Best Interaction Poems
freaky
free week to be kinky
touch me
feel me
fervently
frequently
finger suck my pinkie
super freaky
superbly kinky
slowly
seductively
touch me
feel me
fervently
frequently
finger suck my pinkie
creamy substance
oozing
from my twinkie
The other side of the glass
a parallel world
My fingertips reach
Their fingers reach out
touch
Here There
Machinery soflty hums Fingertips touch mine
Controlled atmosphere Lives relate for a second
Our worlds connect for a small instant
Footsteps fade into sunshine
______________________
One line on the glass remains
***
July 4, 2017
Copyright © Darren White
wood does not complain
though hard the woodpecker pecks
knows her needs so well
31 August 2021
As I entered the dissection hall with trepidation
My insides churned with disgust
When I set eyes on the cadaver
I felt scared and squeamish, but to continue was a must
I slipped on my gloves
And held up my forceps in my hand
As I looked around at my comrades
I felt I was far from wonderland
Our teacher told us to look down
And appreciate the structures we see
All I could think of was
This is a dead body in front of me
I knew I had to overcome my fears
As medicine was my life
I mustered up all the courage I could
And plunged my forceps into the cadaver like a knife
Everyone was horrified
At the unforeseen cadaver destruction
But I had a strange feeling
Of relief and satisfaction
I knew this was the only way
To rid me of my fear
Now I felt I had triumphed
After having murdered a cadaver
I knew that was technically not possible
After all the cadaver was already dead
I knew I wont go to jail
For severing off a dead head
Now my fear was abolished
The next day I walked in with confidence
What I didn’t know was
I would have to do a harsh penance
My teached made me dissect cadaver after cadaver
Meticulously and carefully
This went on for days together
She showed me no mercy
After a point I began enjoying it
The smell of formalin became appealing
I reveled in the dissection
And slowing my anxiety began retreating
Today I’m thankfull to her
For believing in me
She didn’t let me give up
And made sure I grew from a sapling into a tree
Today I’m a cardiothoracic surgeon
And cadavers don’t excite me anymore
Its beating hearts that do
And long surgeries are therefore never a chore
I still remember my days as a medical student
While meeting the deadlines at the 11th hour
But the day I remember most fondly
Is the day I murdered a cadaver
to wrap you around in one.
the grand pupal descension.
a bite of summertime,
of falling.
to take a silent pause.
page filled with imagined
detailed scenarios.
memories.
left to the viewer to ponder.
to a beauty,
with gentle strokes of brilliance.
gladly caressing yours.
that familiar stop,
of blissful adoration.
the pain.
Unloved or understand,unheard or
dismissed,the inner muse confused
with ego's arrogant attire.
Hear me recite from my 4000 +PS anthology under my pen name ichthyschiro...
catch my short forms @strandpoet on twitter..
read my Christian & Poetry kindle guides on amazon
restless students wait
for the freedom bell to ring –
sad rhetorculist
Over long winter hours
Feeling angst about the enduring absence of a pleasant stasis,
The ninja like treachery of nature, camouflaged in the subtly sweet aroma of hyacinth and spring dew, sneaks past the awaiting anticipation of discomfort.
How long has it been since Nature’s sweet halter was again shown,
Torturing lost companions with its overbearing presence?
The relinquished thoughts and plans replaced. Uncomfertability, tension, and a sense of impuissance take hold of all decisions and actions.
A pill for such things causes more than dry mouth and hot flashes. The treatment has been known as the cause in many a heart’s aches and sudden collapses.
Pharmacopeia fails to vitiate the limerance of one’s soul for the unattainable warmth of spring’s wrath.
Once again, winter is preferred over possible allergic reactions.
Have you ever pretended a guy was interesting?
Have you slow danced and let him sniff you up close?
I gives you somewhere to go, if you decide to.
Or given a little kiss—nothing slutty in that.
You know, a 'person' isn’t a good kisser - it takes two.
I’m not talking about me, of course.
There’s a two-way interrogation going on
complete with our own internal narratives
—we reenact it’s rituals in the strangest places
like quiet libraries or the lerch and spin of a dance club
we process by analogy and approximation and it works
until it doesn’t, like cold water poured into a glass.
Then we settle back into the dull rhythms of study
I’m not talking about me, of course.
.
.
Songs for this:
Loveland by The Blenders
Human Nature by Mitchell Brunings
Just the phrase exchange has my attention.
Found poise not most discombobulated.
Felt clad and poised for a neat impression.
Just the phrase exchange has my attention.
That was one of my chief roles to mention.
And my goal, it won't rile complicated.
Just the phrase exchange has my attention.
Found poise not most discombobulated.
Written: March 11, 2023
Does a wearer of lace
Run a wild breathless race
And still radiate True Grace
Or of prudence show trace?
And does he keep up face
linked with Dignified Pace?
Senator off with mace
And it triggers no case
Or him not cost his place?
Never shall rash action
Sparking off reaction
And pour interaction
Favor any faction.
She stood facing given destiny
Tall, dark, handsome, hopelessly smiling
The provderbial woman's anxiety
Of reality annexed in childlike dreaming
Her friends spoke resolutely
But she in denial made void the glance
While her heart beat passionately
And her head drunken in silence dance
Love should not be offered
For what is given counteracts our pride
Alone, Christ was delivered
Because a true lover gave till we chide
It will not spoil my joy if you
Refuse the gift, I will do it again gladly
Only so disappointed in you
I give for my own joy, nothing alters me.
So she went home feeling shy
Because they asked her, rather than they gave
But heart played drums on the sky
And longing rose and rave in wave upon wave.
The moment is gone though, and I
Read her story, and will not from love relent
Yes, there is no limit to the sky
And no sorrow when I am like my sentiment.
Given pride, love must given directly
Not offered, not fearful of rejection hesitate
For true love has no fear, nor tardily
Gives itself to the joy of love's bitter fate.
a few heavy raindrops
bathed happily dancing
in my garden's bird bath
The Subtler Fineries Of Human Interaction
It was a book. The cover was lovely. The title was light blue wash of water colour calligraphy.
Done in a delicate hand. Pastel images made up the artwork. Out of focus people, a hint of sky, a group of buildings.
I decided to buy this attractive book. Even if the story was bad, the title and cover was to die for. I read the synopsis.
It was almost poetry: We all seek meaning. That of our own existence and of God. To find our soulmates. This is only temporary. Look deeper...
Bring on the rainy days! I'm about to transcend.
Holding the truth for the
sake of time and space.
I will not ask your name.
*
In fading moonlight
you had abducted my boat.
How will I cross the river ?
*
A civil war erupts between
the flowers of morning glory.
It has changed the way you think.
Satish Verma