Archival Review

[LeBroz]

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Though presenting some haunting imagery, it's also rather celebratory. With such multiple emotions played out it's no wonder you may find yourself rereading this.


The Nightingale

by Angeline©


I love your heart more than I love your crown.
~Hans Christian Anderson

I came to the window,
the branch closest to it,
and he watched me.

The old man watched me,
sitting in the tatters of his skin,
brittle as a dying branch,
pale and parched.

His lusterless eyes watched me.

All these riches are nothing,
brocades woven in shining threads,
brilliant gold, turquoise lapped
against ivory silk.

All these riches are nothing
to the dust of a man,
to an arid ruler fading
into twilight’s expanse,
shrinking on a velvet throne.

I sang for him.

He was so still, my heart
moved in my breast,
my sharp eyes moist.

I sang for him,
crept closer, fluttering,
offering small lilting notes.

I sang to him~

Live a little longer,
old man, live
a little longer.

Even in the cage,
I sang. I tried to love
the jeweled perch for him.
I sang. I tried for him,
but I was dying.

I am no creature built of tin,
covered with rubies, sapphires.
I cannot match a ticking beat,
a calculated chirp.
When evening shadowed
through my cage and laced
against my wings, I could not match
the brilliance of their emerald eyes.

He watched me.
and said,
Nightingale, live
a little longer.

He fumbled at the cage,
and I am free.

I listen to the forest
sing to me. I sing
to the night, the sky.

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[LeBroz]

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You're sure to find a thought to latch onto in this potpourri of imagery.


Three poems of Introduction

by annaswirls©


I woke to find you hovering above me
like a zephyr tethered to my bedclothes
and I will myself to rise to reach you
but you lift in my current
morning birds turn my dreams into lead

I spend all day with this balloon just inches away,
searching for a corner to trap you
make you mine
take your compression and fortune in flesh
find release

~

slow cooked you soften my muscle
pull me apart line by line
thread by thread
you my addiction
paralyze me by the thrill of dissection
limb by limb
until I am a pile of bones and answers



~


your scent makes me grow teeth
grow points and claws on my fingers
we tear fabric
we press the crumbs together make it whole
you tell me sex tears civilization down
I want to be torn down like that

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[LeBroz]

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Starting with genitalia and ending with sucking and fucking; this is non-erotic? More like it deals with erotic subject matter in a rather non-erotic fashion.


unnamed poem :draft:

by smithpeter©


our genitals are gee wiz powerful magnets
set to suck, not repel
(insert meat)
I don’t care how many years
platonic is a lie

fear of calendars
clocks remain for now
exorcisms are silly without a mirror
have your way with me while genuflection
occurs bent showy drawer dropped for you
you only

alone at last,
it was a nice all round fuck and suck
the sharing was a kink fun to talk about
until reality rears its gorgeous head

I ran and vomited and wished to be a player
long and distant, hanging up, talk later as regret eats my tail

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[LeBroz]

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It's an interesting passage made up the street for an average bite to eat.


Voyaging to a Hamburger Joint

by seannelson©


dedicated with love to my Mom Cecelia

Having dodged a hundred bullets,
championed some ten lost causes,
forgotten a thousand amazing tales and concepts,
and measured more than a few afternoons in coffeespoons,
I sit here in my mom’s beautiful Ashland, Oregon home
leafing through a flat history of “the western world”
and panning the web-river for nuggets of fascination.

Feeling hungry, I set my aim for an “independent” hamburger joint
some three steep blocks away.
as I set to step out the door,
my knees tremble at the drop…
remembering recent falls,
and my mind pictures speeding SUVs,
(part of my brain starts to hear
staccato gun fire)

But hunger aids my bravery
and soon I anxiously climb the street
looking both ways thrice
till I’m by the freight-rail tracks from where
(amid the dry, pine wooded hills)
I can see a green, lush tract with some 200 cattle...
spots of mish-mashed white, red, brown, and black,
as well as a solid farm house
and a big red barn.

There's blue spray paint on the track's stone gravel
(the former taking centuries for science to form)
and the hot sun is huge,
striving to dry the neighborhood's pleasant lawns,
and I’m glad I prepared by drinking agua fria.
knowing my current weakness,
I press on and upward

Coming down the street,
I see a cruising brand new Mercedes;
my heart shudders and there’s disarray in my brain
but I claw my way onto the sidewalk in plenty of time

Entering an area of condos,
I stop as I see
a hummingbird chase the same out of a pinkish-violet Lilac tree.
amid the quiet, I allow myself to think of that heroic woman
(unfortunately a FOX reporter)
who spoke beautifully of the Palestinian people
after her kidnapping and release,
and soon my Thoughts turns to hard-fought tennis matches
con mi amigos en Harnosand, Sweden,
and then to the taste of Scotch
thence to baser incarnations of the “good creature”
and finally to:
“how came things to this hobbled state?”

