Quotes about wets, page 2
A Lifelong Journey
On the night when vessel
was empty
grackle did not sing.
For the sake of honey,
smelling a dead city, after
the rape of a daughter.
A black buck jumps on the
queen of roses, stoned after
the death of a green house.
A python had wrapped around
the child on bed,
come, save the red crying moon.
A soft drizzle wets the eyes.
I can see only stars -
disturbed by the winds.
poem by Satish Verma
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Intimate (Love Poem)
She makes him sit and unbuttons his shirt
Makes him lie back and wets his hair, then
Her hands massage shampoo into his scalp
She is irresistible, every moment etched on
His brain, her sensuous touch, an incredibly
Close feeling, as she washes his hair, this is
More beautiful than breath, more loving than
Sex, more electric than near, more perfect
Than curling up, more intimate than naked.
poem by Ian Beckett
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Breath.
Breath on a mirror.
The writing with a finger
I love you in the steamed
up space. He rubs it off
with the edge of his hand.
If only she could wipe him
from her heart with as much
ease as he had wiped away
her words of love with brush
of hand from mirror's face.
He gazes at his reflection
and with a finger wets a brow.
She looks on hoping he will love
Her too, sometime, somehow.
poem by Terry Collett
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For Edgar Allan Poe
She was careful that she was not seen
There, in the graveyard,
deep in the night.
A single rose in her left hand
A bottle of Cognac in her right.
She knew the path to his grave by heart,
How could it be otherwise?
The two of them had shared one heart,
Now in his tomb the Master lies.
Libation poured upon the stone.
She wets her lips with Hennessey
He, of course, Edgar Allen Poe
She, of Course, his Annabelle Lee
poem by John F. McCullagh
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When The Flesh Ripens
Mission aborted.
Imprisoned,
I do not touch anything
I do not mention your name.
The chance was to quit the microcosm
of your powered bones.
Wanting the street to run
to end the standing against screams.
It jumps like a toad,
the truth. I catch it.
Wets my hand. The failure of the gossip
to turn me on.I was not willing
to become a scapegoat. In dialogues
must we play the words
without sleep? The moon stalks,
me on my way to nowhere.
poem by Satish Verma
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Ill Mothers
Mother of ill fortune wets the sky with tears,
Munching air offered against status laws;
Moral certainty depicts decisions from air,
Air speaks tonight with breathing from us.
Let suns deplore the sentences of intelligence,
The moped of disbelief is around forming me.
Morale sends home the house, the wholly abusing
Family of light, offering us as Mankind the reality.
Moors disunite more so that rivers tell teeth,
Little men argue agreeably from the watered lakes.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Tears of joy...
Perfume of tenderness
Soft hugs of kindness
Lips filled with honesty
A heart of loyalty
A brain of integrity
A voice of romance
Her Words exhilarate
That's the flower I hold
One that's very rare
With beauty that matches
Angels in the sky
Her beauty within
Matches yellow roses
Found in paradise
As beauty within
Wets my cocoon of life
Gladness slaps my face
Knowing the flames of love
[...] Read more
poem by Eyan Desir
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Each Morning
Morning and evening, the sun
Has seen the spectacle of carpets
That are possessed by the world
In union and chanting of songs that distress,
Managers of health stretch their necks
With fervor of the polite world.
The apples and oranges of an era in the rise
Enchant the Minneapolis
We call the religion of the orchards.
Each morning has a reposing belief
That once again an evening shall arise
From the sun as it wets the real earth
Of its potatoes.
One apple and one potato is enough
For the world's religion.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Lakescape
After the rain wets the ground,
a damp, naked silence,
floats in air
on the wrong side of the moon.
A strange mist, like a post coital whiff
envelops you savagely.
The testa breaks.
A forest heaves beneath your nails.
History moves through the layers
of family. You become a forgotten saint,
an archaic reminder of half-solid
truth. Green mirrors reflect a fading sun.
Wasps are climbing on a presence,
for a kill. A lake drifts in the yes
to stun the departure. You breathe
death dreaming a blue flower.
poem by Satish Verma
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Gymnast
A crash influences a gym of brains,
Guzzling food and guzzling drink;
The crash is certain and weak for me,
For I force the laughter of the years
Tonight as if blocks have collided into
My belly, forming bruises and wounds
That never desist growing everyday.
A gym of brains wets my belly
With flowing natural water and blood
That enters the system forever in reply.
One gymnast made it slowly to the vault
And fell over backwards to achieve
The desired result. Once she finished
The audience cheered and speculated.
poem by Naveed Akram
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