Long Dermal Poems
Long Dermal Poems. Below are the most popular long Dermal by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Dermal poems by poem length and keyword.
Yes, you're one sexy witch, dear love, but now it's Halloween,
And I've a witchy tale to share, so keep your broom between ...
Five decades hence I knew the thrills of flesh, and did imbibe,
Yet there's but one that's apt to still pop up, let me describe:
It starts with just a tickled tip that twitches toward my toes,
As oft' can be a grandeur glitch, until what's grander, grows.
In dermal terms, my skin can squirm to feel infirmed and wet,
What fairer sexes call 'the glow', (we lesser-fair's call 'sweat').
Now when that glow has burst, I'm first immersed in finding you,
For you've the spunky junk to free the monkey from his zoo.
I'm damned if I can speak, my cheeks just bubble up with suds,
The things that hang or dangle, cursed to tangle with my duds.
I'm apt to find my fingers filled with zippers, buttons, snaps ...
And spouting things like "I love you", to fill the awkward gaps.
Those tickles turn to tingles and they mingle through an urge,
That brings our things together 'midst a single clinging merge.
Its fever gives new meaning to the old phrase come-and-gone,
And your sexy pose, (and fewer clothes), will always bring it on.
Now please don't fear, my vixen dear, when tickling has begun,
No stopping what is popping up, there's lots of hopping fun ...
The barrel of my kitschy gun has schemes it needs to hatch,
And when my love-lust itches, hon, it's you I aim to scratch!
Written and submitted on October 21, 2019
For the "Itch, Witch, Glitch, Or Twitch" Poetry Contest
Nina Parmenter, Sponsor.
you course in my veins with prurience, wild
immersing my marrow in urge, recompiled
teceptors abducted the instant you smiled
love's effigy flaming, my sinews defiled
all virtue forsaken, as tears from a child
fidelity's prospects are henceforth reviled
I inject you, narcotic - my opiate, pure
a caustic and carnal contingency's cure
delectably dressed with diabolic allure
such dermal sublimity, surface demure
I taste of your shapes, corporeal contour
skin softly savored, goosebumped and bare
your tang on my tongue, the nectar I share
our sugar rush potion for ravishment, rare
mixed in a kiss with the strands of your hair
your ecstatic delirium inculcates my core
I'm lost to a lust that's not lasted before
tinged with an aching that day would abhor
velvet and warm are the walls of your fire
addicted to you with a crave to be higher
you are my medicine, the tonic I chug
I am infected, lubricious and riled
lavished in sensual senses so sure
imbibing the essence of you without care
mixed in like poison, I stir you and pour
swallow in gulps, the consequence, dire
you are my opiate ... you are my drug.
addicted to you.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Strand Choice M, Any Form, Any Theme" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.
( This is a new form I created named "Minuanetta", with a rhyme scheme of aaaaaa, bbbbb, cccc, ddd, ee, f, abcdef g (title) ).
all my senses ...
long to make sense ... of YOU
what greets my gaze is perfect imperfection
lines and curves and shapes and
colors and movements
mingled with sacred intent in sublime symmetry -
features that alone might be found disconcerting
collectively arranged in ways that
steal the steadiest of breaths
and define envy
for the gods themselves ...
then, a scent ethereal ...
weaving its quiet way into my head and blood
bewitching my mind with a rarefied air of
you and Je Reviens -
an intoxicating mix of essences, visceral
aromas that rival breezes from the
of Gardens of Babylon
and send the mind spinning ...
tumbling ...
to say your voice is music
would be doing it an extraordinary injustice
like some anointed dove from heaven
it lilts on the atmosphere
and when you press it tenderly to
my ear in wafted whispers
its voltaic song penetrates my coursings
and ignites my core
harmony and heat and will ...
aria and fire ...
I live for the feel of you ...
your skin is warm satin and silk
a catkin corporeality -
electric and responsively raw
sexy little bumps erupt at my touch
your perky bow lips -
an alluring mix of raspberries and chili peppers
and the indescribable perfection of
your hand in mine
as though your fingers were created from
the spaces between ...
and oh, your taste ...
the many flavors of you are like a
banquet of rare piquancy
your mouth a tangy, sugary bubblegum treat
dermal surfaces, savory and salty -
a tease for where they lead …
and your unique angelic nectar
like some exotic potion
created and sanctified to bind my
marrow biochemically
and render me ...
unhinged …
yes -
all my senses ...
long to make sense of YOU
yet I pray like a child that they never do
for the joy is in the journey ...
and the divine …
discovery.
~ 5th Place ~ in the "Five Senses" Poetry Contest, Viv Wigley, Judge & Sponsor.
