This poem was written from a daily prompt hosted by WrittenRiver on Twitter. I post my most popular poem for each half month here, two poems per month. ❤ See more frequent posts on Twitter (text only) and Instagram (with graphics).
At the end
of the day
when my
strength
is worn
and my
hope is
torn,
cradle
me in
your arms
and hum
a sweet
song of
love across
my skin
soft and
warm.
© Greta Stone
This poem was written from a daily prompt hosted by DimpleVerse on Twitter. The title is the prompt word. ❤ See more frequent posts on Twitter (text only) and Instagram (with graphics).
While I rage
you rest,
quiet & still.
Like a storm
over water
I suck you
in until I
grow weary
of the fight
and spit you
out on dry land
far from home.
© Greta Stone
With a whisper
you set off a
swirl of emotions,
twisting and
churning into
a dangerous
cyclone of
delirium.
Like a storm
over water,
I swell,
growing heavy
with frustration
until at last
I drench
you in my
release.
© Greta Stone
Behind-The-Scenes
When I think of a storm over water, I think of how it builds speed in all that open space, how it picks up fluid and drenches the land on impact. Sex can be like that too. (Are you surprised I went there?)
Open yourself
up to me and
I will build like
a storm over
water,
I don’t like build. It isn’t quite the best analogy to leading someone to an orgasm. The orgasm builds, but I don’t.
Open yourself
up to me and
I will churn
[something more]
like a storm
over water,
I feel like the narrator and subject of the poem are getting their actions confused. Who is the storm? Who does the drenching in the end? I think it has to be the same person. One can’t be the storm, churning and building, and then the other have the release. Not in this case anyway.
What does the water do to assist the storm? Nothing. It lies there, open and flat. >__>
Now I’m thinking of an entirely different analogy. Like when you’re raging and the other person is just…chill. It’s infuriating. Let me see where I can go with that.
While I rage
you rest,
quiet & still.
Like a storm
over water
I gather
[momentum],
sucking you
in until I’ve
grown weary
of the fight
and spit you
out on dry land
far from home.
Hm. *ponders* I might just remove the momentum part. It’s more about the all-consuming nature of a fight. I’ll also fix the tense contradictions.
While I rage
you rest,
quiet & still.
Like a storm
over water
I suck you
in until I
grow weary
of the fight
and spit you
out on dry land
far from home.
That’ll do. I’d still like to go back to my original idea though. Let me see if I can make something work with that analogy.
I’m thinking about how the other person can make me build to an intense climax and how those things can relate to the way a storm builds.
With a whisper
you set off a
swirl of emotions,
twisting and
churning
into a dangerous
[whirlwind] of
[ecstasy].
Ignoring my
warnings,
you [kickspin]
me into a
rage, a storm
over water
building
until I drench
the land.
Well, this needs work. haha For whirlwind, I really like cyclone. And instead of ecstasy, maybe delirium? That might be too dramatic.
With a whisper
you set off a
swirl of emotions,
twisting and
churning into
a dangerous
cyclone of
delirium.
Like a storm
over water,
I will [rage],
drenching
you in my
release.
Not rage. Rampage, tear? Like ripping a path. Grow? Swell. Yes! Swell.
With a whisper
you set off a
swirl of emotions,
twisting and
churning into
a dangerous
cyclone of
delirium.
Like a storm
over water,
I will swell,
[an action leading to land/release]
drenching
you in my
release.
The action could be like holding out until the impact of hitting land, or reaching my limit.
With a whisper
you set off a
swirl of emotions,
twisting and
churning into
a dangerous
cyclone of
delirium.
Like a storm
over water,
I swell,
growing heavy
with frustration
until [another trigger action]
I drench
you in my
release.
This poem is getting long. >___>
With a whisper
you set off a
swirl of emotions,
twisting and
churning into
a dangerous
cyclone of
delirium.
Like a storm
over water,
I swell,
growing heavy
with frustration
until at last
I drench
you in my
release.
