It's the 2025 Poem-A-Week Challenge! (This is a *poems only* thread.)

[Wonderer67]

The Cort Theater

In Somerville
All old school
Dark red uncomfortable seats
Second run movies for
Seventy seven cents

My dad swore he’d never go back
When they raised prices to
Eight eight cents
But he did

As we hollered
And laughed
As The Snowman
Along w his loyal hound Fred
And The Bandit
Went eastbound and down
All over Sherif
Buford T Justice

48/52

 

[amitheotherone]

Mentored still bent

First poem for me in a week
Words fought my mind too weak
Ms K grabbed my hand said HEY
Ping pong word games to play

Sometimes they just drip
Follow along to find your grip
Maybe Mac Miller or Dr John
Groove the beat can’t go wrong

Compass grinds as it spins
Four deuce points a way again
Knowledge shared not esoteric
Word fool never be a Kerouac

 

[SmilingLez]

I found my leather journal containing all the poetry I wrote in 2025. This piece was written February 18, 2025 before I joined Literotica


Touch me -
hard, quick
skin hot
against yours.
Bite lips,
tongue slide,
fingers curl,
heat rise.
Eyes lock,
breath deep,
pull close,
don’t stop.

 

[SmilingLez]

Here is another from my leather journal. This trochee was written March 17th 2025 . It's actually quite fun looking through my journals of words

clits pressed and moving fast
fingers curl and hold so tight
tongues keep tracing, never pause
hips are bending, sliding light

breasts are brushing, nerves alive
thighs are locked and moving slow
moans are breaking through the dark
hearts are pounding, steady flow

hands are tracing every curve
eyes are catching, holding tight
shadows crawl across the floor
night is burning, edge to edge

 

[Wonderer67]

Busted Knuckles

Turning wrenches
In the sleet and the rain
Trying to tighten a loose nut
Busted knuckles
Cussing and swearing

Trying to write
Late at night
The wind whooshing now
Skinned knuckles healing
Slightly less cussing and swearing

Forcing it
Writing lines
Chasing the word and feelings
Skinned knuckles
And bloody fingertips
Going
At
It

49/52

 

[Wonderer67]

Pecking Order

At the bird feeders

Wrens, nuthatches and titmice bob
Up and down on branches
My wife had put under the feeder
For cover
Happily bobbing and eating

No one gives the bigger mourning doves
The time of day
Ignoring then because they are no threat
Or because they are so passive

Cardinals and blue jays
On the feeders
Gettin fat

The blue jays are bastards
Chasing off the cardinals
Red against frozen ice

The blue jays run the show
Their calls and quick darting
Thrusts scare off Mr and Mrs cardinal

Till a blackbird shows up
Maybe a starling
Or grackle

Bullying the bullies
Standing tall
Not giving a damn
A jay flying close
Trying to scare him off
Several times
Thrust, parry, thrust again

But he is not having it
Just eating
And out blue jay-ing the blue jays
As the wind howls thru the white pines

As the bird feeder world turns

50/52

 

[Wonderer67]

Two Dive Bars and Authentic Polish Food On New Years Eve

A Trip To Hacketstown
Is not complete
Without a trip to
Manskirt and Czig’s
No food but fun times
I got some kielbasa
And pirogies
At a Polish deli around the corner
New Year’s Eve-ing it

On the way home
We passed The Nook
Where I saw The Ramones
In 85 or 86
I musta told my wife this
For the thousandth time

She may have rolled her eyes

We were gonna have one more
At the Anderson Hotel
Which I’ve never been to
But always wanted to

But it was closed

Probably for the best, really

51/52

 

[Wonderer67]

Fifty too

Fifty one is prime
And I thought about staying there
Edging as it were
Would my mistress
Withhold my wordgasm?

Fifty two…
…So tantalizingly close

I beg her to let my words cum

Fireworks in the distance
Celebrating new years

An hour early

My domme not letting me finish
Such pleasurable pain

Frustrating

Tune in next year

To see how it cums out

52/52

 

[MisterWolf26]

COMFORT OR DISGUST

My wife fits in a jar now.
Not even a body anymore.
My emotional blockages,
And kinks galore,
Made her doubt I could love her more.

My wife fits in a jar now.
Never have I wanted more to beleive.
To beleive that we survive.
Please my pain, my beloved, releive..
Know that I loved then and now.

My wife fits in a jar now.
Do my erratic tears prove my love?
Do they cause a metaphysical eye roll?
Looking for signs in the flights of doves.
Am I just a wishful thinking fool?