March Line by Line Challenge – 7 line poems

[EllenMore]

Isolement

Je ne tourne jamais la tête,
regarde en arrière
pendant que tu me baises,
parce que la sensation de ta bite,
ta longue bite exquise,
montre-moi cette extase que je veux.
Ton visage n'a pas d'importance.

 

[Piscator]

Bubblegum, Bourbon and Beer

Her tongue tasted of bubblegum,
bourbon and beer as she searched
vainly for my long-lost tonsils.
Then she blew a bubble
round my cock and
things got
messy.

 

[Piscator]

Éloge de la position de chien

Le chien est la position préférée des Canadiens parce que les deux peuvent regarder le hockey à la télévision pendant qu'ils baisent
Anon

C'est la position préférée de ces chiens anglais
et moi aussi je l'aime car tu as un joli cul
avec l'un ou l'autre des trous si facilement disponibles
je peux tendre la main pour serrer tes seins
puis caressez votre clitoris jusqu'à ce que votre chatte soit bâclée
autour de ma bite avant de jouir dans ton trou du cul serré
sans voir ton visage et sans savoir que tu n'as pas joui.

 

[Fflow]

Awesome!

Isolement

Je ne tourne jamais la tête,
regarde en arrière
pendant que tu me baises,
parce que la sensation de ta bite,
ta longue bite exquise,
montre-moi cette extase que je veux.
Ton visage n'a pas d'importance.

Your face doesn't matter! Awesome!

 

[todski28]

Isolement

Je ne tourne jamais la tête,
regarde en arrière
pendant que tu me baises,
parce que la sensation de ta bite,
ta longue bite exquise,
montre-moi cette extase que je veux.
Ton visage n'a pas d'importance.

the scent of sex and whiskey
overcomes the fact we don't seem to talk the same words
leaves us alone in the same moment
as we speak the same tongues
an exploration of culture and fine cuisine
where communication is in handfuls of flesh
the gasp of laboured breath and the exquisite slide

maybe accents make you ten percent hotter
who fucking knows, who fucking cares
when taken in isolation
the feeling of your depths is exquise'
you never turned your head to look back
my fingers locked into your hair
your last moans tell a story words never could

 

[Tzara]

Isolement

Je ne tourne jamais la tête,
regarde en arrière
pendant que tu me baises,
parce que la sensation de ta bite,
ta longue bite exquise,
montre-moi cette extase que je veux.
Ton visage n'a pas d'importance.

Ton visage n'a pas d'importance

Neither does yours, if it comes to that.
Since you've wound me up so much, all I want
is your body bent,
say, over a chair in the library
where we've been arguing the meaning of "hell"
in that line from The Tempest.
Though as we rearrange our clothing, I want to hold your hand.

 

[HarryHill]

..
Oh look, Google translate wants to help
but my poor deaf ears never needed help
understanding the message, sweetly offered
by tempting eyes over a mask; a voice,
background music building to crescendo when
it's pulled aside just long enough for lips
to curl and twist, flash mouth jewelry.

 

[Remec]

Muse for a Month

March has come again, full of the usual madness
and roaring like a lion; but the usual sadness
has arrived as well, and I find myself full
of that mix of nostalgia and regret that seems to pull
upon what has not broken in my heart,
giving a welcome energy and respite to the Art
I have been trying to get down for an age.

 

[EllenMore]

the scent of sex and whiskey
overcomes the fact we don't seem to talk the same words
leaves us alone in the same moment
as we speak the same tongues
an exploration of culture and fine cuisine
where communication is in handfuls of flesh
the gasp of laboured breath and the exquisite slide

maybe accents make you ten percent hotter
who fucking know, who fucking cares
when taken in isolation
the feeling of your depths is exquise'
you never turned your head to look back
my fingers locked into your hair
your last moans tell a story words never could

Why Poetry

Should I embarass you, Australian,
by imagining your hands twisted into my hair
while your perfect cock fills me over
and over again, as if those fingers were belonging to
that deity, Chris Hemsworth? Perhaps
there I fail to play fair with the implied
fantasy we all buy into--

a cloud-like world where the sex seems perfect,
and anonymous, where we all come
ecstatically, and no one has to pick up
the used condoms or wash the discarded whiskey glasses
in the difficult morning
when we're all trying to dress for work.
None of this is your fault, and I do wish I could

take you deeply into my cunt
as if that would make things better. But
everything here simply is words. That my words
might rouse you, or your words rouse me,
speaks more to our common humanity than anything.
I hope that your poems can move me, even a little bit,
gives you somehow more satisfaction

than my pussy, even slick with your wet language, ever could.

