…
To see you at the finish line! You and I aren’t left without a trace!
Where’s the finish line? You’re looking fine and I feel like I truly, sincerely belong!
Your glory is what I envy, but you and I can share vast grace
The many shimmering stars start to align
You and I…you and I can shine on…we unveil a secret, harmonious sign
I don’t know why… I don’t know why I cry tears of anguish…
Goodbyes afflict my soul…overwhelming me with lament…I wish!
I wish! I wish! I can shine on like a gem in my solitary cave
I don’t want to succumb to my fretful fate – leading me to my death…my misery grave
We can both glisten in the moonlight
We’re flying so high in the aqua-blue sky – I’m not afraid at all!
I must not stumble or fall! David, stand tall! I must give it my all!
I must get a grip and take fervor-flavored, fantastic flight…
You placed me on Cloud 7! Wish me luck in my fruitful flight during nightfall!

Copyright © J. W. M. Earnings


Long poem by Richard Lamoureux | Details |

The Good Girl EROTICA

Penny has always been a good girl, now she is a good wife. She lives in a good neighborhood, drives a nice car, has two perfect children. Her husband is a doctor and to top it off he is very good looking. Her friends think she has the perfect life and yet she feels a hunger inside.

Steven is a man of structure, everything has a time and place. He's the kind of man who folds his underwear. His appearance is immaculate in fact he even presses his jeans. He approaches his love making with a similar precision removing perfectly pressed pajamas folding them and putting them at the foot of the bed and then goes under the covers. She being a good Catholic wife she turns off the lights, undresses and gets into bed beside him. He fondels her breasts for a few moments and then gets on top of her for the Missionary express. The express train never seems to go past the three minute mark. He then rolls over and exactly two minutes later he is fast asleep. At that point she takes things into her own hands.

In the morning after Steven has left for work she showers, the warm water nourishes her hunger. She removes the shower head and adjusts it to pulsating! She places it between her legs and Ironicaly in three minutes she arrives where her husband has never taken her. A moan escapes her lips as she feels her release, yet she stifles it so her children won't hear, after all she is a good girl and good girls don't do such things.

She gets out of the shower and wipes the steam from the mirror with her towel. There she stands in front of the mirror looking at her naked form. Blonde with pretty blue eyes, the proof of her hair color is down below. She gazes at her breasts, lifts them slightly and smiles, gravity has not been too unkind. Her skin is bronzed from her tanning sessions and she has a perfectly sculpted abdomen from her hours at the gym, still she feels somehow that she doesn't measure up, not tall enough and she wonders if her boobs are on the small side. 

She thinks back to when She was a "Saint Mary's" girl. Mom and dad didn't want her to be distracted by boys so they sent her to Catholic school. She wonders if this is where the hunger first began. Her friend Becky had brought a Play Girl magazine to school and together they had flipped through the pages. They had giggled as they viewed the pictures. She had seen her brother's thing once when she had walked in on him peeing but it was nothing like what was in the pictures. She had found the pictures both gross and exciting at the same time. She remembered the warm dampness in her hello kitty panties. She had felt so guilty but in some way also awakened to another more primal part of herself. Confession was much more interesting that week. 

She was brought back to the present by the sound of one of her kids slamming their bathroom door. She promptly gets dressed and goes down stairs to prepare them breakfast. One egg each sunny side up with a side of whole wheat toast and a sliced banana. She pours a glass of milk for each of them and calls them down to breakfast. They both come running into the kitchen with backpacks in hand, give her a kiss and eat their breakfast. Her son Jessie has blonde hair and blue eyes just like her and their daughter takes more after her dad with chestnut hair but with exotic green eyes. Time passes quickly and it's time to drive them to school.

She drops them off to school, kisses her daughter goodbye but refrains from kissing her son, he is embarrased by public displays of affection. Instead she smiles and wishes them both a good day. As she pulls away her mind goes back to Catholic School, she had a teacher Mr. Connolly, he had dark hair with dramatic piercing eyes. She liked the look of his sculpted body and imagined he possessed the attributes of the men in Becky's magazine. At night she would think about him when she was alone in her room. As she would touch herself she would feel this delightful tingling in the soles of her feet. She would stop herself because she was a good girl and good girls didn't do such things.

She pulls into her driveway with her hunger radiating from the centre of her. Running up the stairs she goes to her bedroom and searches for her school uniform. She finds it neatly stored away in a bottom drawer, tartan skirt, white blouse bobby socks and a pair of burgundy loafers with two tarnished pennies. She undressess including her bra and panties. She proceeds to put on the blouse, the stiff fabric rubs against her nipples sending a wave of pleasure through her body. She wraps the tartan skirt around her waste and enjoys the feel of the wool skirt as it caresses her naked bottom. She then puts on her bobby socks and penny loafers. As she looks in the mirror she knows her hunger will be satisfied, I guess in the end she turned out to be a "Bad Penny!"

