Ambient4190
Really Experienced
- Joined
- May 4, 2021
- Posts
- 256
ice sheen mirrors moon
underneath lakes heartbeat thrums
fighting winters gait
underneath lakes heartbeat thrums
fighting winters gait
2023 Poem-A-Week Challenge (Poems Only Thread)
- Thread starter The Poets
- Start date
Piscator
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- May 30, 2003
- Posts
- 1,898
Solastalgia[1]
High blue sky with a gusty west wind
underneath, a mix of hazy grey-white clouds,
smoke from fires out West, more
than half a continent away.
Unusual weather for this time of year
but he unusual is usual these days
just in different ways.
[1] solastalgia is the distress produced by environmental change impacting on people while they are directly connected to their home environment.
High blue sky with a gusty west wind
underneath, a mix of hazy grey-white clouds,
smoke from fires out West, more
than half a continent away.
Unusual weather for this time of year
but he unusual is usual these days
just in different ways.
[1] solastalgia is the distress produced by environmental change impacting on people while they are directly connected to their home environment.
goddessofglee
a gentle girly girl!
- Joined
- Jan 24, 2023
- Posts
- 206
#25
**Clogyrnach girl**
The girl walks through the lonely street,
At 2 am early in the morning,
All alone, her heart filled with fear.
A shadow follows her,
Silent and dark,
Like a predator stalking its prey.
The girl tries to run,
But her feet are leaden,
And the shadow is always there.
She is trapped,
Alone in the darkness,
With the shadow closing in.
She screams,
But no one can hear her,
And the shadow is upon her.
She is lost,
And she will never be found.
**and the end**
**Clogyrnach girl**
The girl walks through the lonely street,
At 2 am early in the morning,
All alone, her heart filled with fear.
A shadow follows her,
Silent and dark,
Like a predator stalking its prey.
The girl tries to run,
But her feet are leaden,
And the shadow is always there.
She is trapped,
Alone in the darkness,
With the shadow closing in.
She screams,
But no one can hear her,
And the shadow is upon her.
She is lost,
And she will never be found.
**and the end**
Dog
Every dog hates being called ' Bad'
It makes him depressed....sad...
To be called" You're a Good Boy!"
Brings him Glee and Joy!!!
But sometimes his canine nature
Doth him in grip capture
Then he behaves like a real jerk
Bites, growls'n bark
Later he does calm down.....
Shaggy , black'n brown !?
Steeped in remorseful sorrow:
He yelps suddenly" there's always tomorrow!!!"
Every dog hates being called ' Bad'
It makes him depressed....sad...
To be called" You're a Good Boy!"
Brings him Glee and Joy!!!
But sometimes his canine nature
Doth him in grip capture
Then he behaves like a real jerk
Bites, growls'n bark
Later he does calm down.....
Shaggy , black'n brown !?
Steeped in remorseful sorrow:
He yelps suddenly" there's always tomorrow!!!"
Attachments
Ambient4190
Really Experienced
- Joined
- May 4, 2021
- Posts
- 256
snout narrow
runt
35 lbs
I could easily
snatch the ball
but I wait
til she gives
willingly
sister a hoss
not what a lady
wants to hear
no chance to
take
ball away
teeth muscles
hold it dear
remember
ones who
came before
lives too short
my treasures
right now
in this moment
play ball morning
runt
35 lbs
I could easily
snatch the ball
but I wait
til she gives
willingly
sister a hoss
not what a lady
wants to hear
no chance to
take
ball away
teeth muscles
hold it dear
remember
ones who
came before
lives too short
my treasures
right now
in this moment
play ball morning
Wonderer67
Optimistic nihilist
- Joined
- Sep 25, 2020
- Posts
- 11,112
Ditch Lilies
It’s that time of year
Where low-class flowers bloom
Ditch lilies erupt
Orange and yellow
Imaginary fires in the irrigation ditches
Along the road
And by the fence in our back yard
Each flower gets it’s one and only day
That one singular day to strut its stuff
It’s a signal and reminder to me
That my birthday is coming up
And my wife’s birthday, a few days after that
The first day of summer
Is banging on my door
Magic
I remember being a kid
Knowing that school was over
Hazy hot and humid days on the way
A summer of possibility lay ahead
The Califon Carnival looming
A summer of baseball
Fishing
Exploring in the woods
Capturing lighting bugs
Rebecca and I lay naked on our back patio
Taking in the summer
Watching the lilies
Orange bodies, yellow stripes on each petal
They have their one day
To cum
And then wither and die
23/52
It’s that time of year
Where low-class flowers bloom
Ditch lilies erupt
Orange and yellow
Imaginary fires in the irrigation ditches
Along the road
And by the fence in our back yard
Each flower gets it’s one and only day
That one singular day to strut its stuff
It’s a signal and reminder to me
That my birthday is coming up
And my wife’s birthday, a few days after that
The first day of summer
Is banging on my door
Magic
I remember being a kid
Knowing that school was over
Hazy hot and humid days on the way
A summer of possibility lay ahead
The Califon Carnival looming
A summer of baseball
Fishing
Exploring in the woods
Capturing lighting bugs
Rebecca and I lay naked on our back patio
Taking in the summer
Watching the lilies
Orange bodies, yellow stripes on each petal
They have their one day
To cum
And then wither and die
23/52
goddessofglee
a gentle girly girl!
