comfyshoes

We are an odd, perverse invention Stringed dolls that live by tension Should that force release, complete We fall, collapsed, with chest to feet But should it only ease in part We dance, wild limbs around a heart And flail, deliberate as we can, Perhaps deny the hidden hand; And try then to appear controlled By Self, and choice, as if no hold Outside us moved our tension play To make us bend or fall this way In truth, alone we go upright Presentable, but still and tight. Though force and pull through core and limb May shake us graceless at mere whim, And we may hone our dance to art, We're nowt without strings on our heart

just finished The English Patient. It has to be one of the most beautifully descriptive works of fiction that i have ever consumed.

thank you all for your kind words. usually my poetic attempts suck. this just seemed to sum up how i'm feeling right now. it's just so spot on it gives me shivers when i read it

once again, Sir, you piss all over my own efforts and leave me simply in awe.

the grace in understanding is that I miss you differently it's an emptiness without longing like a shell left by the sea. it's an hollow without echo an unsat chair, an unslept bed it's the cemetery's silence as peace attends the dead. it's regret without remorse as fallen leaves will lose their green a yesterday without tomorrow for there's no today between. i miss you as a sorrow that is no longer kin to pain but stands in gentle stead of it as mist resembles rain.

wow that's all i have at this moment i am going to read this again and again and again each reading revels something new to me again wow

i have read this several times already and i expect i will read it many, many more. is it possible that you have just penned the poem that removes 'March of the Sardonic Pawns' from the top of my best ever list? i think it might just be. ...you're mind....i just don't have the words to say what i want to say. this is so beautiful. marry me?

you know you could put a recipe for apple pie down in verse form and i would go week at the knees

what Stu said.

i just wanted to leave a few words of encouragement here for everyone trying to make it to 30 days. i sent my ex a short email a few days ago after 8 MONTHS. the only reason i sent it was that i had a friend die in a motorcyle accident. the ex rides like a crazy thing, and despite everything that has come and gone, i just wanted to tell her to be careful as is does sometomes happen to people you know. i have her email address blocked so i will never know if she replied or not. 8 MONTHS! i was once where you are now. getting to a few days. looking at myspace. begin again. a few days. send her a text. begin again. sure, it was so very difficult to make it to the 30 days, but it got easier as time went on. when i reached the magic number, i set myself the task of another 30 days. i think it was about half way through those days that i stopped counting and here i am. it's not easy, but it gets easier. i still miss her. i still love her. i cannot afford to let her control my emotions any longer, so i cannot have contact with her in any way. you can all do it if i can! just another quick word. if you have myspace, best get rid. no good can come of that place. the temptation to 'check in is just too much' good luck, and stay strong. 8 months NC (or there abouts) and no longer counting! shoes

after many long months, i sent her an email. i haven't replied to anything she has sent me. it's been so long i don't remember how long. anyway, life has thrown some stuff at me this week and i just wanted to tell her to take care and wish her well with her journey. that's it. i don't expect a reply and if she sends one, i won't get it. (set email up to delete automatically) i said what i needed to say. i'm not the crazy * * * * * that she paints me.

Make her dependent on your lifeblood of venom Swathe her in your layers of rancour She’ll appear to need you, all on your behalf Lather an oil slick of envy over her naked flesh Rub your guilt into her soft downy skin She’ll appear to absorb it, all on your behalf Rubbish her name in the soil of your own self pity Create a statue of her to hang your criticisms on She’ll appear to wear them, all on your behalf She'll crouch in the corner waiting to pounce She’ll diminish you with your own weaponry She’ll vanish with a flick of her sorceress’s wand All on her own, behalf

At the stand of this love she is unfinished, an hour glass with sand still flowing. Suddenly shattered, tiny pieces of glass frightened and bleeding on the sheets, one lovers' beauty singing inside the other yet she can no longer answer though her mouth is hungry for the tongue that once flamed her into a dithering fool moaning, sighing, arching, doing anything needing to dissipate herself and her lover two parched nude bodies in flagrant lust. And one is quick to say that is all it is but she is a liar for there is more to us, there is this elusive unveiling, lifted with compassionate fingers, that won't be denied, a palpable thing wanting, needing our individual truths. Now the stronger lover is torn her lovers' body has become leaden she is too quiet no matter what she thinks, I will always creep upon her flesh anchor her to me without reserve but with a kind of love like that of an overturned vase, reckless spilling the scent of jasmine everywhere a gang of thorns and buds cool pain and hot pleasure, that becomes an addiction surging and sprouting. Washing her with myself, my being - I won't let her go. Not her wet kisses or her sleepy sighs, nor her murmuring love poems that make me feel desired and less alone.

great write, as always. good to see you writing again, Happytown

i am sorry to have ruined such a beautiful Cole Porter song for everyone!. there is nothing beautiful abou this poem, it is nothing but pain as words