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This poem was written from two daily prompts hosted by DimpleVerse on Twitter. I post my most popular poem for each half month here, two poems per month. ❤ See more frequent posts on Twitter (text only) and Instagram (with graphics).
Butterfly
touches
and the way
your tongue
slides along
my lip.
These are my
lifeblood.
© Greta Stone
This poem was written from a daily prompt hosted by DsubVerse on Twitter. The title is the prompt word. ❤ See more frequent posts on Twitter (text only) and Instagram (with graphics).
I face you
with fear tied
to my tongue
like wrists
in ropes.
Paralyzed,
I safeword.
© Greta Stone
Behind-The-Scenes
I wanted to use wrists in ropes as a metaphor. To me, it relates to being tongue-tied.
words tied
to my tongue
like wrists
in ropes
From there, I thought about the reasons I might be tongue-tied. Flustered. Surprised. Afraid. I liked the idea of fear applying to both parts, being tongue-tied and being physically tied. I wouldn’t like to remain tongue-tied for long. So I thought about what I would do in play if, for whatever reason, I didn’t want my wrists tied anymore. I would safeword.
words tied
to my tongue
like wrists
in ropes
and I
safeword
Echo on words. Plus words was too general and didn’t indicate fear.
fear tied
to my tongue
like wrists
in ropes
and I
safeword
I knew I wanted to end with safewording. So to make the poem complete, I needed to start with an action.
[face an obstacle]
with fear tied
to my tongue
like wrists
in ropes
and I
safeword
What would the obstacle be? If I’m tongue-tied, I’m interacting with someone. If I’m tongue-tied with fear, I think of those times when you have something to say or something you should say but are afraid to. The simplest way to put it is…
I face you
with fear tied
to my tongue
like wrists
in ropes
and I
safeword
Now it feels a bit run-on. Instead of and I safeword, I feel like it needs one more thing to drive the point home, to really emphasize that feeling of being afraid to speak.
I face you
with fear tied
to my tongue
like wrists
in ropes
[having no other option]
I safeword
I do some thesaurus searching for option, mute, trapped. Then I stumble across paralyzed and it’s perfect.
I face you
with fear tied
to my tongue
like wrists
in ropes.
Paralyzed,
I safeword.
This poem was written from a daily prompt hosted by TastyPoem on Twitter. The title is the prompt word. ❤ See more frequent posts on Twitter (text only) and Instagram (with graphics).
Transfixed,
I halt,
my objection
pierced by
your threat,
impaled by
your command.
With a rush
of repentance,
I kneel.
© Greta Stone
Behind-The-Scenes
Even though I know what transfixed means, I look it up to find the subtle nuances of it. I like definition 2, which I wasn’t aware of:
pierce with a sharp implement or weapon.
“a field mouse is transfixed by the curved talons of an owl”
I like this much better than the definition I first thought of. A person can be transfixed by a literal object or by an action. A tongue slices and pierces with words.
my objection
transfixed
by your [words]
haha Funny that my first thought is disobedience. >___>
[I halt],
my objection
transfixed
by your
threat,
[impaled]
by your
command.
Already I’m not liking transfixed in this usage. Let me try rearranging.
Transfixed,
[I halt],
my objection
pierced by
your threat,
impaled by
your command.
With a rush
of [heat/desire/submission] repentance
I [drop/bow/kneel]
I do some searching for other words for halt but don’t like anything I come up with. Stop, freeze, and pause are all weaker, in my opinion. Also, repentance comes to me for the latter half.
Transfixed,
I halt,
my objection
pierced by
your threat,
impaled by
your command.
With a rush
of repentance
I [drop/bow/kneel]
I could use the obvious submit for the last part, but I think I prefer kneel.
Transfixed,
I halt,
my objection
pierced by
your threat,
impaled by
your command.
With a rush
of repentance,
I kneel.
I probably could take this one further but I’ll end up running out of characters.
