Best Hands On Poems | Poetry

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New Hands On Poems

Don't stop! The most popular and best Hands On poems are below this new poems list.

HANDS ON - HANDS OFF FOR CONNIE MARCUM WONG by ALLISON, JAN
Hands On Your Right Knee by Asuncion, Bernard F.
Hands-On Abuse by Ashley, Susan
Death's hands on my shoulder by Arowolo, olusegun
Old Woman's Hands on a Grinding Stone by Hynson, Johnnie
HANDS ON MY TEMPLE by Ngoma, Thabang
Hands On - Footle by Fraser, James
Your Hands On the Storm by Golden, Gregory
Hands On by Kopp, Robb A.
all hands on deck by ozurumba, emeka

View all new Hands On Poems

The Best Hands On Poems

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LIQUID HEAVEN

Liquid Heaven

A feast for my womanly inner beast!       
I tease, I please, you have me on my knees
I wring my hands, you oint my head
With your fingers locked in my hair of red
You -I call Master! 
Begging for forgiveness, in a position of love
My words are bashing with one stuttering sound
Moaning & Moaning, 
As you make my head spin like a merry-go-round
Craving for you to unleash a liquid heaven sound

My body speaks and mumbles a language meant for you
A touch of intimacy, that lathers up like liquid glue
Sticky but, yet so compelling
My tongue slips silent beloved words of joy into the air
You play the master of this dark solid room
This dungeon's all I consume
You engage me, to provoke you with everything I got
Yelling, please master don't ever stop!
At this moment, I yearn for excitement
To feel the arousing sensation of your presence
That melts me and chill me with a flow that does not kill
I'm your thinker
Your muse and poet
You are my composer creating liquid tunes
Come here and expresses the hardness of your boldness

I confess to you my love
You are all I'm dreaming of
You drive your hands all over 
Reaching every steamy spot
Encourage me to stimulate your mental needs
You are the master withholding a liquid element
In me, you release fluids that hit like a silent tide
A desire that comes with a full force of the fire inside
I crave for the taste of your lips
Your hands on my hips
Your fingers with a tight sensual grip
I dedicate my heart and my lust
To get lost within every push of your trust
Like a treasure deep underneath the sand
I'm addicted to the feelings of your command
Your hazel eyes are the sunrise
You bring out the obsession,
And my sweet tooth temptation
Like the moon above a misty night
Seducing me in every way in a poetic write
YOU, MY LOVE!!!
Your liquid heaven is the beginning-
-Of my delicious delight!

          by: PD

**A sweet Dedication To My Babe**


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2011


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He Doesn't Shhhh Me Anymore

He told me to be quiet each time I tried to speak knowing I'd obey for he believed I was meek Months went by and I acquiesced to his wishes until I had enough and started flinging dishes "Shhh," he said and placed a vile finger to his lips I had enough of him and put my hands on my hips "You can't tell me who to talk to. I'll not be quiet If you think I'll stand for this, go ahead and try it." He thought I was joking. Well wasn't he the fool? I won't be used by any man. I'm not any man's tool He's buried in the backyard in an unmarked grave I bet now he knows I wasn't going to be his slave Each night I dress in widow's black and take a walk Mascara running from tears of joy, I give him a talk I lay a finger against my lips, then I smile and say, "Shhh, you know it's your fault you had to go away."


Copyright © Lin Lane | Year Posted 2017


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Out of the Blue

Falling down into
a dense, tangled mood
darker than the skies
at the midnight hour...

Leaving me caught
in infinite space
by hands on the clock
that grasp me and pull
to where the time goes...

Out of the blue
water washes the stagnant clouds 
drop by clear drop
and the persistent wind
brushes them white again.
All the while, specks of light
appear to shine...

Hues mixing as pastels swirl
with shades much deeper,
diluting them down until
the blues begin to fade away...

Thoughts are suspended
for the moment,
only to float in midair
finally free
and out of the blue.






Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2016


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The First Bloom

You wonder why, my love
These memories flitter in the hallways of my mind
Knocking on the door
of every room
Where I’ve hung
Do not Disturb Signs
For I don’t want to remember you
My Paradise Lost and yet….

Oh, you wonder why, my love
I still rise to open the door
Why I fling them open wide
When each memory comes calling
Why I let them come inside
And sit here at my table
While I play the gracious host
As I listen to each memory repeat
The love story I love most...

You wonder why, my darling
I sit in rapt attention
Dabbing at a tear
While I smile
A sweet smile of remembrance
As one by one
They kiss my cheek in greeting

They all sit around me
Each one vying for my attention
These sweet memory guests
Are there to make sure
The visions are ever fresh
And so one runs his fingers through my hair
I close my eyes
Giving in to his ministration
But he couples it with kisses on my nape
To keep me awake
For he remembers the times
When your fingers playing with my hair
Would entice my eyelids to close
So the kisses he keeps coming
Preparing me
For what is to come...

