Miss Pinkie in for the Kill
Miss Pinkie
had him spread out
upon her bed
an object
to seduce
and adore
his clothes folded
neatly on a chair
hers cast here
and there
upon the floor
there's an art
to seduction
she said
moving in
upon him
her tongue
about to lick
his pecker
he laying there
taking in
the tinted colour
of her greying hair
her eyes
opals of blue
not white
outside the window
the approaching night
and she
came down on him
and was silent
of words
but licked
and sucked
and he moved
as the motion
moved him
his pecker saluting
and he noticed
how her earrings
dangled
as she downed
upon him
and up again
for breath
oh
he thought
but saying nothing
what a way to go
what a pleasant death.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Object
You know you turn me on
Eyes so white and legs so long
But don't try to talk to me
I won't listen to your lies
You're just an object in my eyes
You're just an object in my eyes
Sophisticated smile
You seduce in such fine style
But don't try to fool me
'cause i can see through your disguise
You're just an object in my eyes
You're just an object in my eyes
But i don't mind
I just don't care
I've got no objection
To you touching me there
Object object
Object object
Object object
Object object
You know just what to do
Lick your lips
And i want you
But don't try to hold me
'cause i don't want any ties
You're just an object in my eyes
You're just an object in my eyes
But i don't mind
I just don't care
I've got no objections
To you touching me there
You're just an object object
Object object
You're just an object
song performed by by Cure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
I Shall Not Be Moved
You will take my breath away,
Gild my heart with your love-
I shall not be moved.
My eyes will gloat at your sashay,
My lips will droll at your pulchritude-
I shall not be moved.
You will come with religions of faiths,
A heap of mountains you have moved-
Still I shall not be moved.
You will give me strongest of philtres,
Your touch will erect my one weakness-
But I shall not be moved.
You will light my darkest paths,
Move me here to there-
Yet I shall not be moved.
You will sing our song,
Your love for me will exceed eternity,
Even then, I shall not be moved.
You will live for me,
Die for me- For the last time-
I shall not be moved.
poem by Isunge Mwangase
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Another Night with Miss Pinkie
Miss Pinkie (she dropped
the title Mrs from
her name ages ago)
lay on the sofa
and said
take me if you want
spank me if you will
and he stood
looking at her
a glass of scotch
in his hand
the music of Mahler's
symphony number 4
coming through the door
from an outer room
she lay butt naked
her amble flesh
spread out
her hands resting
on her breasts
who's the orchestra
on the Mahler piece?
he asked
can't remember
she said shifting slightly
her blue eyes searching him
aren't you going to oblige?
she said
he drank back
the scotch
and put the glass down
on the small coffee table
can I sit first?
sure
she said and sat up
and moved over
to allow him room
beside her
he gazed at her
at her dyed blonde hair
at her eyes deep
like oceans of blueness
knowing she had
19 years upward on him
and all she wanted
was a few hours
of talk and laughter
and a leisurely screw
one of the old guys
died at the home today
he said
out of the blue
oh which one?
she asked
the one who sat
in his room each day
and looked out
the window
and said next to nothing
oh him
she said
think he was
broken hearted
she added
he took in
the beauty spot
on her cheek
like Marilyn used
to have years ago
so how about it?
she asked
are you ready for it?
the Mahler piece softened
some moving movement
well?
she said placing
a hand on his thigh
maybe you could put
on Brahms for a change
he said
sensing her hands
move upwards
maybe
she said softly
if you're a good boy
the lights were low
the lights from the street
added a different shade
of glow
ok
he said
and her hands moved
and did their work
and so did his
bit by bit
time over time
the music playing on
in the background
that and flesh slapping
and the sofa squeaking
was the symphony
of a sexual sound.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Fable of the Mermaid and the Drunks
All those men were there inside,
when she came in totally naked.
They had been drinking: they began to spit.
Newly come from the river, she knew nothing.
She was a mermaid who had lost her way.
The insults flowed down her gleaming flesh.
Obscenities drowned her golden breasts.
