The skin parts like curtains,
Out tumbles a tender load.
The tongue fumbles for the flesh,
Flicking, shoving,
Letting the sweetness guide its plunder
Like a traitor’s hand.
Two seeds glisten in the quiet of a palm.
Beside them the shriveled skin
Neatly folded upon itself
Without a hint of an arc.
Like a moth that wasted away
Eating velvet.
End of the poem
15 random poems
- was_then.html
- Sonnet 25: Let those who are in favour with their stars by William Shakespeare
- Федор Сологуб – Во мне мечты мои цветут
- Владимир Луговской – Капитанский штиль
- Ballade Of Old Plays poem – Andrew Lang poems
- Done is a battle by William Dunbar
- Picture by Nijole Miliauskaite
- Алексей Толстой – Пустой дом
- Владимир Высоцкий – Переворот в мозгах из края в край
- The Shepherd, Looking Eastward, Softly Said by William Wordsworth
- Psyche by Samuel Coleridge
- Hector The Collector by Shel Silverstein
- Lullaby of the Onion by Miguel Hernandez
- houses.html
- Владимир Корнилов – Боль
Some external links:
Duckduckgo.com – the alternative in the US
Quant.com – a search engine from France, and also an alternative, at least for Europe
Yandex – the Russian search engine (it’s probably the best search engine for image searches).
