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*WHAT is POETRY?*

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Fem23
Advanced Wordsmith
A POET -
is a person expressed his/her imaginary thoughts in possessing special powers.
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sprite
Her Royal Spriteness
words tied together with string and bones,
feathers and stones,
pulled from the heart
until you're pulled apart
and reassembled like a jigsaw,
so pure, so real, so raw,
love and hate, joy and fear
words that dredge up a forgotten tear
words that make you think and feel
and turn emotion into something real
tangible clouds of creativity
(when asked about relativity
Einstein admitted he'd made it up
pulled some words from an empty cup
and strung them together, trying to explain
the rambling that bounced around inside his brain)
you ask what is poetry, this my reply
and i wrote all this without being high!

You can’t truly call yourself peaceful unless you are capable of violence. If you’re not capable of violence, you’re not peaceful. You’re harmless.
Guest
Lurker
Quote by sprite
words tied together with string and bones,
feathers and stones,
pulled from the heart
until you're pulled apart
and reassembled like a jigsaw,
so pure, so real, so raw,
love and hate, joy and fear
words that dredge up a forgotten tear
words that make you think and feel
and turn emotion into something real
tangible clouds of creativity
(when asked about relativity
Einstein admitted he'd made it up
pulled some words from an empty cup
and strung them together, trying to explain
the rambling that bounced around inside his brain)
you ask what is poetry, this my reply
and i wrote all this without being high!


You have a UNIQUE way of doing it... (Most of us here are writers, and even with our friends, we can SEE how it works...) That's NOT a bad or DISMISSIVE thing to say, not at all in fact... BUT WITH YOU you occasionally just THROW SOMETHING OUT that surprises, delights and amazes... I OFTEN wonder QUITE WHY I love you... This is why. It's because you can do this.

xx SF
Verbal
Gravelly-Voiced Fucker
This is lovely.

Quote by sprite
words tied together with string and bones,
feathers and stones,
pulled from the heart
until you're pulled apart
and reassembled like a jigsaw,
so pure, so real, so raw,
love and hate, joy and fear
words that dredge up a forgotten tear
words that make you think and feel
and turn emotion into something real
tangible clouds of creativity
(when asked about relativity
Einstein admitted he'd made it up
pulled some words from an empty cup
and strung them together, trying to explain
the rambling that bounced around inside his brain)
you ask what is poetry, this my reply
and i wrote all this without being high!
Kiera
Short Arse Brit
Quote by LYFBUZ
its just a thing my heart stole from my soul...


A thing that stole my heart and soul
Who would ever be so bold?
Writing such as poetry
Almost like debauchery
Or insecurity
Who's to know?
What one thinks
Or one does
Why they write
Heavens above.

Put it on paper
Scream it and yell
Write it in the forums
What the hell.
Say what you mean
Mean what you say
Don't listen to others
Writing is ok.

Poetry is writing
Things that you think
When you're hurt
Or needing a drink.
It is an art, a way to express
What one does, when they are depressed.
The Duchess of Tart

Please check out my new story, co-written with the amazing Wilful.

https://www.lushstories.com/stories/straight-sex/long-time-coming.aspx

And my latest poem, The Temptation.

https://www.lushstories.com/stories/erotic-poems/the-temptation.aspx
Buz
The Linebacker
A poem is a wordable doohickie. For example, Steph is a magnificent writer of wordable doohickies, ie. a doohickieble creator.
Just_A_Guy_You_Know
Wouldn't you rather have a nice cup of tea?
Tongues tripping through onomatopoeic ballrooms
To the crystal bowl resonance of prosaic instances
Sprung to life in language, illuminating the quotidian,
Showered in mirror ball refractions of metaphoric
Images which coalesce suggestively along the perimeters
Of mind into wallflower meanings, yours for the asking.

Don't believe everything that you read.
Guest
Lurker
Caledonia Cascade,
stood where The Barley House stood,
built of earthen stones and molded red clay
in tiny woods of streams near Tallulah Gorge
and mountain memories I recall,
the stirring of my Brandi.

And like Vermouth and sins
of honeysuckle wine and kisses,
beneath the waters tall
as sun sets' in Georgia
on fields of scented pine combs,
stood where The Barley House stood.
ChuckEPoo
Chuckanator
The Reunion - by Bhuckepoo

I was restless all night in anticipation.
Thinking of our long awaited reunion.

Was it possible to try and recapture
the very first love of my faded youth?