- Joined
- Jan 24, 2023
- Posts
- 206
#26...
show, don't tell
The poet's pen is a mighty wand
That can paint pictures in the reader's mind,
But if it tells, then all the magic's banned,
And all the reader sees are words, not kind.
The poet's skill is to show, not tell,
To paint a scene with words so vivid clear
That the reader feels they're there, in the spell,
And not just reading words on a white page here.
So show, don't tell, dear poet, show your art, Let your words paint pictures in the reader's mind, And let the reader feel they're there, not part Of an audience, but in the story's bind.
In the telling, there's a flaw,
A truth that's hidden from the law.
For when you tell a tale,
The teller's voice doth wail
And all the listener feels
Is what the teller feels.
But if you show, not tell,
The tale will speak itself.
The reader then will see
The truth, not what you say,
And feel the thing you mean
Without a single scream.
So show, not tell, your tale,
And let the reader wail.
For when the reader feels,
The tale will live and heal.
For if you tell, then all the magic's lost, And all the reader sees are words, not art.
show, don't tell
The poet's pen is a mighty wand
That can paint pictures in the reader's mind,
But if it tells, then all the magic's banned,
And all the reader sees are words, not kind.
The poet's skill is to show, not tell,
To paint a scene with words so vivid clear
That the reader feels they're there, in the spell,
And not just reading words on a white page here.
So show, don't tell, dear poet, show your art, Let your words paint pictures in the reader's mind, And let the reader feel they're there, not part Of an audience, but in the story's bind.
In the telling, there's a flaw,
A truth that's hidden from the law.
For when you tell a tale,
The teller's voice doth wail
And all the listener feels
Is what the teller feels.
But if you show, not tell,
The tale will speak itself.
The reader then will see
The truth, not what you say,
And feel the thing you mean
Without a single scream.
So show, not tell, your tale,
And let the reader wail.
For when the reader feels,
The tale will live and heal.
For if you tell, then all the magic's lost, And all the reader sees are words, not art.
