Chasin' Chickens

[My Erotic Trail]

Fingers fumble at fastened buttons
to release the flesh in a flash of love
lips are mash, meshed and pressed
kissing another in anxious licks

Shedding clothes like layers of skin
as desires rise and engulf their minds
warm bodies race to embrace the feel
of anothers passion to ignite their own

on a sheeted ocean they sail into ecstasy
a journey of love in reaching finger tips
beating hearts and pounding flesh kiss
bites and licks while loosening grips

 

[My Erotic Trail]

sorrow's birth


There is no harder sorrow
than knowing
they'll not be in our tomorrows

A falling leaf's flight
to
the after life

will lay to rest upon the earth
and memories
now joy and sorrow's birth​

 

[My Erotic Trail]

she walked with bells
tied to her shoes
on the wind of confidence

unsure of what lay ahead
but fairly certain
she will never be alone

for beauty attracts
a willing eye
as they form a line

trailing into yesterdays
the sound of bells
turning heads' today

 

[seranade]

she walked with bells
tied to her shoes
on the wind of confidence

unsure of what lay ahead
but fairly certain
she will never be alone

for beauty attracts
a willing eye
as they form a line

trailing into yesterdays
the sound of bells
turning heads' today

oh, i know her
i have another poem that i am a playing with so keep you eyes peeled.

 

[My Erotic Trail]

will do buckaroo

whisper in heated breath
your pleasure

moan with delight
in my ear

I want to feel your words
kiss my soul

as I fill you with my body
fill me with your sound

 

[Trolly]

From Under the Bridge

whisper in heated breath
your pleasure

moan with delight
in my ear

I want to feel your words
kiss my soul

as I fill you with my body
fill me with your sound

Very nice. This, I like.

 

[My Erotic Trail]

Very nice. This, I like.

and you had me believing you did not like poetry <grin
thanks~

 

[Trolly]

From Under the Bridge

and you had me believing you did not like poetry <grin
thanks~

Actually, I really like poetry. Good poetry. But I don't see a lot of that here. Despite the mutual back-thimping that appears to permeate this site

 

[wildsweetone]

there must be enough good stuff around to keep you interested.

 

[Trolly]

From Under the Bridge

there must be enough good stuff around to keep you interested.

Just so hard to find it some times. But, when I do, I (usually) always leave some positive feedback. Gets exasperating at times for this (convolutedly) descendent of HWL.

 

[wildsweetone]

Just so hard to find it some times. But, when I do, I (usually) always leave some positive feedback. Gets exasperating at times for this (convolutedly) descendent of HWL.

what is HWL?

 

[Trolly]

From Under the Bridge

what is HWL?

Hint: "By the shores of. . . ."

 

[wildsweetone]

that doesn't mean anything to me, sorry.

 

[Trolly]

From Under the Bridge

that doesn't mean anything to me, sorry.

My Goodness.

This used to be taught in all public schools. Hiawatha.

By the shores of Gitche Gumee,
By the shining Big-Sea-Water,
Stood the wigwam of Nokomis,
Daughter of the Moon, Nokomis.
Dark behind it rose the forest,
Rose the black and gloomy pine-trees,
Rose the firs with cones upon them;
Bright before it beat the water,
Beat the clear and sunny water,
Beat the shining Big-Sea-Water. etc.

 

[Trolly]

From Under the Bridge

that doesn't mean anything to me, sorry.

And:

Listen my children and you shall hear
Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere,
On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-five;
Hardly a man is now alive
Who remembers that famous day and year.

etc

 

[Trolly]

From Under the Bridge

that doesn't mean anything to me, sorry.

And:

Under a spreading chestnut tree
The village smithy stands;
The smith, a mighty man is he,
With large and sinewy hands;
And the muscles of his brawny arms
Are strong as iron bands.


His hair is crisp, and black, and long,
His face is like the tan;
His brow is wet with honest sweat,
He earns whate'er he can,
And looks the whole world in the face,
For he owes not any man.

(from The Village Blacksmith)

He, in my opinion, was a poet. People enjopyed his work. And understood it. It made sense. He truly deserved the back thumping he received.
Unlike some wannabes I see on this forum.

 

[wildsweetone]

My Goodness.

This used to be taught in all public schools. Hiawatha.

