Short Collarbone Poems
Short Collarbone Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Collarbone by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Collarbone by length and keyword.
Pass me along
a pair of drumsticks
so I can create
vibrating calypso melodies
on the steel drums
found within the bones of my collar
Ah! So greets two pairs of earthy toned eyes,
Four arms extending towards warm embrace,
Four lips kissing, a collarbone pecked; Sighs!
Sparks ignite flames in this familiar place.
I saw you watching me
as I fingered my collarbone,
so unconscious of the world.
You felt the need to comment
on how easily I lose myself
to another reality. I thought,
for a moment,
maybe you were just fantasy.
She's tough.
Ana's tougher.
Barely seventeen, five stone
Gaunt and battered, she stands alone
Dependent on the lone knife that slays her.
I wish I could, she tells her food.
But Ana says I can't.
One day, she'll win.
She's tough.
If I kissed your collarbone
What would your expression give away?
Hip bones are more sensual I suppose—
But Diana was all ankles and wrists.
Arch your back, chaste Aphrodite, the Madonna turns away
Fingers should stay on necks and shoulder blades.
Honey light pools
in my collarbone
this slow golden ache,
like swallowing laughter
backwards until my ribs hum.
Someone should bottle this fever,
this sugar-bright bruising
where joy pressed too hard:
tender and electric and mine,
all mine.
I saw you watching me
as I fingered my collarbone,
unconscious of the world.
It's strange how slow old scars can fade.
You felt the need to comment
on how easily I lose myself
to another place. I know it's true,
but I couldn't help resenting
the way you said it.
"Maybe you are only fantasy,"
was my reply.
The mark you left on my collarbone
Immersing itself with the red glow in the room
Your fingers still doing your thing through my hairs
As the smoke from your cigarette fills up my lungs
That’s when you whispered into my ears
While I was too high on your love
“do you still want me?” you asked
And I begged for more!
Feelin’ fine,
Got some crazy thoughts-
Wavering in my mind,
Garlic on my breath,
In my mouth,
On my taste buds,
It keeps them at bay,
The rasp of their voices,
With their sheer speed-
They are upon me,
Licking my body with their harsh tongues,
Rough patches anoint my collarbone,
My shrill scream slays the demonic silence.
I’m wrapped in your soft, willow arms.
I arch my neck as the sun plants kisses of sweet honeydew down to my collarbone.
Your light breath, a breeze, brushes my cheek and touch’s my senses.
Wild flowers grow where your fingertips trace my skin.
Buttercups
Indian paintbrush
Queen Anne's Lace
A wonderland of colors, scents, and smells.
I get drunk on your love Mother Nature.
afterward no talk
you came with your cold collarbone
pushing your own barrow
if it's money you want
why not work the streets
cutting corners won't cut it
in the emotive sphere
relationships won't last
where deception rules
cogs click into one another
up a gear and under a cloud
where the angel dust
lingers on your
stiff upper lip
all that remains is
cold sweat and
afterward no talk.
final waltzing
heartbeat beating
in one-two-three
one-two-theee
skip and stutter
wrist bones creak
repeat the stance
there’s more to learn yet
in the filtered half-light
skip and stutter
mirrored twins
shattered
pieces of collarbone
fracture into heaving shoulders
skip and stutter
without the crooning sonata
she’s just a stupid, sad girl
spinning in infinite spirals
skipping
and stuttering
Time seems to stand still,
when laying in our bed.
Is our love real,
or all in my head?
Time seems to stand still,
while looking into your eyes.
In the fields of daffodil,
us together is paradise!
Time seems to stand still,
when we're together alone.
Your kisses are such a thrill,
especially on the collarbone!
Time seems to stand still,
and our love rings true.
These intense emotions I feel,
can only come from you!!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Grammy’s pearl necklace~
still warm from her collarbone,
now cool in my hands,
each bead a closed eye.
Pop’s pocket watch still ticks,
though no one winds it~
his thumbprint smudged
on the glass like a ghost.
Mom's wedding ring
left on the windowsill,
collecting sunlight
and fingerprints.
These things I cherish
but never use,
these small,
heavy ghosts.