Submissions by Jack_C
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
Every word is a whispered kiss.
ANGER POEM
Published
1st Mar 2016 4:33pm
1st Mar 2016 4:33pm
Sonnet - Fog
Like a stone, I'm sinking in the black,
Sucked down by its pow'rful gravity,
Helplessly I flail in count'rattack,
Screaming silent, as it swallows me.
Dark down here, and quiet as the void,
My every thought confused, in disarray;
The type of thing to make one paranoid
Mayhap this confusion's here to stay.
And what of that? I cannot keep control
Of when this fog will come -- nor do I know
Of what to do if it devours me whole,
And the madness never lets me go.
Take my hand, love; guide me through the haze,
And I shall follow...
Sucked down by its pow'rful gravity,
Helplessly I flail in count'rattack,
Screaming silent, as it swallows me.
Dark down here, and quiet as the void,
My every thought confused, in disarray;
The type of thing to make one paranoid
Mayhap this confusion's here to stay.
And what of that? I cannot keep control
Of when this fog will come -- nor do I know
Of what to do if it devours me whole,
And the madness never lets me go.
Take my hand, love; guide me through the haze,
And I shall follow...
782 reads
2 Comments
EROTIC POEM
Published
1st Mar 2016 2:50am
1st Mar 2016 2:50am
Sweet Talk 1
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Sugar is sweet
Your body is, too
Confident fingers
Cradle your waist
While up at your neck
My lips get a taste
Swaying and rocking
While lips go exploring
Skin against skin
Caressing, adoring
Our bodies melt
Into the floor
Clutching, gasping
Craving more
Growling, biting
Scratching rough
No such thing
As 'had enough'
Devouring every
Blessed pleasure
Digging toward
Our brilliant treasure
Then at last
The moment where
You grab my...
Violets are blue
Sugar is sweet
Your body is, too
Confident fingers
Cradle your waist
While up at your neck
My lips get a taste
Swaying and rocking
While lips go exploring
Skin against skin
Caressing, adoring
Our bodies melt
Into the floor
Clutching, gasping
Craving more
Growling, biting
Scratching rough
No such thing
As 'had enough'
Devouring every
Blessed pleasure
Digging toward
Our brilliant treasure
Then at last
The moment where
You grab my...
894 reads
2 Comments
STORY POEM
Published
1st Mar 2016 2:46am
1st Mar 2016 2:46am
Sonnet - Mermaids
I approached the water for a drink,
Gazed at my reflection for a spell,
Lost my balance, splashed into the drink;
And came to in the place where mermaids dwell.
So beautiful, these creatures -- such allure,
The way they danced and played among the reeds!
T'was nearly too much for me to endure,
Such perfect curves -- they gave my body needs.
Of course, I knew I'd soon be out of air;
To the surface I'd make my return,
It seemed they didn't mind me being there,
And watched me leave with ne'er a tic's concern.
I do return there,...
Gazed at my reflection for a spell,
Lost my balance, splashed into the drink;
And came to in the place where mermaids dwell.
So beautiful, these creatures -- such allure,
The way they danced and played among the reeds!
T'was nearly too much for me to endure,
Such perfect curves -- they gave my body needs.
Of course, I knew I'd soon be out of air;
To the surface I'd make my return,
It seemed they didn't mind me being there,
And watched me leave with ne'er a tic's concern.
I do return there,...
562 reads
1 Comment
DARK POEM
Published
29th Feb 2016 1:01am
29th Feb 2016 1:01am
Inferno in Oz, Prologue pt. 2
Witchslayer's Wrath
Deep beneath the desert sand,
Within the Gnome King's halls of stone --
He threw her in a prison cell,
And left her there alone.
Uncounted years went slowly by
As she wept with lonely tears,
Trapped in jail all by herself
For more than 80 years.
Bear in mind, for but a tic
That Dorothy, through Oz's power
Would never age, and never die --
A blessing long gone sour.
That much time in solitude
Wreaked havoc on her troubled mind;
Eventually, poor Dorothy
Left sanity behind.
The Gnome...
Deep beneath the desert sand,
Within the Gnome King's halls of stone --
He threw her in a prison cell,
And left her there alone.
Uncounted years went slowly by
As she wept with lonely tears,
Trapped in jail all by herself
For more than 80 years.
Bear in mind, for but a tic
That Dorothy, through Oz's power
Would never age, and never die --
A blessing long gone sour.
That much time in solitude
Wreaked havoc on her troubled mind;
Eventually, poor Dorothy
Left sanity behind.
The Gnome...
542 reads
1 Comment
DARK POEM
Published
27th Feb 2016 5:35pm
27th Feb 2016 5:35pm
Inferno in Oz - Prologue, pt. 1
The Legend of the Witch Killer
Swept up by a cyclone fierce
She tossed across the Kansas plain,
To land upon the Wicked Witch
And end her evil reign.
The Munchins of the southern lands,
Led by Glinda, Witch of Good,
Blessed her with the Silver Shoes
And kissed her where she stood.
To the Wizard of the land,
Witch-Killer, by Glinda sent,
Hit the road of yellow brick,
And, blessed by magic, went.
On route to the city green,
A Scarecrow hanging silently;
Tin Woodsman helpless, rusted stiff,
And lion cowardly....
Swept up by a cyclone fierce
She tossed across the Kansas plain,
To land upon the Wicked Witch
And end her evil reign.
The Munchins of the southern lands,
Led by Glinda, Witch of Good,
Blessed her with the Silver Shoes
And kissed her where she stood.
To the Wizard of the land,
Witch-Killer, by Glinda sent,
Hit the road of yellow brick,
And, blessed by magic, went.
