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Let's Hear It For The Poets

I thought this one was here, but had to go hunt it down in the Just Porn thread, a luscious collaboration of writing and reading.

Champagne's reading of Todsksi's Moan Me a Tone piece.
 
trix :D:rose:

it's so interesting to hear a piece - how differently one poet reads it to the next. if we tried to write with that at the forefront of our minds it would drive us crazy!

for me, your reading of Harry's piece was crisp and clean -but that meant, for me, i didn't feel the almost hypnotic cadence of the write. when i read it, i hear it way slower in my head. see what i mean? each of us must 'hear' every damned poem so differently it's like a new poem every time! :eek::D

i really liked what you did with todski's, and your reading of oldbear's brought it even more to life than i'd 'inside-my-head' heard it before.

champer's piece is ... an education :cool:

feel free to take a run at any of mine if they appeal. :rose:
 
butters said:
trix :D:rose:

it's so interesting to hear a piece - how differently one poet reads it to the next. if we tried to write with that at the forefront of our minds it would drive us crazy!

for me, your reading of Harry's piece was crisp and clean -but that meant, for me, i didn't feel the almost hypnotic cadence of the write. when i read it, i hear it way slower in my head. see what i mean? each of us must 'hear' every damned poem so differently it's like a new poem every time! :eek::D

i really liked what you did with todski's, and your reading of oldbear's brought it even more to life than i'd 'inside-my-head' heard it before.

champer's piece is ... an education :cool:

feel free to take a run at any of mine if they appeal. :rose:
Click to expand...

I tend to talk fast, so when I read that's the way I hear it. There are some pieces that feel slower to me and I have trouble slowing my speaking pace for those. I'm working on it.

I was going to ask you, and others, for permission to read some pieces, thanks for the pre-approval :D
 
Trixareforkids said:
I tend to talk fast, so when I read that's the way I hear it. There are some pieces that feel slower to me and I have trouble slowing my speaking pace for those. I'm working on it.

I was going to ask you, and others, for permission to read some pieces, thanks for the pre-approval :D
Click to expand...

:kiss:

i can never make mine sound as good as they do in my head - always the disappointment... lol :rolleyes::D
 
This is a wild experiment -- I'm not sure I like it. It's a bossa nova setting of one of my poems. I don't claim to be a good singer.

https://soundcloud.com/alwayshungry-4/door-into-summer

The Door Into Summer

No gaudy autumn greeted me,
My winter was not cold.
The planet spun reluctantly,
So bland, disheartened, old.

Perhaps the galaxies aligned,
Or maybe just because...
A helpful zephyr teased my mind,
I woke, and there she was.

She brought what spring had promised, though
It wasn't in the air,
And paints my days, like long ago,
With glowing solar flair.

It shines profusely down once more,
A flood of joyful sin,
Together we unlatch the door
And summer tumbles in.
 
https://soundcloud.com/todski28/just-porn

Hands hold your wrist overhead
bear down with strength to pin
your lust in place, as you rub
against my thigh
a splash of desire slides down the swell of my quad

A smirk lights my face as I ravage your flaunted chest , tounge laps at the base of your breasts as you squirm and wriggle

A giggle and clipped cry as I nibble on a nipple a quick flit before the heat of my breath works down to your navel, the swell of my bulging cock slides down your thigh rock hard rigidity tinged with the touch of soft flesh,

the tendons under my fingers vibrate a fury that rages,
ardent intention fires the desires deep inside you,
I tease in limbo between the want of your mouth and the demands of your pussy

my hand runs down the inside of your arm, the callouses on my palm rasp as didgets pass your shoulder and slide over to your lips, a finger gently follows the ridges and slips down yet further, apply gentle firm pressure squeze a moan from the home of acapella

Trace the oval shape of your core
oh to taste you in this state a hiss as I paint with licks and kiss the trail down to your pelvis line

My free hand deft and sure traces the ticklish place around your entrance where you will accept me inside.
a battering ram into willing want my tongue tastes as a serpent flickering stutter that makes you mutter
take me,

I part your folds to sup on your pearl as fingers find the way inside
devoured by your hunger,
smooth soft heat engulfs and swallows as your hips drive downward penetration
then up onto clitoral stimulation

Your heat burns like a star , fingers stretch to
find a feel of g-spot inside, a rough ridge of pulse that tingles as my tongue mingles the taste of you.

can you dance on the verge as I urge you to cum, the precipice looms as every up, and every down flays the frayed edges of your exstacy,

it's all organic baby
those oh's you groan
the tone you
yes

slow
waves show
how close you
are to flow over
that slope slips
crashes
as hips mash lush liquid

I drink of your essence
before
hard
fast
penetration
ankles on my shoulders
our
eyes meet as I sliide
deep, cries beat my ears

consumed swallowed in the rivers mouth
that flows into an ocean
this is divinity
forgive me if I think God is between your thighs
and I wish to sacrifice at the alter
my sweat,
my breath,
my heart beat
my seed
 
https://soundcloud.com/todski28/she-poetry

.she, poetry

How deep is your poetry?
i asked in wonder,
my voice a baritone whisper
that seemed to slick down
and slide to her,
she led me into its depths

to race me to the water's edge
to lap at its swollen banks
i watched her writhe
on me, with me
shudder to her own rhythm
speaking in foreign languages
whilst cursing the night
and singing songs of passion

a siren that echoes the beat
that pounds at my temple
the drips of sweat that
run down valleys and curves
natural crevasses cut on her skin
like Appalachian mountains
or a volcanoes stream

where insanity is art
and her fingers paint raking red lines
across my back
she bites my neck,
now she is Nosferatu shrieking
damnation at the skies

finally she is the north wind
blowing heat from the valley
summers scald on skin
she gasps for air
heat's heavy oppression has stolen
her oxygen

and no damn wonder
the depth of her poetry is fathomless
for she is poetry
and i have only read
the first verse
 
Love the poem tods and you sound great! I love hearing these readings that tell me how the poet hears the poem. :rose:
 
butters said:
the salt marsh
is beautiful
when viewed from above
mud and brine transformed
to shining flats etched with fractals
patterns that glitter in the light of day
glimmer
beneath moon and stars

how far away it seems
how long
since first we sprang from soil
tiny rivulets
kissed by grass
trickled
as streams
counting gravel in our beds
swelled
cut through steep-banked valleys
fields of grain alike
felt the rush of power fed by rains
were spurred
by the knowledge of mortality

till we found pleasure
in taking just a little time
to meander in thought
reflect on blue or stormy skies
and how it feels to harbour precious
life that seems to open up
even as we're shaped by silt

till
here we are
spilled, joined,
contemplating beauty in our now
curling round
splitting into intricacies
delicate capillaries
before time and tide claim us
and we reach our endless sea
Click to expand...

She said I could, so I finally did...

https://soundcloud.com/mistress-heather/untitled-piece-by-butters
 
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