Submissions by toniscales (Lost Girl)
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
I am very critical of my own work but I tend to love intensely, and writing is an emotional release and catharsis I can't seem to resist.
LOVE POEM
Published
20th Dec 2014 00:36am
20th Dec 2014 00:36am
Forcing the Saints
This fever, my body aches with it.
Slowly murdered by your killer smile,
I wanted your hands on me.
Knowing it was impossible,
shutting my eyes against
that sudden rush of need.
She burns and yearns. Nothing can sate her.
The music of her loneliness like a wet necklace
the sky goddess hung. Haunting. Slippery.
She's drunk on sensual nuances. The swish
of silk sweeping past the calf, slithering
her toes into a pair of pantyhose.
The slow-burning awareness of the body.
Her desire swells, luminous. Shivering.
She's...
Slowly murdered by your killer smile,
I wanted your hands on me.
Knowing it was impossible,
shutting my eyes against
that sudden rush of need.
She burns and yearns. Nothing can sate her.
The music of her loneliness like a wet necklace
the sky goddess hung. Haunting. Slippery.
She's drunk on sensual nuances. The swish
of silk sweeping past the calf, slithering
her toes into a pair of pantyhose.
The slow-burning awareness of the body.
Her desire swells, luminous. Shivering.
She's...
662 reads
3 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
19th Dec 2014 3:57pm
19th Dec 2014 3:57pm
Journal of a Grief
I.
I want every part of you to fit within me.
You were going to be late for an appointment.
Sunlight constricted everything.
The shock of your face
as if I never truly remembered it.
I dropped on one knee in dampened grass
while you grabbed my hair
and eased your world into me.
The effortless arousal at your command
to take you into me,
pushing,
pulling.
Something so natural,
I wept as you fed me.
II.
I have not showered in three days.
Haven't brushed my teeth.
Today I found a picture of...
I want every part of you to fit within me.
You were going to be late for an appointment.
Sunlight constricted everything.
The shock of your face
as if I never truly remembered it.
I dropped on one knee in dampened grass
while you grabbed my hair
and eased your world into me.
The effortless arousal at your command
to take you into me,
pushing,
pulling.
Something so natural,
I wept as you fed me.
II.
I have not showered in three days.
Haven't brushed my teeth.
Today I found a picture of...
698 reads
4 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
19th Dec 2014 3:30pm
19th Dec 2014 3:30pm
Afternoon Service
We bury her in the dark, noisy sanctum
near the air conditioner. The earth
so hard and dry it barely crumbles
beneath your plastic shovel.
Lumps of gray hold her feathers in place,
silk and satin juxtaposed against grime and grit.
They ripple tremulously in the breeze,
mirror the softened trembling of your lips.
Your little hands cannot resist these textures,
tearing at the holes in the stories.
How love cannot save something so fragile,
doomed from the start.
How it won't erase
the black circles under my eyes,
ever...
near the air conditioner. The earth
so hard and dry it barely crumbles
beneath your plastic shovel.
Lumps of gray hold her feathers in place,
silk and satin juxtaposed against grime and grit.
They ripple tremulously in the breeze,
mirror the softened trembling of your lips.
Your little hands cannot resist these textures,
tearing at the holes in the stories.
How love cannot save something so fragile,
doomed from the start.
How it won't erase
the black circles under my eyes,
ever...
649 reads
5 Comments
EROTIC POEM
Published
19th Dec 2014 6:43am
19th Dec 2014 6:43am
The Book of Jasmine
I want to feed him with my breasts.
I want his tongue darting softly
in my mouth, in and out like the waves
upon the shore. To sit upon his engorged flesh
and love his pain away, my tongue
lapping at his tears.
I want to swallow his past, his fears
while my sex swallows his member,
up and down, side to side, in slow,
deliberate agony. His thick stalk
is slick and glistening with my need,
so deep inside me I can feel
the tight pounding of his testicles.
Sometimes, he lets me behold the wonder
of our bodies joined...
I want his tongue darting softly
in my mouth, in and out like the waves
upon the shore. To sit upon his engorged flesh
and love his pain away, my tongue
lapping at his tears.
I want to swallow his past, his fears
while my sex swallows his member,
up and down, side to side, in slow,
deliberate agony. His thick stalk
is slick and glistening with my need,
so deep inside me I can feel
the tight pounding of his testicles.
