LOVE and OTHER BRUISES

[Anonymous]

Check_ Your_ Pulse wrote:

<quoted text>
All is well Adrian:) I still admire you as much as ever:)

Sweet....ditto !

Good Night

[Anonymous]

I am not resigned to the shutting away of loving hearts in the hard ground.
So it is, and so it will be, for so it has been, time out of mind:
Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely. Crowned
With lilies and with laurel they go; but I am not resigned.
Lovers and thinkers, into the earth with you.
Be one with the dull, the indiscriminate dust.
A fragment of what you felt, of what you knew,
A formula, a phrase remains,—- but the best is lost.

The answers quick and keen, the honest look, the laughter, the love,
They are gone. They have gone to feed the roses. Elegant and curled
Is the blossom. Fragrant is the blossom. I know. But I do not approve.
More precious was the light in your eyes than all the roses in the world.

Down, down, down into the darkness of the grave
Gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind;
Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave.
I know. But I do not approve. And I am not resigned.

[Anonymous]

Granted, in daily speech, where we don’t stop to consider every word;

we all use phrases like “the ordinary world,”“ordinary life,”“the ordinary course of events”…

But in the language of poetry, where every word is weighed, nothing is usual or normal.

Not a single stone and not a single cloud above it.

Not a single day and not a single night after it.

And above all, not a single existence, not anyone’s existence in this world.

It looks like poets will always have their work cut out for them.

[Gnome dePlume]

PROFILE DeVINE wrote:

Granted, in daily speech, where we don’t stop to consider every word;
we all use phrases like “the ordinary world,”“ordinary life,”“the ordinary course of events”…
But in the language of poetry, where every word is weighed, nothing is usual or normal.
Not a single stone and not a single cloud above it.
Not a single day and not a single night after it.
And above all, not a single existence, not anyone’s existence in this world.
It looks like poets will always have their work cut out for them.

Words are so very powerful, and we never know

what state of mind someone is in at any time. You

choose your words, but you cannot choose the

affect they will have on people. Always speak out

of love. True power does not crush others, but

helps them to see their own greatness...

~ Doe Zantamata

[Anonymous]

"The problem, often not discovered until late in life, is that when you look for things in your life like love, meaning, motivation, it implies they are sitting behind a tree or under a rock.

The most successful people in life recognize, that in life they create their own love, they manufacture their own meaning, they generate their own motivation.

For me, I am driven by two main philosophies, know more today about the world than I knew yesterday. And lessen the suffering of others.

You’d be surprised how far that gets you."

[Anonymous]

There is a strong wall about me to protect me:
It is built of the words you have said to me.

There are swords about me to keep me safe:
They are the kisses of your lips.

Before me goes a shield to guard me from harm:
It is the shadow of your arms between me and danger.

All the wishes of my mind know your name,
And the white desires of my heart
They are acquainted with you.

The cry of my body for completeness,
That is a cry to you.
My blood beats out your name to me, unceasing, pitiless
Your name, your name.

[Possession]

“When love beckons to you follow him, Though his ways are hard and steep. And when his wings enfold you yield to him, Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you. And when he speaks to you believe in him, Though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste the garden. For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning. Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun, So shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth......

But if in your fear you would seek only love's peace and love's pleasure, Then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love's threshing-floor, Into the seasonless world where you shall laugh, but not all of your laughter, and weep, but not all of your tears. Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself.

Love possesses not nor would it be possessed; For love is sufficient unto love. And think not you can direct the course of love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course. Love has no other desire but to fulfil itself."

But if you love and must needs have desires, let these be your desires: To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night. To know the pain of too much tenderness. To be wounded by your own understanding of love; And to bleed willingly and joyfully.”
&#8213; Kahlil Gibran, Le Prophète

[Anonymous]

"All the words that I utter,
And all the words that I write,
Must spread out their wings untiring,
And never rest in their flight,
Till they come where your sad, sad heart is,
And sing to you in the night,
Beyond where the waters are moving,
Storm-darken’d or starry bright."

"Go deeper than love,
for the soul has greater depths,
love is like the grass,
but the heart is a deep wild rock
molten, yet dense and permanent.

Go down to your deep old heart,
and lose sight of yourself.
And lose sight of me,
the me whom you turbulently loved.

Let us lose sight of ourselves,
and break the mirrors.
For the fierce curve of our lives
is moving again to the depths
out of sight, in the deep living heart.......

for the burden of life
is love…"

[Anonymous]

I ask but one thing of you, only one,
That always you will be my dream of you;

That never shall I wake to find untrue
All this I have believed and rested on,
Forever vanished, like a vision gone
Out into the night.

Alas, how few there are who strike in us
a chord we knew existed,
But so seldom heard its tone
We tremble at the half-forgotten sound.

The world is full of rude awakenings
And heaven-born castles shattered to the ground,
Yet still our human longing vainly clings
To a belief in beauty through all wrongs.

O stay your hand, and leave my heart its songs!"

