Best Tying Up Poems


Wonderful Words

Words,words,flowing through my mind,
I'm chilling,having a wonderful time,
Words,words,forming into lines,twisting,turning,tying up my mind,
Flowing with a beat,generating crazy rhymes...

Words,words,they are pulling my strings,
A puppet to these words,ohh what a beautiful thing,
Controlling my fingers,my thoughts,my mood,
Have me sitting on the toilet,writing in the nude...

Words,words,treating me like a punching bag,
Words of a dying old man or a playful little lad,
Love I have felt or an experience gone bad,
Whenever I am sad a few punches makes me glad...

Words,words,sending chills through my skin,
Explosion in my head,from deep,deep within,
Words,wonderful words,keep calling,keep calling,
Lost in these words,i'm falling,i'm falling....
Form: Rhyme

What Am I Who I Describe

When pressed on skin I look tight.
Go right with any event in the summer, spring, fall, winter or night.
At my best in the morning but I tell you I'm not light.
During the day Ill be sharper than height.
When you see me you'll think I'm larger than life.
Making if far with this long tale.
Staying on my A-game counting on my skills,
to go all the way to the top!
Casually tying up a deal.
On Sunday I have a great feel.
...
My master tall or short,
stay ahead of the charts.
No human can overturn his power unless qualified for the cut.
With or without business lawyers still look up.
Wont judge you make sure you don't fall short.
...
Depending on our mood don't make us lighting up your day!
What am I Who I describe?
2-3-16
© Mark Merk  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Suppression of Perception By Oppression

Complacency of the agencies
Who aimlessly remain racist

Tying up the little one's by the wrist
Why must the holy become rapists?

Is this what life should consist
Of?
As they pray up above
Yet, persist on never showing love?

So they stuff their faces
With a thousand disgraces
& sins, yet, the cheater never wins
Death is not the end, but where it all begins

Our future is the re-incarnation
Of our thoughts
The masses induce their own
Mental blood clots

Oh, i almost forgot
You're being watched by the robots
That will never rot
So, remember who fought

The ones under your nose like pans & pots
Under your feet like kitchen tiles
As they prowl like the Nile crocodiles
Yet, they're just vile pedophiles

Who can longer reconcile
All while
The bodies exponentially
Pile

Everyone eventually becomes senile
After 3 miles
Of endless aisles
In the petri dish & vials

Of our planet
That's composed of granite
Built by masons who
Banish the masses

Until they vanish the classes
With the whip that lashes
& never relaxes

Ashes to ashes...
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member Valentine Romance

Valentines day is always something special to me, I explained. 
So I planned a romantic evening and got ready for my campaign.
The children were at a sleepover with their favorite friends they adore.
So I met my hubby as he came in, accidentally tripping and making him hit the door.
Thank God his head is hard as he hit that, the nearby TV, but very little more.
I made Cherries Jubilee as a snack while he sat there with an ice pack to his head. 
But before I knew it, I’d knocked it over and almost burned down the house instead.
When he finally put the fire extinguisher away…
I got up and got some of the kids’ apple tarts I had made. 
He bit in deep and burned his mouth, declaring he wasn’t hungry and the pain would fade.
Next he decided to go upstairs, but I had put rose petals down everywhere in spades.
And yes you probably guessed it… he slipped and ended up needing a little aide.
At this he decided to take an aspirin and lay down upon the couch. OH  HHWell…
But I knew the rest needed to happen above, to totally create this romantic spell…
I had to get him to the candles and bubble bath, where my romantic dreams still dwelled. 
So I got out some scarves and danced toward him, tying up his hands before he fell.
He never knew what hit him as he was lassoed and gently bounced up the stairs.
I guess I wouldn’t have had to tie his feet… a few words would have done as well.
But you know me when I get going, my mind tends to lose a few brain cells…
He was flustered, exhausted and bruised when he got there, but he’s made of the right stuff.
Though as I took off the scarves, he flopped on the bed pulling the covers over his head kind of rough.
He said he loved me, but living with me could be kind of tough.
He said it was better to leave it to him, for the romantic endeavors and such.
He said he had reservations and play tickets in his shirt pocket for later on that night.
But what he needed now was some aspirin and a few moments of quiet respite. 
So with a sigh he started snoring, and my romantic dreams were momentarily crushed.
I dearly love the man you know. But, do you think maybe I tried too much?
Form: Couplet

Premium Member The Birth of Pegasus

The Birth of Pegasus

No, they really didn’t mean anything
by tying up a dancing, cavorting, prancing 
colt with a heavy halter -
 but God saw a use for spirit.

I feel sure no one saw them sprout,

just wings spread out over a garden, 
hovering.

A vision for useful dreams.

Suzanne Delaney

Ol' Blue

Ol' Blue
© FNF 4-12-2014

One never knows what fate will hold
Within the coming days
There's highs and lows, but none foretold
Until it is too late

My dear wife Sue and our son Drew
Died in a crash one night
Seemed suicide was my next move
Until Ol' Blue arrived

I bumped into a dog rescue
While tying up loose ends
I stepped inside and through the gloom
His look said, "Where ya been?"

I paid his fee and left the pound
A steal at any price
For I had found the wisest hound
Was ever given life

Ol' Blue was not so very old
That first day that we met
And yet he was a settled soul
And easy to confess

I took him home and fed him well
But nothing to compare
With how he calmed my tortured self
When darkness entered there

I shared my heart on many things
And heeded his replies
He didn't speak, there was no need
The words were in his eyes

Though fate was cruel, it, too, was kind
I'm coping by degrees
Thanks to a dog who almost died
Before he rescued me
© Ben Burton  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Ballad


Premium Member Internet and Society

My friend, what’s your love filled channel,
Where does your mind retreat?
And when you’re there, what is your crutch? 
What forces you to be discrete?

