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Let’s hide tonight Under blankets, staring at the stars Let’s speak tonight Of old friends and new ideas Let’s learn tonight Of small details and secret loves Let’s remember tonight Dark skies and quiet words Let’s hope tonight That somehow, we’ll survive this world Let’s live tonight Even if just for a moment And believe Everything is going to be alright

@delicateshadowdance

#poetry #writenword #original #spilt ink #thought #young love #love #hope #loveislove #poet #poets on tumblr #read #hopeful

Things don't always get better with the sunrise. Sometimes all it does is expose the faces of our monsters.

@delicateshadowdance

#writenword #spilled poetry #writing prompt #book prompt #book ill never write #sun #monster #prose #poetry #origional

They say hope is fragile, A flower bending with the wind This is not so. Rather, Hope is strong Just easily lost a beloved friend you’ve now forgot. Listen carefully She still whispers softly. I am not weak. My roots are deep, My branches strong You’ve just wandered away For far too long. Fear not, my weary traveler You can find the way back. First, you must grasp onto courage, Step forward. Take a right at decision, This path will not fail. Follow optimism, He’ll show you the way. Carry on, down the rocky trail, Follow the distant light. Soon, your destination will come into sight. Do not wander off again. Or you’ll find yourself, More lost than before. Stay near, my darling, Do not forget my strength, For when the night has passed, The battle field will be lit by the sun, Shadows of enemies shall disperse. Your battle has been won. Do not forget the path That lead to your victory.

@delicateshadowdance

#poetry #writenword #hope #spilled ink #poet #poets on tumblr #writing prompt #book prompt #origional #word vomit #trail #path #read #think #ponder

Alternate route

- Do you want to make love to me?

- Ew! Gross!

He had been unable to utter what response was burning red hot inside. Anything else would have matched his feelings much closer. He got nervous, the "Yes, I do." got trapped in his throat, cutting the supply of oxygen to the brain.

It is, to this day, abundantly clear that he should have replied differently. "L'effet de l'escalier", the French call it or "hindsight is 20/20" as say the Americans. Within, he knows he does want to make love to her. Not just sex, but love. To look deep into each other's eyes while undressing, lusty moist warm kisses throughout the skin, rubbing body parts all the while holding her chin up to his mouth, grabbing those butt cheeks with both hands searching for the dampness below. The clothes that once upon a time covered their bodies now tangled up on the floor. Slowly falling onto the bed and into the fresh bedsheets, her skin and nipples erupting as her body hits the mattress like a feather. Laying naked by her side, encompassing her torso with his arms to fight the chill away would only make her shiver in anticipation of what would be yet to come. With a long, wet, hot kiss lean over her to lick and nibble on her nipples, under the breasts, the cleavage, his tongue making its way south onto the Venus mound and into the guardians of her chalice. There, he would take his time and have a field day with her red start button, gently pushing and pulling, feeling her twitch and sigh and moan. She would grab his hair and pull him even nearer, his beard tickling her inner thighs, it all overwhelming her senses.

You would pull me up with a sweet sexy smile and whisper "I want you inside me now.". I would enter your humid welcoming doorway, pin your hands above your head with my hands and thrust me inside you, over and over and over again until one or both of us climaxed, the other one giggling. We will then, in quick shallow breaths pronounce our "I like you a lot".

Now we cuddle, my nose in your hair, your back to my chest, your ass to my waist.

#fiction #desires #writenword

Day

I often think of the day of my birth. Did you thinkthe birth of a third girl after the frist was taken before her third birthday to be cruel. How, out of your children, only the last has your coloring. How fate can be cruel. It took her breath and gave you two more to look after. I wonder if it was your punishment or your gift from fate. One stolen, two more given. youre oldest never knew her two sister and you boy never really getting to meet her. Then two girls, one with the goldern curls of the frist and the second holding her curse within her body. How I wonder could you look at us. Maybe you couldn’t without being reminded. So fate gave you one with your temper. You thunder mountain god. One who knew battle and saw horrors you still won’t talk about. We know very little of the past before we have memories. So I ask you mountain god will you share a little of you weight or you ear. I will whispers of the pain I have lived and you can do the same. But maybe me and you are much too simpliar in the fact I have taken lessons at your knee, On how not to share too much while share so much. How a mask of anger and lava is much better than letting the weight slip even a little. We bruid it under pleasure so we don’t have to think. THe fate gave you a daughter that was much too like you. You raised her strong and with little weakness for you knew the fates could come for her as well. But in do so you have given her creaks that she let rip her apart and fester till mold moved into her mountain. And she caved in to. She lose her light and you tried to help but you dragged her father into the madness. How did you feel as you saw her hanging by a thread but couldn’t aid her. You, mountain god build a warrior but forgot the girl inside so she came back but not fully. She flead from you and how it must of ripped you to shreds. to see the one colored like you, denied you. but bridges can still be built between mountains if there is a will. And maybe one day one mountain god to another we will see eye to eye.

#poetry #writenword

Be still, my stormy soul The wind has not yet passed Through waves erode your heart If you keep raging you’ll surely not last Be strong, my wavering soul Your trial is not yet through Keep fighting, stand tall Looking back, you’ll see how you grew Be humble, my lofty soul Forget your boasts and towers The higher you build, the further you fall Stay silent and strengthen quieter powers Be true, my faithless soul Don’t forget who you are Your experiences and choices mold you Look in the full mirror and not just a shard Be still, my stormy soul For night has come The day is over, the battle won Though we’ll meet our foes in battle again Remember how far you’ve come There is still too much undone To say their victory is won Stand strong against the winds Tall against the waves Continue on, let the storms rage Do not let the battle become your grave

@delicateshadowdance

#poetry #spilled ink #writenword #original #soul #soulful #poet #underground poetry #battle #battlefield #hope #victory #storm #stormy

Tagged by the talented @g.sanchez_writes for a #totalreposttuesday please give Mr Sanchez a follow if you haven't already. He's a beast. In the mean time, enjoy this poem from 4 weeks ago #poetry #poetryofig #instapoet #instapoem #fiction #prose #shambles #spokenword #writenword #wordporn #poemsporn #typewriterpoetry #type #typewriter #nabois #igauthor #spilledink #artist #artistsofig #indiepoet #indiepoetry