[Check_ Your_ Pulse]

-CYP

Indoctrinated in your love
The love that sustains me
Infused in your love
Love that nourishes this heart

This woman knew love not
Until our encounter
Love that comforts the trampled heart
Quiets the pain of yesterday

A broken body upon the ragged rocks
Heart lacerated from the plummet
Breathe shallow
Consciousness fading

You came upon this woman
Kneeling gently beside my trembling body
Brushed aside hair matted with blood
Placed your firm hands beneath me

And

Lifted me from the rocks
Cradled me in your arms and soothed my whimpers
Covenant of tomorrows stayed my consciousness
Born again in your eyes azure

Tenderly for days and nights

You

Indoctrinated this woman in your love
The love that sustains me
Infused me with your love
Love that nourishes this heart

This woman knew love not
Until our encounter
Love that comforts the trampled heart

And

Quiets the pain of yesterday

[Anonymous]

Check_ Your_ Pulse wrote:

-CYP
Indoctrinated in your love
The love that sustains me
Infused in your love
Love that nourishes this heart
This woman knew love not
Until our encounter
Love that comforts the trampled heart
Quiets the pain of yesterday
A broken body upon the ragged rocks
Heart lacerated from the plummet
Breathe shallow
Consciousness fading
You came upon this woman
Kneeling gently beside my trembling body
Brushed aside hair matted with blood
Placed your firm hands beneath me
And
Lifted me from the rocks
Cradled me in your arms and soothed my whimpers
Covenant of tomorrows stayed my consciousness
Born again in your eyes azure
Tenderly for days and nights
You
Indoctrinated this woman in your love
The love that sustains me
Infused me with your love
Love that nourishes this heart
This woman knew love not
Until our encounter
Love that comforts the trampled heart
And
Quiets the pain of yesterday

You say
my mouth is the embodiment

of lust, an erotic gift I maneuver

to perfection.






Our tongues tie wings and fly

into flames, as fingers play on

titillating wetness.

Sliding over contours of fevered

flesh, I leave you tumescent,

a monolith of desire…


You lay back with glazed eyes,
as I lick the taste of your illicit essence ~
'tll your lust moans

sweet and primal.


Taking my pleasure on mounted thighs,
our bodies become immersed
between breasts and hips.



We are

...a dance against wood and tangled sheets,

lost in a decadent kiss;

...a picture of thundering greed,
drenched in our trembling ache


as we fold into the prayer

of us.

[Anonymous]

Breath does not slip,
it tumbles.

I knew I should have worn
a better coat, g-string
tighter pants.


But all I can think is
‘I can hear her‘

shoes at the door.
shirt on the floor.
and somewhere far away

a clock is humming.


a clock is humming.

she watches me bare-knuckled,
aching.

pulling strings.
counts the threads
one by one.

she picks up her shirt,
shoes on.
a door opens,

closes.

there were never
enough stitches.

[Anonymous]

Unassuming, a Mac Pro Laptop,

watches fingers scroll Google Images placed on poems.

A tutor, painting paper thoughts, behind your eyes.



The office floor suffers the wear of paces, alone;

yearning squeezes its random thinking, relentless to will, not letting go.

Do you think of me when you gaze at the Labrador picture on your office wall?



Renegade nerves race in harried scamper, across a pasture of maybe?

Failing miserably,

I play tag with vagabond sentences, as your mental picture poses the frame.



Rehearsed in multiplies of mantra, refocus flexes in a mind battle with magnets.

The untamed drifter, stealth in a return to drink laughter, and hope for embrace.

A head throb moans over touched toes, clutching emptiness, living absence.



As the station whistle blows, meagerly portioned blood, courses veins on empty;

a faint pulse screams your name at the dark edge of water......

Marsh crickets seem to know, I’m losing you, in the ‘black’ of night.

[Anonymous]

J` adore, did I tell you today:



You’re the one, and always will be, no matter what!

That I admire you, and love when you smile at me.

I love your fingers melded into mine as we walk in the park.

I love how the whites of your eyes enlarge, when your intensity sparks.

I love your accent, when you say, rub my back darling.

I love your courage when you rush to the aid of the needy and fragile.

I need you.

I love when your lips purse, and a bead of sweat drips your creativity.

I want to awake every morning feeling your toe in the nape of my foot’s arch.

I love when magic ignites your pen, transfusing your mind to paper.

I love when you give me that look that says, don’t tell me what to think!

When a dimming sun rests on my eyes for the last time,

I want to die in your arms.

Did I tell you today, I love you?

[Anonymous]

Nobody saw you fall
Fading out of sight
Into the shadows of your mind
Everything seems to flood back
Sneaking up behind
Nobody saw you fall
So far behind
Things we never worried about
Until our patience has run thin
Laughing When you want to hide
Facing different sides of the line
Nobody saw you fall
So far behind
Familiar roads unrecognizable
Turns seen to head to dead ends
When Everything is born Again
Fading out of sight
Nobody saw you fall
So far behind
Who would Care at all?

[Anonymous]

Check_ Your_ Pulse wrote:

<quoted text>
All is well Adrian:) I still admire you as much as ever:)

Well as I never got a response to my last post, I figure that I'd better kick it up a notch or two....here goes...

