Lust...
I confess when we met
You scared me to death
A weak man who has a hungry need
To control the women he meets
Then their was you strolling right in
Making my head spin
Your blue dress, taking away my breath
Gluttonous with lust
I pounce on my prey
You humour me
Slowly we slip away
I am possessed
Lying in her bed
Desire leaves me
As fast as it came
Her eyes do not entice me
The morning after
Guilt flows through my body
Passion replaced with fear
Years of commitment
Ripped to shreds
Do I confess to my love?
I was with another?
Beware of the girl
In the blue dress
Those eyes those lips
The poisonous words
Tender caress, deadly kiss
The temptress
Do as I say not as I do
Forgive me a sinner
Most of all never tell?
Anyone interested in Fib Poetry (see Fassbinders Poem below)click on this link to see Gregory K. Pincus's blog:
GottaBook
GottaBook
7 Deadly Sins by Gem
7 Sins
An evening of sin
Seven fun treats
Eyes full of lust
Lips of desire
He puts down the plate
A banquet for his queen
Gorging themselves
The fine things money can buy
He tells tales of business
Successful takeovers
Empires gained
Capital growing
Food consumed
They flop onto the bed
Reclining in satin sheets
Not moving just digesting
The phone ring disturbing their sleep
Her voice talking in whispers
He suspects another
His blood begins to boil
She returns and he snaps
The yelling so loud the walls shake
"WHAT IS HIS NAME? TELL ME!"
"You whore get out"
The night is over
The seven complete
A night of fun
An evening of sin
Seven fun treats
Eyes full of lust
Lips of desire
He puts down the plate
A banquet for his queen
Gorging themselves
The fine things money can buy
He tells tales of business
Successful takeovers
Empires gained
Capital growing
Food consumed
They flop onto the bed
Reclining in satin sheets
Not moving just digesting
The phone ring disturbing their sleep
Her voice talking in whispers
He suspects another
His blood begins to boil
She returns and he snaps
The yelling so loud the walls shake
"WHAT IS HIS NAME? TELL ME!"
"You whore get out"
The night is over
The seven complete
A night of fun
"Of the Seven Deadly Sins, anger is possibly the most fun. To lick your wounds, to smack your lips over grievances long past, to roll over your tongue the prospect of bitter confrontations still to come, to savor to the last toothsome morsel both the pain you are given and the pain you are giving back -- in many ways it is a feast fit for a king. The chief drawback is that what you are wolfing down is yourself. The skeleton at the feast is you."
- Frederick Buechner
- Frederick Buechner
7 Deadly Sins by Fassbinder
The Seven Deadly Sins by Fassbinder
*All written using the Fibonacci sequence.
Lust
I
Know
How wrong
What we did
Was. But we were just
Overcome by something too strong.
Gluttony
I
got
carried
away. Quite
literally. At
the eat-as-much-as-you-like lunch.
Greed
Blood
Runs
So deep,
That even
Marxist sons don’t share,
The love a father freely gives
Sloth
The
Clock
Alarm,
In some folk’s
Minds, is not only
Not set … doesn’t even exist!
Wrath
Lone
Man
Poor chap
And swearing
Shouts “I’m not waving …
I’m berating”. (and yes – drowning!)
Envy
Green
Eyes
Staring
Comparing
Never quite content
Always want what so and so’s got.
Pride.
The
Man:
Hungry.
Rejected
Free meals and starved.
Because the free meals were free.
* Fibonacci poetry is a literary form based on the Fibonacci number sequence. The sequence begins like this: 0, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21. In order to find the next number in the sequence, you add the two preceding numbers. The sum of these two is the next number, which then is added to the one before it to get to the next number, and so on.
PW: The typical fib is a six line, 20 syllable poem with a syllable count by line of 1/1/2/3/5/8 - with as many syllables per line as the line's corresponding place in the Fibonacci sequence.
Anyone interested in Fib Poetry go to Gregory K. Pincus's blog:
GottaBook
*All written using the Fibonacci sequence.
Lust
I
Know
How wrong
What we did
Was. But we were just
Overcome by something too strong.
Gluttony
I
got
carried
away. Quite
literally. At
the eat-as-much-as-you-like lunch.
Greed
Blood
Runs
So deep,
That even
Marxist sons don’t share,
The love a father freely gives
Sloth
The
Clock
Alarm,
In some folk’s
Minds, is not only
Not set … doesn’t even exist!
Wrath
Lone
Man
Poor chap
And swearing
Shouts “I’m not waving …
I’m berating”. (and yes – drowning!)
Envy
Green
Eyes
Staring
Comparing
Never quite content
Always want what so and so’s got.
Pride.
The
Man:
Hungry.
Rejected
Free meals and starved.
Because the free meals were free.
* Fibonacci poetry is a literary form based on the Fibonacci number sequence. The sequence begins like this: 0, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21. In order to find the next number in the sequence, you add the two preceding numbers. The sum of these two is the next number, which then is added to the one before it to get to the next number, and so on.
PW: The typical fib is a six line, 20 syllable poem with a syllable count by line of 1/1/2/3/5/8 - with as many syllables per line as the line's corresponding place in the Fibonacci sequence.
Anyone interested in Fib Poetry go to Gregory K. Pincus's blog:
GottaBook
Rosanella has also entered poems for Memories and City. Click on the theme titles or Poet Rosanella.
