Poetry and song and maybe culture

Tuesday, October 18, 2005

The painful poignancy of desire
(Postromantic poetry)

Claudia Moscovici


Eyes sparkling deep
Lightest of sleep
Mouth full of kisses
All that I'm missing
Hands that explore
Lips that adore
Don't hesitate
Forget your regret
Delve into me
Swim in my sea
Ride on my waves
Find all enclaves
Richest of life
Passion and strife
Full of emotion
To and fro motion
Flow like a stream
Color my dream
Show me desire
Lift me up higher
Take my breath away
With your gentle sway
Give me a pleasure
Beyond all measure
Shine from afar
Explode like a star


Concentric circles of expanding emotion
Fluttering wings of butterflies in motion
Light breath hastened by excitement
Trembling hands eager to find you
Soft body seeking your touch
Fine hair leaving waves in the sand
Warm lips melt your shyness away
Tears of love invite you to stay

My voyage to you

Delicate lips
Quivering under
My touch
The moistness I seek
Embraces me
Inviting and warm
Flickering tongue
Absorbed in the
Hollow of mouth
Lapping the shores
Of these lands
Made for love
I let the flow
And the movement
Of your breath
Warm up my life
As wondering hands
Explore on their own
Adored and familiar sites
The sweetness of your words

Give me the sweetness of your words
With the tip of your tongue
Let them glide into my mouth
Smoothly, wetly, generously
Let me savor the flavor of your thought
In the tingles that run through my being
In the feelings that condense into tears
Unarticulated, overwhelming, dense
Molecules of emotion too large
To flow through the pores of my skin
Pent up inside, but ready to burst
At your most delicate touch
At a barely whispered word
Into an unbearable surge of desire
Into the secret poetry that only
Our two bodies strained with the effort
Of an almost forgotten, soothing motion
That suckles the honey, the milk, and the spirit
From the sweetness of your words
Honeysuckle in the spring

When I was a little girl
My favorite season was spring
The breeze brushed
With its flowery scents
The dew off my skin
And my face bloomed
With an irrepressible smile
As I ran, greeting the wind
With all the joy I could express
Through the flowing
Uninhibited movements of my body
Out of breath, exhilirated
I would stop to touch the flowers
Breathing them through closed eyes
Bending over my favorite ones
Those little white stars
Twinkling among leafy ivy
Whose nectar I would suckle
Gently, smoothly, furtively
Pressing them between my lips
Savoring like a forbidden pleasure
The unforgettable taste, scent, feel
Of honeysuckle in the spring
That now, my love, only you can bring

Monday, October 10, 2005

C. Little, no less, I am always refreshed going to her site, photos and poetry and little bits of life.

i am a warrior
i am not at war
i am seeking peace.
i work for peace.
peace for us all.
peace for myself.
my struggles are your struggles.
my success is yours also.

i am a warrior.
the opponent is unseen.
i am a warrior.
the victory is not celebrated,
but felt.
the battles are bloodless
and brutal.
i am a warrior.
honor is my currency
and merchandise.

you are a warrior too.
your work is defined.
you proceed each day
until the sun drains you
and the moon cools you.
we all work together
as the best warriors do.
there is no war,
there is only living.
suit up!
time is passing.

Andrew Nagen
Boob Poem
Author Unknown

For years and years they told me,
Be careful of your breasts.
Don't ever squeeze or bruise them.
And give them monthly tests.

So I heeded all their warnings,
And protected them by law.
Guarded them very carefully,
And I always wore my bra.

After 30 years of astute care,
My gyno, Dr. Pruitt,
Said I should get a Mammogram.
"O.K." I said, 'let's do it."

"Stand up here real close" she said,
(She got my boob in line),
"And tell me when it hurts," she said,
"Ah yes! Right there, that's fine."

She stepped upon a pedal,
I could not believe my eyes!
A plastic plate came slamming down,
My hooter's in a vise!

My skin was stretched and mangled,
From underneath my chin.
My poor boob was being squashed,
To Swedish Pancake thin.

Excruciating pain I felt,
Within it's vise-like grip.
A prisoner in this vicious thing,
My poor defenseless tit!

"Take a deep breath" she said to me,
Who does she think she's kidding?!?
My chest is mashed in her machine,
And woozy I am getting.

"There, that's good," I heard her say,
(The room was slowly swaying.)
"Now, let's have a go at the other one."
Have mercy, I was praying.

It squeezed me from both up and down,
It squeezed me from both sides.
I'll bet SHE'S never had this done,
To HER tender little hide.

Next time that they make me do this,
I will request a blindfold.
I have no wish to see again,
My knockers getting steam rolled.

If I had no problem when I came in,
I surely have one now.
If there had been a cyst in there,
It would have gone "ker-pow!"

This machine was created by a man,
Of this, I have no doubt.
I'd like to stick his balls in there,
And see how THEY come out!

"Whoever thought up the word "Mammogram"? Every time I hear it, I think I'm supposed to put my breast in an envelope and send it to someone. "
-- Jan King


"For my sister's 50th birthday, I sent her a singing mammogram."
-- Steven Wright