PoetSpeak
Poem Published
Today 1:36am
Today 1:36am
Vegan to her is Ketchup
Perfection sucks
Give me ripped pantyhose
A button missing
Slutty in places of worship
My women curse a lot
Have ink on their hands
Dime store nail polish
Bad attitude
Vegan to her is ketchup
Health is codeine cough syrup
Blow jobs are her currency
Black leather jacket ripped at the elbow
Give me ripped pantyhose
A button missing
Slutty in places of worship
My women curse a lot
Have ink on their hands
Dime store nail polish
Bad attitude
Vegan to her is ketchup
Health is codeine cough syrup
Blow jobs are her currency
Black leather jacket ripped at the elbow
#CharlesBukowski
#confessional
#identity
#money
#porn
54 reads
13 Comments
PoetSpeak
Poem Published
Today 1:36am
Today 1:36am
Vegan to her is Ketchup
Perfection sucks
Give me ripped pantyhose
A button missing
Slutty in places of worship
My women curse a lot
Have ink on their hands
Dime store nail polish
Bad attitude
Vegan to her is ketchup
Health is codeine cough syrup
Blow jobs are her currency
Black leather jacket ripped at the elbow
Give me ripped pantyhose
A button missing
Slutty in places of worship
My women curse a lot
Have ink on their hands
Dime store nail polish
Bad attitude
Vegan to her is ketchup
Health is codeine cough syrup
Blow jobs are her currency
Black leather jacket ripped at the elbow
#CharlesBukowski
#confessional
#identity
#money
#porn
54 reads
13 Comments
PoetSpeak
Poem Published
Today 1:36am
Today 1:36am
Vegan to her is Ketchup
Perfection sucks
Give me ripped pantyhose
A button missing
Slutty in places of worship
My women curse a lot
Have ink on their hands
Dime store nail polish
Bad attitude
Vegan to her is ketchup
Health is codeine cough syrup
Blow jobs are her currency
Black leather jacket ripped at the elbow
Give me ripped pantyhose
A button missing
Slutty in places of worship
My women curse a lot
Have ink on their hands
Dime store nail polish
Bad attitude
Vegan to her is ketchup
Health is codeine cough syrup
Blow jobs are her currency
Black leather jacket ripped at the elbow
#CharlesBukowski
#confessional
#identity
#money
#porn
54 reads
13 Comments
PoetSpeak
Poem Published
Today 1:36am
Today 1:36am
Vegan to her is Ketchup
Perfection sucks
Give me ripped pantyhose
A button missing
Slutty in places of worship
My women curse a lot
Have ink on their hands
Dime store nail polish
Bad attitude
Vegan to her is ketchup
Health is codeine cough syrup
Blow jobs are her currency
Black leather jacket ripped at the elbow
Give me ripped pantyhose
A button missing
Slutty in places of worship
My women curse a lot
Have ink on their hands
Dime store nail polish
Bad attitude
Vegan to her is ketchup
Health is codeine cough syrup
Blow jobs are her currency
Black leather jacket ripped at the elbow
#CharlesBukowski
#confessional
#identity
#money
#porn
54 reads
13 Comments
PAR
Poem Published
26th Feb 2025 3:52pm
26th Feb 2025 3:52pm
Bird Nesting Poetry
In the heart of dawn, poets awaken.
Like mother birds in nests forsaken.
Words like worms tenderly taken
to feed their young, love unshaken.
Quills dipped in dew, they glide and soar
over landscapes of dreams, forevermore.
Each verse a morsel as hearts implore,
Nurturing souls by stories they store.
Under the vast canopy of sky...
Poets sing lullabies, every nigh,
to fledgling thoughts, dreams amplify.
Wings of words lift high.
With beaks of ink they gently share
wisdom and warmth beyond compare. ...
Like mother birds in nests forsaken.
Words like worms tenderly taken
to feed their young, love unshaken.
Quills dipped in dew, they glide and soar
over landscapes of dreams, forevermore.
Each verse a morsel as hearts implore,
Nurturing souls by stories they store.
Under the vast canopy of sky...
Poets sing lullabies, every nigh,
to fledgling thoughts, dreams amplify.
