Archival Review

[LeBroz]

.
.
.

For those who may have missed the mention {and for those with a foot fetish}, here's neonurotic's view of a thrill:


Eve's Red Shoes
by neonurotic©

"He doesn't listen to me"
quivers, her collagen lips
stamping, ruby heels

an exclamation point
for her crisis

I don't hear her either
although I pretend
with a nod
a sympathetic smile

because good friends do that

But her blouse is too tight
and neckline too low
to hold my attention elsewhere

All I can think of
is her buck-assed naked
grabbing red shoes

doing her over
in a field of purple clover



thanks
WickedEve​

.
.
.
.

 

[LeBroz]

.
.
.

A light and cute relationship poem — sounds like a life-long date:


Crush
by zell19861986©


"You're pretty"
She giggles and runs away
I chase after
Five years pass
We're finally going out
We giggle over that day
The day I told her she's pretty
The day she kissed me
Three years pass
We're on the rocks
Still working on it though
I tell her she's pretty
She runs away
I chase after
Twenty years pass
We still laugh over that day
The day I told her she's pretty
The day I asked her to marry me

.
.
.
.

 

[LeBroz]

.
.
.

Here's another one of our poems lifted by the infamous Heather Larsen.


Things Learned from Gravity
by MinorMonster©

.
.
.
.

 

[Angeline]

.
.
.

Here's another one of our poems lifted by the infamous Heather Larsen.


Things Learned from Gravity
by MinorMonster©

.
.
.
.

That is an excellent poem, a very creative use of illustration (that darn Liar is sooo creative).

And Heather Larson is one sad excuse for a human being (notice I did NOT say poet).

 

[LeBroz]

.
.
.

This poem was listed as non-erotic? And after what she does to his sweetmeat?


Crushed
by tungtied2u©


gently at first, it begins.
tender soles rolling across
firm skins, applying pressure.

juice filled orbs
stretch and burst,
warm flesh oozes,exposed

as the weight increases
and the strokes speed
showing no mercy.

life's blood is squeezed,
sweetmeats are trampled
underfoot,wrenching out all

that was once fresh
and succulent, until only
an empty, bitter hull remains.

and having emptied you,
she retires to sip the wine
and consider future harvests.
__________________


.
.
.
.

 

[LeBroz]

.
.
.

The power of a vampire's smile — or is it the power of a woman's smile? Or maybe, from the male's viewpoint, there's not much difference.


Cyanide Smile
by Wanton Vixxxen©


"Cyanide Smile"
By
Wanton Vixxxen


It’s already too late.

The smile that’s claimed so many lives
now stuns your very soul
and has stupefied your love sick mind
with thoughts you can’t control

She smiles that drug of killer want;
the dose that makes you crave
She destroys with potency it wields;
leaving nothing left to save

Deadly potion of those two lips you kiss
has dropped you to your knees
In paralyzed state you barely breathe
Her smile; a lethal tease

She seeped into your dreams tonight
Like toxic waste of lust
That filled your heart in smiles laced with
your betrayed; now poisoned trust

You were left to die in writhing pain;
victim of her baneful smiles
As your body still screamed with tainted need
for her evil venomous wiles

You awoke, a last chance antidote
hoped for heartbreak’s tortured gloom
You turned over in bed and succumbed to that smile...

And just sealed your fate of doom.


.
.
.
.

 

[LeBroz]

.
.
.

You just know they're out there — you can sense them out of the corner of your eye but they move too fast to catch sight of when you turn your head.


Dear Ghosts
by Angeline©

.
.
.
.

 

[LeBroz]

.
.
.

Here's one to keep your mind working as you strive to decipher its meaning.


down
by neonurotic©

.
.
.
.

 

[LeBroz]

.
.
.

It's been three years since smithpeter departed to weave his creative magic elsewhere in the universe but he did leave us a trove of his creative genius, which finds us richer for having experienced his writings.


the sad bunny
by smithpeter©


the sad bunny

aside from his whiskers
back folding knees and tall ears
he appeared as human as you and I
a compliment to you
(plus paws)

his breath sweet as lettuce
fermentation,
his walk-away
mellowed irregulation

walking way past the boundaries
beyond the barriers
the starscapes and exploding suns,
-oh never mind-

late adolescent rabbit dapper
of Université de Couverture Seul Il
located on an island on a pond on
another part of another island

unprepared for the air traffic to Island Strum
conical tower confuses the flight in of Bunny
and consort, a lady lanky and need to hide
protect and shelter her selves as well as new
whiskered protector.

