Submissions by SweetOblivion
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
I love quirky imagery painted in sleek words. Subtle, witty, descriptive verses are my favourite. Poetic discipline and control have parts to play; as do regular visits to the gorgeous ink shop .
The End
All fine affairs must end, but there is pain:
It’s like the dislocation of a limb;
And here it comes – that flaring ache – again;
The agonised not knowing – should she ring?
She had the feeling that her heart would break,
Quite literally; she could not endure
This amputation - any knife would make
A better job than this: where was the cure?
Her flesh was being dragged apart; she’d weep
And scream as muscles contract to retain
Her being in one piece – she cannot keep
Her mind from this destruction: it’s insane
To think that he might stay...
It’s like the dislocation of a limb;
And here it comes – that flaring ache – again;
The agonised not knowing – should she ring?
She had the feeling that her heart would break,
Quite literally; she could not endure
This amputation - any knife would make
A better job than this: where was the cure?
Her flesh was being dragged apart; she’d weep
And scream as muscles contract to retain
Her being in one piece – she cannot keep
Her mind from this destruction: it’s insane
To think that he might stay...
639 reads
0 Comments
Comparison
873 reads
1 Comment
Just a thought
1115 reads
2 Comments
Craving His Load
1121 reads
3 Comments
Comparison
1005 reads
2 Comments
Chill Western Winds
955 reads
1 Comment
Modesty
Modesty might make some blush with shame:
These filthy fantasies that longing whores
Will entertain, as if each were a game
To play all day and night behind closed doors;
Modesty might mean her lowered voice
Is at a level that her body finds
Accommodating, as she kneels - her choice,
Because such kneeling serves him. It reminds
Them both that she's his cunt and she's his slut,
Who'll take all that he offers her; she gives
No thought to self; she loves him for he'd cut
Her to the quick; ensuring that she lives
Within his shadow; with her...
These filthy fantasies that longing whores
Will entertain, as if each were a game
To play all day and night behind closed doors;
Modesty might mean her lowered voice
Is at a level that her body finds
Accommodating, as she kneels - her choice,
Because such kneeling serves him. It reminds
Them both that she's his cunt and she's his slut,
Who'll take all that he offers her; she gives
No thought to self; she loves him for he'd cut
Her to the quick; ensuring that she lives
Within his shadow; with her...
818 reads
0 Comments
A youthful prize
She's lonely, undersexed and she is young
A prize that many older men desire;
She wonders if she can ensure the fun
That she would share will help him to admire
Her cleverness and naughtiness, as well
As make her youthful form become compliant
To his demands and all that he would tell
The naughty girl to do. She's not defiant
Enough to resist him and wicked wiles,
That he would use to drive her fantasies
To places that ensure the man beguiles
The dirty bitch inside her head, who sees
An older man who knows he'll make her moan
For she is...
A prize that many older men desire;
She wonders if she can ensure the fun
That she would share will help him to admire
Her cleverness and naughtiness, as well
As make her youthful form become compliant
To his demands and all that he would tell
The naughty girl to do. She's not defiant
Enough to resist him and wicked wiles,
That he would use to drive her fantasies
To places that ensure the man beguiles
The dirty bitch inside her head, who sees
An older man who knows he'll make her moan
For she is...
693 reads
0 Comments
A Window Ledge
Nasturtium on the window ledge can view
Such sights within the living room, they blush
A deeper shade - a perfect, reddened hue
That matches the dark colour of the flush,
That seems to spread across your features, when
Miss has her bend and bare before the guests,
Who care not for excuses; now and then,
A smattering of their applause expressed
The northern charm of neighbours to invite
To see you punished, deprived of your clothes
And caned before them all, to their delight;
For they are canny, keen to see exposed
You,...
Such sights within the living room, they blush
A deeper shade - a perfect, reddened hue
That matches the dark colour of the flush,
That seems to spread across your features, when
Miss has her bend and bare before the guests,
Who care not for excuses; now and then,
A smattering of their applause expressed
The northern charm of neighbours to invite
To see you punished, deprived of your clothes
And caned before them all, to their delight;
For they are canny, keen to see exposed
You,...
671 reads
2 Comments
An idyll
832 reads
0 Comments
A kiss without pause
If I was a kiss, I could seek you out
Because your need is clear and fresh,
I can almost taste those fleeting lips.
But, even if I could have them pout,
Those lips cannot simply be blessed
By kisses for fear of the kissing moments
May causes kisses to scatter like starlings,
Flying in every single direction,
Motionless only in the distance;
When I understand your unknowing lips,
In their unconscious consciousness;
I will be aware that your lips are aware;
And then I can call you...
Because your need is clear and fresh,
I can almost taste those fleeting lips.
But, even if I could have them pout,
Those lips cannot simply be blessed
By kisses for fear of the kissing moments
May causes kisses to scatter like starlings,
Flying in every single direction,
Motionless only in the distance;
When I understand your unknowing lips,
In their unconscious consciousness;
I will be aware that your lips are aware;
And then I can call you...
854 reads
0 Comments
shadows on this page of pain
look to miss as she looks to your pain:
attentive, not distracted
by the whipping; the drizzling,
falling tears are a thrilling
sight for the sorest eyes,
plight for the sorest thighs,
marked by the flick of a wrist,
as you present your spread
to the shiver of discipline,
bent to the hurtful force;
look to miss as she looks to your pain:
you may not see the true gifts -
her tumult of sly cruelties;
her tumult of wry intensities
are yours, though she claims your pain;
It's hers, as are murmurs...
attentive, not distracted
by the whipping; the drizzling,
falling tears are a thrilling
sight for the sorest eyes,
plight for the sorest thighs,
marked by the flick of a wrist,
as you present your spread
to the shiver of discipline,
bent to the hurtful force;
look to miss as she looks to your pain:
you may not see the true gifts -
her tumult of sly cruelties;
her tumult of wry intensities
are yours, though she claims your pain;
It's hers, as are murmurs...
840 reads
2 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by SweetOblivion