Wings of words lift high.
With beaks of ink they gently share
wisdom and warmth beyond compare. ...
#birds
#confessional
#LifeAsAWriter
#mirror
#WritingPoetry
105 reads
7 Comments
PAR
Poem Published
26th Feb 2025 3:52pm
26th Feb 2025 3:52pm
Bird Nesting Poetry
In the heart of dawn, poets awaken.
Like mother birds in nests forsaken.
Words like worms tenderly taken
to feed their young, love unshaken.
Quills dipped in dew, they glide and soar
over landscapes of dreams, forevermore.
Each verse a morsel as hearts implore,
Nurturing souls by stories they store.
Under the vast canopy of sky...
Poets sing lullabies, every nigh,
to fledgling thoughts, dreams amplify.
Wings of words lift high.
With beaks of ink they gently share
wisdom and warmth beyond compare. ...
Like mother birds in nests forsaken.
Words like worms tenderly taken
to feed their young, love unshaken.
Quills dipped in dew, they glide and soar
over landscapes of dreams, forevermore.
Each verse a morsel as hearts implore,
Nurturing souls by stories they store.
Under the vast canopy of sky...
Poets sing lullabies, every nigh,
to fledgling thoughts, dreams amplify.
Wings of words lift high.
With beaks of ink they gently share
wisdom and warmth beyond compare. ...
#birds
#confessional
#LifeAsAWriter
#mirror
#WritingPoetry
105 reads
7 Comments
PAR
Poem Published
26th Feb 2025 3:52pm
26th Feb 2025 3:52pm
Bird Nesting Poetry
In the heart of dawn, poets awaken.
Like mother birds in nests forsaken.
Words like worms tenderly taken
to feed their young, love unshaken.
Quills dipped in dew, they glide and soar
over landscapes of dreams, forevermore.
Each verse a morsel as hearts implore,
Nurturing souls by stories they store.
Under the vast canopy of sky...
Poets sing lullabies, every nigh,
to fledgling thoughts, dreams amplify.
Wings of words lift high.
With beaks of ink they gently share
wisdom and warmth beyond compare. ...
Like mother birds in nests forsaken.
Words like worms tenderly taken
to feed their young, love unshaken.
Quills dipped in dew, they glide and soar
over landscapes of dreams, forevermore.
Each verse a morsel as hearts implore,
Nurturing souls by stories they store.
Under the vast canopy of sky...
Poets sing lullabies, every nigh,
to fledgling thoughts, dreams amplify.
Wings of words lift high.
With beaks of ink they gently share
wisdom and warmth beyond compare. ...
#birds
#confessional
#LifeAsAWriter
#mirror
#WritingPoetry
105 reads
7 Comments
PAR
Poem Published
26th Feb 2025 3:52pm
26th Feb 2025 3:52pm
Bird Nesting Poetry
In the heart of dawn, poets awaken.
Like mother birds in nests forsaken.
Words like worms tenderly taken
to feed their young, love unshaken.
Quills dipped in dew, they glide and soar
over landscapes of dreams, forevermore.
Each verse a morsel as hearts implore,
Nurturing souls by stories they store.
Under the vast canopy of sky...
Poets sing lullabies, every nigh,
to fledgling thoughts, dreams amplify.
Wings of words lift high.
With beaks of ink they gently share
wisdom and warmth beyond compare. ...
Like mother birds in nests forsaken.
Words like worms tenderly taken
to feed their young, love unshaken.
Quills dipped in dew, they glide and soar
over landscapes of dreams, forevermore.
Each verse a morsel as hearts implore,
Nurturing souls by stories they store.
Under the vast canopy of sky...
Poets sing lullabies, every nigh,
to fledgling thoughts, dreams amplify.
Wings of words lift high.
With beaks of ink they gently share
wisdom and warmth beyond compare. ...
#birds
#confessional
#LifeAsAWriter
#mirror
#WritingPoetry
105 reads
7 Comments
PAR
Poem Published
26th Feb 2025 3:52pm
26th Feb 2025 3:52pm
Bird Nesting Poetry
In the heart of dawn, poets awaken.
