Write A Mystery poem about someone you have the hots for on Lit

[cherries_on_snow]

The best way to read you

I hear your words again when I close my eyes
after reading, then I breathe, then I read again.
If they were on paper, I'd take them with me to
the bubble bath and might print them out to do that.
Better still would be you there reading
them to me, my curtain partially
drawn as I'd lie back
and sink into your voice (your imagined voice)
half-close my eyes and open my internal
acoustic for each word until one snags
me by my ribs and pulls me up, abdominal
muscles curling, feeling the steam
more acutely, ear closer to mouth.
I sponge sandalwood and lilac bubbles
down my curved back, hair wet
at the tips
and sigh, singing
with the faucet's turn to
off. Still, the odd drop falls as if to
punctuate your words, falls to my
naked foot.

 

[RhymeFairy]

I hear your words again when I close my eyes
after reading, then I breathe, then I read again.
If they were on paper, I'd take them with me to
the bubble bath and might print them out to do that.
Better still would be you there reading
them to me, my curtain partially
drawn as I'd lie back
and sink into your voice, (your imagined voice)
half-close my eyes and open my internal
acoustic for each word until one snags
me by my ribs and pulls me up, abdominal
muscles curling, feeling the steam
more acutely, ear closer to mouth.
I sponge sandalwood and lilac bubbles
down my curved back, hair wet
at the tips.
and sigh, singing
with the faucet's turn to
off. still, the odd drop falls as if to
punctuate your words, falls to my
naked foot.

Yum ~!! Great imagery
and seems to be a hot lil bath ~

I too have oft done this while
bouncing in my tub, tasting strawberry
bubbles as they creamily assault me
like I dream he shall.

maybe the same poet
... we shall have to compare notes eh ~

 

[cherries_on_snow]

Yeh. I copped out. I know. I was inspired by Eve's response. =D
I would say that, while I was thinking of one poem in particular when I wrote this (shoulda been in passion probably as it was written in the box), it could have been true of many poems I've read here. I've so enjoyed reading poems here. Thank you Lit poets.

 

[flyguy69]

I hear your words again when I close my eyes
after reading, then I breathe, then I read again.
If they were on paper, I'd take them with me to
the bubble bath and might print them out to do that.
Better still would be you there reading
them to me, my curtain partially
drawn as I'd lie back
and sink into your voice (your imagined voice)
half-close my eyes and open my internal
acoustic for each word until one snags
me by my ribs and pulls me up, abdominal
muscles curling, feeling the steam
more acutely, ear closer to mouth.
I sponge sandalwood and lilac bubbles
down my curved back, hair wet
at the tips
and sigh, singing
with the faucet's turn to
off. Still, the odd drop falls as if to
punctuate your words, falls to my
naked foot.

I'm betting your toenails are painted.

 

[cherries_on_snow]

Yes they are. In a colour called, mysteriously enough, Baroque.

 

[vampiredust]

The Street Artist

A street artist is drawing
a picture of you on the
pavement, but you don't
notice the resemblence
in the runny colours and
misshaped angles. Hands

want to draw you close
in front of the fire he's
just drawn but you just
walk past, thinking its
cute, hoping the rain
will wash it away. You

don't want to be part
of the landscape he's
drawing, just the person
who's only looking in
from the outside; a reflection
caught permanently
in his eye.

 

[clutching_calliope]

Sap and Vomit

.....

 

[ewopper]

I hear your words again when I close my eyes
after reading, then I breathe, then I read again.
If they were on paper, I'd take them with me to
the bubble bath and might print them out to do that.
Better still would be you there reading
them to me, my curtain partially
drawn as I'd lie back
and sink into your voice (your imagined voice)
half-close my eyes and open my internal
acoustic for each word until one snags
me by my ribs and pulls me up, abdominal
muscles curling, feeling the steam
more acutely, ear closer to mouth.
I sponge sandalwood and lilac bubbles
down my curved back, hair wet
at the tips
and sigh, singing
with the faucet's turn to
off. Still, the odd drop falls as if to
punctuate your words, falls to my
naked foot.

deliciously delightful

 

[ewopper]

and maybe you’ll like me, too

came out far too meek like runny porridge,
ineffectual as a slap from a finch but

if I grabbed the zipper on his chinos
and dug my hipbones into his,
growled right here, baby,
right now, smiled that smirk
i reserve for men i service

he’d know i‘m no virgin sacrifice,
he could be no teacher.
so, the costumes, the pigtails, the dewy skin

and explicatives that drip
like wallpaper paste on a sunday morning.

interesting

 

[ewopper]

A street artist is drawing
a picture of you on the
pavement, but you don't
notice the resemblence
in the runny colours and
misshaped angles. Hands

want to draw you close
in front of the fire he's
just drawn but you just
walk past, thinking its
cute, hoping the rain
will wash it away. You

don't want to be part
of the landscape he's
drawing, just the person
who's only looking in
from the outside; a reflection
caught permanently
in his eye.

written like a true poet

 

[RhymeFairy]

Another Bump here ...

We have so many great threads.
So write it out and see what happens ...

 

[Remec]

Castles float above
my head as I lay back
and dream of what may be,

slipping past the trolls to
drink and play at cards or
Goose while the rebecs and
lutes are finishing attuning
themselves and the sounds
of rattan on hide and wood
begin to subside

so I walk to the edge of the
pitch and pause to watch the
marshalls making things ready for
the next lists, sipping mead and
watching for her

lithe and agile, working her way
back to change from one armour
to another, but retaining her
warrior spirit--even with eyes
cast downwards.

 

[Bedtime Storyteller]

hmmmmm.....I think I'll go for a threesome.

Fleeting moments leave
lasting bruises
your lips on mine
greedy, groaning, pinned
under
you.

Ravish me, push me into
ecstacy, heights of passion
moaning, as I'm
enveloped by you
celebrating us.