I was fading:
my legs giving way to gravity’s ache
and my spirit to vapidity.
(I saw shroom flashback bubbles drifting their ways through the blue, blue sky)
The restaurant was just 40 feet away,
but up the last and toughest grade

So, after screwing my courage to the sticking place,
I flailed my way up the unfeeling asphalt
and made my way through two glass doors.
inside, next to the register,
I saw a picture of a local hot air balloon
which my grandfather George once took a ride in
(smiling beneath his full nordic beard)

“Ola,” I said to the motherly counter lady
(only about 30,
with earrings consisting of bluish crab claws.)
Naturally charmed, she said, “Como estas, amigo?”
and so it went, ending with: “Quieres papas fritas?”

the plentiful beef had a hearty and good taste
the guacamole wasn’t fresh
the bun was quite white but didn’t even start to fall apart

(and honey-bees continue their beauteous rounds
the fathomless cosmos their dances
cattle their looking and grazing
and coffee-stirring people their feeling connected to these…
and how many other happenings!)

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[LeBroz]

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Here's a bit of sensuous eroticism in a non-erotic poem, but wet cement?


wet cement

by dorksicle©


you're dripping into me
the way dewdrops drip off a waking flowers petal,
and into an inviting ground.

the snake charmer seduces
a cobra with music

my body is full of violins, trumpets, flutes
and in the pit of my stomach,
I can feel the vibrations of an orchestra.

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[LeBroz]

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Those equinox parties get a bit rowdy at times!


anti-gaki

by twelveoone©


utagaki (song hedges) google it or see the thread



"Why doncha talk poetry to me
big number boy,"
she purred
"fill me with semiotics
till my cunt explodes"
I sat there
not sure of what I heard
floundering,
fishing for the right words

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[RhymeFairy]

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A little fulfilling eros to bring satisfaction to thousands of couples as their long separation is ended.


Fullfillment
by LilDarlin©


Just tell me How you want me
Tell me what you want¹
I am here waiting
Punch drunk with our love

Endlessly we share
Time consumes
Shielding us within
Awaiting that day
Hearts fixed
upon that hour

Darling you are mine
Always will be
Rubbing souls
Locked securely away
Hiding till that second

Drink from my lips
Suck every drop
Taste me

Hunger for my touch
Pulsating over you
Painting your shaft
Seizing your control

Sense my warmth
Dancing across you
Swirling on your hardness
Lustfully carrying us on

Demand my wantonness
Worshipping you
Capture eternity
Forever bound

Take my devotion
Swallow my essence
Thrust thru abandonment
Seize me whole

Hear my moans
Gripping bodies
Whirling overboard
Tipping the earth

Feel the sky
Blasting of juices
Fistfuls of devotion
Shuffling bodies

There upon the clouds
Hurled beyond time
Splattered eons
Staggered minds

I was with you,
my darling
Did you hear me
Did you feel me
I was right
there²


¹ in "You Said 'Everything'", by CremeBrule ©2004.
² in "A Certain Kind of Magic", by flyguy69 ©2004.

Special thanks to these poets for there poems, and gift.

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I missed this one Leon. Thank you for making mention of LilDarlin. I had so much fun writing this one. I remember pm'ing Creme and Fly asking permission to use their lines. It was a blast and really brought a lot of creative energy to the table.

 

[LeBroz]

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I'd guess that both sexes could identify with this if the appropriate pronoun {he or she} is fitted in that last line.


what i always try to avoid...

by sandd_bound©


So ...
I sit here outside myself
Looking at this mess called me,
Wondering how I got like this,
Knowing ...
He knew he got to me.

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[LeBroz]

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Reminds me of a brief report I read, of how people tune out background noise. Certain repetitious noise is automatically filtered out, such as those sounds generated by clocks or other appliances. So is it any surprise that husbands will filter out their wives? After a number of years he knows what she's going to say and how she's going to keep carrying on and on. His filters kick in and he hears a vague background grating buzz...


wind, woman

by duckiesmut©


You refuse
to hear me-
listen only
to words.

You understand
the flap of pink umbrella,
.....angry wind
the swirl of tri-colored straw
.....angry woman
before anything
I choose to say.

We are here.
Now. I say break.
You hear end.
I mean both.

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[LeBroz]

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A little something about nothing...