The other memory holds my hand
Caressing tenderly
Making love to my fingers with his own
Intertwining and releasing
Whispering in my ear
In husky whispers of love
And I melt
I melt
At the resonance of his voice
The memory of enticement
The Prelude

I gaze down to look into the eyes
Of the memory guest sitting at my feet
I see there the devotion
Of someone at a shrine
As he looks up into my eyes
His hands on either side of me
His palms caressing my legs
Kissing as he goes along….
They are preparing me 
For the memory that has been waiting at the door

He watches intently
My favorite memory
There just inside the room of my mind
Of my wildest fantasies
He has been here before
He has been here often
What nights those were
What days
When he would ravish me
Till I could hardly breathe
Fatigued and spent
In the aftermath of his
Love storm

Now he stands
And though I try to rise
To close the door
I’m held back by the others
Whispering all around me
"Let him in
Let him come in."

A smile plays on his lips
As he sees me weaken
His devouring eyes take in my form
I feel the heat of his gaze
As his eyes feast on me
In my revelry of love
And at his signal
The other memories quietly leave

I look at him shyly
As he draws the filmy dream curtains tight
Blocking out the light of reality
Blocking out everything but his entity
He walks over to me
Stopping to light scented candles
Stopping to make me feel
His close proximity
He is near

He looks down at me
Claiming me before even one touch
"I’ve come my passion flower
I’ve come again to make you bloom
Like that first time
That first time
You opened up to me."

And then he is here kneeling at my feet
Undressing me
His breath hot on my breast
His hands gently probing
His mouth tasting
His tongue teasing
His fingers...pleasing
"You are altogether beautiful"
He whispers 
And I can only sigh
As the memory of that first bloom
Comes alive in my mind
And he takes me again
Takes me
Like that first time
When I discovered
What it means
To find release
Quivering on the edge of
Eternity
Suspended in time
As I give in 
And let the streams flow
Falling free
Falling
Like the tears that fall
Glistening on my rosy cheeks

And as I lay spent in the silence
Of my own dark and dreary room
Savoring the fragrance of my memory
My memory of you
My first sensual dawn
My first taste of the heady mix
Of pleasure and pain
I know I must rise
To close the door of my mind again
This time I will lock it
This time, I will throw away the key
But the memory of that first bloom
Will find a way
To visit me again….
Oh, my love
For I cannot forget you
And that very first time
You made me...
***BLOOM***

Eileen Manassian


Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2014


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The Song of a Blind Man

The blind man held his tin cup;
Bewildered was he as he felt
Slippery hands on his own
The cup getting heavy as he knelt.

A voice said “That’s the last of it.
All my pennies from 2001.
It’s now your very own property,
I want you to have some fun.”

The blind man’s eyes started flowing.
He didn’t want to take the child’s money,
He said “I can carve you a whistle,
Come tomorrow and we’ll play it, Sonny”.

Sonny came back on the morrow;
The blind man lived up to his word.
Together they played like snake charmers;
Soon by a producer were heard.

Their recordings are renown in the country,
But that’s not the important conclusion.
The blind man had a new son, and Sonny
Had a father to guide him through teen confusion.


Copyright © Sunlite Wanter | Year Posted 2017


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Enough Already, Ode to a Turkey

Oh how I love thee with your white and dark meat
Thou art the very best
But because of you, I can’t see my feet
My navel is two feet from my chest
To diet and lose so I don’t wobble no more
I would be very willing
It would be impossible now, because somehow
I finished four bowls of filling
My wife pointed at me and said look at him
He sits at the table, like a dog he begs
I stare at you and your magnificent breast
Can hardly wait to get my hands on your legs
Enough already, I’m on my knees
Give me some stuffing and some black eyed peas
Sweet potatoes, corn and a salad I’ll toss
And bury your butt with cranberry sauce
Oh turkey, my turkey, you’re the one who rocks
Now I’ve gotten so fat, I can’t put on my socks
My love for you was fleeting
And we are finished I fear
But I’ll fall in love with another turkey
Same time next year.


Copyright © Vince Suzadail Jr. | Year Posted 2009


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Elder Abuse

He sits quietly in the corner of the room
and dabs his face removing the blood that
still gently trickles down his cheek. Flinching 
from the pain he tries to be more careful.
He wants to ask but doesn’t dare, so he 
wonders, What did I do wrong? Running 
his trembling fingers through his grey hair, he
remembers, I only wanted a glass of milk.