Sometimes, he lets me behold the wonder
of our bodies joined...
1056 reads
3 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
19th Dec 2014 6:23am
19th Dec 2014 6:23am
Magnolia
Little Miss Isabel,
I came upon you suddenly,
fresh from autopsy,
flowering with the fetid stink
of the parsimonious medical examiner.
Two moldering arcs of stitches
were embedded in your chest cavity,
twitching to sprout wings.
An embalmer sat sewing
the layer of skin and hair
back onto your tender scalp.
His foot tapped in rhythm
to the local country music station.
I was awestruck
by your singular beauty.
Five year-old magnolia
pinched of petals
in a cruel session of Love-Me-Not,
greasy-cold from moisturizer...
I came upon you suddenly,
fresh from autopsy,
flowering with the fetid stink
of the parsimonious medical examiner.
Two moldering arcs of stitches
were embedded in your chest cavity,
twitching to sprout wings.
An embalmer sat sewing
the layer of skin and hair
back onto your tender scalp.
His foot tapped in rhythm
to the local country music station.
I was awestruck
by your singular beauty.
Five year-old magnolia
pinched of petals
in a cruel session of Love-Me-Not,
greasy-cold from moisturizer...
737 reads
3 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
18th Dec 2014 2:24am
18th Dec 2014 2:24am
Letter to My Child
You ask if I believe in God.
I think He's left us all alone
like sweaty children in a mall,
searching for our mothers.
But one glance
at your tenderly upturned face,
I can only breathe of white angels,
gossamer reunions,
answers to your silver secrets.
A corsage of light
haloes your head.
All the sweet bouquets
buried in me long ago
you've made blossom,
turn pink once more.
I watch as you soar delicately
through those gates
of mesh and pearls.
Then I kiss you, whisper,
You are God for me.
I think He's left us all alone
like sweaty children in a mall,
searching for our mothers.
But one glance
at your tenderly upturned face,
I can only breathe of white angels,
gossamer reunions,
answers to your silver secrets.
A corsage of light
haloes your head.
All the sweet bouquets
buried in me long ago
you've made blossom,
turn pink once more.
I watch as you soar delicately
through those gates
of mesh and pearls.
Then I kiss you, whisper,
You are God for me.
839 reads
8 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
18th Dec 2014 2:08am
18th Dec 2014 2:08am
School Days
Apples on a stick.
Make me sick.
You learn the rhythm, this way.
That way.
You and your friends on the jungle gym.
Penny Drop, Dead Man’s Drop.
Learn to hurtle your body
into empty space without a thought.
Your first sweet taste of death.
You and your friends in a burnt-out house.
Its scorched carpet, shattered chandelier.
Can you keep a secret, they ask, teeth chattering.
Your pockets lined with broken glass.
That's how he did it, that's how he did it,
he slammed her through the screen door.
You'll...
Make me sick.
You learn the rhythm, this way.
That way.
You and your friends on the jungle gym.
Penny Drop, Dead Man’s Drop.
Learn to hurtle your body
into empty space without a thought.
Your first sweet taste of death.
You and your friends in a burnt-out house.
Its scorched carpet, shattered chandelier.
Can you keep a secret, they ask, teeth chattering.
Your pockets lined with broken glass.
That's how he did it, that's how he did it,
he slammed her through the screen door.
You'll...
878 reads
6 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
17th Dec 2014 4:27pm
17th Dec 2014 4:27pm
Mama's Night Out
(This poem is about when my daughter was very young and at the time I was screwed up emotionally, partying all night at clubs and doing drugs... It concerns the guilt I felt and how eventually it led me to change.)
my reflection in your Christmas portrait
little thing of peaches and cream sighs
Mama a ghoul, around her eyes
fuming a grave deliberately drenched in blue
dancing on the catafalque
like a resurrected banshee
stink of corpses, Camels, and Cuervo
on her clothes
back at home an erratic heartbeat
thought she’d sizzle come...
my reflection in your Christmas portrait
little thing of peaches and cream sighs
Mama a ghoul, around her eyes
fuming a grave deliberately drenched in blue
dancing on the catafalque
like a resurrected banshee
stink of corpses, Camels, and Cuervo
on her clothes
back at home an erratic heartbeat
thought she’d sizzle come...