Wonderer67
Optimistic nihilist
- Joined
- Sep 25, 2020
- Posts
- 11,112
Day Lily Skirt
We saw The Hives
Eleven years ago to the day
June 22, 2012
One of our first dates
She wore her day lily skirt
White, sexy and short
Fiery orange day lilies
Like little orange explosions
It was a magical summer evening in NYC
Her long legs were sexy
She wore her high heeled Docs
She was the most beautiful woman
I’d ever been with
We drove home
Sweaty and high
On music
Each-other’s energy
And the summer
24/52
We saw The Hives
Eleven years ago to the day
June 22, 2012
One of our first dates
She wore her day lily skirt
White, sexy and short
Fiery orange day lilies
Like little orange explosions
It was a magical summer evening in NYC
Her long legs were sexy
She wore her high heeled Docs
She was the most beautiful woman
I’d ever been with
We drove home
Sweaty and high
On music
Each-other’s energy
And the summer
24/52
Mrtenant
Lord of Chaos
- Joined
- Sep 4, 2009
- Posts
- 28,449
Seven
Seven years ago
Way late at night
Hours of mystery
Seven years ago
There was born
Tall tale of romance
So was our story
There was born
Danced in the storm
With our pleasure
With our pain
Danced in the storm
Become so close
More than we'd know
So many miles away
Become so close
Such different worlds
And yet here we are
Sharing it all from
Such different worlds
One special connection
Makes you blush
Wanting it more
One special connection
To the stars and beyond
How often I've said
How often you've said
To the stars and beyond
Seven years ago
Way late at night
Hours of mystery
Seven years ago
There was born
Tall tale of romance
So was our story
There was born
Danced in the storm
With our pleasure
With our pain
Danced in the storm
Become so close
More than we'd know
So many miles away
Become so close
Such different worlds
And yet here we are
Sharing it all from
Such different worlds
One special connection
Makes you blush
Wanting it more
One special connection
To the stars and beyond
How often I've said
How often you've said
To the stars and beyond
butters
High on a Hill
- Joined
- Jul 2, 2009
- Posts
- 84,818
poem #9
after yesterday's rains
dawn's dew thick on white clover
plastic gallon bucket on my arm
my fingers gently pull on berries
that bushes cede easily
fruits plump and blue
after yesterday's rains
beneath leaves
spiders hang in quiet webs
as a curious carpenter bee
returns again and again
like a noisy diesel mower
close to my ear
i ignore touches and tickles
on bare skin
trusting to deep woods
to live up to its hype
june sun climbs
along with harvest's weight
sweat falls on ants, on earth
humidity still high and
skies a blend of pastel hues
cirrus and cumulous
in lazy motion
backdrop to a duet
of fluid harmonies
complexities of two
unseen competitors
seeking to attract
a raucous voice tears their melodies apart—
the land-locked rooster
dreaming of treetops
after yesterday's rains
dawn's dew thick on white clover
plastic gallon bucket on my arm
my fingers gently pull on berries
that bushes cede easily
fruits plump and blue
after yesterday's rains
beneath leaves
spiders hang in quiet webs
as a curious carpenter bee
returns again and again
like a noisy diesel mower
close to my ear
i ignore touches and tickles
on bare skin
trusting to deep woods
to live up to its hype
june sun climbs
along with harvest's weight
sweat falls on ants, on earth
humidity still high and
skies a blend of pastel hues
cirrus and cumulous
in lazy motion
backdrop to a duet
of fluid harmonies
complexities of two
unseen competitors
seeking to attract
a raucous voice tears their melodies apart—
the land-locked rooster
dreaming of treetops
Last edited:
goddessofglee
a gentle girly girl!
- Joined
- Jan 24, 2023
- Posts
- 206
#27
we're conversing in verse,
Two friends, one girl, one guy,
They talk of fun and of time,
Of things that annoy
or make them sigh.
The girl is thwarted,
She's met some people who bored,
The guy is supportive,
He tries to offer some cheer,
But the girl is still down,
She's not having much fun here.
The girl leaves to go out,
She's not eating with boys,
Only girls, she says,
With a teasing smile and a knowing smirk.
The guy is left alone,
He's not sure what to think,
But he knows that he'll miss her,
When she's gone for her thing.
* * *
The girl returned, a frown on her face,
"I've had no fun, no girls, no place,"
The guy replied, "I'm glad you're back,
But what's the matter, what's the crack?"
The guy was sad to hear her say,
That she had not enjoyed herself.
He hoped that things would be better,
When she returned to their online shelf.
I met your Sarah, she's a snob,
She thinks she's better than a heartthrob."
"I met her in the bingo game,
She left after a few rounds, I'd say, it's lame,"
"Yeah, people there are cliquey, I know,
I stopped playing because it wasn't fun,"
"The writer disappeared too,
He left the story, somewhat undone"
"Maybe he got busy in Real Life,
He'll be back, I'm sure, give him some time."
"I'm going to start a new story,
I'll write it from my standpoint,"
"I think that would be much better,
I think most readers would prefer the latter."
"We'll twist the story into another sphere,
Instead of connecting with him there,"
"We could do another whole story,
Or we could just start with you dumping him."
"Why not a whole new story?
It would be fun to have a blank canvas,"
"I'll start it at the food truck,
On the very next day when I left my luck."
"I'll let you know when it's ready,"
"I hope you have fun," said the guy,
"Sorry, it's not me taking you,"
"I'm not eating anything with boys,"
Said the girl with a teasing laugh.
* eventually*
The girl was finally happy,
She had found a place where she belonged.