Zero, after 0

by Kaishaku©


I agree with the point
though infinitely finite
I am less
philosophical
about it all.

Ignoring equations
whether Romans dreamt or not
I simply find it not there
not missing, mind you
a something that’s nothing.

Consider null less
than something
while nothing occupies space
and time
in its wonderful curve

an empty space
filled with void
unseen, unheard, but solidly nowhere
a point I think
we continue to miss.

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[LeBroz]

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Taking a break from the greenies, before moving onto the erotic pieces, here's a piece requested by the Wicked Lady. Without knowing the history, I can see the appeal in the writing here. It's full of youthful joyous innocence of the sort too many give up on as they grow older.


Hanna Loves Horses
by foehn©


We all love something.
Hanna loves horses.

Horses galloping through dust and yucca plants.

Horses trotting on grassy Tennessee slopes.

Horses walking among palmetto palms in Florida.

Hanna loves horses that aren't horses.
She loves them because of what they want to be.
She loves them because of form:
because they are smart, like her,
feeling, like her,
explorers, yet obedient,
like her.

Hanna loves horses. It won't go away.
Last year, tomorrow and today,
the magic word is, "horse."

"Would you like to see?"
she asks the new friend.
And behind that world, behind
the vision of so many
collectibles

are thousands, millions, kazillions
of wild horses, herding themselves
as quickly as possible
into the future and the past…

Ah, the snorts and whinnies
die in the wind, but the thunder
goes on forever



for Hanna 2-15-05 : tm

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[LeBroz]

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Now that's a creative invitation.


Biology...Lesson?

by Cleo_P©


Look - it's not that I find you
Attractive, or anything
Really; you could just say that I'm
So very, very curious; Primed, if you will
Oh, but don't worry -
Never say never; assign a pop quiz and I'd readily accept

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[LeBroz]

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The suggestive power of a title shown here — anything from the male equivalent of the feminist bra burning to the desires held within a pair of briefs. Hmmmm.


Burning Briefs

by bluerains©


I like to loiter
round the rim
of your boxers,
caresses drifting
in folds of peacock
blue.
Your poetry,
in my fingertips,
gingerly pressing,
against my palm,
seams lost
in translation.

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[LeBroz]

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A fun parody here, substituting one pastime for the Great American pastime.


Casey and his Bat

by Seattle Zack©


(with my sincerest apologies to the ghost of Ernest Lawrence Thayer)

Casey and his Bat

(A Ballad of the Smut Republic. Sung in the Year 2003)
'Twas looking grim, it's sad to say, the Smutville nine had failed;
Time and time and time again the sweet redhead was impaled.
Although each had tried their best, it seemed none had done the trick;
With only three gents left unspent, each with a throbbing dick.

"Candy is my name!" she'd squealed as in the bar she sauntered.
Big ripe tits, a luscious ass, the men had all gone bonkers.
"I've never had an orgasm and now I want one bad!
Whoever gets me off, I swear, will get a month of head!"

The gents decided, beerily, that each would take their turn;
The Smutville nine were studs, 'twas true, a lesson she should learn.
The drunken slutty tart was urged to join them in the back.
Little Brian was first up and moved in for the attack.

She yawned and filed her nails as Brian pumped with all his might.
"Next!" she cried as he pulled out; it continued through the night.
Bert had no wood and so he passed to his besotted chums.
Each man up said the same thing, "I'll just fuck her 'til she cums!"

Thomas went five minutes, his face a determined grimace;
Poor Jeff barely started then in moments he was finished.
Richard passed out waiting; he was snoring 'neath the table;
At long last, just three to go, but all were young and able.

Jimmy tried, quite capably, to bring her to the finish.
"Pretend you're Popeye," one wag joked, "who just ate some spinach!"
Flynn was next, technique superb, but alas he had no luck.
One last man with one last chance to unleash a mighty fuck.

From eight throats - or maybe seven - came a lusty "Hoo-ray!"
'Twas Casey's turn and all well knew that he could save the day.
His member and his stamina were the stuff of fable;
He dropped trou and with a thud laid his cock on the table.

The men grew silent staring at the monster prick in awe;
This huge phallus, no one doubted, would fuck the redhead raw.
As Casey looked around the room, a smile upon his face,
From his demeanor all were sure that he would win the race.

The slut's eyes grew big. "Ooh!" she chirped. "Now that's a cock I like!
If that can't do it, nothing can, I'll have to try a dyke!"
As Casey mounted her the redhead soon began to moan.
"Oh yes!" she panted, "Harder! Harder! Fuck me with that bone!"

