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And here we have poetry. This one’s amazing, for lots of reasons. Lower-case is rare, but she’s capitalized “I”. I’m sure she wrote it, too, sitting there by the mirror, so carefully. I come to you on my knees tonight I
Mile High Club - A Poem I wrote on the Plane
A favourite of mine (“Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening” by Robert Frost, 1922)
I have bounded my worship I spurn your supple limbs Your sinuous swerving form The pert attention of your twin deities The fiery cascade waterfall of hair Just keep your perfect gaze on me And I’ll keep faith in you ~Arjay Eiff
The Game (2) **Leather on my left cheekYour boot caresses meLeather on my right cheekWith the quirt you guide my gazeUp your inner thighTo the moistness on your quim*All of my desireIs compressed into my eyesMy swelling need constrictedBy the binding
Your Body (II) * * All the places I would like to kiss:Clavicle and ankleSacrum, a small bite on your philtrumMillipeding up the left inner thighThe warm space beneath your breastsInside both elbows and behind both kneesReverently on the eyes, playfully
Your Body #2 ** All the places I would like to kiss: Clavicle and ankle Sacrum, a small bite on your philtrum Millipeding up the left inner thigh The warm space beneath your breasts Inside both elbows and behind both knees Reverently on the eyes, playfull
Soft launch today on Lulu and it is FREE! I’ll put the price up to a dollar in a couple of weeks, so get in quick. In return if you have feedback, error traps that my editor and I missed, or you spot code failures then please drop me a line.
Fukyu
The first time ever you sucked my dickI saw my cum splash on your eyesAnd to swallow not spit was the gift you gaveTo the pale and spurting stream of my spermTo the pale and spurting streamThe first time ever I pierced your assI felt your ring tight on
explore-blog: Poetry on poetry by writer and artist Natt Różańska, reminiscent of Austin Kleon’s Newspaper Blackout project.
aliascquinn: You can’t and I know it, so I hold on while you make up your mind. Mine was the first heartbeat you listened to, and you don’t seem to realize that I can hear yours too; a steady, patient sound which never lies to me.
aliascquinn: “I thank you for your part in my journey” -C. Quinn
xxx
incidentalcomics: The National Department of Poetry Each year, billions of dollars are spent on our country’s vast, complex poetry system. Our goal: to promote the practice of poetry among our own people, and to share the joys of poetry with all the
thecolorsofmymind: It is the hour to be drunken. To escape being the martyred slave of time, be ceaselessly drunk. On wine, on poetry, on virtue … as you wish. ~ Beaudelaire
fallen-into-her-arms: Hands held back… …knees on the floor. I present myself… … to the woman I adore. Head bowed… …I wait to please her. She approaches… …I can hear an amused purr. Her hand petting… …then gripping my hair. Pulling
“Poetry In Motion” Amelie, my dance mentor and collaborator
sociologique: Variation On The Word Sleep by Margaret Atwood (via typewriterblues)
Erotic Poetry Columbia We make love I call it making love because it pisses him off When he gets pissed off, he tries to hurt me. Our safe word is Columbia. I have never said it. He has. It unnerves him. He whispered “Columbia” when I pulled A ziptie
Humble Beginnings Teenage dreams are humble beginnings. Decision time! Nonsensical hope of life. Ding - Dong, Just a couple of words. Great week on the devil’s highway. The pain barrier takes care of devalued concepts, But does it matter? Lost
dombarra: Lo͚͇̦̫͕̟̱ose̼̖̪̰̭̻̲ ̹͎͉̣ͅạnd͚̝͈̙͓ Ṯ̮͍̯̙͇i͕͉̪̖̳ͅg̲͉ḥ̮̖͇͚̖t̙̱̙͎̞͕̥̼̫͎͍̖ͅS̻̥̥h̯e̺͇̙͖̱ w͓̲̗̯̯a͎̮̺s̗̤͖̜̯̝̝ ̲̩͙l͙̤o͍o͙̦̰k̥i̦̩n̝̭g͙͖̫̠̹ ̰s͕͇̙o̬̼̪͕̦̰
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In a world dominated by images what’s the meaning of words? I just wanted to be a poet! See the full project on NewHive… http://newhive.com/dombarra/g00gl3-34rch-1m4g3-p03try
loverstabbedaswordthroughmyheart: i-was-so-alone-and-iou-so-much: vangoghstars: sparkafterdark: glamour-parade: How do you politely tell someone that you want them naked on top of you I’m pretty much positive that’s why poetry was even invented
lifeinpoetry: “In your love I am sometimes redeemed / a stranger / to myself.” — June Jordan, from “On Your Love,” Directed By Desire: The Collected Poems of June Jordan
shrinemaidens: MYTHIC POETRY series: And in the moment he in his chariot spun as a gore, tore her with him into the shades and off in the night on the other side of the earth. [“Hymn to Proserpine” – Charles Olson]
somnoroasa: “be honest. the wounds have been bearable thus far. & who isn’t bruised around the edges, peaches poured into the truckbed, receipts faded to white? i have only ever wanted to bite down hard on whatever was offered to my hot, grasping
sadyoungliterarygirls: “On an October night when witchery can occur…” — Anne Sexton, from The Complete Poems (1999); “February Third,” (via violentwavesofemotion)
weltenwellen:Tracy K. Smith, from “Don’t You Wonder, Sometimes?”, Life on Mars
feral-ballad:Clementine Von Radics, from In A Dream You Saw A Way To Survive; “On punching the dude who tried to pull me out of the pit:”
noonies: siddharthasmama: 90% of me is wanting to get that bottom couplet tattooed on me, jesus christ. ^^^^^ i 1000% support this
screwballdame: enough poetry about loving me despite my imperfections. my scars are not invitations to kiss my skin. i did not go through hell for you to insist that the burning coals i walked on didn’t happen; didn’t exist.