the crash against wind and glass, native cuisine
in market unremarked by local media as there is none,
wake in surf of sauce and reddish ruddy juice
gravity enhanced for drip and napkin society.
this now a honeymoon slurp, the employer and dick
lick each others bi-species tendencies
they both feel

a disgrace, a found object that glinted,
Bunny and his lover’s revolting opinions
now lovers, kissers, door openers and
cigarette lighters,

Private Dick Bunny
Leaps,
Says YES as bunnies do-
the opposite that what is good for a god and a country
groom your ears, mind your tail

it was a tune in the bar, her leg out slit and reaching
”Bunny dear, Bunny,”
he always has shadow cast brow and diminutive eyes.
”Bunny dear, Bunny. Come to my Religion. It is a shore of bliss and reply to your every whim and kites are everywhere.”
Bunny considers the Eel wife’s invitation for this branded immortality…

.
.
.
.

 

[LeBroz]

.
.
.

Here's one with good imagery, letting the reader's imagination run with the picture created — what is she doing, where is she going — myriad possibilities abound, limited only by the reader.


Evensong
by SeattleRain©


...

is it her intent
to demand such attention
with her still, silent beauty?

an easy, empty gaze over the edge
where water meets land meets sky
she pretends to ignore the foriegn voices
while imagining they speak only of her

high black strapped shoe,
heel hangs from rail, posed
crow purple sequins catch sun,
reflecting danger while leaning in,
casual seduction of elbows resting
on smooth metal,
saigon bound

women never wore mens hats
this time, this place
but there she was, in her father's
wide rim and left behind-
slightly lowered over right eye

rope ties slip through metal holes
into water, sinking slow, disappear
and the water bus is freed.

dark plum smoke and
loud low rumble of the motor
rise,
and go

...

.
.
.
.

 

[LeBroz]

.
.
.

Fascinating. Read the poem without the illustration and you'll probably come away with a different impression.


Drift
by Lauren Hynde©

Silently
as if you were no one

As if you didn't have a name a house
a city

As if you were a simple root
growing
in the sun

You
sit on the dune
contemplating the sea

.
.
.
.

 

[LeBroz]

.
.
.

Another little erotic piece from the mind of daughter...


no vacancies
by daughter©


Space behind my lids,
smooth surfaces between breasts
and thighs, slight high.
You settle, sigh, content to
fill that space;
no longer empty.

You like it there;
I like it that you like it here
feeling this space,
warm, settled, content, I sigh.

Full in this place we’ve made
between thighs, slight high,
smooth surfaces between
breasts,
space behind my lids.

.
.
.
.

 

[LeBroz]

.
.
.

It's Mother's Day ~~ did Mother ever act or look like this?


I Am the Poem
by Angeline©

.
.
.
.

 

[LeBroz]

.
.
.

Actually, it seems the poem, depressing as it is, stands better on its own without the illustration.


Jar of Me
by Elizabetht©

Thick impenetrable glass encases me
I can see you Master walking by me
Each day you turn my jar some
I look to you hopefully wondering if today will be the day

Please Master let me out
I have been a good girl
I only wanted to love you completely
Please understand

The day goes by and you continue upon your way
I don’t understand why you won’t pull off the top
Why can’t I climb out into the world with you
Tears of frustration slip down my face as the darkness of the night comes

Are you ashamed of me?
Was there or is there another that is so much better then I?
Please Master I can try harder
I can be better

I watch as you open other jars each day
Here I am, nose lips hands pressed to the glass
Soon I do not even look outside anymore
There is no point

My hair becomes brittle
Skin pale and ashen
The muscles of my once gently rounded body weak from no use
My body surrendering to the end, even if my mind won’t

Until one day
I am simply no more
I don’t sit up when you turn my jar
I do not stir

Finally when it is too late
You open the jar, setting the lid to the side
Your firm hand reaching in and pulling my body out
No movement no sounds slip forth

My soul has fled
It would not and could not be killed with the neglect
The other girls in the jars look out in fear at my still form
You pick me up and take me outside

Gently my body is laid among the flowers
The scents of them overwhelming
The kiss of the sun that I so desperately longed for now touching me
The fresh earth warm to the icy body

All I wanted was to be noticed and cherished just a little
But you had your jar of me
You wanted for nothing else
And I wanted for everything else​

.
.
.
.

 

[Guest]

gone.

 

[LeBroz]

.
.
.

Here's one with the sense of the eternal ~ or is it maternal ~ looking down upon and embracing all of creation.


Gemini
by Angeline©

.
.
.
.