803 reads
4 Comments
EROTIC POEM
Published
17th Dec 2014 4:00pm
17th Dec 2014 4:00pm
The Memory Rock
he had once affected an erotic mercy
and lent his scent to my clothes
and essence I could grow drugged upon later
that entrapped opiate
lingering within such scant garments
as indigo lace and stained chiffon
the chamois nestled feline into the pillow
at times scattered upon the hardwood floor
to make a shocking quilt
his scent feral, overwhelming
a pungent urgency jolting the senses
that of a wolf within shadow
talons bared, moisture glistening
in ragged crescent moons
and now reliving the spectacle
I lie sprawled on...
and lent his scent to my clothes
and essence I could grow drugged upon later
that entrapped opiate
lingering within such scant garments
as indigo lace and stained chiffon
the chamois nestled feline into the pillow
at times scattered upon the hardwood floor
to make a shocking quilt
his scent feral, overwhelming
a pungent urgency jolting the senses
that of a wolf within shadow
talons bared, moisture glistening
in ragged crescent moons
and now reliving the spectacle
I lie sprawled on...
938 reads
7 Comments
EROTIC POEM
Published
17th Dec 2014 7:43am
17th Dec 2014 7:43am
Suck 101
I used to think I'd be loved
because of my ability to give a good blow job.
There were simply some boys
whose essences I craved like water:
the haunting curve of a collarbone,
a delectable jaw line,
the satiny trail of hair leading down to a groin
could make tears spring to my eyes,
my stomach surge with love.
There is nothing like the feel
of a silken shaft in your mouth,
the heart-beat throb massaging your tonsils.
I'd weigh their engorged testicles
like bags of gold in my palms,
pausing to bathe those swollen plums in...
because of my ability to give a good blow job.
There were simply some boys
whose essences I craved like water:
the haunting curve of a collarbone,
a delectable jaw line,
the satiny trail of hair leading down to a groin
could make tears spring to my eyes,
my stomach surge with love.
There is nothing like the feel
of a silken shaft in your mouth,
the heart-beat throb massaging your tonsils.
I'd weigh their engorged testicles
like bags of gold in my palms,
pausing to bathe those swollen plums in...
1235 reads
6 Comments
EROTIC POEM
Published
17th Dec 2014 7:36am
17th Dec 2014 7:36am
Burnt Offerings
Go softly.
Do not grow substantial,
let me taste you on the day,
always.
Envelop me
in an agony of passion,
distilled perfume of sheets,
anguish and defeat.
My mouth seeks to anchor you.
I swallow a magnolia.
My tongue learns textures,
the shape of your secrets.
Teach me this raw, quivering imagery.
It is all sweet contact,
a perfection of collarbones,
never enough.
Elude me to the point of madness,
then offer no surrender.
Pull my body onto yours,
slide me into place.
I am haunted by a...
Do not grow substantial,
let me taste you on the day,
always.
Envelop me
in an agony of passion,
distilled perfume of sheets,
anguish and defeat.
My mouth seeks to anchor you.
I swallow a magnolia.
My tongue learns textures,
the shape of your secrets.
Teach me this raw, quivering imagery.
It is all sweet contact,
a perfection of collarbones,
never enough.
Elude me to the point of madness,
then offer no surrender.
Pull my body onto yours,
slide me into place.
I am haunted by a...
949 reads
4 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
16th Dec 2014 12:45pm
16th Dec 2014 12:45pm
Alice
(a lost girl poem)
My mother burns my face with the iron,
my corkscrew curls turned limp in fog.
Our white pinafores gone green
in wet, sodden grass. That time my father
lifted me by the leg, beating me in front
of all the neighbors. I am tormented
by the sadness of mahogany end tables.
Even the doors are dangerous.
At the funerals our grandmothers’ hands
rest at the napes of our necks. Making
sure we behave. That we believe.
Grandpa lets me sleep in their bed
while Grandma wrings the house of devils.
The lamps lit low...
My mother burns my face with the iron,
my corkscrew curls turned limp in fog.
Our white pinafores gone green
in wet, sodden grass. That time my father
lifted me by the leg, beating me in front
of all the neighbors. I am tormented
by the sadness of mahogany end tables.
Even the doors are dangerous.
At the funerals our grandmothers’ hands
rest at the napes of our necks. Making
sure we behave. That we believe.
Grandpa lets me sleep in their bed
while Grandma wrings the house of devils.
The lamps lit low...
811 reads
3 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by toniscales (Lost Girl)