Written Feb 22, 2015
For _____'s Hotsy Totsy Erotica Contest.

For rob carmack's skrewed IV contest.

Copyright © Richard Lamoureux


Long poem by J. W. M. Earnings | Details |

Titaniumb

Don’t you feel it, pounding in my chest? 
I’m trying my best to pass this difficult test
Life is hard, I know; I’ve been chained to my solitary, deserted pit and I’ve been feeling awfully numb for so long

Are you still left behind? 
Thanks for being so kind…I’m so sorry for being crazy in love and blind…
I bit into the apple of good and evil
Now, tell me, honey – am I your angel or devil?

Take flight, mesmerizing dove! Reach to your heavenly haven
You’re not as dark and bitter as a raven…
You are forgiven and you abide in the illuminated night
You are never forgotten in this mind of mine…you’re my sundrenched sight
This titanium heart of mine beats for you alone…

My steel heartbeats sound like a drums in the middle of the night
I will stand tall and bold like a knight…I will the good fight
Where art thou? Where art thou, my darling angel of dazzling light?
Have you tasted the love I have tucked in my…heart of titanium?
Now, tell me, honey before I get off track– am I your angel or devil?
You were my friend, courageous and strong
Determination seeps through my mind
I sweat a river…don’t cry a river for me…I wrote this song
For you alone…thank the Lord of Accord I’m not blind

Take flight, mesmerizing dove! Reach to your heavenly haven
You’re not as dark and bitter as a raven…
You are forgiven and you abide in the illuminated night
You are never forgotten in this mind of mine…you’re my sundrenched sight
This titanium heart of mine beats for you alone…

I’m afraid I might lose control…
The evil blood cells are crawling in my veins of pure vitality 
YOU USED ME AS A USELESS TOOL
You’re driving me into a lane of insanity… kissing my sweet fatality 
You’re not as dark and bitter as a raven…
You are never forgotten in this mind of mine…you’re my sundrenched sight
Take flight, mesmerizing dove! Reach to your heavenly haven
You are forgiven and you abide in the illuminated night

Take flight, mesmerizing dove! Reach to your heavenly haven
You’re not as dark and bitter as a raven…
You are forgiven and you abide in the illuminated night
You are never forgotten in this mind of mine…you’re my sundrenched sight
This titanium heart of mine beats for you alone…

Are you still left behind? There’s more future in store
I bit into the apple of good and evil…I am wicked and week…now, I’m acting like a pill
Thanks for being so kind…I’m so sorry for acting like an attention whore
Now, tell me, honey before I get off track– am I your angel or devil?
You were my friend, courageous and strong
Determination seeps through my mind
I sweat a river…don’t cry a river for me…I wrote this song
For you alone…thank the Lord of Accord I’m not blind

Take flight, mesmerizing dove! Reach to your heavenly haven
You’re not as dark and bitter as a raven…
You are forgiven and you abide in the illuminated night
You are never forgotten in this mind of mine…you’re my sundrenched sight
This titanium heart of mine beats for you alone…

Are you still left behind? 
Thanks for being so kind…
I bit into the apple of good and evil
Now, tell me, honey – am I your angel or devil?
I committed the sin…
I blame it on the temptation from deep within
I don’t feel good in my own skin
Where art thou? Where have you been?
I was as tough as titanium…and I’m weak as the victim,
Getting targeted by the predator…oh no, here we go again…

Take flight, mesmerizing dove! Reach to your heavenly haven
You’re not as dark and bitter as a raven…
You are forgiven and you abide in the illuminated night
You are never forgotten in this mind of mine…you’re my sundrenched sight
This titanium heart of mine beats for you alone…

Don’t you feel it, pounding in my chest? 
I’m trying my best to pass this difficult test
Life is hard, I know; I’ve been chained to my solitary, deserted pit and I’ve been feeling awfully numb for so long
Screaming at the top of my lungs… please, please help me and I’ll give you the rest
Of the rare love that I have tucked in my…heart of steel and titanium…but where do I belong? I don‘t know the difference between right and wrong
Don’t you feel it, pounding in my chest? 
I’m trying my best to pass this difficult test
Life is hard, I know; I’ve been chained to my solitary, deserted pit and I’ve been feeling awfully numb for so long