Not knowing tears, she did not weep tears.
Not knowing clothes, she did not have clothes.
They blackened her with burnt corks and cigarette stubs,
and rolled around laughing on the tavern floor.
She did not speak because she had no speech.
Her eyes were the colour of distant love,
her twin arms were made of white topaz.
Her lips moved, silent, in a coral light,
and suddenly she went out by that door.
Entering the river she was cleaned,
shining like a white stone in the rain,
and without looking back she swam again
swam towards emptiness, swam towards death.
poem by Pablo Neruda
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Cloud Formations and Jane..
I like cloud formations
Jane said
laying on her back
in the small church yard
looking up at the sky
above her head
it's like a form of art
you said
grey and white
against a canvas of blue
that looks like a man's head
Jane said
the way it forms
and unforms
you followed
the pointing
of her finger at the sky
that looks like a dog
over there
you said
she looked
and then gazed at you
her blue eyes
catching the sun's light
through a tree above
I like these moments alone
with you
she said
no one near us
no disturbance
no sounds save for birdsong
and the buzz of bees
you moved closer to her
and lay with you right hand
supporting your head
searching her eyes
her dark hair
about her face
daddy said
that Heaven is above us
and looking
at the cloud formations
I feel I see it
especially when the sun
shines through
she said
her lips moving
with slow motion
I think that sometimes
you said
she leaned nearer to you
and kissed your lips
then lay back
and stared at the clouds
and sky
and you lay back too
thinking inwardly
this is where
I'd like to lie
the day I die.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Chivalry
I saw you across the room
and my heart stopped.
You noticed
and I looked away.
I saw you across the room
this time you didn't see
me looking at you.
I moved my eyes
across the all of you
moved my lips
feeling my breath stop.
'Beautiful' I thought
'just a beautiful man'
Not supposed to notice
all the pretty men,
not if you're a bit older:
but pretty I still am
and I want to know
if younger men know;
If I can still attract
a look
still get noticed;
even admired.
Or am I now invisible
to any young man
under 25?
A critical point
in every woman's life
where the line between
younger and older lies.
I move
to catch your line of sight
just to see if your eye
would linger long enough
to make me understand
you wanted a second look.
You glanced
but then glanced away.
I decided for another try
and stood behind
so that if you moved
you encounter me
and I'd dropp my notepad.
Why pass 35
do I
still need to be admired
by younger men?
You moved and my pad dropped.
And with little or no eye-contact,
you picked it up
with a smile
and gave it back.
I bobbed my head
moved on
felled by
indifferent
chivalry
and passage
into
the Older Woman Category.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Mamie in Malaga.
Mamie met you
in the base camp bar
in Malaga
her curly red hair
damp from a recent shower
and said
Picasso was born here
In this bar?
you said
No
she moaned
In the city
in 1881
and she took the drink
you'd bought her
I like Picasso don't you?
she asked
taking a sip
of the drink
and you noticed
the tight tee shirt
snugly holding
her firm breasts
and her eyes bright
as sunlight's breaking dawn
yes
you said
I like his later work
not the Blue
or Pink period or
that Cubist shite
and your eyes
slipped downwards
along her slender frame
the tight blue jeans
caressing her small
but plumpish ass
her fingers holding
the glass
and you thinking
of other things
far removed
from Picasso‘s art
though knowing he
would understand
where your mind
had wandered
and what the scene
your mind had set
like some dramatist
preparing for a play
she sipped more
of the drink
her head thrown back
the nice turn
of the neck
the chin
the nose
the ears protruding slight
between her red
and curly hair
and wondered deep
as you drank your own
if the other hair below
between her thighs
was as red and tight
as that above
and she said
breaking through
your thoughts
Was it lust or love
that moved his brush
Picasso I mean?