                                     She grabs a rag and starts cleaning off the
                                     counter. As she wipes down the cupboard 
                                     she is still cursing under her breath. “Why
                                     did we have to take him, we can’t go out 
                                     anymore because we’re stuck here with this
                                     eighty five year old man who can’t even pour
                                     himself a glass of milk without spilling it. 
                                     With that she throws the rag loudly in the sink.

He wants to get up and go to his room, but he’s
afraid. It didn’t used to be like this, she used to laugh 
with me and we’d talk about when mom was still
alive. How many times we took the children so 
they could go away. Now she doesn’t even look
at me anymore without frowning. Maybe if I
just sit here quietly she’ll forget about
me. Maybe if……. Oh no, here she comes. 

                                     She puts her hands on her hips and as if
                                     he was five years old she scolded him over
                                     and over again. She’s so tired of telling the 
                                     old man the same things, but he just doesn’t 
                                     get it. She asks herself why the father she 
                                     loved so much had to go and get Alzheimer.
                                     She notices how he’s shying away and 
                                     protecting his head with his arms. 

He runs into his room afraid she could
slap him again, thankful that his door 
still has a lock. He hears her yell, 
“Just ask me when you want something.”
He stands leaning on his door and slowly
he slides to the floor where he curls in a ball.
Glancing around the strange room, tears
fog his eyes as he asks, “Where am I?"


Written by Brenda Meier-Hans 
12.14.2014

Cyndi MacMillan
Contest Name	I CAN'T BREATHE: A peaceful Protest, An Anthology of Powerful Poems



Copyright © Brenda Meier-Hans | Year Posted 2014


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Hot Day

A steady hum vibrating one constant low
Surrounding me in tiny hummingbird beats
The two giant fans warm and hot breezes blow

The fuzzy sound vibrates on pulsed in it’s drones
All vision blurs dimly in dark shadowed heat
A steady hum vibrating one constant low

The yellow window’s shade drawn down indigo
Gaze at it’s outline, with my hands on my feet
The two giant fans warm and hot breezes blow

My round Papasan chair of plush wicker holds
My languid form as I relax there complete
A steady hum vibrating one constant low

Within the dark, my lap cat’s bright green eyes glow
I’m clothed only in my silhouette’s repeat
The two giant fans warm and hot breezes blow

Reflect in beta waves of calm peace I know
On blue walls, my fairy outline shifts and beats
A steady hum vibrating one constant low
The two giant fans warm and hot breezes blow





Copyright © stephie pendleton | Year Posted 2006


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Star Trek and Captain Kirk's Final Frontier

Kirk: ‘Lt. Uhura, come to my quarters at 1800 hours’
Uhura: ‘Yes captain, might I ask what’s up?’
Kirk: ‘Nothing now but something WILL be at 1800 hours’
Bones: ‘Jim, is this a medical issue?’
Kirk: ‘You bet your ***** it is, Bones’
Sulu: ‘Captain, a Klingon ship is approaching’
Kirk:  ‘Blast that sucker to smithereens, I got a date’
Chekov: ‘Captain, you’ll need protection on this mission’
Kirk: No problem Ensign, got a few here in my wallet’

Obi-Wan Kenobi: ‘May the force be with you’
Kirk:’ Thanks Obi, but you’re in the wrong contest’
Obi-Wan Kenobi: ‘This isn’t PD’s contest?’
Kirk: ‘HELL no, now SKAT will probably disqualify us’
Obi-Wan Kenobi: ‘Well, may the force be with you anyway’
Kirk: ‘Look Kenobi, nobody’s forcing ANYBODY here’

Spock: ‘Captain, I’m receiving a message from SKATfleet Command’
Kirk: ‘What Mr. Spock? And why do you always talk like that?’
Spock: ‘To qualify for the contest, the writer has to command the ship’
Kirk: ‘Damn it all! What the…FRONT AND CENTER WRITER!’
Writer: ‘Um…All hands on deck?...Anchors away?’

Uhura: ‘Ohh Captain KIRRK, it’s 1800 hours’…
Kirk: ‘Not now Uhura, I’m not in the mood!’
Uhura: Ohh Captain WRITERRR, it’s 1800 hours’…
Writer: ‘Kirk, you have the helm. I’ll be in my quarters’ 
Spock: ‘Fascinating’
Kirk: ‘Shut-up Spock’…

Tim Ryerson
Theme: Sexual harassment in the workplace
For SKAT’s contest



Copyright © Tim Ryerson | Year Posted 2013


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The Bridge

I walk towards you,
as you stand waiting at the center of the bridge.

Beneath my feet, aged timbers span the churning river below.
With each step I see you more clearly.
My eyes search out the younger you,
that wild child with chestnut hair.
I can still remember your pigtails and ear to ear grin.
Back then, laugher was such an important part of us.
Somehow,
thankfully,
from the start, 
we just seemed to get each other.