Now, I’m feeling awfully numb
Well, I kept trying
Though I was frankly dying
I’m sick of your lying
Dry your tears – stop that crying 

Don’t you feel it, pounding in my chest? 
I’m trying my best to pass this difficult test
Life is hard, I know; I’ve been chained to my solitary, deserted pit and I’ve been feeling awfully numb for so long

Copyright © J. W. M. Earnings


Long poem by J. W. M. Earnings | Details |

Lovers Gonna Love

See me in the Garden of Eve
Because a sinner like me...I deceive
The flock of sheep,
Yet it's my job not to weep
I'll be the good example everyone wants me to be
I'll be the good example 
Shake off the dread
The styles of modern art - never dead...never dead\

Lovers gonna love

Lovers gonna love

Lovers gonna love

Come on and hear me out
Hear me out this time

Lovers gonna love

Lovers gonna love

Lovers gonna love

I want to be a good leader
I'm trying my best to pass the test
That life gives me...lover,
Lovers gonna love and haters gonna hate
Heart broken and shameful...
My hopeless Spirit - so bashful

Lovers gonna love

Lovers gonna love

Lovers gonna love

Come on and hear me out
Hear me out this time

Lovers gonna love

Lovers gonna love

Lovers gonna love

Balloons in the air like we don't care
Sex in the air like we don't care
But, sex isn't the only thing in mind
A past never spoken is left behind

Lovers gonna love

Lovers gonna love

Lovers gonna love

Come on and hear me out
Hear me out this time

Lovers gonna love

Lovers gonna love

Lovers gonna love

I want to be a good leader
I'm trying my best to pass the test
That life gives me...lover,
Lovers gonna love and haters gonna hate
Heart broken and shameful...
My hopeless Spirit - so bashful
I want to be a good leader
I'm trying my best to pass the test
That life gives me...lover,
Lovers gonna love and haters gonna hate
Heart broken and shameful...
My hepeless Spirit - so bashful

Lovers gonna love

Lovers gonna love

Lovers gonna love

Come on and hear me out
Hear me out this time

Lovers gonna love

Lovers gonna love

Lovers gonna love

You flatter me with words of wisdom, oh Lord
I shall not lie, 
I shall honor my father and mother,
I shall not kill
I am so worried about my beloved brother
He has gone to a place
So far away - I hide my face
Don't view me - the disgrace...
Please don't...
I won't...
Hurt you
Do you get the clue?

Lovers gonna love

Lovers gonna love

Lovers gonna love

Come on and hear me out
Hear me out this time

Lovers gonna love

Lovers gonna love

Lovers gonna love

I want to be a good leader
I'm trying my best to pass the test
That life gives me...lover,
Lovers gonna love and haters gonna hate
Heart broken and shameful...
My hopeless Spirit - so bashful
I want to be a good leader
I'm trying my best to pass the test
That life gives me...lover,
Lovers gonna love and haters gonna hate
Heart broken and shameful...
My hepeless Spirit - so bashful

Lovers gonna love

Lovers gonna love

Lovers gonna love

Come on and hear me out
Hear me out this time

Lovers gonna love

Lovers gonna love

Lovers gonna love

Lovers gonna love
I am the one in love
I Am Disgraceful 
Tension-whelmed and wonderful,
Wonder feelings douse me
I am the bubbles in the tub
I need a massage - a love rub

Lovers gonna love

Lovers gonna love

Lovers gonna love

Come on and hear me out
Hear me out this time

Lovers gonna love

Lovers gonna love

Lovers gonna love

Twerking at the sound of ridiculous music
I am found and brainwashed...

Lovers gonna love

Lovers gonna love

Lovers gonna love

Come on and hear me out
Hear me out this time

Lovers gonna love

Lovers gonna love

Lovers gonna love

Come on and hear me out
Hear me out this time

Lovers gonna love

Lovers gonna love

Lovers gonna love

Come on and hear me out
Hear me out this time
This time
This time......
THIS  TIME!!!

Lovers gonna love

Lovers gonna love

Lovers gonna love

I want to be a good leader
I'm trying my best to pass the test
That life gives me...lover,
Lovers gonna love and haters gonna hate
Heart broken and shameful...
My hopeless Spirit - so bashful
I want to be a good leader
I'm trying my best to pass the test
That life gives me...lover,
Lovers gonna love and haters gonna hate
Heart broken and shameful...
My hopeful heart beats on...
Positivity has hit me....
No longer distressful until the arrival of the dawn
Negativity comes rollin' in 
Take a seat next to me, sin
Let me whisper gently in your ears
The secret I longed to say for years:
I have bisexual tendencies...
I'm as crazy as the monkeys, hanging from the trees

Come on and hear me out
Hear me out this time

Lovers gonna love

Lovers gonna love

Lovers gonna love

& the haters *laughs* they gonna hate
Please don't pick a fight over here and debate
Please...?
Put my mind at ease......