The gents cheered Casey on; each thrust, they chanted as a man,
(Well, only seven got to cheer - Richard was in the can)
"Fuck her! Fuck her! Fuck her! Fuck her!" urging him to pound her,
Twenty minutes passed, then Casey's pace began to flounder.

His friends were worried, wondering; perhaps this was the end.
A blow like this to Casey's ego would take time to mend.
Humping the slut harder, Casey strained with all his vigor,
Against all odds, his great member swelled up even bigger!

The smirk was gone from Casey's lips, he would not unleash yet;
Their bodies slapped together as, fucking hard, they met.
He struggled to hold off as the sweat trickled down his brow;
The limp-dicked eight were anxious, how much longer could he plow?

Harder, faster, deeper, he would split this wench wide open!
Candy wiggled, finally, her bored demeanor broken.
"Aaaah!" cried Casey and let loose with such force that he farted.
The redhead pouted. "Is that it? I'd just gotten started..."

Oh! somewhere in this land the frothing Guinness is on tap;
Whores are sucking merrily; cheating husbands catch the clap.
Somewhere Candy's fucking something, of this there is no doubt.
But there is no joy in Smutville -- mighty Casey has struck out.

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[LeBroz]

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Look at that title. Hey, it's a Sunday evening. Shut the TV early and go ahead and have one {or more} to start the week off on a bright note.


Climax

by moonstormer©


A curve,
fold of flesh,
silken skin
over firm muscles.

Gasping for breath
as bodies writhe
against searching
fingers.

Your soft
wet tongue
runs across
my own soft
wet cavity.

Exploring,
discovering,
waking up to
a desire
stolen away
by the day
only returned
in the dark.

Moans escape
lips buried
in secret places,
as we play a game
invented centuries ago.

A bead of sweat
makes a path
along my flesh
as it runs
over my gentle curves,
mapping a course
as it finds my body
like you have done.

Heat spreads
from between my legs
out
out along nerves
into the air
forming waves
that crash over me.

I drown
in pleasure
breathe it
deep inside me,
your mouth to mouth
brings me back
into your arms
where I belong.

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[LeBroz]

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The next time you slather butter on that ear of hot corn, just imagine how fertile the field was where it came from...


corn

by steve porter©


corn

we are running hand in hand through the corn
in t-shirts and shorts with bare feet digging
into the soft esrth moist and black
turning here there bursting through the rows
until we suddenly come to a stop.

bodies press together shirts up shorts off
so entwined we slither to the ground
the field is filled with our moans and cries
as the corn sheds her rustling husks
and bends her erotic ears to listen.

ancient fertility rites are observed
sperm-bearing pollen grains jar loose
as the sweet seed seeps into the good earth
america your corn holds your lovers
in the breadbasket of an intimate embrace.

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[LeBroz]

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This is one of those really odd pieces that makes you wonder what they were thinking when they handed out the greenie, what with all the typos. Guess its odd nature overrode craftsmanship.


Down in the Leaves

by Gardenbaby©


And then we kissed
Revealed in our union, constant oceans of lace
Pouring into each and the other.
Open fields of alfalfa and Courtesan Thistle,
Baby's breath and avocado blossoms boiled for
Six hours gave us the cave paint of
Demi-god lovers, flirting with the acrobats
I'm so frightened, mommy. Did this happen to you?
Compassion is the well I drink from: Freebird

And then we kissed.
He smelled of soap made from Hectars root and honey suckle
We plunged into thenight, our naked bodys glimmering sweat in the starlight

I knelt in the sword ferns and guided his cock into my belly, curling my legs around his back like a black python as his breath filled out the sound of our heart beats
The forestbed was rough and calused with needles and frozen rot churning with milipedes and gnomes' eggs beneath us

Crack, premature seed pods began to open and sprout from the heat of our bodies. When my hair caught fire a thousand animal eyes lit up just beyond the clearing

Eyes that howled when I came
that pierced my open throat
as I shook and cried to the needles

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[RhymeFairy]

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The next time you slather butter on that ear of hot corn, just imagine how fertile the field was where it came from...


corn

by steve porter©


corn

we are running hand in hand through the corn
in t-shirts and shorts with bare feet digging
into the soft esrth moist and black
turning here there bursting through the rows
until we suddenly come to a stop.

bodies press together shirts up shorts off
so entwined we slither to the ground
the field is filled with our moans and cries
as the corn sheds her rustling husks
and bends her erotic ears to listen.

ancient fertility rites are observed
sperm-bearing pollen grains jar loose
as the sweet seed seeps into the good earth
america your corn holds your lovers
in the breadbasket of an intimate embrace.