The guy was happy too,
He had found a friend to take along.
we're conversing in verse,
Two friends, one girl, one guy,
They talk of fun and of time,
Of things that annoy
or make them sigh.
The girl is thwarted,
She's met some people who bored,
The guy is supportive,
He tries to offer some cheer,
But the girl is still down,
She's not having much fun here.
The girl leaves to go out,
She's not eating with boys,
Only girls, she says,
With a teasing smile and a knowing smirk.
The guy is left alone,
He's not sure what to think,
But he knows that he'll miss her,
When she's gone for her thing.
* * *
The girl returned, a frown on her face,
"I've had no fun, no girls, no place,"
The guy replied, "I'm glad you're back,
But what's the matter, what's the crack?"
The guy was sad to hear her say,
That she had not enjoyed herself.
He hoped that things would be better,
When she returned to their online shelf.
I met your Sarah, she's a snob,
She thinks she's better than a heartthrob."
"I met her in the bingo game,
She left after a few rounds, I'd say, it's lame,"
"Yeah, people there are cliquey, I know,
I stopped playing because it wasn't fun,"
"The writer disappeared too,
He left the story, somewhat undone"
"Maybe he got busy in Real Life,
He'll be back, I'm sure, give him some time."
"I'm going to start a new story,
I'll write it from my standpoint,"
"I think that would be much better,
I think most readers would prefer the latter."
"We'll twist the story into another sphere,
Instead of connecting with him there,"
"We could do another whole story,
Or we could just start with you dumping him."
"Why not a whole new story?
It would be fun to have a blank canvas,"
"I'll start it at the food truck,
On the very next day when I left my luck."
"I'll let you know when it's ready,"
"I hope you have fun," said the guy,
"Sorry, it's not me taking you,"
"I'm not eating anything with boys,"
Said the girl with a teasing laugh.
* eventually*
The girl was finally happy,
She had found a place where she belonged.
The guy was happy too,
He had found a friend to take along.
Tzara
Continental
- Joined
- Aug 2, 2005
- Posts
- 7,677
Semaphore
I sometimes feel
as if I am standing on a tower,
snapping brightly colored flags
into distinct and severe
positions. Every few minutes
I squint into the foggy distance,
hoping for an acquiescent response
or at least an acknowledgement
that my message has been received,
but all I can perceive are clouds,
a few wandering seagulls,
and the muffled sound of the surf,
smoothing the broad beach blank
as a brand-new chalkboard.
Week 25: Poem 1: Total 37
I sometimes feel
as if I am standing on a tower,
snapping brightly colored flags
into distinct and severe
positions. Every few minutes
I squint into the foggy distance,
hoping for an acquiescent response
or at least an acknowledgement
that my message has been received,
but all I can perceive are clouds,
a few wandering seagulls,
and the muffled sound of the surf,
smoothing the broad beach blank
as a brand-new chalkboard.
Week 25: Poem 1: Total 37
goddessofglee
a gentle girly girl!
- Joined
- Jan 24, 2023
- Posts
- 206
#28
I know you're not alone.
I've seen the way you stare,
I know you have, my dear.
Your eyes upon me, so near.
As if I'm something you own.
I've seen you in the shadows,
I've seen the way your eyes linger,
On my body curves or my hair.
You've watched me quite often!
I know you have,
I've seen you stare.
I've seen the way you lick your lips,
As if you're tasting me.
I've seen the way your heart races,
When I walk by, so close yet free.
You've watched the way I walk,
The way I sway my hips.
You've watched my lips pout,
And smile, and giggle, and sip.
You like the way my legs look
In a skirt, or heels, or tights.
And tease, and drive you wild.
You've watched me flirt, and tease,
And wonder what I'd do if you seized.
But what would you do,
If you caught me, if you knew?
Would you be bold and ask me out?
Or would you run away, without doubt?
I wonder what it is you'd do,
If you caught me, if you knew.
Would you be bold and make a move,
Or would you run away, too?
I wonder what you'd say,
If I were to say to you,
"I know you watch me,
And I like it, too."
I know what I would do,
If I caught you watching me.
I would smile and wink,
And give you a little tease.
I would let you know that I know,
That you've been watching me.
I would let you know that I'm flattered,
And that I'm not afraid to be.
But if you caught me,
If you knew what I'd do,
You'd be surprised, my dear.