Copyright © J. W. M. Earnings


Long poem by Gerald Dillenbeck | Details | . You can read it on PoetrySoup.com' st_url='http://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/its_about_notfracking_time_648923' st_title='It's About NotFracking Time'>

It's About NotFracking Time

A 1952 vintage Connecticut dormered Cape Cod
painted stark bleached white
with slick jet-black shutters,
hyperbolizing a deep racial minority
statement,
well, issue really,
in my mind of similar vintage
and incarnational permaculture,
conceived in bold ripe August,
born in bullish economy of May.

 

So, I painted her.
Wrapped my arms
and rolled around her
in turquoise sea,
and sky blue,
with rain-cloud grey trim,
so she might be less afraid
and so might I.

Born into late millennial Yang,
reconnecting and reweaving with each other
during trans-millennial now,
how will we transform our economic options
to full diversity and springtime
string-rhymed
polycultures of May?

We grow transformed,
reframed to coincidentally cooperate our octaves of color
and sound
feeling and mind
Yin and Yang,
concavely conceived,
convexly displaying economic ecological
principles of mindfulness as coincidental noticing,
advent of winter's grateful hibernation,
enthymematically aptic communication
inducing measured calculations back through RNA-regenerating
origin of living systems.

Deductive Left-brained dominance need not apply for comprehension,
unless,
balanced by summer's yangish nutritional bullish market,
hope of fruitful outcomed spring,
then summer's faithful following
of full polyculturing
permacultured information root system
formating strings and tendrils
cooperatively absorbing nutrient Spring's and sprouts consumption,
to produce within life-sustainably proportional karmic response
to yang/yin coincidental rich deep ecologically efficient,
and inclusively effective for full speciating diversity,
principles,
values,
norms,
nutrient cooperative economics,
that might actually be logical,
because they are ecological.

These, harvested permaculturally optimized
positive analogical and ecological,
digital and atomic,
temporal and spatial,
linear dynamic Open Set Universe String

AND

Polynomial Closed Set Prime Relationship
aptic-temporal
neural frequency and flow,
balanced bicameral logos-logic:
P=NP because
Left-brained information language
thermodynamically balanced with 3 spatial dimensions
covering 1  equivalent temporal-linear dimension
Commons Economic Balance Assumption
=
(0) Core Vector [B. Fuller and Euler] =
(+) e-function =
+space/(-)(-)time =
space-time-squared =
+1 magnetic balanced QBit quark-function

OVER

(-)(0) QBit.

 

So, all that going on,
more or less,
in our dominant Left hemisphere newer speciated DNA-brain,
AND Right-brained non-linguistic and non-polynomial
intuitive intelligence codes memory dipolar and
coincidentally confluent
(harmoniously proportional flow/frequency neural pattern recognition)
(0) Core Vortex =
(-)(-) [not-polynomial dipolar stricture--implicate order] (D. Bohm)

So,
putting all that mess together,
more or less confluently and permaculturally,
+Polynomial-Yang =
(-)(-)Yin (-1 QBit) Nonpolynomial
intuitive temporal-linear-neural balanced
Optimized Information Permacultured String.

Unfortunately,
now that my home and I are parting ways,
I'm finally noticing that even my friends and family
don't particularly care for our change of color
and culture.
It's still kind of a hard sell,
this more colorful permaculture
of community
and economy,
and identity,
and design.

Must be time for adventurous reincarnating revolutions
or we will remain merely ahead of our own non-polynomial ending time.

Time opens space's liturgical rite of passage.
Space coincidentally reincarnates time's
4 equivalent ecological dimensioned order.
Positrons incarnate,
inform negative-linear
4-dimensional equivalent dipolar time.

There is no such thing as non-polynomial time or space
or informatiion,
other than negative binomial time
(implicate ordered Right-brain reverse synchronic-aptic coded).
+P (+1QBit) = (-)(-)P =
+/(-)0 Core binary e-function
Prime Core Electromagnetic Balancing Binary-Binomial QBit.

Spring springs polyculture economics
composting through dark and winterish minds and forms and functions,
still looking for greatest inclusive nutrient yield
without suffering dissonantly wilting loss,
cooperatively flying our regenerative kites
co-id/eco-entity tied with time's river of flowing
informating memory strings.

I know,
you were wondering when
I would finally conclude
with the sex part.

Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck


Long Poems