Best Piercing Poems
Dedicated to My Timothy Lee
I love you and it has been said, 'love is blind.'
My beautimous man is my favorite visual treat.
Times staring at him are times I often repeat.
His blond tendrils hang down, outside his do-rag,
and are curls my fingers just have to twirl and grab.
Fierce, piercing blue eyes allow his gaze to melt me,
happens all the time and never do I ever mind.
The rich pay surgeons for cheekbones my man has.
My knuckles sometimes trace each bones span.
He has such a good-looking nose, not big or small,
it’s a nose I frequently kiss on my tip toes.
Perfect lips motivate my own to seek his kiss.
They aren't thick or thin, but ideal sized bliss.
I’m mesmerized by his labor rustled arm muscles
that grow a need for my cheeks to muscle nuzzle.
My beautimous man said my vision needs to be checked
because no features of his do my eyes accurately detect.
He said his curls do hang down, but no hair is on his crown.
He took me to a mirror to see lines under his eyes clearer,
said his cheekbones are no longer sensual but skeletal,
his nose now nostril hair grows and rudely hair shows,
plus, his muscles have aged and are now sad sag designed.
I asked what word bits would he now hurl about his lips -
he pulled me close and said, ‘only kisses are on my lip script.’
We
notice
space flicker,
signalling that
we can penetrate
the veil of emptiness,
by softening attention,
in a stillness continuum,
animated by our pure intent,
to awaken within this lucid dream.
Gently laying to rest, labours of mind,
by shifting from thinking to feeling,
poised in awareness unblinking,
putting on pause flow of time,
without employing force,
we get to the source,
amazed to see
no less than
face of
God.
In the shadowed field, the night breaks
into a cacophony of cries, sharp and piercing.
A pack of coyotes, voices tangled in hunger and triumph,
sings a chilling lullaby in the darkness.
Their song, a harbinger of life meeting its end,
echoes through our open bedroom window,
a reminder of the wildness that prowls
just beyond the reach of our porch light.
Somewhere, beyond our sight, a deer perhaps wandered too far,
its fate now woven into the coyotes’ cry.
And we, from our bedroom window, listen—
a silent vigil, bearing witness to the cycle
unfolding in the back field where shadows play.
Remembrances lead to longing for souls once united in time long ago
still precise in memory now only in far distant accounts long closed
unreachable and compartmentalized without any semblance to reality
like snowflakes hypnotic white illusions of distorted reflections untouchable
The predictable heart in relentless wandering overlooks and overcomes
while foreboding and hope battle for dominance with impetuous passion
in the vainly desperate hours reason dances away upon lyrical notes
the spiraling cold blue music no one hears plays on in mystical magic
Whiskey soaked caricature’s fill the room with their constituent shapes
as the potent silence of unspoken words holds us captive purposefully
the decision for deceit is one whom another deceiver cannot believe in or trusts
as metamorphosis brings the senses present to the change in seasonal rime
All common attributes even when perfectly polished run black inside paradox
no more than a few percent of spectacular in the spectrum of light’s shine
the temptation to melt away no longer haunts from the icy facets of time
fire devours all impurities and remains one pure spirt ablaze.
Piercing my heart:
Her nose-pin twinkles at me,
Her lip-ring smiles at me,
Her dark eyes make me lust,
Leaving everything like rust.
Her cheek-piercings make fake dimples,
Fake eyelashes arise ripples,
Inside my heart.
She is a prostitute from Havana,
I first met her in a sea-side cabana,
On my head, she fastened a cool bandana,
Every night, she gives me insomnia.
Tiny star tattoos trailing her waist,
I want to keep her in my vest,
On me, she pours liquor of zest,
With her I’m never exhausted.
To her tunes, I’m devastated.
The navel piercing makes her sensuous,
She makes my heart joyous,
The tattooed sun under her navel,
and the inked baby angel,
Are enough to create a novel,
About her.
I can’t forget the cross tattoo on her backbone,
And the chuckle of her cheekbone.
I can’t forget how her toe-rings caressed my body,
And her toe-rings were gazed by me.
To me, she means joy,
Her cupid tattoo is carnal envoy.
She showers drops of joy,
With tiny stars convoy.
I kissed the tribal tatt on her lower back,
I’ve loved her for god’s sake,
Her sensuality makes me shake,
But I am not fake.
I desire to bed her every night;
I desire to be her personal knight,
Loving her is my birth right,
I conceal her inside.
She is my secret passion,
She is my strange obsession,
I can tear away all taboos for her,
She has pierced my heart.