I'd smile, and say, "Hello,"
And then I'd walk away from you.
So come on, make your move,
I'm waiting for you.
I know you want to,
So don't be a fool.
* * *
I know you're not alone.
I've seen the way you stare,
I know you have, my dear.
Your eyes upon me, so near.
As if I'm something you own.
I've seen you in the shadows,
I've seen the way your eyes linger,
On my body curves or my hair.
You've watched me quite often!
I know you have,
I've seen you stare.
I've seen the way you lick your lips,
As if you're tasting me.
I've seen the way your heart races,
When I walk by, so close yet free.
You've watched the way I walk,
The way I sway my hips.
You've watched my lips pout,
And smile, and giggle, and sip.
You like the way my legs look
In a skirt, or heels, or tights.
And tease, and drive you wild.
You've watched me flirt, and tease,
And wonder what I'd do if you seized.
But what would you do,
If you caught me, if you knew?
Would you be bold and ask me out?
Or would you run away, without doubt?
I wonder what it is you'd do,
If you caught me, if you knew.
Would you be bold and make a move,
Or would you run away, too?
I wonder what you'd say,
If I were to say to you,
"I know you watch me,
And I like it, too."
I know what I would do,
If I caught you watching me.
I would smile and wink,
And give you a little tease.
I would let you know that I know,
That you've been watching me.
I would let you know that I'm flattered,
And that I'm not afraid to be.
But if you caught me,
If you knew what I'd do,
You'd be surprised, my dear.
I'd smile, and say, "Hello,"
And then I'd walk away from you.
So come on, make your move,
I'm waiting for you.
I know you want to,
So don't be a fool.
* * *
OtherMan
Adverbially Verbaled
- Joined
- Mar 5, 2023
- Posts
- 1,242
There are
infinite times
when
you
beat
this…
and endlessly times when you won’t.
And eternally times when you greet this…
and bottomless times when you don’t.
So…
the flippity coin’s tipping airborne,
each
sparkle
of light
winks its trace.
Just watch…
silver stars that have been born…
to shine their light all on your face.
5/27/23
#40
infinite times
when
you
beat
this…
and endlessly times when you won’t.
And eternally times when you greet this…
and bottomless times when you don’t.
So…
the flippity coin’s tipping airborne,
each
sparkle
of light
winks its trace.
Just watch…
silver stars that have been born…
to shine their light all on your face.
5/27/23
#40
butters
High on a Hill
- Joined
- Jul 2, 2009
- Posts
- 84,818
poem #11
expected heat index of 115+ Thursday
summer was never my favourite
of the 4 seasons
it came joint 2nd with spring
but that was back in the U.K
when on a really hot day
—80-85—
i might catch a train
to the beach
half an hour
from concrete to sand
work to lounging in placid waters
now summer is a time to endure
survive the pounding heat
the bathwater air
fans on high
but hair still salty, wet
no beach in sight
June's early greens grow sere
the earth becomes a lightning fractal
even the hardiest weeds thirsty
for storm clouds that skirt us by
delivering flash floods and tornadic destruction
mere miles away
100 suns, his mother feels the cold
sets the window cooler to a balmy 85
and i'm dying
trying to can and bake the produce we have grown
every inch of me slimy, slick
and i can't wait for winter
the hope of snow
because even autumn here
is warm
..................................................
H's mum's 'den' is open to the kitchen and it can get pretty hot in there and i melt like a snow cone on the sun
expected heat index of 115+ Thursday
summer was never my favourite
of the 4 seasons
it came joint 2nd with spring
but that was back in the U.K
when on a really hot day
—80-85—
i might catch a train
to the beach
half an hour
from concrete to sand
work to lounging in placid waters
now summer is a time to endure
survive the pounding heat
the bathwater air
fans on high
but hair still salty, wet
no beach in sight
June's early greens grow sere
the earth becomes a lightning fractal
even the hardiest weeds thirsty
for storm clouds that skirt us by
delivering flash floods and tornadic destruction
mere miles away
100 suns, his mother feels the cold
sets the window cooler to a balmy 85
and i'm dying
trying to can and bake the produce we have grown
every inch of me slimy, slick
and i can't wait for winter
the hope of snow
because even autumn here
is warm
..................................................