and oh you mused
taking on her words
and squeezing
the meaning
from each syllable
that was uttered
on her breath
to lay my head
upon her breast
not to sleep
but dreaming rest
and you turning to her
said High love or low lust
fed by his fond muse
moved his brush I trust.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Miss Pinkie and Her Ship Of Love
Take me, Miss Pinkie says,
take me. A plump bundle
of pinkness, dyed hair, grey
at the roots, the blue eyes
whiskey soaked, the mouth
open, the naked skin, the full
moon flowing in. All aboard
who are coming aboard, she
says to the room, and he beside
her says, are you sure? now
of all times? yes, she says, lift
the anchor, set sail, take note
of the rough seas, the rise and
fall of the waves, and he looking
back sees moonlight on his naked
butt, the sound of Mahler's 6th
echoing from the other room,
and he sensing the high seas
and moving surf, climbs aboard,
set eyes to the horizon of bed
board and cool blue walls, and
hears the sirens sing, hears the
creak of bed and bones as he and
Miss Pinkie, on the love ship, hold
tight and smile, as it rises and falls.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Tearing The Sky
Tearing the sky
I moved
While I moved
Yor eyes open
To see red black blue
Who said I am
In white
In white only.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Subway
He saw her at the subway station
Standing on the platform waiting for the train.
Inside the car they sat in front of each other.
She was quite young.
Though not strikingly pretty
She was good looking and attractive
And he liked her back-combed black hair.
It was long and lustrous and gathered into a chignon
And softened with a purple satin ribbon
That matched her elegant blue dress.
She wore high heeled black shoes
And her ivory skin shone on her comely legs.
The train moved and stopped
And moved again
At the stations the doors opened and closed
And people streamed out and in.
She sat quietly in her seat
And then opened her purse
And pulled out a candy
Wrapped in golden paper.
She removed carefully the wrapping
Put the candy slowly into her mouth
And then folded neatly the paper
And put it back into her purse.
He watched her discretely for a short while
And then closed his eyes
And when he opened them he saw
That she cast a timid glance looking at him.
He liked her.
He wanted to start a conversation with her
But somehow it just did not seem appropriate
To address a complete stranger on a train
And besides he was afraid to say something silly.
So he remained silent.
He wanted to say something to her
But he did not have the courage.
And then suddenly he panicked
Because he realized that he cannot speak
That he cannot pass through the invisible barrier
That extended between them
That despite her presence
He cannot reach out to her
That he is unable to have her in his life
And that they soon will get off the train
And he probably never will see her again.
The car wheels
Kept clacking and rattling over the rails
And they both sat silently on their seats
Two lonely islands in a withdrawn crowd.
Then the subway pulled into a station
And it was time to alight from the car.
Without saying a word
He walked through the door
And across the car window he saw her.
She was looking at him.
The train began to move slowly
Along the platform of the station
A moving image melting away
Like an ice dragon in the heat of summer.
In a few seconds it vanished
Into the thin air through the dark mouth
Of the subway tunnel.
poem by Paul Hartal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Nectar Of Eve
As I sit beneath the apple tree
and watch the waterfall.
My mind thinks of Eve.
I can still taste her sweet nectar
on the tip of my tongue.
I can still feel the sensations
of Eve’s hips as I licked.
Now as nectar start to fall
like a waterfall down my
throat. I thought I would drown
from her ecstasy. But Eve pause
to let me catch my breath, and then
once again my tongue swam in Eve’s
nectar until her passion put us both
to sleep. That was about 3 months
ago. Eve has now moved on, and all
I’m left with is the memories.
Somewhere Inside Of You!
Every life, shall meet death.
Every breath crosses that bridge
Every autumn leaf falls bereft.
See all in its burning leafage.
Oh diamond sparks burn inside
…Blue, with rage, behind iron-bars.
Oh there's a heart of a flower
And, somewhere inside of you!
Inside of you, child there's a Houdini…
Honeycombed with green-envying eyes
Somewhere inside of you, child, there's
A queen, that, that, that, never dies…
Oh, look, child how she just swans…
Seductively easy across the skies
Ah, seduction… in ivory,
Seduction… in ivory,
Seduction… in ivory blossom
Into a million crimson dyes,
But—no she'll never, ever, ever, die.