Wrinkles
Manifold are the etches upon a dermal layer
A masterpiece of lineage but for some to despair
With aims to erase the folds with manifold lotion
Instead of nurturing them with love and devotion
A map of years and tales is what they represent
To be admired without the slightest bit of resent
Each little groove and tell-tale crease reflects a time
Of happiness and contentment and laughter line
And times of sadness expressed in downward frown
A furrowed brow bears times of stress and worry
Other folds recall an age of joy and making merry
It’s easier to smile than grimace, glare and scowl
Those lines will gain a stronghold upon a droopy jowl
No matter age or gender the wrinkle has a place
Adding character, beauty and stature to every type of face
So confront the mirror honestly and peer at what’s before
Smile and see a face to love or scowl at one to abhor
- breath blushes blue between us ...
you ask the question
THAT question
so, you're requesting rationality, lucidity
when you stand before me dressed in pure starlight
ONLY starlight, with moon drops in your eyes
splashing your coy smile like rare south sea pearls
damp from our cool evening swim, you shiver
dancing drops of dazzling diamond dew
shimmer like dermal constellations
turning your sublime surfaces into an ocean of sprites -
haute couture by the Cosmos
precious few and precious, times like these
when those definitions of love made in youth -
those confusing impulses of the emotional and physical
swirl and spin and wrap me like fleece
passion, desire, beauty … and love
spun together like soft cotton candy -
sweet and sticky and warm on the lips
melting together with THAT question, THAT concern
but what IS true? what defines "reality"?
what will last beyond this intense need to have you
to know you, taste you, every tender centimeter
every curvaceous, sublime, secret spot?
you stand there, perfectly imperfect, pert and saucy
form covered in tiny bumps of enticing invitation
your body’s braille, pleading
steam rising into the cool evening air
like a sigh from your skin
waiting for my answer - my affirmation
but I am mute ...
entranced ...
numb …
- I will let my body … speak.
~ 2nd Place ~ in the "Splash" Poetry Contest, Kai Michael Neumann, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 4th Place ~ in the "2019 Poetry Marathon Mile 24" Poetry Contest, Mark Toney, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 2nd Place ~ in the "Screwed XVIII" Poetry Contest, Rob Carmack, Judge & Sponsor. (No cliche's via PS Cliche Finder).
~ 10th Place ~ in the "Best Free Verse In April - Not For A Contest" Poetry Contest, Laura Loo, Judge & Sponsor.
would, that there were four of me
the ways that I could pleasure thee
each tentacle to tender tickle
fancied freckles, firm or fickle
one all-at-once massage, divine -
all hands on deck, in grand design
perceptive palms with petting jives
could raise a rash of ‘rotic hives
oh, goosebumps of the finest kind
quadrupled thus to blow your mind
four tens of fingers, fixed just SO
to warm the embers down below
mass touches placed with dermal love
bear moans from zones rare spoken of
pray how could one but NOT adore
a mate like me, (and mine) …
times FOUR?!?
Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden, March 16, 2023
to swim the abyss ...
dark depths of a sparkling gaze -
your coy, captive eyes
to touch electric ...
my fingers find warm welcome -
your dermal landscape
to kiss hot and sweet ...
tender chili pepper lips -
your fiery flavor
to savor and sip ...
the places hushed and hidden -
your nectar, luscious
to imbibe you whole ...
honeyed, sour, tangy, and tart -
your wine ... drunkens me.
~ 2nd Place ~ in the "Best Haiku Ever Old Or New" Poetry Contest, Chantelle Anne Cooke, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 10th Place ~ in the "Multiple Haikus" Poetry Contest, Jamie Pan, Judge & Sponsor.
Heaven's always weeping
Just to grace your lash
Cobalt iris' peeping
Midst your eyelid sash
Gem-like water shimmers
Rainbows on your face
Shiny dermal glimmers
Spark your sultry grace
Misty tresses dancing
Through a soaked ballet
Raindrops softly glancing
Scattered with your sway
Stormy weather magic
Conjured by your smile
Chances, waxing tragic
Should it not ... beguile.
* FIRST PLACE in the "88 Syllables" Poetry Contest, Joseph May, Sponsor. Syllables checked at HowManySyllables.com. *
* FIFTH PLACE in the "Early March 18 Premiere" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Sponsor. *
a bouquet …
exquisitely exquisite
like naught else on this gilded planet
blooming on tender branches
supple and swaying
‘una flor fragante’
silken and sweet
pink petals open to entice … entirely
it’s lilt, aromatic
whirls thoughts like an eggbeater into
a carnal chaos
it’s synergy directing a
divine dermal dissolution of discretion
bane of the omnipotent
the fearless turned fools for its magic …
and madness …
inviolate or prurient
it has made kings out of paupers
twisted wills to wars
spun orbs on their axes
and made the universe of unions
ache for its aspect
the imperfect perfection of its
bewildering allurement
and the satiny seduction of
it’s beguiling floret -
the flower …
feminine.
( photographic art created copyright-free by the author with GALA AI software )
my ...
fingers are
tactile moonbeams …
and like that porcelain light
I let them dance upon you, bare -
tiptoe across your shy
places with a
delicate (but deliberate)
adoration ...
many, the times they've made
this dermal sojourn
yet each is as if the first -
softer, sweeter, more
sure that the journey is as savory
as it’s delicious end …
each inch, it's own mystery
here-and-there your flesh jumps and
rises as you coo and sigh -
little bumps follow that spread
to the rest of you
like moonlite spattering the sea …
but your sea is mine -
an ocean of tender integument
beneath my touch …
much deeper
and darker
warmer …
and where I
long to …
drown.
~ POETRY AGAINST POVERTY ~
( photographic art created copyright-free by the author with Gemini AI / Meta AI software )