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Bryan J Townsend Oct 2014
I miss your fingers
intwined
inmine

long
        skinn-y
                     perfect
Poetic T Oct 2014
Look at it, your finger isn't an
"Eraser"
Stop
STop
STOP
Trying to rub it out,
What are you doing
Spitting
on your
Fingers
If the love furnace isn't
warm, no amount of you
Mingging slobber will
Light this fire that needs a
Spark,
Flame,
Fire
Of passionate lust to
This I must say, what's been
On your fingers,
"Really spit from your mouth"
I don't want it smelling of
Bad Breath,
Garlic,
Morning Breath
"PASSION ALERT"
Wash you hands
Fingers too
Its called
"Mouth wash"
Use it too,
Do you know how delicate
This instrument
Your putting your fingers on?
Its the only one I have got
"So don't break it"
!!That my ****!!
That's a *******
Rub it gently
Don't rub it out, or ill bite your nose
That my *****
Did you ever do
"*** Ed at school"
Jesus I use my emergency
Stimulator
Don't feel intimidated
Yes its how you use it,
Cough
Cough
Cough
Now go, a woman needs her
Five speed friend, ill be awhile
So don't bother me,
And don't forget to
Close the door on your way out.
Destiny Odeh Oct 2014
I write poems about beauty;
Your name is on every line.
And how your pretty little fingers
Were made to perfectly fit into mine.

I write songs about perfection;
Your name echoes all through.
And how this hellish life on earth
Seems so heavenly with you.

I try to form perfect rhymes,
But to what mere words can I rhyme thee?
For 12 lines are too few to put into words
How much you mean to me.
Olivia Frederick Oct 2014
The gentle lines of the coarsest neck
Where the vitals fall in line,
Where breath is held so restlessly,
The first sip of chilly wine.

The shaky fingertips that graze,
Calloused, but seeking gospel
Leaving me covered in the words of
Your author and your novel.

Knobby knees that knock when
Worry scurries through your blood.
That hallow place behind
Where no one thinks to touch.

The portion of your foot that feels
The extremity of the ground.
How fast you're going will always tell
How long you stick around.

(Our souls are where we find them.)
3/5/2014
Iris Rebry Oct 2014
Long and thin,
Claw like,
Like spider's legs
Frail
They run
Faster and faster,
The talon-like nails tapping
The table,
Mimicking Beethoven's fifth symphony
We grasp
We clench
With white knuckles
a cold white
A hard white
An icy white
Holding onto the last life we have.
Without fingers,
We cannot hold each other's hands,
We cannot play music,
We cannot write our thoughts.
We are not human,
Without our
Fingers
Poetic T Sep 2014
A flower, Fingers drawn out
As to hold the beauty
Touch
Feel,
Look,
Beheld in the eyes,
Seeing this radiance of
Colour,
A tear surges from emotion
Lashes capture this
Tear,
Water,
Falling,
Before it hits the floor,
A palm wishing to hold
But never grasped,
As this was a sight seen
Eyes,
Cold,
Dead,
Eternally looking
At the beauty before a
Breath,
Expired,
Exhaled
His last look was of
Beauty,
And his thought was
As he lay still,
Was how can there be so
Much beauty in this field of war..
robotical world Sep 2014
As I enter the room
my eyes are drawn
against all my will
to your hand
wrapped round
gently, firmly,
the guitar neck.

My own now feels cold
and bare.
Phantom fingers
stroke my skin
as I watch the real form
perfectly placed.

I imagine your touch.
Each finger makes a different note.
Make me sing.
Poetic T Sep 2014
I could not have spoken the words
In to music for the sadness
You feel my friend,
Sorrow,
Heartache,
Loss,
My fingers play the pain
You feel in your heart,
Each note, is special
I play this from my soul
I play this with tears upon my cheek
Each note is a tear falling
For the pain you must feel
"Know that I am here"
With these notes and keys
I cant know what you feel,
Pain,
Confusion,
Loss,
Know that each note,
Is to help and sooth this pain
It was played with
Piano tears,
Each note a sound heard
Drifting to the
Heavens,
Above tears do fall,
Knowing that
You miss them,
And this music from the soul is heard.
(My 800th poem since joining in Feb14)
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