 

[LeBroz]

.
.
.

Very nice but the best part is Eve's comment about Liar's melt-my-panties voice.


Lullaby
by Liar©


* * * * *

Click Here to hear the poem. (0.5 min/RealMedia)
You need Real Player to listen to this file.

* * * * *

nobody told me
that sometimes you fall
through a liquorice dream
losing sight of it all
and your hand on my shoulder
together we blush
in a panic attack
and a cardiac rush

so hush baby slide
into slumber again
I'll listen for you
to the song in your chest
safeguarded graces
to stifle the pain
my hand on your heart
and my ear on your breast

.
.
.
.

 

[LeBroz]

.
.
.

The title reminds me of another poem, Black Dog Tides, which I added to this thread a few months ago; part of life's ongoing rollercoaster experience.


Feeding the Black Dog
by neonurotic©

.
.
.
.

 

[LeBroz]

.
.
.

Here's a little controversy from daughter in looking at all these conflicts from a different perspective. Sure to get somebody's panties in a wad.


Holy War: America Trains Her Soldiers On Sunday
by daughter©


We listen intently
We believe.
We hold steadfast to Righteousness
And His love. Our God,
Our Truth and salvation.

We slaughter with conviction.
Only one Way. No way,
no how, can we allow
Another.

We thank Him for His love
And His mercy.
We stand on Righteousness.
Slay solider. Slaughter them.
Our way is the Way.
No way for them.

They look like you.
Bleed like you.
But they are not you.
They do not BELIEVE
like you.

Slaughter them.
No way, no how.
We will not love them.

Hold steadfast to Righteousness
And His love. Our God.
Our Truth And salvation.

Only one way,
our way,
one voice.
Righteousness is our
salvation.

.
.
.
.

 

[LeBroz]

.
.
.

Just read it a few times — anything I'd say would just be anticlimactic.

~ Touching the sun
by neonurotic©

Bright rays dazzle
my side of the cliff

No highlight on self-deception
Everyone sees, but me

I've been told
it's too dangerous to walk
blind into the sun
without sunblock or shades

I believe it's true because
every day I wake up
barefaced, kissing lies
torched with 3rd degree burns

A little charmed delusion
makes my vision crystal

I talk with a mouthful of ashes
while touching the sun​

.
.
.
.

 

[LeBroz]

.
.
.

I wonder how the "classic" poets would respond to the creative possiblities available to the computer user. Here's Lauren's approach, which might cause dogmatic purists' blood to boil.


hear my name...
by Lauren Hynde©

.
.
.
.

 

[Maria2394]

.
.
.

I wonder how the "classic" poets would respond to the creative possiblities available to the computer user. Here's Lauren's approach, which might cause dogmatic purists' blood to boil.


hear my name...
by Lauren Hynde©

.
.
.
.

This frustrates me to NO end. I never could enjoy this work by Lauren, even on my new computer.... what am i doin wrong???

 

[Tzara]

This frustrates me to NO end. I never could enjoy this work by Lauren, even on my new computer.... what am i doin wrong???

Lauren's poem is an animated GIF file. If all you see is a static image (the first line of the poem), you probably have animations disabled in your browser or you're using an older browser that doesn't support animations.

If you are running Internet Explorer, go to Tools>Internet Options and click on the Advanced tab. Scroll down to the Multimedia section and make sure the box next to Play animations in webpages is checked. If it isn't, that probably is the problem. Check the box, Apply the changes, and close and restart IE. That should fix it.

 

[LeBroz]

.
.
.

Thanks Tzara for that explanation. I ran into the same problem when I got my new system and had to stumble around till I found where to enable animations {I'd gone through the whole process once before so I knew the solution was in there somewhere}.

Now here's another illustrated piece that hauntingly drives home the message.


Hollow
by neonurotic©

.
.
.
.

 

[RhymeFairy]

.
.
.

Very nice but the best part is Eve's comment about Liar's melt-my-panties voice.


Lullaby
by Liar©


* * * * *

Click Here to hear the poem. (0.5 min/RealMedia)
You need Real Player to listen to this file.

* * * * *

nobody told me
that sometimes you fall
through a liquorice dream
losing sight of it all
and your hand on my shoulder
together we blush
in a panic attack
and a cardiac rush

so hush baby slide
into slumber again
I'll listen for you
to the song in your chest
safeguarded graces
to stifle the pain
my hand on your heart
and my ear on your breast

.
.
.
.

I always love Liar's writing, this is no exception. Beautiful with a dash of eroticism. Nice write here Liar ... lovin' it ~