• The Villain

    I don't know whose idea it was.To make the villains attractive at first sight.Whose choice was it and why? Why do we feel attraction or fly?Oh,and why can't it be the good guy?Standing there,catching my eye. But being attracted to the...

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    Spine

    I, am a swirling collection of empty pieces. Jagged edges, and curved spines, some broken by the very hands that glued them back together, Some loved tenderly by another who kisses me so softly before bed I sometimes fear he...

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    4 Comments
    • “Eyelids like asteroids hailing down unto the earth.” Fantastic!

    • I get almost the image of the female Frankenstein with this piece. I like it.

    • This is an intense write. Lots of raw emotion and great metaphors.
      It’s hard to comment on writes like these because of the subject matter.
      Brave write

    • Oh goddess, this feels so agonizingly familiar. That kind of damage leaves us so afraid to trust the good moments, the sweet touches, the gentle words. Because those things were once used as weapons. This bleeds vulnerability and honesty all over the page. You are heard…

  • Cactus

    A cactus is prickly.Its blossoms are pretty.But is that all to it? Is the cactus friendly and kind?Or does it fight and always mind?They say cacti are not pleasent to touch. Due to sharp spines and sunset finds.They like to hold...

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    Migrating Swallows

    Roll you hair above your neck  let me fortress centuries of love bites  upon your skin, where no warrior  would ever dare cross our moat    The ghost of Caligula  haunts my city walls,  my heart remains legion; my mind is a bruise  which only bleeds kindness, forever chasing...

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    6 Comments
    • I like how the poem casts Caligula -a figure known for cruelty -into a haunting, reflective presence. I feel intrigued and a little unsettled: his brutal history seeps through with a mild, almost playful sadism, yet the poem channels that darkness into a tender, romantic meditation on desire, resilience, and the quiet power of love. Beautiful.

      • An artistic and intriguing comment. I lived in the English city of Chester for some time and it’s steeped in Roman history,. Think it may have had some bearing on this scribble. Thank you.

    • Passionately penned, Ghosteen. Incredible write my friend. Appreciate you.

      Damian

    • Effective personal storytelling through historical abstractions. Your words are both sharp and tender. Always glad to see you posting here.

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    Within the Night

    Word rubble and the corpses within  I can no longer build temples from ruins    Let me whisper snow from your hair  massage the sun into your shoulders and back,  turn every clock in this flat to interlude    I care little that your past maybe...

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    6 Comments
    • Cleverly penned, Ghosteen. Great write my friend. Appreciate you.

      Damian

    • I enjoyed the beginning trickles of affection.
      Then the dam broke at the confession!
      I grinned the whole time:)

    • There’s a beautiful tension here –between ruin and tenderness, poetry and flesh. It’s as if love is both the wreck and the rebuilding, the prayer and the profanity. “Poetry passport will only travel me so far” might be one of the truest lines I’ve read about desire’s limits. Beautifully penned, Rob!

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