As I approach,
I see both of us in your eyes.
The twinkles hidden within the wrinkles,
laugh lines, the evidence of our pleasure.
As you open your arms we embrace.
For a moment, time relinquishes its dominion.
Two friends once again, occupy a sacred moment,
grieving and celebrating the passage of everything.
We wonder, what if anything can be reclaimed?
Together, wishing yesterday forward!

The bridge groans under our childlike expectations.

In a split second everything changes!
We place young hands on the bridges revived splendor.
Amazed, we look over its railing.
There below, the river reverses upon itself,
flowing backwards until it stops.
The glass like surface reflects back images of our younger selves.
I look back into your eyes with wonder, 
how is this possible?
Once again we are both twelve,
standing on this baby blue bridge.
You too look shocked,
What is going through your mind?

Age has loosed its shackles!
The years reeling back like hands on a sprung clock.
I think my eyes deceive me, but it is you.
A cowlick sticking straight up and you have that crooked smile.
Your blue eyes playfully daring me,
to follow you into a new adventure.
This adventure occupies the reaches of our imaginations!
Your hand rests beside mine,
it feels familiar and safe.
How I have missed you my friend,
missed your voice, your exuberance for life.

As twilight lingers
and the stillness of time settles about us,
I see us as we were.
Long ago we said our goodbyes on this very bridge.
We promised one day we would return to this very spot.
A pinky swear magical promise!
Then we waded into our unknown years.
The river of time split us in two directions.
Many escapades, broken hearts,
triumphs and horrors.
Somehow, we grasped at the memories of a forever friendship.
A phone call, a transformative whisper,
beckoning us to return,
to a bridge,
to a time,
to a feeling.

Twelve years old,
hands clasped and swinging.
We skip to the beat of our own accordians. .
Together we dare life to give its all.
We are ready once again,
for skinned knees,
adventure,
perhaps some heartache,
but mostly belly laughter and ear to ear grins!

Written in collaboration with Monterey Sirak.
It is a pleasure to work with such a talented poet.






Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2015


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Tell Me

I have heard, others talk about your god
He doesn't sound like a god I wish to know
Sitting in heaven high on his throne
While I'm left to suffer here all alone
Guilty of sins for which I must atone
I've called those television evangelists on the phone
Put my hands on the screen, as they gave god praise
Was that him working in mysterious ways?
They say he created everything in just six days
No wonder he needed a day of rest
He must be more exhausted with all the sins being confessed?
I myself could keep him busy for over a year 
You can't imagine what's on my chest
It goes even deeper compacted and pressed
So why? I ask why
Why do I need a god of fairy tales
Hung on a cross with nails
Him who is righteous 
and me who always fails
Tell me?
Yes tell me
I really want to know


I too would not want to know that god
Distant sitting on a throne
While we suffer all alone
Burdened by sins for which we can't atone
Confessing to some fraud on a telephone
I will let others sing their false praises
With their religiosity and New Age Crazes
Repeating pseudo wise lines and rehearsed phrases 
Placing unsuspecting seekers in guilded cages

I sit here and wonder
What is there for me to tell?
I have no magic spell
God isn't a product to sell
Let others try to argue and yell
I cannot convince you what to feel
You believing in God doesn't make Him real
He has always exisisted
Deeper than any feeling
Not just a fairytale
Abstract and appealing
He says "Come to me all you who are weary"
A God of compassion 
Not a "Big Bang Theory"
Because I know Jesus
I'm thankful and teary 
He has answers to question's that can't be answered by "Siri"

It's hard understanding  
a God you don't know 
When you feel tossed by life's waves to and fro 
Reach out your hand, my God won't let go
Look in my eyes
See God's reflection
With his heart I witness your perfection
You are not some evolutionary collection
Formed from cosmic dust or random selection
You are Loved that's why Jesus died for you
His love intimate
Freely given and true
Unearnable by things you think you have to do
He patiently knocks at your door and waits for you
if you open the door you will believe in Him too
I speak from my heart and these words are true

We each have our own truth is what I believe
Yours is original sin, Adam and Eve
Yet your God is intimate as well
One who Loved us even though we fell
I'll keep my mind open and wait for a sign
If he's real, perhaps one day He'll be mine
Give me your book
I'll read and test it line by line
Perhaps the water in my veins
Will turn into living wine
When with the King I dine!


Reposting after reading Miraj's thought provoking poem "In Search of God".







This is a creative exercise between myself and my friend Eileen.
I've chosen to take on the persona of a non believer who is questioning.
I look forward to her response, it should make for an interesting conversation.

I put Eileen on the spot with this one by posting it before she viewed it.
Her creative process is different than mine and I should have respected that.
Eileen sent me some soup mails with some creative ideas which I have
weaved into my story. Thanks for the inspiration Eileen, we will take on
another collaboration soon.




Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2016


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I Practice the Art of Seduction

Day in, day out… I’m here
softly walking down 
the corridors of your mind
a seductress in search of the room
where you hide your heart

The train of my lace gown trails behind me
my bare feet hardly making a sound
yet my scent…..
my scent alerts you to my presence
and you turn the lock...
leaning heavily against the door
of the secret room
which bears your heart
but I know...
you desire my touch

I hear you
and move in your direction
standing outside the door
where you stand guard
protecting your dearest treasure
for you know
once I find it
you will be mine

I hear your heavy breathing
you sense my presence behind the door
you feel me
you shut your eyes
to block out the vision
that forms in your mind
my form...
my curves
clad in only wispy red lace
you smell my signature scent of seduction
it throbs with each beat of my heart
and you know
my fingers dripping with perfume
have trailed my neck
sinking themselves into my cleavage
pushing against
rounded breasts which strain
barely contained
in their lacey red covering

It is a scented trail of passion 
your face, lips, and mouth
have longed to follow
against your will
and still...
I read your thoughts
and I feel
my victory
in near

My voice...
I let it reach your ears
in soft lilting tones
melodious sweet
allurement in vocal caress
my words entreat
“Let me in…
I want to please you
Let me love you
Open up to me"...

You cover your ears
to drown out the dulcet chime
the rhythm and rhyme 
of my words
that brings to flare the heat
in your inner core
melting your resolve
the inferno of passion
licking at your frame
you tremble

I use this time
to try the lock
with keys I have stolen
from another chamber...
the Chamber of Dreams
where fantasies of me
reside

Me...
captive in your arms
in your bed
being ravished
subdued
being taken
taking
my hair ebbing and flowing
over your chest
all over your body
as I bring you delight
fantasies that now surge to the light
each fantasy a key

Yes, the largest key works
I turn the lock
and the door slowly opens...
WIDE

I step inside this forbidden room
where resides your heart of hearts
you have moved away from the door
in the middle of the room
you fall to your knees
in your hand, your heart
safe, protected, secure
“Please,” a ragged whisper
“Let me be”

Deliberately, 
I make my way to you
letting my full hips have their way
they sway
with each step
bringing me closer
closer...
to my prey

My hands on my waist
Unchaste...
the look in my eyes
surrender...my prize
a wanton smile
curves my cherry stained lips
womanly grace
brings me close to you face
“Please”……
you try not to look up
you try to turn away
knowing……knowing
I never fail

Fingers under your chin
I gently raise your face
your eyes plead
I unpin my raven hair
it cascades, shaken down
it falls...along with my gown
undressed
body and soul
your breath...raptured
as your eyes travel
where only dreams have been
I kneel
I lean in
my breasts push against your chest
my breath warms your cheek
as in breathless whisper, I speak...


                                              I've come for you, you see...
                                                To set your cravings free
                                                  Unleash your fantasy
                                           Your seductress, I’m meant to be
                                              M~a~k~e ......L~~O~~V~~E
                                             Ah...yes.....make honeyed love 
                                                             Here
                                                       n~*~O~*~w
                                                           t *V* o
                                                             M  E


For Justin Border's Art of Seduction Contest


Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2014


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You said JCO

You looked down at me, blue eyes intent on freezing, looked past my tears,  and 
said you loved me.
There was no expression on your face, no warmth in your kiss, you told me you 
cared, and wanted only me.
I placed my hands on your back, kissed that mouth and told you how beautiful  I 
thought you were. Then you smiled that first smile you told me I was absolutely 
amazing.
When the sweat was dry, and the air was still, you wrapped your legs in mine, and 
stroked my hair. You shared all the moments of your past, the plans of the future, 
and the child like excitement of your dreams overwhelmed me into tears. 
I fell in love with you. I fell hard. I fell for a man who felt nothing for me. I fell into 
the arms of something that I dreamt was there, but faded, like the scent of your 
skin.  I never knew how blind I was.  I never thought it would hurt to let you go. I 
never thought I would have to. I never thought you  would ever hurt me, instead 
you crushed me. 
You told me you loved me, and you cared. You told me I was worth everything, but 
you left me. You just left me. No note. No call. No email. Nothing. You just 
disappeared leaving me to feel like everything everyone had ever said about you; 
everything you said you were, was true. 
I danced with you. I let you in to my heart. You saw my soul. You knew everything. 
You were everything to me. How could you do this to me?  Why did you have to lie 
and tell me it was only me? Why did you tell me I was it for you? Why did you tell me 
you loved me, and cared so damn much?  Why didn’t you stop to think about me 
just once before eating that cake you so had to have. 
You looked down at me, eyes still frozen, and begged me to have that baby.  There 
was a beautiful smile on your face, and you said you loved me.
You watched me move, and I heard you sigh. I thought it meant everything.  You 
said I was everything. You said you loved me. I thought you loved me


