It's the Poem-A-Week Challenge Discussion Thread

[Wonderer67]

I like yours better, they look friendlier and homemade and contain more love

Thank you!

They were the worst ones and fall off.

 

[aiyia]

Well actually it was

SENTENCE
FRAGMENT

And she wasn't wearing a bra so you could see her nipples

 

[SmilingLez]

I decided to take my homage to rhyme and turn it into a story format (i.e. paragraphs, the rhyme unchanged). The premise being time is not linear and I set the scene thusly

Jayne and Debbie Across Time

Description: A story told in rhyme and time

I have always been fascinated by the idea that time doesn’t always move in a straight line. What if the same two lesbians found each other in different times? Three moments with Jayne and Debbie - the 1960s, the digital age of kink, and a long-term BDSM/TPE dynamic. Each life explores how trust, power, and consent shape a timeless connection. (Not a "stroker".)


Life 1: Summer of Love - 1960s, San Francisco

Imagine a moment where freedom is not just a word, but a breathing entity. Where the boundaries of love stretch beyond societal constraints, and two lesbians find each other in the raw, unfiltered landscape of personal revolution.


Life 2: Digital Intimacy - Networked Desire

In an age where connection is both everywhere and nowhere, intimacy becomes a carefully negotiated dance. Technology transforms how we meet, how we communicate, and how we surrender. Yet the fundamental human need for genuine connection remains unchanged


Life 3: Decades of Negotiated Passion - Evolved Relationship

Power is not taken, but offered. Trust is not a simple transaction, but a living, breathing architecture that two people construct together. Some bonds transcend time, growing more intricate and more nuanced with each shared breath.


It will be interesting if Literotica approves it and how the readers in the lesbian sex category will react

 

[Angeline]

For SpermFactory in celebration of his latest poem

 

[SpermFactory]

Brilliant.

I decided to take my homage to rhyme and turn it into a story format (i.e. paragraphs, the rhyme unchanged). The premise being time is not linear and I set the scene thusly

Jayne and Debbie Across Time

Description: A story told in rhyme and time

I have always been fascinated by the idea that time doesn’t always move in a straight line. What if the same two lesbians found each other in different times? Three moments with Jayne and Debbie - the 1960s, the digital age of kink, and a long-term BDSM/TPE dynamic. Each life explores how trust, power, and consent shape a timeless connection. (Not a "stroker".)


Life 1: Summer of Love - 1960s, San Francisco

Imagine a moment where freedom is not just a word, but a breathing entity. Where the boundaries of love stretch beyond societal constraints, and two lesbians find each other in the raw, unfiltered landscape of personal revolution.


Life 2: Digital Intimacy - Networked Desire

In an age where connection is both everywhere and nowhere, intimacy becomes a carefully negotiated dance. Technology transforms how we meet, how we communicate, and how we surrender. Yet the fundamental human need for genuine connection remains unchanged


Life 3: Decades of Negotiated Passion - Evolved Relationship

Power is not taken, but offered. Trust is not a simple transaction, but a living, breathing architecture that two people construct together. Some bonds transcend time, growing more intricate and more nuanced with each shared breath.


It will be interesting if Literotica approves it and how the readers in the lesbian sex category will react

 

[Stephie02]

№1 of 52

The Unspoken Duel

He said, “I’d like to do something to you.”
I said, “And if I don’t approve of your advances?”

He smiled, “I’ve never failed.”
I replied, “You’ve never met my kind.”

He laughed softly, “I’ve met every kind there is.”
I answered, “Then you’ve met reflections, not depths.
Surface water flatters the sky,
but the sea keeps her secrets.”

He murmured, “You sound dangerous.”
I breathed, “Only to those who confuse touch
with permission.”

He leaned closer, “I like a challenge.”
I said quietly, “Then learn restraint.
Desire grows wiser
when left to wait.”

He observed, “You speak like fire, yet sit in calm.”
I smiled, “The fire is beneath the calm.
It listens—
it knows the language of trembling skin.”

He whispered, “You make contradictions sound divine.”
I replied, “Not divine,
just human enough to ache beautifully.”

He muttered, “You’re difficult.”
I returned, “I’m deliberate.
You chase storms;
I move clouds.”

He said, “You tempt me.”
I answered, “Temptation is what happens
when the mind forgets its manners.”

He claimed, “I can read you.”
I told him, “Then read the silence
between my words—
that’s where the pulse hides.”

He said, “You sound untouchable.”
I replied, “You mistake distance for mystery.
What you reach for isn’t me—
it’s your own longing,
wearing my outline.”

He murmured, “You’re unlike anyone I’ve met.”
I said, “That’s because I’m not meant to be met.
Only sensed—
like heat that lingers
after a hand has gone.”

He whispered, “You twist meaning.”
I breathed, “I unwrap it.
You came to conquer,
but language conquers quietly.”

He protested, “Words don’t wound.”
I said softly, “No.
They only reveal
where you’ve already bled.”

He fell silent.
The space between us thickened—
like air before rain.

I leaned closer and murmured,
“Now you see—
desire isn’t about taking.
It’s about recognition,
the echo of yourself
in another’s calm refusal.”

He looked at me, lost.
I smiled faintly,
“Some victories prefer silence.
They live in stillness,
and end
where wanting does not.”

An Afterthought

And when he left,
the air still held his question—
a fragile thing,
like smoke deciding
which way to disappear.

And I—
I gathered my quiet around me,
not as armor,
but as warmth.
Some nights,
the echo of his wanting
still trembles through my calm—
and I let it.
Because even restraint
has its pulse.

This is amazing and beautiful

 

[Stephie02]

Sunrise hits.
You’re beside me.
Warm. Awake. Real.

Coffee steams between us.
Fingers brush by accident.
Neither pulls away.

The room stays still,
the world does not,
this moment - ours.

You say, "stay."
Not dramatic.
Just certain.

Breath stutters.
Heat teases my cheeks.
I can't look away.

Us.
Still here.
Still together.

Hold me close.
Forehead to mine.
Hearts aligned.

Stay like this.
No promises.
Just us.

Beautiful

 

[SmilingLez]

I am throwing down the gauntlet and challenging every poet. I've started a Acrostic poetry thread to get our creative juices flowing. Anyone up for it?

 

[SpermFactory]

I am throwing down the gauntlet and challenging every poet. I've started a Acrostic poetry thread to get our creative juices flowing. Anyone up for it?

Oh how fucked am I? Does text speak count? Mehaha, create your own, my interactive acrostic.

F
u
C

 

[SmilingLez]

Oh how fucked am I? Does text speak count? Mehaha, create your own, my interactive acrostic.

F
u
C

That's the beauty of being a poet.

Special
Folks
See
Strings

 

[calmlikeabomb]

FYI

Until mid February or thereabouts,
Winters make me numb, have no doubts,
My poems will focus on the damm cold,
Shivering as I type this, feeling so old.

My duvet, fluffy, is my refuge,
I'm made for Summers and rainy deluge,
Can't even jack off, such is my plight,
My fluffy duvet is my sole delight.

If I could give my duvet a name,
Lisa, my second love, the one who I blame,
Together on Lit, a story we wrote,
A decade ago, now, I bore you all with bloat.