My memories were flooded with our
glorious but tumultuous relationship.

How I would sit in class daydreaming
of your inviting enticing, captivating form.

Now we finally meet at the break of dawn,
Just like we have so many times before.

I stand before your magnificence.
In awe of your pleasures awaiting.

The breaking sun silhouettes the form
of your seductive breathless beauty.

Your very scent triggers my memories.
And beckons me to renew past exploits.

Nothing but you can stir this passion
within me in such an addictive way.

Will you receive me as companion
or send me tumbling in rejection?

I can wait no longer in my impatience,
as I slip into the wetness of your folds.

I remember your salty taste upon my lips,
Diving head first into your undulating motion.

You push and surge as I stroke with all
the power, soul and skills of my being.

Cresting, gliding, and moving in unison,
your promised pleasures are unmatched.

But if you're not treated with careful respect,
I know that you can be cold and unforgiving.

Our reunion is almost finished and joy complete as
I slip and slide faster and faster into pure ecstasy.

This glorious long antisapated encounter is now complete.
Breathlessly I gather myself for another beckoning round.

Only God may truly understand my love and devotion for...

Surfing.
ChuckEPoo
Chuckanator
Winters Day - by Chuckepoo

That winter's day was pure and white,
A nip of cold in morning’s light.

The chimney’s smoke was twisting high,
Reaching up to the grey blue sky.

It took me back to our faded youth,
A less complex time of trust and truth.

The days were long and filled with joy,
Our love was fresh, not brash and coy.

The still air was broken by icy chill,
Snowflakes falling on the window sill.

The journey was long, my trek complete,
It was now time to rest my weary feet.

I saw your cabin just up ahead.
A place of warmth to lay my head.

Now I was finally standing at your door.
My heart was full, but my love was more.

You welcomed me with glowing smile,
And invited me to stay awhile.

I lay with you, sprawled by the fire,
Your sensual touch ignited my desire.

Our bodies burning from lust and flame,
This union removed all the past and pain.

You moaned your pleasures in my ears.
Our song was sung through joyful tears.

We laughed and played like no time had past.
But our history showed we could never last.

My time was up and we knew I could not stay,
But I would always cherish this cold winter's day.
HotWife4U
Madam Carol
Quote by ChuckEPoo
Winters Day - by Chuckepoo

That winter's day was pure and white,
A nip of cold in morning’s light.

The chimney’s smoke was twisting high,
Reaching up to the grey blue sky.

It took me back to our faded youth,
A less complex time of trust and truth.

The days were long and filled with joy,
Our love was fresh, not brash and coy.

The still air was broken by icy chill,
Snowflakes falling on the window sill.

The journey was long, my trek complete,
It was now time to rest my weary feet.

I saw your cabin just up ahead.
A place of warmth to lay my head.

Now I was finally standing at your door.
My heart was full, but my love was more.

You welcomed me with glowing smile,
And invited me to stay awhile.

I lay with you, sprawled by the fire,
Your sensual touch ignited my desire.

Our bodies burning from lust and flame,
This union removed all the past and pain.

You moaned your pleasures in my ears.
Our song was sung through joyful tears.

We laughed and played like no time had past.
But our history showed we could never last.

My time was up and we knew I could not stay,
But I would always cherish this cold winter's day.


Gawd I love this poem. My favorite of yours .
Guest
Lurker
Now lays a coronet of a puppet
Like a marionette with strings broken
And tokens on its eyes,
With a cracked wooden heart
In the sally port of a shoe box
On a shelf turning to dust
And lockjaw with splinters forgotten,
A patched-woke minstrel wearing a fool's cap
Of moppet who's varnish is adrift,
In cold dank dark losing it's glint
With testicles coughing
Awaiting its butter to soften
And sticky goo of worms returning to boo,
Now pining it's puppeteer.
Guest
Lurker
It wasn't but an antebellum love song,

As she whispered "Old Dixie" to me

Then expired beneath the gazebo

Leaving this old fool in misery

Hammering away as the cottonwoods blow

Deep down in "mici zibi" beneath the catalpa trees

With Spanish moss dripping high humidity

And the cicadas whistling on the bark,

It wasn't but an antebellum love song

Near a town on the Alabama border line,

That the shadow of Caledonia set beside me

Ass I sipped sunshine tea with a sprig of mint

And then put her ass ashes in a Mason jar,

Deep down in "mici zibi" beneath the catalpa trees

While awaiting the coach to Birmingham,

The gentle southern breeze sung "Old Dixie" to me

And now taking my wife home.
Guest
Lurker
A shimmer darkness falls over my pall,
with a scintilla of ink my last breath call,
'fore the spade diggers lay me final sleep
and my shrill thralls forever coffin deep.