Copyright © April Marie Johnson | Year Posted 2011


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While Feeding the Ducks

Here, just by chance, we're caught, in the shade
staring, surprised, into eyes of the past
while watching the ducks as they circle the pond
It seems they are hands on a clock sweeping time
where silence is gentler,... because now we are friends

Today, on this bench, lost men will linger, 
while waiting for nothing, and no place to go
Once we had claimed this 'our' place to hold hands,
planning a future that never began
Children we were with the world at command
I'm glad we aren't talking in circles,   .. like then

Other children are playing in the rust afternoon,
zippered up tight, against winter wind
Talking of children..you tell me there's two 
You show me a photo,…then, I share a few

I am all out of bread, as the sun starts to fade
taking away all the stains of the day
East of the bandstand shadows grow long, 
falling in corners like memories do

We've learned to know twilight can be bittersweet
And taste what dim recall has only allowed
Goodbyes are said, and you then, kiss my cheek, ..
then you turn and you wave, as you are crossing the street

Left wondering now, where those lost men will go,
it worries my brow, what lost men will eat
A shadow of you, is still left in the park, …
of us holding hands, as it starts to get dark
I leave a few dollars here, on our bench
Checking my watch,… I will leave no regrets


________________________________________________________________

When Love Reckons For A Second Time Contest 
Sponsor Nayda Ivette Negron


Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2016


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"Walls Between Passion"

written by Michael & The Mysterious Lady of Soup


                                                 Michael
                            The walls are tall but I know your there.
                          I hear your voice and the thoughs we share.
                                 So close but can't touch your hand,
                 all I could do is spill out my words and let my pencil land.
                                              Lady of Soup
                         I can feel your heartbeat beyond these walls,
                                one tear drop and my pencil falls.
                           The image of you vibrates my desired needs,
                            every thought about you inside me exceeds.
                                                 Michael
                                   I press my palm on the door,
                      just to feel your hand makes me want you more.
                          My chest is beating to your song of desire.
                      To be inside your body and feel your waves of fire.
                                              Lady of Soup
                        I take a deep breath to feel your essence here.
                           In my mind, the image of becomes so clear.
                             I can not calm a single thought about you.
                  I place my hands on my chest in hopes you get through.
                                                 Michael
                        Soon this door will open , and all shall be revealed.
                     So many things to be said, will start with kisses sealed.
                           To see you standing in your beauty and appeal
                              I have to have you as our passion will steal
                                             Lady of  Soup
                      The time has come for us to be in each others arms
                  before you opened the door, you had me with your charms.
               Lets throw these notes away, and feel the desire for each other.
               Lets keep this a secret between us, my dear poet and sexy lover..


Copyright © Michael J. Falotico | Year Posted 2010


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It Was a Beautiful Affair

For years he'd loved her and believed
it was a beautiful affair,
for on some nights, he'd slip away
and knew she always would be there.

They'd meet at restaurants or bars,
but when he traveled out of state,
he'd take her to a nice hotel.
Once in the room, he could not wait!

With hands on skin so glassy smooth,
he'd hold her long into the night.
So sweet she was upon his mouth!
It felt so good; it felt so right!

Beside her he would fall to sleep.
Next day was business, but he felt
so happy knowing that at night,
his stress and worries all would melt.

Yes, through the night, the longer that
beside his lover he would lay,
euphoria was his because
he felt the whole world fade away.

His love for her was deepening
so much, his wife became aware
of changes in him. He'd just say
"There's no one else but you. I swear!"

At home he'd lie in bed and think
of his sweet love but had to be
deceptive, sneaking out because
church-goers were his wife and he.

One night, too late he stayed with her.
He drove with her in his corvette.
Stopped by a cop, he had to live
a night he never can forget,

They called his wife, and that was worse
than paying the ungodly fine.
His wife put him in therapy
to end his tryst with sweet Red Wine! 

July 1, 2016 for the "It Was a Beautiful Affair" contest of Lewis Raynes


Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2016


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Valentine's Night

Picked out the perfect arrangement two dozen long stemmed roses with deep ruby red petals accented with forget-me-nots each petal representing a kiss I'll tread over those luscious and inviting lips and the forget-me-nots showing my never ending love for you. Reservations made. We'll rendezvous at Les Ombres In the shadow of the Eiffel Tower I'll gaze lovingly at your dazzling smile fall deep under the spell of your sparkling eyes Top the night off with a toast of champagne Then whisk you off to a Cinderella's carriage ride arm in arm, cheek to cheek kissing you under the luminesce rays of the moon we`ll take a journey into the sky upon cupid`s wings From his arrow we'll spread love and share the joy it brings We'll steal the midnight stars making their fire ours and when the magic fades each other we embrace We'll run to a chateau by Paris East lake You undress my innocence as your breath I take Breathless you leave me at the sight of your skin So supple your chest inviting me in Soft slow sweet kisses tread upon your neck hands on your hips there's no turning back


Copyright © Cupids Arrow | Year Posted 2015


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El Amante

My melancholy turns to gold dust
in your soft and tender hands
upon your fingers I scatter my life
my love remains clasped in your hands
now I am a vial of cologne, emptied...