I love the way she smokes a cigar,
I love how she applies glitter,
I love the way her lips shimmer,
But I hate the way she ogles at strangers.
I depict her face on my life-canvas,
I inscribe her name on each piece of paper,
She makes my days luminous.
She is invincible and incredible,
In my life, her presence is inevitable.
I wish I were a gem of her necklace,
I’d ward off her foes like savage,
I’ve kissed her anklet,
I’ve loved her restless,
She’s made me mad,
And colored my fad!!
There is a higher being
one that chooses to speak the truth through us
To not believe is a grave disobedience parallel to disobeying the word
in the new covenant the circle is complete
You must take this wound and cover it for what it's worth
as part of the whole body inflicted and injured
because healing comes from the charity forgiving praying
For those poor blind souls lost to the world
they need to rise above their human weaknesses
in the end it boils down too whom do you serve
I felt the blade enter cutting deeper than the bone
The lies need to be stopped and exposed
at what table would a character sit
one side supports division by ruthless measures
the other peace and unity
There is a sadness about betrayal it never comes from our enemies
this bar is set high because what is rotten corrupts the very fruit with poisonous lies
the apple will always fall for the temptations as gravity pulls
against the force the window of the soul reflects how the heart operates
buzzing bumblebee
fat wit sweet summer nectar
the lizards head swells
Through pale of eve, my eyes can see
beyond the trellis where I stand
a rose awaits, brushing the ground
through pale of eve, my eyes can see
needles of thorns ,calling for me
where tips of sadness purls around
through pale of eve, my eyes can see,
beyond the trellis where I stand.
While on the branches, heart’s thorns dry,
as if to pierce my faint lament
this lonesome rose tried to reply,
while on the branches, heart’s thorns dry
to face the night we said goodbye,
the day he kissed my cheeks and went
while on the branches , heart’s thorns dry,
as if to pierce my faint lament.
Every Rose Has Its Thorn... Kelly Deschler
new poem nette onclaud
On the wings of mercury She slips into my soul Using kind words and
memories To mend this gaping hole Surrounded by unseeing walls
Never touching no embrace Thunderbolts breaking boundaries Closing
this unsurmountable unspoken space Days fall into months Time
crashes to the floor Eyes searching outward Crying out for more
This mystery of wonder Two souls piercing the night Silent whispers of
tomorrow Their union will make it right
Piercing Our Hearts
Countries are torn apart over our children.
Being physical, mental, sexual pained
Wounded, broken, watching dismemberments.
Their selfish taste of blood in the name of god
Violence against our women and children
The tide keeps growing in numbers of hatred
Attracting women and children guerrillas,
Who blow-up their bodies to kill innocents
Allah rewards their demise in Paradise
What do they see in these misguided doings?
Piercing our hearts with injustice of murder
We all suffer in the name of religion
2/28/2015
Syllable count: 11 11 11 11 11 0 11 11 11 11 0 11 11 11
Pain
pierces
so deeply
wounding the soul
Leaving scars inflected by deception
Hurling it’s arrows of deceitfulness
Puncturing peace
Impaling
The heart's
Bliss
You saw into the very depths
of all that I rarely share;
all of me, bared before you
yet you didn't even care.
Cold, icy, penetrating,
eyes that could freeze
molten lava - bitter, morose,
but underneath a spark did tease.
A playful glimmer, deeply hidden,
true warmth radiating with the word
of love you so rarely spoke, leaving
me to wonder if it was ever heard.
I used to long with desperation
for you to turn those eyes on me,
to really know me and to care
that my love ran deep as the sea.
Until finally one day I came to know that
hid behind your eyes was a barren soul
And so I left, to somehow find a way
to make my broken heart whole.
a bit of the moon
shines on through the deep darkness
a piercing of night
Russell Sivey
PIERCING EYES
My
Ineffable
Inferno like emotion for you
I tried to bare, for no longer could I bear it.
But I could not.
I made to run, to hide far away from you to a sequestered
World of fantasy of my own where this feeling one day enfeebled
And dead would be and its corpse the hearse into the nether world of
Illusion would lower.But on time this insidious desire in my eyes,
Flawless, so genuine, you saw and those salving hands of yours towards
Me in embrace sauntered,heartsrings pulling kisses, caress abreast
Behind ambled and my entirety thru the sky of ecstasy scudded
And in gratification nestled.To those eyes of yours eternally
In gratitude my knees will bend, for only piercing eyes
As those could this sensation lurking
In the caverneous depth
Of a heart
Bare.