On route to the city green,
A Scarecrow hanging silently;
Tin Woodsman helpless, rusted stiff,
And lion cowardly....
592 reads
2 Comments
EROTIC POEM
Published
27th Feb 2016 5:27pm
27th Feb 2016 5:27pm
I Beg
I beg of thee, mine ecstasy
To whom dost thou belong?
A little louder, if you please;
My hearing's often wrong.
My hands, however, are a gift.
And gifted back tenfold,
With every moment on thy skin
Without them, I grow cold.
As fingers cliutch and dig their nails
In both thy perfect hips,
Render thine dreams unto me
Let passion wet your lips.
And then, my Heart, my Love, my All,
Glide slowly over me,
And let the promise of my bliss
Devote the hours to thee.
To whom dost thou belong?
A little louder, if you please;
My hearing's often wrong.
My hands, however, are a gift.
And gifted back tenfold,
With every moment on thy skin
Without them, I grow cold.
As fingers cliutch and dig their nails
In both thy perfect hips,
Render thine dreams unto me
Let passion wet your lips.
And then, my Heart, my Love, my All,
Glide slowly over me,
And let the promise of my bliss
Devote the hours to thee.
640 reads
2 Comments
EROTIC POEM
Published
27th Feb 2016 8:57am
27th Feb 2016 8:57am
Quite Tightly
Bare, for black shorts and sheer camisole,
She doth sit before me on the bed,
Eyes fixed on me, peering to my soul,
I want her so, but she hath plans instead.
"Hands behind your back," She bids of me,
Whereupon she binds them at the wrists,
Sits again, but closer, as to see
The boldness of my passion yet persists.
Such bliss cannot be measured, nor explained,
The ecstasy that lies between her lips;
An ode to paradise -- joy uncontained,
Until she feels the slightest thrust of hips.
She stops, unties me, hurls me on my...
She doth sit before me on the bed,
Eyes fixed on me, peering to my soul,
I want her so, but she hath plans instead.
"Hands behind your back," She bids of me,
Whereupon she binds them at the wrists,
Sits again, but closer, as to see
The boldness of my passion yet persists.
Such bliss cannot be measured, nor explained,
The ecstasy that lies between her lips;
An ode to paradise -- joy uncontained,
Until she feels the slightest thrust of hips.
She stops, unties me, hurls me on my...
587 reads
0 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
27th Feb 2016 8:52am
27th Feb 2016 8:52am
Soon
She moved into my place a year ago,
After they cleaned up the mess I left;
I regret that, but I had to go --
I was miserable. Utterly bereft.
She's lovely, the new girl. So sublime.
A romantic soul (they're easy to possess);
I've been inside her from time to time.
Though I do admit it's made a bit of mess.
She's aware of me, and terrified --
Utterly convinced she's going mad,
And I feel bad for causing her to slide,
But sometimes love is hard, and things go bad.
She won't get out of bed - that's fine with me.
I touch her...
After they cleaned up the mess I left;
I regret that, but I had to go --
I was miserable. Utterly bereft.
She's lovely, the new girl. So sublime.
A romantic soul (they're easy to possess);
I've been inside her from time to time.
Though I do admit it's made a bit of mess.
She's aware of me, and terrified --
Utterly convinced she's going mad,
And I feel bad for causing her to slide,
But sometimes love is hard, and things go bad.
She won't get out of bed - that's fine with me.
I touch her...
596 reads
1 Comment
EROTIC POEM
Published
26th Feb 2016 6:59pm
26th Feb 2016 6:59pm
Seized
O, my lovely little kitten - how thy beauty has me smitten,
By my lust I'm gladly bitten - my composure thus undone--
Thou was made for my claiming, thus my heart and sights be aiming,
Deepest passions come, exclaiming, at such speed as ne'er outrun--
Thou art seized, my lovely one.
Of perfect curves exotic, thy every move hypnotic,
Thy voice a sound erotic, eyes that outshine brightest sun--
My fixation's my confession: thine endowments my obsession,
Such temptation, such transgression; self-control reduced to none--
Thou art seized, my lovely one....
By my lust I'm gladly bitten - my composure thus undone--
Thou was made for my claiming, thus my heart and sights be aiming,
Deepest passions come, exclaiming, at such speed as ne'er outrun--
Thou art seized, my lovely one.
Of perfect curves exotic, thy every move hypnotic,
Thy voice a sound erotic, eyes that outshine brightest sun--
My fixation's my confession: thine endowments my obsession,
Such temptation, such transgression; self-control reduced to none--
Thou art seized, my lovely one....
1006 reads
8 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
26th Feb 2016 6:53pm
26th Feb 2016 6:53pm
Serenade (Ode to Words)
Each time I sit before the task
Of writing something apropos,
Of myself I rightly ask
What of passion do I know?
For clever words in cunning rhyme
Are hardly any substitute;
Feelings transcend space and time,
One's passion must be absolute.
The truest words are made of silk,
Greeting with their sweet caress,
Flow like creamy buttermilk,
And purest love they doth profess.
Fingers dancing o'er the keys,
Conjuring the finest things;
Often brings me to my knees --
Transfixed by what my passion sings.
Poet's goal, if one is...
Of writing something apropos,
Of myself I rightly ask
What of passion do I know?
For clever words in cunning rhyme
Are hardly any substitute;
Feelings transcend space and time,
One's passion must be absolute.
The truest words are made of silk,
Greeting with their sweet caress,
Flow like creamy buttermilk,
And purest love they doth profess.
Fingers dancing o'er the keys,
Conjuring the finest things;
Often brings me to my knees --
Transfixed by what my passion sings.
Poet's goal, if one is...
779 reads
5 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Jack_C
