Your Favorite Poems

[Truly Scrumptious]

When they dig deep for what is considered
the most horrifying adjective,
when they come on to you in the street

when they tell you
(and they will tell you)
that you are a sick cunt
and perverted bitch whose dyke face
they would like to (in so many words)
smash

when they invite you
to suck them off--

it will be important to remember

the night the rain came through the window
and you licked the drops from her shoulder
and they were sweeter than the ripe,
wet pears glowing in the grass

how you woke up longing,
wanting this woman too much,
how she could make you suffer in the dark
whether or not she was there.

Try to recall the way her voice broke
when you touched her just the right way,
how learning to touch her the right way
was all that ever mattered.

Bring back your own nakedness
against her rowdy jeans, her torn
sweatshirt stained red & green,
the way she held your wrists
as you strained to come.

Under these circumstances
it will be an inspiration to recall
her Fuck Off walk, perfected
in cruel streets
and other corridors of ridicule,
all meaningless to you now that you
no longer fear the rain coming through the window;
lick the drops from her shoulder.


~ Brenda Brooks

[Cin]

I love this. Thanks for posting it.

Originally Posted by Truly Scrumptious

When they dig deep for what is considered
the most horrifying adjective,
when they come on to you in the street

when they tell you
(and they will tell you)
that you are a sick cunt
and perverted bitch whose dyke face
they would like to (in so many words)
smash

when they invite you
to suck them off--

it will be important to remember

the night the rain came through the window
and you licked the drops from her shoulder
and they were sweeter than the ripe,
wet pears glowing in the grass

how you woke up longing,
wanting this woman too much,
how she could make you suffer in the dark
whether or not she was there.

Try to recall the way her voice broke
when you touched her just the right way,
how learning to touch her the right way
was all that ever mattered.

Bring back your own nakedness
against her rowdy jeans, her torn
sweatshirt stained red & green,
the way she held your wrists
as you strained to come.

Under these circumstances
it will be an inspiration to recall
her Fuck Off walk, perfected
in cruel streets
and other corridors of ridicule,
all meaningless to you now that you
no longer fear the rain coming through the window;
lick the drops from her shoulder.


~ Brenda Brooks

[Slowpurr]

Originally Posted by Miss Tick

I love this. Thanks for posting it.

Hauntingly beautiful. I appreciate the share.

[Truly Scrumptious]

My fire-eating career came to an end
when I could no longer tell
when to spit and when
to swallow.
Last night in Amsterdam,
1,000 tulips burned to death.

I have an alibi. When I walked by
your garden, your hand
grenades were in bloom.

You caught me playing
loves me, loves me
not, metal pins between my teeth.

I forget the difference
between seduction
and arson,
ignition and cognition. I am a girl
with incendiary
vices and you have a filthy never
mind. If you say no, twice,
it's a four-letter word.
You are so dirty, people have planted
flowers on you: heliotropes. sunflowers
You'll take
anything. Loves me,
loves me not.
I want to bend you over
and whisper: "potting soil," "fresh cut”.
When you made
the urgent fists of peonies
a proposition, I stole a pair of botanists'
hands. Green. Confident. All thumbs.
I look sharp in garden
shears and it rained spring

all night. 1,000 tulips
burned to death
in Amsterdam.

We didn't hear the sirens.
All night, you held my alibis
so softly, like taboos

already broken.

~ Daphne Gottlieb

[SoNotHer]

Exquisitely gorgeous. I want to hear it read.

Originally Posted by Truly Scrumptious

My fire-eating career came to an end
when I could no longer tell
when to spit and when
to swallow.
Last night in Amsterdam,
1,000 tulips burned to death.

I have an alibi. When I walked by
your garden, your hand
grenades were in bloom.

You caught me playing
loves me, loves me
not, metal pins between my teeth.

I forget the difference
between seduction
and arson,
ignition and cognition. I am a girl
with incendiary
vices and you have a filthy never
mind. If you say no, twice,
it's a four-letter word.
You are so dirty, people have planted
flowers on you: heliotropes. sunflowers
You'll take
anything. Loves me,
loves me not.
I want to bend you over
and whisper: "potting soil," "fresh cut”.
When you made
the urgent fists of peonies
a proposition, I stole a pair of botanists'
hands. Green. Confident. All thumbs.
I look sharp in garden
shears and it rained spring

all night. 1,000 tulips
burned to death
in Amsterdam.

We didn't hear the sirens.
All night, you held my alibis
so softly, like taboos

already broken.

~ Daphne Gottlieb

[Truly Scrumptious]

Originally Posted by SoNotHer

Exquisitely gorgeous. I want to hear it read.

Ask and you shall receive . . .

[The JD]

Extra Love
~by Suzanne Somers

Sometimes I wonder
If there's enough love to go around.
All the people I know grasp for it
The ladies whose husbands drift away
The men whose wives have forgotten to care
The children standing on their heads to be noticed
And, well, I might as well admit it
Me--how about me?
Sometimes I wonder if there's enough love to go around
With all the pain and longing.
But one thing is sure:
If anyone has any extra love
Even a heartbeat
Or a touch or two
I wish they wouldn't waste it on dogs.