publicdescriptionsofthemoon: on being raised on fairy tales in which you are the monster // a. m. h.
Someone just died, but I’m still alive, and yet I don’t have a soul anymore. All I have left is a transparent body, inside of which transparent doves hurl themselves on a transparent dagger held by a transparent hand. I see struggle in all
essaysanddnd: “If birds wrote down their songs they would have been forgotten long ago.” — Humberto Ak’Abal, “If Birds”For more on how this poem works, i.e. “Is it a mic drop?”
Tumblr on We Heart It - http://weheartit.com/entry/52634785/via/DavidPR
blackpxwer: atarahxoxo: sapphiredoves: bryism: sapphiredoves: “Open Letter to Kylie Jenner” The Fuze Philadelphia Poetry Grand Slam Championship 4.24.16 this is the same young lady that did the slam poetry on black women and mental illnesses
Fantastic poetry; read it.
Guys I’m just so excited to consider sending my poetry to publishers i really feel like I’m going on the right track
tried (well I did) write a poem about all of the women I have been involved with. After realizing that this would be an extremely long poem, I narrowed it down to the women that had the most affect on my life. Also, those that I to think I had affected
something I've been working on
moleculess: fuck you by Doublethink Design on Flickr.
Stop yelling at me I am not the punching bag your voice lands on when you’re angry every word damages my self esteemStop yelling at me I have scars made of syllables and consonants I do not deserve your verbal garbage I do not deserve
Poetry is the evidence of life
bluebeardsbride: “Modern language is deeply suffused with the long-standing association of the heart with emotional states. We talk of a heart fit to burst, learn things by heart, engage in heart-to-hearts or have our heart set on something. If we
Life as a [Gay] Side Dude - I met your dude- He is such a slut- He only wants your money- He wants me just to fuck- I fuck him from behind- And when I’m bout to bust- I pull the condom off and I nutt right on his butt
kingredzrose: Life as a [Gay] Side Dude - I met your dude- He is such a slut- He only wants your money- He wants me just to fuck- I fuck him from behind- And when I’m bout to bust- I pull the condom off and I nutt right on his butt
I grew my hair so you have something to grab on to while I eat you out.
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oliveryeh: Charles Bukowski’s last poem (faxed to his publisher). “On February 18, 1994 Hank had a fax machine installed at his home. He sent me his first fax message in the form of that poem. I’m sure he visualized sending me his future letters
gayuser: god, she’s beautiful. by live love laugh dream~ on Flickr.
Sit on a stone wall for hours on end.Don’t look at the passersby.Put to your lips a smoking lightBecause people won’t know you aren’t the age.You can pass for older than your years,kid.Because the pain they can see on your faceusually
I wish there was a Neosporin for the cuts on my heart @destiny-idgaf
I would love nothing more than to somehow have had the opportunity to meet Sylvia Plath. In my final year of school it’s obligatory for us, to study various poets, who are without a doubt extremely skilled. But when you compare the poetry of Plath
on We Heart It.
feral-ballad:Clementine Von Radics, from In A Dream You Saw A Way To Survive; “You are on the floor crying”
![shrinemaidens: MYTHIC POETRY series: And in the moment he in his chariot spun as a gore, tore her with him into the shades and off in the night on the other side of the earth. [“Hymn to Proserpine” – Charles Olson]](https://64.media.tumblr.com/a4b73293a7ad98bf3b51d08af660f501/tumblr_n8q4p9QYyP1qb5yq5o1_250.png)