Nor be cast down into that dead leafage.
Ghostly; she's like some spiders webbing,
Webbed; across deaths ebony warring face.
Every life is like a stillborn, thought!
Just waiting, wondering, and rippling out of breath.
Inside of you, child there's a Houdini…
Honeycombed with green envying eyes
Somewhere inside of you, child, there's
A queen, that, that, that, never dies…
Oh, look child she just swans…
Seductively, easy across the skies
Ah, seductively into ivory,
Seduction… into ivory,
Seduction… in ivory blossom
Oh, into a million crimson dyes,
But—no she'll never, ever, ever, die.
Nor be cast down into that dead leafage.
poem by Mark Heathcote
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Storm night
Outside the wind moved in the vegetation
and the smell of love and rain filled the air
and your body glowed hot against mine.
In the room it was icy cold
and I felt your heart vibrate in your nipple
and our feelings were intense new and age old.
Tree branches moved ghostly while the storm wind blew
and you completed me perfectly.
Outside the wind moved in the vegetation
like leaves in a wood.
You were laying with your head on my chest
and I felt your heart vibrate in your nipple
and I was engrossed with you
enveloped in another world
and your body glowed hot against mine
and you said very little in the night
as if words were superfluous.
You were laying with your head on my chest
and started breathing evenly and weary
sleep carried you off.
Outside the wind moved in the vegetation
and you fitted perfectly in my arms,
at times you opened your eyes and looked at me
as if words were superfluous.
Like a river that at first drips and then flows stormy
passion again gripped us
and your body glowed hot against mine
and to me you were lovely, far past pretty,
we were caught in intense joy,
at times you opened your eyes and looked at me,
and I sprayed you with my seed
and in passion you screamed and twisted.
Outside the wind moved in the vegetation
and your body glowed hot against mine
as if emotions were driven to a knife’s edge
in the room it was icy cold,
we were caught in intense joy
and our feelings were intense new and age old.
[Reference: You were laying with your head on my chest by Gert Strydom.]
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Lily Licked the Toilet
Lily licked the toilet,
And then she licked the floor.
You can bet I'll never
Kiss Lily anymore!
Lily licked the toilet,
And then she licked the sink.
She's full of germs and worms,
At least that's what I think.
Lily licked the toilet,
And then she licked the tub.
It's safe to say her tongue
Could use a real good scrub!
She was the cutest pooch! (To Smooch)
Why'd she have to spoil it?
Nothing's been the same since…
Lily licked the toilet!
poem by ToddMichael St. Pierre
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Fable Of The Mermaid And The Drunks
All those men were there inside,
when she came in totally naked.
They had been drinking: they began to spit.
Newly come from the river, she knew nothing.
She was a mermaid who had lost her way.
The insults flowed down her gleaming flesh.
Obscenities drowned her golden breasts.
Not knowing tears, she did not weep tears.
Not knowing clothes, she did not have clothes.
They blackened her with burnt corks and cigarette stubs,
and rolled around laughing on the tavern floor.
She did not speak because she had no speech.
Her eyes were the color of distant love,
her twin arms were made of white topaz.
Her lips moved, silent, in a coral light,
and suddenly she went out by that door.
Entering the river she was cleaned,
shining like a white stone in the rain,
and without looking back she swam again
swam towards emptiness, swam towards death.
poem by Pablo Neruda from Return of the Mermaid (Regresó la sirena) (1954)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
Vote! | Copy!
The Summer Recess of 62.