Like mother birds in nests forsaken.
Words like worms tenderly taken
to feed their young, love unshaken.
Quills dipped in dew, they glide and soar
over landscapes of dreams, forevermore.
Each verse a morsel as hearts implore,
Nurturing souls by stories they store.
Under the vast canopy of sky...
Poets sing lullabies, every nigh,
to fledgling thoughts, dreams amplify.
Wings of words lift high.
With beaks of ink they gently share
wisdom and warmth beyond compare. ...
Like mother birds in nests forsaken.
Words like worms tenderly taken
to feed their young, love unshaken.
Quills dipped in dew, they glide and soar
over landscapes of dreams, forevermore.
Each verse a morsel as hearts implore,
Nurturing souls by stories they store.
Under the vast canopy of sky...
Poets sing lullabies, every nigh,
to fledgling thoughts, dreams amplify.
Wings of words lift high.
With beaks of ink they gently share
wisdom and warmth beyond compare. ...
#birds
#confessional
#LifeAsAWriter
#mirror
#WritingPoetry
105 reads
7 Comments
nomoth
Poem Published
15th Nov 2020 3:16pm
15th Nov 2020 3:16pm
Méséglise-la-Vineuse – giving up the ghost
I whisper'd up to drown it out,
the lisping cuss of a dragonfly
and his ornery bluff.
Last seen, the Machiavelli
was gathering before the hawthorn,
reaching through for their hips
and haws of Maastricht wine.
And with a sketch and a thought
as scrawny red as the dawn
I lipped, divined and withdrew from these bloodied wrists
my understudy, my young reserve
who was once so clear
in intention
and consequences ...
the lisping cuss of a dragonfly
and his ornery bluff.
Last seen, the Machiavelli
was gathering before the hawthorn,
reaching through for their hips
and haws of Maastricht wine.
And with a sketch and a thought
as scrawny red as the dawn
I lipped, divined and withdrew from these bloodied wrists
my understudy, my young reserve
who was once so clear
in intention
and consequences ...
#childhood
#ghosts
#confessional
497 reads
11 Comments
nomoth
Poem Published
15th Nov 2020 3:16pm
15th Nov 2020 3:16pm
Méséglise-la-Vineuse – giving up the ghost
I whisper'd up to drown it out,
the lisping cuss of a dragonfly
and his ornery bluff.
Last seen, the Machiavelli
was gathering before the hawthorn,
reaching through for their hips
and haws of Maastricht wine.
And with a sketch and a thought
as scrawny red as the dawn
I lipped, divined and withdrew from these bloodied wrists
my understudy, my young reserve
who was once so clear
in intention
and consequences ...
the lisping cuss of a dragonfly
and his ornery bluff.
Last seen, the Machiavelli
was gathering before the hawthorn,
reaching through for their hips
and haws of Maastricht wine.
And with a sketch and a thought
as scrawny red as the dawn
I lipped, divined and withdrew from these bloodied wrists
my understudy, my young reserve
who was once so clear
in intention
and consequences ...
#childhood
#ghosts
#confessional
497 reads
11 Comments
nomoth
Poem Published
15th Nov 2020 3:16pm
15th Nov 2020 3:16pm
Méséglise-la-Vineuse – giving up the ghost
I whisper'd up to drown it out,
the lisping cuss of a dragonfly
and his ornery bluff.
Last seen, the Machiavelli
was gathering before the hawthorn,
reaching through for their hips
and haws of Maastricht wine.
And with a sketch and a thought
as scrawny red as the dawn
I lipped, divined and withdrew from these bloodied wrists
my understudy, my young reserve
who was once so clear
in intention
and consequences ...
the lisping cuss of a dragonfly
and his ornery bluff.
Last seen, the Machiavelli
was gathering before the hawthorn,
reaching through for their hips
and haws of Maastricht wine.
And with a sketch and a thought
as scrawny red as the dawn
I lipped, divined and withdrew from these bloodied wrists
my understudy, my young reserve
who was once so clear
in intention
and consequences ...
#childhood
#ghosts
#confessional
497 reads
11 Comments
DU Poetry : Confessional Published by Members Recently Online Poems