Do you enjoy the bondage site,
The site tying up the lonely spouse?
Or maybe the site where there’s hundreds of people
Filling each room of the house.

And why does this intrigue your mind?
Why does it make your pulse run?
Is it because you see folks enjoy themselves, 
And you too want to relish the fun?

Or is it a burnt in curiosity,
To learn what folks label taboo?
To learn this taboo with your partner,
So you can both try it too?
Form: Quatrain

Premium Member The Fatal Call

She gave the sentence
Tying up the string 
Making the man the puppet
With such a glorious sunshine
He was drenched in darkness
Blinded to all
 within a bursting crowd
He sank a step deeper

He shouted his plead
In a room full of silence
Prompting a deadly stagger
Further to the deep

He turned to all
 with arms out stretched 
Making a lifetime connection
only with deaden flesh
Keeping in touch with all 
But never getting a call at all
He entered the now merging darkness

Emerging with stiffened hopes
He edged on 
Damned by the many sentences
He answered the fatal call
Form: Lyric

Premium Member I Cannot Tie My Laces

Why can’t I tie my laces right, why can’t I tie them good?
I always get them in a muddle, by not doing what I should.
The first part I can do but the bow is where I fail,
I get the laces in a twist and cannot thus prevail. 

I told my best friend Sammy James that I was having trouble,
tying up my laces, it was such a massive struggle. 
I looked down at her shoes but no laces I could see,
I shrug my shoulders saying ‘Sammy, how can that ever be?’

Turns out her shoes were slip on, so no lace even required.
The answer to my prayers, I was so wonderfully inspired. 
I ran home to my mum, this was freedom in the making.
For tying up my laces needn’t be mum’s undertaking. 

‘Can you buy me slip on shoes? Can you buy them now?’
I asked my mum in hope that she might find a way somehow.
‘If you cannot tie your laces then you shall be deprived,
of the pretty shoes mummy bought which today have just arrived.’
Form: Rhyme

Paper Back

Slaughtered by the innocent blood lost long ago
Her reputation drops like soap in a male correctional facility
Tying up the oak tree, chasing fancy cars
Her leash finally snapped like yesterdays twig
I'm sorry to see your wife is back
The bomb on this town has been dropped by your top head look
Shrug your shoulders,
Stop whining bro, next time double knot the noose, 
Make sure the doors come in with double locks
Stop crying that the ***** is back 
Do yourself a favor, and just let her in

Love
Bell
© Belly Bell  Create an image from this poem.

Pick Your Poison

The hanging of the gallows high

Electric chair is set on fry

Passing out free cyanide

So many different ways to die

Rounding up the firing squad

Wait for it...the go for it nod

The guillotine is set on chop

All it needs is for the blade to drop

They're mixing up the chemicals

To go off at precise intervals

Tying up your arms with coils

Being pulled apart by bulls

Feed you to the crocodiles

The ones that have the biggest smiles

Dragging you for twenty miles

Behind ten horses running wild

You can beg and you can plead

Getting down upon your knees

But sometimes the reading of my poetry

Might just be the worst of these

Changes Change

change, can come with a lot of changes
like maintenance gotta be patient
Do I know what im facin
i just got to embrace it
and hold life deep within me
even when im empty
and people are condesending
I adapt and amend
and apprehended a friend
who recommened the commitment of tying up loose ends
i hope god forgives me for all of my new sins
and separate me from my angel and devil blend
who will i be what will i see in the end
please prevent me from traveling back for revenge
but my mind can always change RIGHT?
kuz my pops said that changes always change LIFE
Form: ABC

The Mechanical Kiss

the mechanical kiss comes without “love”
without any sense of “love”
without any place for “love”
without any want of affection in the manner of
“making love”
without any need for the emotions invested in
“love”
without any want for the romance babbled about
concerning this “love”
without any stake in a later possibility of “love”
without any further investigation of the
concept as it is defined by
others in “love”---

the mechanical kiss is one based on pure urge---
it has no direction beyond immediate gratification &
it’s the lighting of the fuse 
for the coming explosion(s)---
it rides hard against the grain of what we are told by all of the
morality police 
that should be the reason for 
****ing &
if not ****ing,
then it ignites all the things beyond ****ing, the blades,
the whips, the chains, the toys, the lubes, the machines,
the candles dripping wax, the nails scraping down backs,
the water hoses, the paddles, the tying up, the pvc, the
metal prongs &
the
just
letting
go, 
where the time spent pushing the body to the limit of
experience is not restrained
by these complications
which leave us stirring days later
in wonder---
no,
the spent, exhausted body,
will suffice.

and just think,
one kiss started it all
one key in the hole
one lightning strike deep into the furthest reservoir
of our splashing sex---
moist
lips
will
quiver 
best
when
licked.

A Silhouette

Plush red velvet pillows rest  secluded
light bent amid scenic shoji screens
ornate vines twist and turn giving way
a silhouette stares ahead without face 

Pin pricked blood blackened by pain
drips  holes drilled out   stitched
loop by loop  the fabrics of life 
tying up loose-end-less thoughts 

Time  still  lost but never found
feelings frost within a frigid wind
felt  in the recesses of the dark
trembling  fingers wave farewell
© Tim Smith  Create an image from this poem.

Words

Took a walk down the road that she said I’d been on,
took notes of the words I’d forgotten. 
Those I could remember, could be returned to sender
if I weren't now the only one.
 
My conscience is bleeding, I'm tying up knots
in my stomach and kneading them out like emptied lots
in the night, quiet,
deadly silent, fading with the fog.
Let it come clear and I’m still here, silent, waiting on that song
spoken so softly, of old lovers in repair;
a promise to another in the end I’d see you there.

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