By the shores of Gitche Gumee,
By the shining Big-Sea-Water,
Stood the wigwam of Nokomis,
Daughter of the Moon, Nokomis.
Dark behind it rose the forest,
Rose the black and gloomy pine-trees,
Rose the firs with cones upon them;
Bright before it beat the water,
Beat the clear and sunny water,
Beat the shining Big-Sea-Water. etc.

to explain a little... i was turned off poetry by a teacher at school when i was in my teens - if this was ever taught here in New Zealand (which i seriously doubt anyway) i blanked it out. poetry has only just returned into my life in the last couple of years. thank you for telling me.

 

[wildsweetone]

And:

Under a spreading chestnut tree
The village smithy stands;
The smith, a mighty man is he,
With large and sinewy hands;
And the muscles of his brawny arms
Are strong as iron bands.


His hair is crisp, and black, and long,
His face is like the tan;
His brow is wet with honest sweat,
He earns whate'er he can,
And looks the whole world in the face,
For he owes not any man.

(from The Village Blacksmith)

He, in my opinion, was a poet. People enjopyed his work. And understood it. It made sense. He truly deserved the back thumping he received.
Unlike some wannabes I see on this forum.

there are many variations of good and bad and we are all unique in our preferences.

writing development, as a child, comes in reasonably clear stages. perhaps these stages continue into adulthood where we can see differences in new writers through to experienced writers.

however, just because a lot of people say one person is a great writer, does not mean that that writer writes great, in everyone's opinion.

 

[Trolly]

From Under the Bridge

to explain a little... i was turned off poetry by a teacher at school when i was in my teens - if this was ever taught here in New Zealand (which i seriously doubt anyway) i blanked it out. poetry has only just returned into my life in the last couple of years. thank you for telling me.

YBW. Tnx for even talking to me. I am not liked by most. That's OK. My kids, and those that know me, love me.

 

[wildsweetone]

YBW. Tnx for even talking to me. I am not liked by most. That's OK. My kids, and those that know me, love me.

perhaps most carry baggage with a nickname that resonates 'troll' - not all are able to shrug off trollish-type comments.

also, perhaps calling people 'wannabe poets' is not such an endearing term. if you're going to say things that are negative, then you either put up with the negative back and retaliate (or brush it off), or alter your comments to reflect only the writing standards and not the people who write.

what does YBW mean? - i'm obviously way behind on the abbreviations too. lol

wso
ps, i might know a little more about you, but i don't love you, yet.

 

[My Erotic Trail]

been busier than a three legged dog on the interstate's highway

Actually, I really like poetry. Good poetry. But I don't see a lot of that here. Despite the mutual back-thimping that appears to permeate this site

I think that the joy comes to each who read what they themselves like, if one does not like too many things that does not mean that many did not find joy, passion and or felt something from the read. The same as a book or a movie, each liked or disliked different parts of the 'poem' <grin

 

[My Erotic Trail]

they laid him to rest by the river's edge
on a hill over looking the valley
under a large oak tree
next to his brother and father

a dove sang while service was said
a robin picked bugs from the cemetery lawn
a geese flew over in a honking manner
and the wind sung its non comprehensible words

The gathering of friends and family
to cast him off into the sea of eternity
with flowers of assorted colors
shining was a bright, beautiful 'son'

Jason 1-18-2006

 

[My Erotic Trail]

wetness
upon a River's bed

a body of water
lapping curves
a drift
under a light mist's kiss

a rippled
blanket of blue
rythmic motions

curl around
protruding hard wood
pointing to the sky
engulfed in wetness

a driven current
pulsing from streams
shuffling pillow clouds

with moist kisses
limbs grace this body
and leaves

 

[wildsweetone]

wetness
upon a River's bed(river's)

a body of water
lapping curves
a drift (i think you mean 'adrift')
under a light mist's kiss

a rippled
blanket of blue
rythmic motions

curl around
protruding hard wood
pointing to the sky(i think 'protruding' is too much)
engulfed in wetness(another way to say this? how about simply, 'soaked'?)

a driven current (hmm, soaked in a driven current)
pulsing from streams
shuffling pillow clouds

with moist kisses
limbs grace this body
and leaves

hmm put all the lines together without spacing separating them. does anything good happen?

 

[My Erotic Trail]

hmm put all the lines together without spacing separating them. does anything good happen?

wetness
upon a river's bed
a body of water
lapping curves
adrift
under a light mist's kiss
a rippled
blanket of blue
rhythmic motions
curl around
smooth hard wood
pointing to the sky
absorbing
soaked in a driven current
pulsing from streams
shuffling pillow clouds
with moist kisses
limbs grace this body
and leaves


I like <grin