I yearn to see your lissome creeper
how it clings to cracks on the walk
well, just as it entwines the cement altar
Mi amor, that is how I yearn to embrace your heart
I used to stumble, now I am sustained in you...

This night I yearn and sigh for you
to see you sleep, hands on your chest
sinking into our bed like rosy fruit
from smooth pastures into the depths of our mattress
as the air enters your chest and raises it chastely...

Amante, steal away to me in the night
we will see how peacefully the moon rays
create quiet waves without unsettling the hush
just as it passes into the gulf is the way
I yearn to sink to the very bottom of your soul...

Fly to me from your snow white orchards
you love is ever so immaculate
my naked soul will tremble in your hands...



Copyright © Ken Carroll | Year Posted 2013


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HE'S OUT OF MY LIFE

LOOSELY BASED ON THE MICHAEL JACKSON SONG SHE’S OUT OF MY LIFE

He’s out of my life
Because he’s got a wife
And I don’t know whether to laugh or cry
If I see him now I’d whack him in the eye
But if I had a knife
I’d pass it on to his wife

He would hold my hands
We’d make love on the sands
To think for two years he was here
He had the best of both worlds now he lives in fear
So I better not expand
Or I’ll soon be on remand!

So I’ve learned that I’m not his possession
And I’ve learned that this guy I hate
Now he’s gone and I’ve got depression
But I’ve learned too late

He's out of my life
Gone back to his wife
Guess I loved him but found out he lied
If I get my hands on him I’ll end up inside
And it cuts like a knife
But the rat is out of my life

Jan Allison
10th August 2014


Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2014


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Our First Night

This Highland eagle
On his maiden flight
Atlantic ocean
Land in sight
 
His heart thumping
As he yearns for his dove
To share his life
Capture her love
 
This eagle has landed
Met with a kiss
The smile of two
Enchanted bliss
 
To his doves nest
The talk is sweet
Hearts on fire 
On their first meet
 
Doorway entered
Settled in
Couch they sit
Communication brings
 
They share a wine
A classic red
Eagle and dove
Romance is read
 
Music lovers
As they choose a song
In each others arms
It won't be long
 
Slow dance
Silhouette of two
Their minds embraced
Passions brew
 
Their hands on a mission
Clothes drift to the floor
Signals read
Amore
 
Together they sit
As their lips meet
This bed of beds
As their bodies greet
 
Undulations
Waves of love
This two lovebirds
Eagle and dove
 
Height's scaled
Heavens reached
Flow of love
Sweet like peach
 
Warm bodies
In breathless mode
This cage-less birds
On future's road
 
They lie together
True and right
My dove and i 
On our first night


http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/love.php


Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2009


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Sin in Innocence

Moon hangs high and white coats the earth,
breathe in and out.
Frozen air in my lungs; his touch hurts.

Racing thoughts hurry in a blur.
Warm hands on my back,
then run up to my hair.

Hot lips press against my frozen face.
He kisses me; my first.
Now I know sin's taste.

"Do you trust me"?
No, but what will they think?
What do they see?

Pain in my pelvis;
hot breath in my face.
But this can't be it!

Regret in eyes;
pain in my heart.
On the bed, how I cried.

I wish for a second chance; 
and pray to god to forgive my
first sin in Innocence.


Copyright © emily humphreys | Year Posted 2009


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Tyburn Gallows


Gasping
rasping
clasping
grasping
condemned man's last gasping, rasping breath,
hands on the noose clasping, grasping- death

(* Tyburn was the site of public hangings in London from the 12th century,
executing everyone from Highwaymen to Clergymen, at what is now Marble Arch)

For contest 'write me a Tyburn', sponsor Kim Rodrigues

24th january 2018


Copyright © Viv Wigley | Year Posted 2018


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Tell Me

I have heard, others talk about your god
He doesn't sound like a god I wish to know
Sitting in heaven high on his throne
While I'm left to suffer here all alone
Guilty of sins for which I must atone
I've called those television evangelists on the phone
Put my hands on the screen, as they gave god praise
Was that him working in mysterious ways?
They say he created everything in just six days
No wonder he needed a day of rest
He must be more exhausted with all the sins being confessed?
I myself could keep him busy for over a year 
You can't imagine what's on my chest
It goes even deeper compacted and pressed
So why? I ask why
Why do I need a god of fairy tales
Hung on a cross with nails
Him who is righteous 
and me who always fails
Tell me?
Yes tell me
I really want to know