Aroused

in torrential foreplay



I fantasize

biting my lower lip,



every room turns

into an erotic playground.



Nipples erect,

pressed hard upon

the walls of your chest



and the purring

of our tongues

caressing up against

each other,



quivering as your prose delves

deeper and deeper

into the soul.



In lustful desire,

bodies arc and



hips thrust in motion

to an erotic hymn.



A captured landscape

of uncontrolled passion.



Mouths passionately locked,

succulently, consuming.


As if knowing each other

from a time gone by



Electric surges flow,



releasing into a shuddering

luscious orgasm.

[Check_ Your_ Pulse]

PROFILE DeVINE wrote:

<quoted text>
Well as I never got a response to my last post, I figure that I'd better kick it up a notch or two....here goes...
Aroused
in torrential foreplay
I fantasize
biting my lower lip,
every room turns
into an erotic playground.
Nipples erect,
pressed hard upon
the walls of your chest
and the purring
of our tongues
caressing up against
each other,
quivering as your prose delves
deeper and deeper
into the soul.
In lustful desire,
bodies arc and
hips thrust in motion
to an erotic hymn.
A captured landscape
of uncontrolled passion.
Mouths passionately locked,
succulently, consuming.
As if knowing each other
from a time gone by
Electric surges flow,
releasing into a shuddering
luscious orgasm.

The poem was most helpful. Thank you for indulging me. Spent the weekend enjoying my family and friends as they came in and out of the house. I have an open door policy which finds me always in the kitchen. If it were not for my culinary skills I would never see my children nor my love ones,lol. j/k


Flirting With Spontaneity
-Magdalena

Impulsive perversion
flirts with my spontaneity
curving a kinky tongue
across a wicked smile
daring to bare my mind
naked and wordless
I scintillate in the direction
of my intention

Straddling his ideas
out in the open space
wild wanton exhibitionism
plays along my lips
indecent touches
of silky provocation
I lay upon him
in my scantily clad defiance
I throw temptation forward

allowing his hands to strip
and stroke my vivacious spirit
tantalize my scent
with digit insistence
that liquefies

my jaunty air bewitches him
into liberated expression
as I take his rise
to the depths
of my bared daring soul

his ample adventure
brings me to a
quivering ecstatic peek
liquid release rocks our moment
and there we linger
wrapped together naked
out in the openness
as I curve a kinky tongue
across his wicked smile

[Anonymous]

I was busy with

frivolity & its

pursuit of intellect

when this dig poked

its head out from

this blog screen

and said, dude,

bring fist down

to table and I thought

well, what does

make me happy,

other than the

absolute mystery

of composition

with specific regard

to feeling, its

inscrutable range

of depth and

immediacy

and creeping

action on the ever

unready to be

pleasant mind?

The first thirty

seconds of Polvo’s

Tilebreaker,

for one, and as

it turns out

you can read

The New Spirit

and listen to

On The Mouth

on headphones

on the L train

beginning with

a G, and there’s

something

transistent about

the two at once,

the looked at

listening of sitting

and reading while

the singer sings

“clean is not a

state that’s real”

and maybe that

would be in

The New Spirit

or not,

but pullulating

does drop

by, and the

post-punk position

as complanation

of “I’m ready to

leave again” drops

by repeatedly to

begin and begin

and begin, and it’s

less clear to me

now as to how

war and aesthetics

sit in temporal

relation to one

another as both

are and are not

ignored, and endless

war doesn’t quite

greet endless aesthetics,

or perhaps they

touch like two

digitally composed

globes that animate

one globular unreal

and they're

easily perceived

something on the

verge of something

else so one may be

the old moved mover

of yore, though

interconnection is

a military invention

isn’t it, and art is

always usually x

amount of years

behind military tech

and ditching beauty

hasn’t exactly shortened

the gap, but ditching

irritation is no help

either. I keep wanting

to dig The Hurting,

which must have

worked very hard

for me in an older

continuous present

but I only get a few

good seconds from

each tune, though

Siouxsie and Kiss

Them For Me

almost shockingly

gives minutes,

and three feet

High & Rising

joyfully conjures

embarrassment –

I literally needed

a little rug to cut,

slide, move the feet

without lift this

one Buffalo eve

in the deep of an

anti-gathering

complex of quadrangle

living: all those

permutations

in sample form

of rock and soul

so oddly delicate

as to feel unvanished

in time without

resembling memory.

[Sweetie-Pie]

You own this thread Adrian. I can't think of another whose lovely words have caused more ugly bruises than yours.

[Anonymous]

Sweetie-Pie wrote:

You own this thread Adrian. I can't think of another whose lovely words have caused more ugly bruises than yours.

"I don't accept that my tears make a person suffering to be the effect that I mean a coiled phone cord on my shoulder
a house for male tears.

I wouldn't have liked it to be that way but I accept it of my choice - one of those things you release to care.

Sometimes I don't want to know what's going on it interferes with my swell of massive inspection that buys up my wage to scare death
which falls for love with the particles of memory."

~DeVine.