 

[Lyricalli]

Went for a ride today
on the boardwalk by the bay
passed the beach shared with you
brown grasses swaying in golden sand
grey rocks teased by barely-there waves
half moon hanging in blue sky, sun still dancing on the water
Did you know the gulls call your name?

 

[todski28]

Why Poetry

Should I embarass you, Australian,
by imagining your hands twisted into my hair
while your perfect cock fills me over
and over again, as if those fingers were belonging to
that deity, Chris Hemsworth? Perhaps
there I fail to play fair with the implied
fantasy we all buy into--

a cloud-like world where the sex seems perfect,
and anonymous, where we all come
ecstatically, and no one has to pick up
the used condoms or wash the discarded whiskey glasses
in the difficult morning
when we're all trying to dress for work.
None of this is your fault, and I do wish I could

take you deeply into my cunt
as if that would make things better. But
everything here simply is words. That my words
might rouse you, or your words rouse me,
speaks more to our common humanity than anything.
I hope that your poems can move me, even a little bit,
gives you somehow more satisfaction

than my pussy, even slick with your wet language, ever could.

As if I’d be so easily embarrassed
by the thought of a man
that’s my physical superior
for all I know you use him regularly to play away
at a harder release when whoever you may lay with
begins their thrusting
or that my fingers in you hair would embarrass me rather than seem natural

would you prefer I write of
your bloodied lip as in my haste to tear your blouse
my fingers slip
or of tangled underwear, tripping into the wall
maybe air trapped and as I pullout it releases
or a cramp in the hamstring
writhing on the floor in agony

Reality is there
and after, covered in sweat
and cum and the stench of humanity
none of it matters because
well because that’s the nature of poetry
it doesn’t care about missing the details
it lets you fill them in as deep and hard as you need

 

[Piscator]

Re: I’ll Send You a Tape from California

Dear Phil, for some reason, your song is my earworm today
the record seems to have slipped out of its cover and
is probably misfiled somewhere by one of our kids,
in one of their prowls though my “vintage vinyl.”
I hope they liked it despite the scratches and maybe
they’ll sensed why I saved two weeks lunch money to buy it.
And how now I can listen to it without a record player.

 

[EllenMore]

As if I’d be so easily embarrassed
by the thought of a man
that’s my physical superior
for all I know you use him regularly to play away
at a harder release when whoever you may lay with
begins their thrusting
or that my fingers in you hair would embarrass me rather than seem natural

would you prefer I write of
your bloodied lip as in my haste to tear your blouse
my fingers slip
or of tangled underwear, tripping into the wall
maybe air trapped and as I pullout it releases
or a cramp in the hamstring
writhing on the floor in agony

Reality is there
and after, covered in sweat
and cum and the stench of humanity
none of it matters because
well because that’s the nature of poetry
it doesn’t care about missing the details
it lets you fill them in as deep and hard as you need

Compromise

Australian, I could bless you
for the sexual violence of your poetry
(I mean really, "bloodied lip?"), but
your poems clarify the personal movie
that runs in my head while I fuck.
Do I want to be used? Yes. Do
I want you to take me while

I writhe under your control? Yes.
But then I sit up and realize
this is all fantasy, sexual fantasy, and
I still have position papers
to write, and Zoom conferences
for which I have to primp and dress.
And in these, for you, though I've worn a skirt,

I've left my knickers off.

 

[todski28]

Compromise

Australian, I could bless you
for the sexual violence of your poetry
(I mean really, "bloodied lip?"), but
your poems clarify the personal movie
that runs in my head while I fuck.
Do I want to be used? Yes. Do
I want you to take me while

I writhe under your control? Yes.
But then I sit up and realize
this is all fantasy, sexual fantasy, and
I still have position papers
to write, and Zoom conferences
for which I have to primp and dress.
And in these, for you, though I've worn a skirt,

I've left my knickers off.

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=2oNptc-IKeI&list=PLVna2B64pQwolR2Y09aqHuIEwWh0RVuLq&index=6

Fantasy grinds against reality
I can close my eyes and feel your curves and sultry eyes
desire radiating like a wood fired hearth that’s been stoked
and piled till it’s a blaze of flame
combustion crackling the air
click of a zoom meeting call
and my smirk beneath the table

thighs wet in anticipation
as you try to play it cool
knickers left in the other room
the smug look as you took them off
dangling them on your finger
waving a flag at a bull
we can speak of positions and papers later

but for now you’re tied to the chair by your commitment
and I’m wondering how much
you can get through with a straight face
Ms straight laced trying to taste the decadence
of Australia and it’s down under allure
a bit of hysterical literature as a tour de force
wondering if nails on a desk top, will be able to silence the inevitable

 

[Levitating_Bed]

Who
knew
March
would
get
this
hot?