H's mum's 'den' is open to the kitchen and it can get pretty hot in there and i melt like a snow cone on the sun
Last edited:
alwaystheguy1983
Loving and Living
- Joined
- Jan 20, 2023
- Posts
- 773
Birds songs and lightening,
Both struck me true
Then it was late night food runs
You were eating for two
Any on this day i cant help think
That I’m not the man i am
If I dont say,
I do
~S.M.~
Both struck me true
Then it was late night food runs
You were eating for two
Any on this day i cant help think
That I’m not the man i am
If I dont say,
I do
~S.M.~
Was this... .???
Was this written by a Poet:
Or vide AIGpt. Chatbot???!!
What Blasphemy:
Sacrilegious thought!!!??
A Poet knits his/her brow:
Thru' endless mental fields..
He/ she doth diligently plow!!!
A technocrat doth press a button
A screen lights up & laptop turns on
He orders up a poem:
Readers the process & product...
Both R gonna' bore 'em!!!@#%^÷/**
Was this written by a Poet:
Or vide AIGpt. Chatbot???!!
What Blasphemy:
Sacrilegious thought!!!??
A Poet knits his/her brow:
Thru' endless mental fields..
He/ she doth diligently plow!!!
A technocrat doth press a button
A screen lights up & laptop turns on
He orders up a poem:
Readers the process & product...
Both R gonna' bore 'em!!!@#%^÷/**
Tzara
Continental
- Joined
- Aug 2, 2005
- Posts
- 7,677
Yes, Yes, It's Once Again an Onegin Stanza
Another poèm, this one rhyming,
And with a syncopated beat
That's all about poetic timing.
When it's done right, it's quite a feat.
My favorite extravaganza
Is writing verse in Pushkin's stanza
Its clever, tetrameric lines
Send shivers up and down my spines
(For I have two—one bone, one moral—
the former tingling in its nerves,
the latter conscious of the swerves
of bad to good and how they quarrel).
In any case, I'm done this week
Howe'er this verse is quite un-chic.
Week 26: Poem 1: Total 38
Another poèm, this one rhyming,
And with a syncopated beat
That's all about poetic timing.
When it's done right, it's quite a feat.
My favorite extravaganza
Is writing verse in Pushkin's stanza
Its clever, tetrameric lines
Send shivers up and down my spines
(For I have two—one bone, one moral—
the former tingling in its nerves,
the latter conscious of the swerves
of bad to good and how they quarrel).
In any case, I'm done this week
Howe'er this verse is quite un-chic.
Week 26: Poem 1: Total 38
Angeline
Poet Chick
- Joined
- Mar 11, 2002
- Posts
- 27,214
In Which I Fail at the Onegin Stanza
It's nothing to do with passion
and everything with the beat.
I like form poems but this fashion
is not one I'll likely repeat.
I can't say it's sparking pleasure
nor joy nor producing treasure,
but sometimes one just has to try
to kiss one's sweet safe zone goodbye.
Also I really like Tzara,
a fine poet and he's my friend
who often inspires me (Shara)
to emulate forms he has penned.
Welp clearly this didn't go well
but sometimes these things just don't jell!
Week 26, Poem 1, Total 32
It's nothing to do with passion
and everything with the beat.
I like form poems but this fashion
is not one I'll likely repeat.
I can't say it's sparking pleasure
nor joy nor producing treasure,
but sometimes one just has to try
to kiss one's sweet safe zone goodbye.
Also I really like Tzara,
a fine poet and he's my friend
who often inspires me (Shara)
to emulate forms he has penned.
Welp clearly this didn't go well
but sometimes these things just don't jell!
Week 26, Poem 1, Total 32
Wonderer67
Optimistic nihilist
- Joined
- Sep 25, 2020
- Posts
- 11,112
Thank you Butters for the inspiration…
https://forum.literotica.com/thread...ems-only-thread.1579894/page-15#post-97141367
Picking Blueberries
My wife and I pick at the end of the day
Her, the gardener and knower of all things
Master gardener-ish
Me…
Just a dumb man who likes blueberries
Years ago, she taught me how to pick them
“Just fondle them…when they are ready
They will fall right off into your hand or container”
It sounded a little sexual
But it was another kind of love
The result was not dissimilar tho
Sweetness
A pleasure for the mouth
And tastebuds
And tummy
Feeling that natural pectin
Wind its way inside my brain and body
Sweetness swells
A tiny little mouth orgasm
Seven or eight for the container
Then a nice, plump purple one for me
We continue…
Knowing that the birds target the berries too
And dodging mosquitos,
We run back to the house
Steal a few for our mouth libidos
And save the rest of our booty
For later.