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.... Steve Porter can write his pants off, very erotic this one. Thank you for the heads up Leo, this is a gem ~~

 

[LeBroz]

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Reading this, you can feel obsession permeating throughout.


Fabric of After Dark Obsession

by MinorMonster©


We all smiled
and chewed the
non committal banter,

trying not to stare.

We all thought
the same thing.

how the hell
does she keep that
strapless pinnacle of flimsy
from obeying natural law
and slip?​

Theories got tasted
with canapés and cocktails,
of safety pin pierced nipples,
of static charged implants,
of a low pressure vortex
in the valley between.

Maybe old time voodoo,
maybe new day arrowhead
vanity tech, indistinguishable
from magic...
...or maybe this, maybe that,
it's there, and still,
almost not.

or maybe just duct tape,
it holds everything else
in the universe together​

But not even Occam’s razor
could slash inflated libidos
into submission.

We all smiled
and ached to keep
our eyes eye level.

It never fell,

and we
never found out.

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[LeBroz]

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Here's one to think about, with so many possibilitites implied.


fear

by cock whore©


premonition
as we both
came together
for the first time

would be
the last time
you came
inside

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[LeBroz]

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Tell her how those freckles make her look cute and sexy and hot and maybe she'll have you looking for all the freckles you can find, then connect the dots with your tongue. You might never get done but you'll sure have fun trying.


freckles

by neonurotic©


"Pray tell, where?"

"Oh, right here"
one, two
—each, a lick
for emphasis
"Sun-made freckles"

"They are not"

"I know, I just like
to tease them
and hot kiss em' hard"

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[LeBroz]

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Some spicey thoughts best served in the chill of winter, or with the a/c turned way up.


hot tea

by lobomao©


Free tea thinking
Dangerously hot
Between my hands
Keep me moist
And warm
On the long winter night
A bag to sit and brew
Brings me to boil
Then leaves
To simmer and stew
Ever darkening thoughts
Steeping and brewing
Spicy fantasties
Half seen in smokey steam
Illusive visions of you

Hot wet open leaves
Tremble in the cold air
Still warm in my cup
Strong enough
For a second
I ask them my future
They reply
In small mysteries
My best move I see
Attempt to try to guess
Which way best
To please them

You and your
Chai spiced body
No sense is enough
To drink you in
One fleeting taste
Leaving a sweetness
In my mouth
That cries for more
Until I am full
And full of you
I rest this cold night
Warm in your arms
And smiling

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[LeBroz]

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A greenie that makes more sense than most.


I can love you...

by Lauren Hynde©




I can love you I can sing you
across the ocean across the most
impervious
uprising
concord
carnage

My blood begins
in your blood

But how high the precipice
that separates my lips from
your skin

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[LeBroz]

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Here's some imagery to get you going, that moment in the morning when there's just the two of you and the world is held at bay.


In The Morning

by oregon_gal©


The light in the air lays gently on you
Softening the outline of your profile against the linen
Breathing is the only sound you make
Do dust particles float forever or are they landing on your peaceful face?
In the light it is golden snow

I press my nakedness against your back
Warm, I feel breath as it goes in and out
Daylight falling in the corners of the room
Where we sleep
I stand guard knowing you slumber; wanting you
To your sweet skin I lay my lips and put my tongue to taste

Do you feel me? My breasts are deliciously
Against you
My hand
Follows the curve of your back to the
Swelling of your buttocks
My finger tips slide over warm cashmere skin yielding
You are the light and shadow of the morning
.......I desire to be the dream that floats in your brain

Nipples erect and naked make their mark in the blanket of your skin
Hot breath follows the kisses I place tenderly on you
Wanting you,
.Seeking you like the morning sunlight
That streams through hollow glass panes
Let me caress you and wake your slumber

Passion rises
We move together pressing away the sunlight between our bodies
Find the place that takes you inside me
Move me
......In a rush
Move me
......In desire
Move me
.....To the depths

Move me

Inhale the daylight out of me. Fill me with all of you
Against the linen the outline my body leaves in your wake.

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[LeBroz]

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It's a lovely fresh and clear Friday morning. You think? Wrap your mind around this little piece of word play and see what happens.


Labrynthe

by Venus Inference©


there are few words
in the English dictionary
whose powers have the potential
to punctuate the petuitary sentence i am serving.

compound?
complex?

ha! their differences are semiotic.
(now, "two years and counting" is more like it)

i cry, "Goblin King, Goblin King!
Pry me from this flaccid staff!"

"So," he says. "So what?"

he sews until my lips are stitched shut.
i think i'd like to be a seahorse, or
some other asexual sea creature.

i pray to God


... and wake up with an erection.

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