Gone are the lips that caressed my fess,
kissing shadows of my pantomime host,
as your soft breath eased my pain,
lost in words with erotic stain.

A simmering thigh cast an eye,
drawing last hand of a Yarborough,
discarding my sinful boast,
last words of a poetic ghost.

On the shoals of forgotten tides,
a shimmer darkness falls over my pall
like a stone cold of old bones,
saving prose for my final rest.
Guest
Lurker
This THREAD has turned out to be RATHER SPECIAL!!!

(You guys are SO CUTE!!!)

SUCH talent here!!!

xx SF
sprite
Her Royal Spriteness
let me know when it's time to stat posting dirty poems about Lizzy.

You can’t truly call yourself peaceful unless you are capable of violence. If you’re not capable of violence, you’re not peaceful. You’re harmless.
ChuckEPoo
Chuckanator
Quote by sprite
words tied together with string and bones,
feathers and stones,
pulled from the heart
until you're pulled apart
and reassembled like a jigsaw,
so pure, so real, so raw,
love and hate, joy and fear
words that dredge up a forgotten tear
words that make you think and feel
and turn emotion into something real
tangible clouds of creativity
(when asked about relativity
Einstein admitted he'd made it up
pulled some words from an empty cup
and strung them together, trying to explain
the rambling that bounced around inside his brain)
you ask what is poetry, this my reply
and i wrote all this without being high!


My my my. I am truly impressed. This is so perfectly written.

I even think your cat writes better poetry than I do.
Kiera
Short Arse Brit
Quote by ChuckEPoo


My my my. I am truly impressed. This is so perfectly written.

I even think your cat writes better poetry than I do.


Why why why?
I am impressed
Perfectly written
Though not from a kitten


Kittens are cute
Arnie is better
My cat is the bomb
I think the lady cat below got it wrong

Yowl all you want
Each and every day
Either you are
Or Arnie is Gay
The Duchess of Tart

Please check out my new story, co-written with the amazing Wilful.

https://www.lushstories.com/stories/straight-sex/long-time-coming.aspx

And my latest poem, The Temptation.

https://www.lushstories.com/stories/erotic-poems/the-temptation.aspx
ChuckEPoo
Chuckanator
Quote by kiera


A thing that stole my heart and soul
Who would ever be so bold?
Writing such as poetry
Almost like debauchery
Or insecurity
Who's to know?
What one thinks
Or one does
Why they write
Heavens above.

Put it on paper
Scream it and yell
Write it in the forums
What the hell.
Say what you mean
Mean what you say
Don't listen to others
Writing is ok.

Poetry is writing
Things that you think
When you're hurt
Or needing a drink.
It is an art, a way to express
What one does, when they are depressed.







I envy your talent. My poetry sounds like it belongs on a hallmark card.
sprite
Her Royal Spriteness
Quote by kiera


My daughter is way better than me and she is just 7 so i hear you.


my cat and Kiera's daughter are actually working on a collaboration.

You can’t truly call yourself peaceful unless you are capable of violence. If you’re not capable of violence, you’re not peaceful. You’re harmless.
patokl
Active Ink Slinger
It has to have rhythm, it has to have rhyme
It must be in sync like a clock ticking time
It mostly is short, but at times it is long
At times it's called powerful, sometimes... not so strong
It is loneliness, fear, it is utter despair
There are days, that it shows, I just no longer care
It is hate and compassion and the things I dream of
It is friendship and faith and the greatness of love
It goes on, like the seasons, the sun and the tide
When it has to come out there is no place to hide
It is force, a compulsion and perhaps it is me
And I can not contain it, it is my poetry
A little kindness can be so valuable, yet costs almost nothing

In many countries being gay is a crime, and even in modern societies, politicians try to legalise discrimination. Your voice can make a difference. Have a look at All Out to find out how.

Hey... pssst.... that's an l (as in luscious) at the end of my name, not an i
Frank_Lee
Active Ink Slinger
It's those big, squishy brown, floppy things you try to keep from stepping in while walking through a cow pasture.
courtneysdesires
Active Ink Slinger
Poetry is many different things to different people. To me I see poetry as as expression of feelings and ideas. Some happy and some sad.