Seducer666

predator.

.

His delicious words spilled out upon the page

Like sensual kisses so perfectly placed

She drank them in like drops of sin

And like green ivy vines, those words intertwined

The seducer and the seduced

The dance went on late into the night

As she hung on his every sweet word

Failing to notice his predator’s stare

Or the small drops of blood on his vest

She couldn’t resist giving in to desire

Till his teeth sunk deep into her flesh

.

.

image from Pinterest

My Favorite Poets and the Poems that I Wrote for Them

After the intro to this post, I have put all of the poems for poets that I have written in the last several months. The earliest of these was written eight months ago and the most recent was written this week.

I love poetry and poets.  I have several poetry blogs that I follow.  I love to read the romantic,  love poetry that guys write. It is often sweet and tender but there is a truth to it also about pain, grief and loss.

I also love poetess writers….yes I did make up that word and I like it. There is something different about female poets from male poets in the way that they pour their words onto the page.

Sometimes I am more in the need to feel empowered and then I tend to read the female poets that I follow. I feel both inspired and also validated by them. There is both a strength and also a softness that seems to combine into a dance.

The female poets that I follow have mostly been through some very dark experiences, even the ones that do not write about it…I can tell anyway.

The ones that do write about their dark experiences do so with an element of grace that seems impossible to put into a piece about the dark side of humanity.  Yet they manage to rise above abuse and other dark things, with class and grace.

Of course female poets can write about sensuality and Wow !! Honestly, some of the most powerful sensual, passionate writing I have read are from women.

When I am feeling lonely or romantic, I go to the guy’s poet blogs. They always can touch my heart and make feel…well you know..:) There is also a tenderness with the male poets that I follow..a vulnerability and an honesty that touches me.

I love to see the blending of the past, the present and the dreams of the guys, as these parts of them intertwine in their poetry. Memories from their youth, failures and regrets…lost loves and ones they only dreamt of….

I find myself to enter into the poem itself as the lover, the mother, or the friend that drinks with them to console them. The magic of their writing is the ability to transport you into their world.

So, I love my poetry friends with a great love. I do write them poems from time to time and I do not know if they all have read them. Some of the poems are for the men and some are for the women. Other poems I have written for all of them together.

There are certain of my poems for poets that I had a certain poet in mind when I wrote it but most of them were for everyone of them.

I love all of my poets that I follow equally, but differently. Some I have know for longer than others. Some of them correspond with me more frequently than others  or in different ways. I am always honored when one of them reads and likes one of my poems.

So, with no further talking…because I could go on and on ……here are the poems that I wrote for the poets. I have put all of them here for you to see. These are some of my most special poems to my heart.

If you are one of the poet or poetesses that I follow and you see yourself in my poem, then I am sure I had you in mind when I wrote it. There is no need to wonder. You are special to my heart.

Oh, My Passionate Poet

Stroke me gently with your words
Of flesh to flesh
and mind to mind
Heart to heart
So hard to find

Seduce me with your rhythms sweet
Of lovers passion
Souls colliding
Face to face
Stopping time

Oh, poet how I love thy pen
The way it brings my heart to flames
My eyes to tears
My heart to cry
My mind to hear

Spin your phrases, make them sing
Draw my heart closer
To feel your passion
Drawing out mine
Lost from time

Who Will Save the Poets?

The poet

is a Mage

A Shaman

A True Healer

who can

STOP TIME ITSELF

Weave space and reality

Access Wisdom 

and 

Connect with the Spiritual Realm…

and supernatural reality…

Make Passionate Love

to the Most Beautiful Women

in the World…

Seduce your soul

Heal your brain

Medicate your mind

Make passionate love to you

Transport you to foreign lands…

Accompany you to places

that only exist

in your imagination…

Sing you to sleep

Read you a bedtime story

Explain the mysteries 

of the universe…

Make you laugh

Give you things to consider

Help you see things

from a different point of view

Cause you to weep

Dry your tears

Hold you when you’re sobbing

Inspire your creativity

Encourage and support you

Validate your REALITY

Be your friend

Your Lover

Your Priest

Your SAVIOR

But

Alas …

Who Will Save the Poets?

Solitary Poetess

She sits in the dim light of a dusty room
Wrapped in shawls of brown and blue
The  soft  knitted hat  from the yard sale last year
Is pulled  down quite tightly  to cover her ears
To dull any sounds that the old house might make
That could trigger her brain into fear
She holds a black inkpen in lovely white fingers and
Scribbles out verses about the lonely ghost that lingers
The curtains blow suddenly, like a gust of wind has come
But the windows are all closed and locked tight as a drum
There is no one else there, as for friends , she has none
She lives all alone as a solitary poet
And spills out her pain into words on the paper
In the corners of the room, she stacks up her life
Every day has been written , each page is in order
Till the curtains blow again , though the window is latched
and there is nobody anywhere to mourn her

Write Poetry Defiantly

Write poetry defiantly

don’t think about how they will take it

don’t think about what will appear 

in the comments under your post

it doesn’t matter who says what

they chose to step into your mind

they can criticize your rhymes

or worse yet, try to console you…

thinking they could reach you through the pain

Poetry is a product of the tortured mind

great lyrics and great lines

interwoven in the fabric of time

not for the job interview

and not to impress the status quo

not to hide and not to digress…

Hit straight to the heart

your own is brimming with screams

of disagreement and no where to put it

Your heart which breaks over

and over again with no where

to lay it and no where to rest

Write poetry defiantly and truth will appear

intermixed with delusion and dreams

of yourself freer

It is the only home for your mind

the only place for a poet to scream

a tainted place for the readers who dream…

What do they expect? 

the ones who come to you 

to watch you bleed your soul raw

and react when you are through…

Everyone loves a poet

they are hypnotized by the bleeding

they are not sure what is real

or what is poetic license

But that is for us to know

each one of us in turn

the poets write the words

the readers make them heard

Land of the Forbidden

Do you dare to read the words

bled out onto white pages

with nothing to doubt

no restriction of concept or paradigm 

no restriction of what reality really is

What is real and what is not

is at the poet’s discretion…

what is true and what is not

what is reality and what is plot

who exists and who is imagined

We write to entertain your mind

to stimulate your imagination

and tantalize your senses

words that make you feel such sorrow

words that make you smile or laugh

words so powerful you sit and say nothing

for nothing is the right thing to say

don’t look for forgiveness

don’t look for remorse

it is the world of true feeling 

it is the world of your pain

the less you admit it

the less you will gain

because something inside you

rings true with each verse

there is something that touches you

in the places you keep secret

we will ignite a spark of humanity in you

Each word from a poet 

is a gift to the few

the ones that just listen 

with their minds open like a window

where things that you know can fly out

and the things you disbelieve can fly in

It is the land of the forbidden 

all wrapped up with bows

To stop your heart and restart it

leaving you to wonder

what you really know

Visions of a Poet

The poet sits alone

In a half lit , dusty room

weaving a  passionate tapestry

of darkness and mental torment.

with words that only he

can paint onto the

empty canvas

that sits before him

Words of pain and suffering

depression and fear

ideations of death

Colors of red and orange

Creating fires that burn

in the reader’s heart

and mind

The visions

of the solitary poet

Images from a mind

twisted by trauma

Visions of the

Darkest places

in the human mind

and the human condition

Visions

Flooded upon the

vacant page

Visions begotten

only through

personal torment

and private pain

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