I too would not want to know that god
Distant sitting on a throne
While we suffer all alone
Burdened by sins for which we can't atone
Confessing to some fraud on a telephone
I will let others sing their false praises
With their religiosity and New Age Crazes
Repeating pseudo wise lines and rehearsed phrases 
Placing unsuspecting seekers in guilded cages

I sit here and wonder
What is there for me to tell?
I have no magic spell
God isn't a product to sell
Let others try to argue and yell
I cannot convince you what to feel
You believing in God doesn't make Him real
He has always exisisted
Deeper than any feeling
Not just a fairytale
Abstract and appealing
He says "Come to me all you who are weary"
A God of compassion 
Not a "Big Bang Theory"
Because I know Jesus
I'm thankful and teary 
He has answers to question's that can't be answered by "Siri"

It's hard understanding  
a God you don't know 
When you feel tossed by life's waves to and frough 
Reach out your hand, my God won't let go
Look in my eyes
See God's reflection
With his heart I witness your perfection
You are not some evolutionary collection
Formed from cosmic dust or random selection
You are Loved that's why Jesus died for you
His love intimate
Freely given and true
Unearnable by things you think you have to do
He patiently knocks at your door and waits for you
if you open the door you will believe in Him too
I speak from my heart and these words are true

We each have our own truth is what I believe
Yours is original sin, Adam and Eve
Yet your God is intimate as well
One who Loved us even though we fell
I'll keep my mind open and wait for a sign
If he's real, perhaps one day He'll be mine
Give me your book
I'll read and test it line by line
Perhaps the water in my veins
Will turn into living wine
When with the King I dine!










This is a creative exercise between myself and my friend Eileen.
I've chosen to take on the persona of a non believer who is questioning.
I look forward to her response, it should make for an interesting conversation.

I put Eileen on the spot with this one by posting it before she viewed it.
Her creative process is different than mine and I should have respected that.
Eileen sent me some soup mails with some creative ideas which I have
weaved into my story. Thanks for the inspiration Eileen, we will take on
another collaboration soon.





Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2015


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The Tall Ships Burn

Burnished gold, aged bronze patinaed by the firelight
singed by sullen Sol, not stayed by Poseidon's hand;
aflame, aflame, tall ships burn, see their masts ignite.

Impenitent, sky rains ash blackening the night.
Fire sends a smoky pall upon the sea and land,
burnished gold, aged bronze patinaed by the firelight.

Fire eats: the air, snuffs man's breath; highlighting their plight,
all hands on deck, the Captain calls, out his command.
Aflame, aflame, tall ship burns, see their masts ignite.

Hell's inferno comes calling on this sun lit night,
foul winds blow, fire roars, and so the flames are fanned;
burnished gold, aged bronze patinaed by the firelight.

Without their ship, crews are lost to a debtors blight.
Up the went like scarecrows shriven by the brand,
aflame, aflame, tall ships burn, see their masts ignite.

Cinder shower catch the dock; workers run in fright.
Pain and heartache fill the wharf; still, they must disband.
Burnished gold, aged bronze patinaed by the firelight
aflame, aflame, tall ships burn, see their masts ignite.

Keelmen Heaving in Coals by Night' by Turner

Published by Dual Coast 2014




Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2015


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With You

I sat on the edge of your mattress, unsure what to expect; I kicked off my shoes and took in 
your bedroom for the first time: the bookshelves, the plastic stickers wreathing the windows, 	
your little brother’s action figures mid-battle on the carpet, the clothing stretched out into 	
long piles beneath your feet.

I remember thinking you so strong and confident, wondering how we ended up beneath the 
covers together. You reassured me as you crawled out to take down your blue jeans. I looked 
away for fear of seeming too eager. (I wanted to look.)

Your hand trailed over my back, tracing my stomach. I had never been touched before; 
every inch your fingers followed burned a path into my memory. I was sure there were 
scorch marks on the sheets.

We kissed and kissed and I gasped and we kissed and I fumbled, I heard my pulse throbbing 
in my ears and we kissed and I couldn’t believe I had gone my whole life without knowing the 
feeling of skin on skin.

Then, you were forcing my lips to part with yours, and your tongue surprising the inside of my 
mouth, a slippery, rubbery thing. I let it wander.

You curled a loose hair behind my ear. I imagine you framing my face in your hands and 
bringing my chin for another kiss, but I find my memory inventing moments between us that 
never passed.

But, I am sure of the sleepy look on your face every time we pulled away, the half-pouted 
lips, and the pressure of your hands on my back, urging me to never stop.


Copyright © Robin Lane | Year Posted 2010