I'd tell
you two
to get
a room
but I
just want
to watch.

 

[EllenMore]

Who
knew
March
would
get
this
hot?

I'd tell
you two
to get
a room
but I
just want
to watch.

Obsession

When I invite him in
to my apartment, I am not thinking--
not always--I want him inside of me,
though that is what often
happens. But when we almost always fuck,
and when he leaves I feel empty
as if it was my fault I wanted sex

instead of us talking about some book
we've both read or, I don't know, legislation
I would hope that he'd support.
What's most awful
about this is how I dim the lights
when we take off our clothes, but leave
the blinds open for the man across the street.

 

[todski28]

I’m gonna say, last one from me, but it’s been interesting

Obsession

When I invite him in
to my apartment, I am not thinking--
not always--I want him inside of me,
though that is what often
happens. But when we almost always fuck,
and when he leaves I feel empty
as if it was my fault I wanted sex

instead of us talking about some book
we've both read or, I don't know, legislation
I would hope that he'd support.
What's most awful
about this is how I dim the lights
when we take off our clothes, but leave
the blinds open for the man across the street.

I’ve always tried to fuck as if I’m on film
as if eyes are watching, judging my size
my girth, the sweat trickling from my brow
the duration, depth and angles
but porn moves are so much for the camera
they’re disconnected as if cunt and cock are
simply there for the crowd

and not for me to be intimate
to be as close and deep in you/with you as possible
where we fit together
lost pieces of the same puzzle
where you wrap tight around me
and you’re wet enough to
take it all in your greed

the curtains ripple like waves
I smirk, I know he likes to watch
because the allure of your tits swaying
is a book he can’t help but try to read
where you cry a litany of profanities
I wonder if he wishes he could slide in to your mouth
that “oh”inviting you to taste him as you devour me

We give them a show
and I’m hoping the light from the house next door
is a woman watching on
I press your tits to the glass
one hand delicately curled around your throat
my free hand tracing poems on your clit, I whisper
come for them so I can come for you.

 

[Lyricalli]

I caught a glimpse
from the corner of my eye
and knew before he was in full view
that it was him
and in my shock I wondered
if he was surprised when they turned down
the street where I lived

If he remembers, that is,
hadn't seen him in awhile
I watched them slip through her door
then found my own and went inside
when my feet remembered how to move
didn't want to notice her light flicker on
but was inevitably drawn to her window

Again, I knew it would be open
she's been putting on shows
since she moved in
but now I was watching him
and remembering
each of my nerve endings
reliving memories of his hands

And I could feel them
sliding on her skin
smacking her swaying breasts
that sting when he slapped her ass
their grip on her neck

Maybe I only imagined her cries mixed with mine
and his eyes on my window

 

[Tzara]

window, dusk

through the small square
of soft light
I watched the scuff and churn
of their joined bodies, the bed
beneath them a field of white ice
that no amount of swirl or heave
seemed ever to melt

I wanted desperately to touch
something warm—
my friend's arm, the robe
she wore this morning, a cup
of that darjeeling tea she sipped
as she read the newspaper, but
instead I sat in the growing dark

and watched the two figures
as if the window were a television
playing some scandinavian art film
with the sound turned off,
the lovers writhing in that bleak
sex that precedes their final parting
in a long shot that mostly features snow

 

[Fflow]

Position Paper

The heel hung carelessly from her toes
Her pencil skirt high and tight, thighs crossed
Her hair, tossed in a jumble, cascades
Her eyes locked, seemingly forgetting
The fourth button of her collared blouse
Her hand caresses her slender neck
Watching, I am a wreck.

 

[29wordsforsnow]

approved for wide screens

Spring has finally kicked in
but even with radiators off and windows open
blankets became a brumous burden at our clock change collision
amazingly how dry your mouth can feel after what felt like a bucke...who's that now?
Sunday, 10 am, god-damned catholic neighbors shouldn't they attend some whatever far from our threshold?
Yes, I do pay attention...memo to myself: coffee!..."noises"..."2 am"...3!..."what the hell"...???..."at least show some tendency"...blah, blah...
"and leave the curtains open", throwing that door and halfway back to bed, I wonder what ever happened to people asking for some 'decency', Punks!

 

[Lazaran]

Empty Words

I. Love. You.

Spoken

without conviction

Uttered

without certitude

Empty

Words