7 Deadly Sins: Pride by Rosanella
Pride
It cuts and it hurts right inside
I need help but I can’t ask
Must not ask
Is it a touch of adult pride?
I can hear you in the distance
My head spinning round
What is this?
Should I ask?
Will you say it?
Is it just childish pride?
Rosanella
www.myspace.com/rosanella
www.youtube.com/rosanella8
It cuts and it hurts right inside
I need help but I can’t ask
Must not ask
Is it a touch of adult pride?
I can hear you in the distance
My head spinning round
What is this?
Should I ask?
Will you say it?
Is it just childish pride?
Rosanella
www.myspace.com/rosanella
www.youtube.com/rosanella8
7 Deadly Sins (The Art of Darkness) By Leo Ofori
The Art of Dark
By Leo Ofori
Swords and Sigils and circles -
black candles.
Poetically goetic,
the words flow like blood.
From Phelor to Satan,
all breeders of hatred
I could not consort with a merrier brood.
When it comes to Maleficia,
I shine like The Devil's pride -
but darker in the eyes.
More sinister about the smile.
When I peak I convulse in exctasy of sin.
Demons within.
Another restless night spent in waking dream.
By Leo Ofori
Swords and Sigils and circles -
black candles.
Poetically goetic,
the words flow like blood.
From Phelor to Satan,
all breeders of hatred
I could not consort with a merrier brood.
When it comes to Maleficia,
I shine like The Devil's pride -
but darker in the eyes.
More sinister about the smile.
When I peak I convulse in exctasy of sin.
Demons within.
Another restless night spent in waking dream.
7 Deadly Sins by AgnesPaddy
Seven Deadly Sins
Pruning her feathers for all to survey
Proud as a peacock, announcing she's gay
Envy of all among her friends
She is who she is and makes no pretence
Angry at birth confusing her gender
Climbing the stairs and reaching splendour
Glutton for punishment, some may say
She grieves for the chaos which comes her way
Lusting acceptance in shameless form
Who has the right to dictate the norm
Greed in the search for her one true love
Taste and discard the little white dove
Slow and steady she yawns with dis-ease
Then cries to the world, just love me please.
Pruning her feathers for all to survey
Proud as a peacock, announcing she's gay
Envy of all among her friends
She is who she is and makes no pretence
Angry at birth confusing her gender
Climbing the stairs and reaching splendour
Glutton for punishment, some may say
She grieves for the chaos which comes her way
Lusting acceptance in shameless form
Who has the right to dictate the norm
Greed in the search for her one true love
Taste and discard the little white dove
Slow and steady she yawns with dis-ease
Then cries to the world, just love me please.
Memories by Rosanella
Back and forth the pendulum moves
Grains of sand drop one by one
Days, weeks, years have passed,
Vivid memories of a time that has gone past
Flashing in the distance
Now strong, then weak,
I can see them clearly
Vivid memories of a time that’s gone, at last!
Eyes staring through the limpid water,
Fresh in my mind just like yesterday
The solitary fish swims through pebbles staring me back,
Oh those memories of a time gone so fast.
www.myspace.com/rosanella
www.youtube.com/rosanella8
Grains of sand drop one by one
Days, weeks, years have passed,
Vivid memories of a time that has gone past
Flashing in the distance
Now strong, then weak,
I can see them clearly
Vivid memories of a time that’s gone, at last!
Eyes staring through the limpid water,
Fresh in my mind just like yesterday
The solitary fish swims through pebbles staring me back,
Oh those memories of a time gone so fast.
www.myspace.com/rosanella
www.youtube.com/rosanella8
Memories by Sean
Memories
Some are buried some are old
Some erotic and many untold
Sound sight touch taste and smell
always fill our memory well
They often come back to visit
Upon a cue
And always leave
A little clue
some dwell upon their memory well
be careful for it can cast a spell
as we construct a
Man made cell
some people
dive in
and journey through
the labyrinth dew
to see past
the memory dew
and find the key
to all thats new
Some are buried some are old
Some erotic and many untold
Sound sight touch taste and smell
always fill our memory well
They often come back to visit
Upon a cue
And always leave
A little clue
some dwell upon their memory well
be careful for it can cast a spell
as we construct a
Man made cell
some people
dive in
and journey through
the labyrinth dew
to see past
the memory dew
and find the key
to all thats new
Memories (Palindrome) by Susan Jane Sims
Palindrome
I have just made an egg sandwich with soft white bread,
sliced the egg with the orange plastic egg slicer
I found in Mum’s drawer. And I’m back there,
the seventh of the seventh seventy seven.
That’s a palindrome, the doctor said
when he called that morning to check on Mum
post cancer treatment. Later when the nausea settled
I had made her a sandwich much like this one,
the egg slightly warm. Noticed that her Christmas cacti
was blooming out of season.
Susan also has her own website where she showcases her own poetry and that of others.
www.poetryspace.co.uk
I have just made an egg sandwich with soft white bread,
sliced the egg with the orange plastic egg slicer
I found in Mum’s drawer. And I’m back there,
the seventh of the seventh seventy seven.
That’s a palindrome, the doctor said
when he called that morning to check on Mum
post cancer treatment. Later when the nausea settled
I had made her a sandwich much like this one,
the egg slightly warm. Noticed that her Christmas cacti
was blooming out of season.
Susan also has her own website where she showcases her own poetry and that of others.
www.poetryspace.co.uk
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