Xviii Poems - Poems about Xviii

Venus,Goddess of Love sans her mascara central lady in Sandro's' La Primavera'* Simonetta Vespucci as this supermodel To Bottecelli close-ups were a doddle...

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I’ve started seeing faces of once strangers reappear with time they don’t spare a smile for me perhaps I’m still a stranger to them the mother with a cart full of fresh produce and peanuts, a daughter eating grapes the steel-toed man at the sandwich counter who eats absolutely no tomato I can feel the warmth in the quilted fabric of our lives, slowly...

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We maneuver moonlight with such finesse they often call us children of darkness; I touched the copper dripping from my fangs upon my lips this liquid life force hangs; Warm daylight’s melody will decompose stars cradle us within southern shadows; So many people they stopped and then killed to ensure this dark instinct was fulfilled; Suddenly I...

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EARLY POEMS XVIII You didn't have time by Michael R. Burch You didn't have time to love me, always hurrying here and hurrying there; you didn't have time to love me, and you didn't have time to care. You were playing a reel like a fiddle half-strung: too busy for love, "too old" to be young . . . Well, you didn't have time,...

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Trauma—it is near and dear to us, There is a need to embrace it, But it spits at us like a wild beast, Not wanting compassion— Nourishment is its need, And justice is its desire— Resolve—it longs for relief, For unspeakable pains thrive inside The sound of its crying pierces you— It is cradled in the open air, By a loving voice— The voice of...

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wanky wit is not moist motive; hoisted hankering damp feelings dark denotations foils fleshened salient smothers, sil'ette slackened wielded wit ain't fame - fostered fleas la-de-da lurch humming pored pleas meagre magnanimity strained vying voluptuous veils, torn traits wedged wit ain't manipulation: pruning pored chances, gaunt punctures sassy stances trailing tactic track jiggery-pokery plumes packs wisdom ain't taking advantage it's a game of patience and rage. ...

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T, Whipped in with the passion fruit pavlova your love dangles me, caresses me so so delicately; tongued, swirled, teased then tasted ~ ~ oh so so heavenly sent and enjoyed on this my very very special Christmas Eve night a dessert destined to destroy then rebuild deliciousness delivered and devoured in creases where trust is created in more than a meal pursed lips...

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walking uphill the old man kicks a can...

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IF YOU PULL A LONG FACE : Part XVIII IF you pull a long dopey face The least one can in this case say You don't belong to the eskimo race Who lament the sun sunk in iced bay Now if you pull that long limp face Hoping someone will notice your dismay Best not to peek through burka-nikah lace Take the next...

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IF EVER I HAD A COUNTRY : XVII - XVIII XVII IF ever I had a country And if ever I were the Minister...

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SONNET XVIII FOLLOW CHRIST Not to be More Catholic Than the Pope –often said but, what if What if the Pope is not Catholic Enough? Hello, here is the point, That in the Race of Christianity, No Man However so Esteemed Esteemed and Approved by People Is Fit Enough to be our Standard. The only Standard is Christ Hence, Not Pope-like, but Christ-like, Christ-like Not Bishop or...

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If loving how Donald doth rule Did you worship bullies at school? The wealth off our backs Will pool at Goldman Sachs While you fools and mules are his tool! Author's Note: It is evident that Mr. t-rump loves profits (even at the expense of the environment). Profits generally flow to the rich, and we expect to...

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Unquotable quotes: Leftists – XVIII (Note: What goes for the Left can go for the Right, too. All you need to do is to interpose the words wherever possible. Don’t read ideological warfare where there is none intended.) If the Left is right, the Right cannot be in the right. The more the Left splits right down the...

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In hell is called Malebolge a site Completely made of ferrous color stones As almost all the rim around looks quite. Of the malignant field the middle zones Are the seat for a well much wide and deep, Of which I will portray order it owns. The remaining band is then round and steep Between the well and the so...

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She’d recite the fairest refrains As upon marble texture I languish Moxie was her focus to sway me I, never once yearning to retreat, Became enveloped by an aura of passion Spry was the breeze that descended From the design ‘twas her lovely palms...

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