Recite Poems - Poems about Recite

Her skin, a velvet sin, a scripture I recite with the tip of my tongue, melts like dark chocolate, bitter and sweet on my hungry lips, pouring confessions in breathless whispers, a dance of endless desire. I pull her closer, white-knuckled on silk sheets, intoxicated by the ecstasy between her thighs, a paradise lost and found, a pleasure so intense...

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To tell is prose to read you see to show recite one's poetry...

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*** Kept Eternally *** The causes for our weeping — From hunger to grieving — Occur — in whimpers to wailing. However, our tears, we believe, Are in themselves liquid, and, thus, silently Flowing their sad running from our eyes Along the crescents over reddenened cheeks to be Wiped away…Although they go, those tears, each Like a hologram, showing the whole of life That...

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A sweet memory of our school days We walked to school everyday With a light school bag Under a blue sky With rain or sunshine abound Only a few books in the school bag But many flowers pluck Or junk food bought along the way We only had to finished our homework Before we're free to play We memorised lessons for our...

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I love; I really love your voice and your diction Recite me a poem in an unknown language I don't give a darn about the pronunciation Undress the words; I love them when they're naked. Take your time; be loud, louder, harder, and then softer Do not stop when you arrive at the top of the valleys Increase the volume, drive...

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Nothing can be insured totally Neither life, accident, disaster, sickness nor epidermic Surely You pay and lose to receive It is only a sort of compensation A sort of condolence gift Sadly to say No one can insure Omicron As no one can insure fate Anyway Recite a prayer Do distancing, wearing mask, washing hands and vaccination For a narrow escape...

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in a you tube clip...

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The Poet's Condition by Michael R. Burch (for my mother, Christine Ena Burch) The poet's condition (bother tradition) is whining contrition. Supposedly sage, his editor knows his brain's in his toes though he would suppose to soon be the rage. His readers are sure his work's premature or merely manure, insipidly trite. His mother alone will answer the phone (perhaps with a moan) to hear him recite. Alternate Title: "Poetry Slam: The Hangup" Keywords/Tags: poet,...

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I wrote a Rose And I read it to your heart I embrace your anger I threw it into the dark I spoke of love As I held your hair Kiss your soul And I called you dear I love you for your soul first Must I be so Cavalier Challenging my Pleasant Flower beautiful your heart desire Gracious letters align to words Arranged versus composed...

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We had no piece to write but a story to recite, Of bricks and straws, moulded to walls, With springs of sweat that soiled the earth, And splashes of blood, And tears we build. We had no song to sing but a dirge to raise, Of filth and dung Without a praise, Darted at us With hateful force And mockery words That kills our minds. We had...

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To the flow of a drum They throw words like spears To honour their culture with a side of a dance They evoke the ancestors with voices that echo through the jungle Animals have no choice but to bow down to the conquers of the jungle They recite poetry to rejoice before the gods They become poems that...

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Write and recite me a poem, A poem about the abduction of them They abducted themselves, Please recite me all tale of that. Write and recite me a poem, A poem about the death of my brother He found that he dead at campus. Please, write and recite me a grim reaper. Write and recite me a poem, A poem about the corruption of...

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Nobody will survive in this world for ever Oneday I have to go silently Then you have to follow me only… One day your black hair will turn into grey Black pupils of your eyes will become turbid Tight and smooth skin will become loose and lax…. Nobody will survive in this world Neither a king nor a beggar Neither an American...

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Away my soul suspends into the thin air As I drool away the day, lying in the lair Waiting for the diamond rays of the sun sinking below the earth far away Chirping crickets; and the curly motions of the evening birds takes my soul away Chorus of mystery drowns my silent sobs Golden and pacific, the moon grows...

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Reading poetry is a lot like running in a race. From the start to the finish, one must set a pace. Read it, as if you were reading, to a great big crowd. Do not be timid, read the piece and read it very loud! A poem is a piece of art to which one may return. Admire the beauty...

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