It was the second day
of the summer recess
and Judith and you
walked through the field
behind her house
and sat down on the grass
the sky above blue
like an upside-down ocean
with the white clouds
like small fluffy islands
and she said
Mother doesn't trust you
why not?
you asked
she doesn't trust any male
she says they're all after
the one thing
you looked at her
sitting there beside you
her hair brown and curly
and her eyes blue
and bright
and you said
not all males
are the same
she looked up
at the sky
and said
I know but that's
how she sees things
my mother likes you
you said
she says you're good for me
keep me focused
she smiled
and lay back
on the grass
and you lay
beside her
and turned
to look at her there
taking in her profile
and she turned
to face you
and she said
does your mother
trust us to be together?
sure she does
you said
an airplane
went over the sky
a sparrow hawk
hovered above
its eyes watching
and waiting
you put your hand
on her hip
and she placed
her hand on yours
you felt her hipbone
beneath her green skirt
moved your palm
gently over and over
she moved your hand
off of her hip
and said
just in case
mother's looking at us
from the upstairs window
would she?
you asked
of course
she said
she held your hand
and took it
and laid it
on her breast
her heart
somewhere beating
your hand sensing
the softness beneath
the white blouse
and she said
just as well
she never saw us
last Christmas
and you smiled
and remembered
and the sparrow hawk
flew off through the sky
and the sound
of a distant train
and your heart thumping
like the downpour of rain.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Mad Hatter
We just landed just touched down
It just hit home a good man's gone
Hey cat in the hat we're all gonna miss you
Your practical jokes and taking three steps with you
We never said goodbye we always said so long
You had nine lives I can't believe they're all gone
The mad hatter's moving on
We'll see you again one way or another
Now that you're there say hello to our brothers
We never said goodbye we always said so long
You had nine lives I can't believe they're all gone
The mad hatter's moving on
Traveling man, traveling man, he's coming home
So tonight we'll pay tribute, light up a match
Tell your brothers and sisters about the cat in the hat
He had nine lives I can't believe they're all gone
Now I know the mad hatter's not alone
The mad hatter moved on
Travel on
Mad hatter gone
Oh he's gone
The cat in the hat has moved on
song performed by by Lynyrd Skynyrd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
At The Window
My choking breath, silent run between the window
Frames of wild chestnuts' trees.
Murmurs of warm sheets cast away my body.
Balcony, sprout seeds of transparent fluid.
Mute you show me the world, so that I can make the tree sing.
And the birds' blow by the wind.
It exalted my desire, which cannot be neither confined nor not die.
Like shining night, reflected on cats' eyes.
Every time the moon shine.
Voices of flame, blow by the wind
Against the window spiffier, last fire soon death adores.
Of my breath, last sigh.
I shall disappear from the reflection of a sterile glass.
Contemplate with my sight the blue sky, and let it die.
poem by Luca Menin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Glimpse Of Lover
You saw Christina
and a few
of her giggling
school friends
in one
of the school corridors
in between
maths and biology
she
looked at you
her eyes shy
and yet searching
and her friends
unnoticing
how feelings moved
or what
was inwardly touched
some electric shock
pulsed through you
stood hair on end
or so it seemed
she in her green skirt
and white blouse
and ankle socks
with sight of flesh
as she moved
and you
in your dull grey
and black shoes
seeking to take
what image
of her
you could
to your dreams
to hold at night
and not a word
there was spent
or exchanged
or feelings unloaded
or spread
except whatever raced
like some runner
in your head
and she
in hers no doubt
wondering afterwards
what this love
bringing together
and separating
was all about.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Saturday Morning 1961
Jane climbed off
the Saturday bus to town
her black hair ruffled
by the wind
her eyes
looking over at you
her mother close by
you standing by the wall
having climbed from the bus
a few moments before
your mother stood
and spoke to others
you watched as Jane buttoned up
her coat against the winter cold
her fingers turning blue
then she moved over to you
and said
I saw you by the water tower last night
as we drove by
my father visiting
a parishioner in the village
I was watching the sun
moving beyond the Downs
you said
like some giant moving
away to sleep
she smiled
and surreptitiously
she touched your hand
her mother's head
looking the other way
talking to your mother
of her husband's work
of church or of weather
or whatever
you gazed at Jane's eyes
the turn of head
the smile on lips
the way her hands touched
oh to be with her
away from others
to talk and walk
and capture each moment
with her closeness
but then her mother
moved away to shop
and Jane followed
just behind
and as she walked away
you painted her figure
and beauty
in your mind.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!