25/52
https://forum.literotica.com/thread...ems-only-thread.1579894/page-15#post-97141367
Picking Blueberries
My wife and I pick at the end of the day
Her, the gardener and knower of all things
Master gardener-ish
Me…
Just a dumb man who likes blueberries
Years ago, she taught me how to pick them
“Just fondle them…when they are ready
They will fall right off into your hand or container”
It sounded a little sexual
But it was another kind of love
The result was not dissimilar tho
Sweetness
A pleasure for the mouth
And tastebuds
And tummy
Feeling that natural pectin
Wind its way inside my brain and body
Sweetness swells
A tiny little mouth orgasm
Seven or eight for the container
Then a nice, plump purple one for me
We continue…
Knowing that the birds target the berries too
And dodging mosquitos,
We run back to the house
Steal a few for our mouth libidos
And save the rest of our booty
For later.
25/52
29wordsforsnow
beyond thirty
- Joined
- Jul 17, 2019
- Posts
- 1,217
Sixsome on Canvas
* a saucy Sestina *
A bold brush destined for red,
jealously watched by the tin of yellow
one starts to get moody next to such blue,
drops small poppy heads in the meadow green
a view as toxic as the chromium orange
on the painter's finger's rotting purple.
The night, as well, turns purple
as it drinks the horizon's dying red
a candle casts shades of gloomy orange
drowning the dots of embroidered yellow
Luna's cape gleams on the next morning's green
she's almost unseen in her darkest blue.
This home's door, that's painted blue
will welcome a lady's coat dyed purple
as she will pass the heavy curtains' green
and put her heels on a carpet so red
the erubescent girl'll, in the yellow
nude bulb's light dangling above, look orange.
A slice of a sweet orange
complementary in Curaçao blue
scrambled eggs, maelstrom of white and yellow
for starters impaled grapes, pale and purple,
beetroot a complicated bloody red
murder on a salad of many greens.
The precious emerald green
eyes upon a ring of costly orange
just the hint of a kiss turns her cheeks red
the male gaze trapped by lacy baby blue
not in plain sight is his pulsing purple
but a wolf's smirk dipped in smoky yellow.
The canvas of bleached yellow
like the ropes on display next to the green
peace lily leaves and a batch of purple
banknotes to see the last piece, orange
panties sailing the silk scarfs' sea of blue
do not eat tells the paintbox in bright red.
Skin a pale yellow with shades of orange.
The blue depths harbor a dangerous green.
Scaled-down purple meets a lusty tongue red.
* a saucy Sestina *
A bold brush destined for red,
jealously watched by the tin of yellow
one starts to get moody next to such blue,
drops small poppy heads in the meadow green
a view as toxic as the chromium orange
on the painter's finger's rotting purple.
The night, as well, turns purple
as it drinks the horizon's dying red
a candle casts shades of gloomy orange
drowning the dots of embroidered yellow
Luna's cape gleams on the next morning's green
she's almost unseen in her darkest blue.
This home's door, that's painted blue
will welcome a lady's coat dyed purple
as she will pass the heavy curtains' green
and put her heels on a carpet so red
the erubescent girl'll, in the yellow
nude bulb's light dangling above, look orange.
A slice of a sweet orange
complementary in Curaçao blue
scrambled eggs, maelstrom of white and yellow
for starters impaled grapes, pale and purple,
beetroot a complicated bloody red
murder on a salad of many greens.
The precious emerald green
eyes upon a ring of costly orange
just the hint of a kiss turns her cheeks red
the male gaze trapped by lacy baby blue
not in plain sight is his pulsing purple
but a wolf's smirk dipped in smoky yellow.
The canvas of bleached yellow
like the ropes on display next to the green
peace lily leaves and a batch of purple
banknotes to see the last piece, orange
panties sailing the silk scarfs' sea of blue
do not eat tells the paintbox in bright red.
Skin a pale yellow with shades of orange.
The blue depths harbor a dangerous green.
Scaled-down purple meets a lusty tongue red.
Last edited:
Similar threads