This poem was written from a daily prompt hosted by DimpleVerse (rendezvous) and TastyPoem (immerse/submerge) on Twitter. ❤ See more frequent posts on Twitter (text only) and Instagram (with graphics).
Small talk
submerged
by the need
for deeper
contemplations,
a renezvous
of souls.
© Greta Stone
Behind-The-Scenes
Instead of my first reaction of rendezvous leads to immersion, I’d like to reverse that. Immersion leads to a rendezvous of [minds].
Immersed
in [conversation]
[something]
a rendezvous
of mind/spirit/soul
I like the concept of souls at the end. I’m thinking of switching to submerged.
[talk]
submerged
by [desire]
to join
a rendezvous
of souls
Talk, small talk, chatter
Small talk
submerged
by…
Desire, thirst [for deeper things]
Small talk
submerged
by the need
for deeper
contemplations,
a rendezvous
of souls.
This poem was written from a daily prompt hosted by DsubVerse on Twitter. The title is the prompt word. ❤ See more frequent posts on Twitter (text only) and Instagram (with graphics).
I want to bury
my face in
your warm, soft
skin that never
sees the sun.
With the
first touch,
you swell
for me and
I devour.
~Greta Stone
Behind-The-Scenes
While daydreaming, soft, warm skin that never sees the sun came to me. I started writing it into a poem, then went to check for any prompts to add to it. With the first touch fit well.
the soft, warm
skin that never
sees the sun.
[something]
with the
first touch
Going back, it was easy to add an opening, converting the to your.
I want to bury
my face in
your soft, warm
skin that never
sees the sun.
[something]
with the
first touch
When thinking of the something, I decided to switch it up.
I want to bury
my face in
your soft, warm
skin that never
sees the sun.
With the
first touch,
you…
What would he do? Respond. But that’s too generic. Get hard but that’s too obvious. Also, I like ambiguity and I want the poem to work for all genders.
I want to bury
my face in
your soft, warm
skin that never
sees the sun.
With the
first touch,
you swell
for me and
I …
Eat? haha Inhale? Devour. Yes, that. Also, I keep wanting to read warm, soft instead of soft, warm so I switch it.
I want to bury
my face in
your warm, soft
skin that never
sees the sun.
With the
first touch,
you swell
for me and
I devour.
This poem was written from a daily prompt hosted by Tasty Poem on Twitter. The title is the prompt word. ❤ See more frequent posts on Twitter (text only) and Instagram (with graphics).
Absorbed
in you
I am blind
to the world,
your touch
my anchor,
your voice
my guide.
~Greta Stone
Behind-The-Scenes
I want it to be about the absolute trust a sub has for her Dom, that he knows her 100%, what she can handle and what she needs.
[blindfolded/dark]
your voice
my guide
I don’t necessarily want a literal blindfold, but a conscious one, like when the whole world is shut off except his touch at the moment.
Oblivious,
the world
reduced
to your touch,
I am blind,
your touch
my anchor,
your voice
my guide.
I can’t have touch twice.
Oblivious,
the world
reduced
to you,
I am blind,
your touch
my anchor,
your voice
my guide.
The opening is a bit stuttery and I don’t think it’s portraying the message I intend. Oblivious can be taken in a negative way but I don’t mean for it to be.
Absorbed
in you
I am blind
to the world,
your touch
my anchor,
your voice
my guide.
This poem was written from a daily prompt hosted by Tasty Poem on Twitter. The title is the prompt word. I post my most popular poem for each half month here, two poems per month. ❤ See more frequent posts on Twitter (text only) and Instagram (with graphics).
In the quiet of the night
you hold me tight
in hushed need, natural
breath on my clavicle
hand on my hip, hunger ignites
inhale, exhale
two unite
~Greta Stone
I’m your harlot.
Scar me with
the back of
your demand.
I’ll pay you
twice by
playing
out of hand.
~Greta Stone
Greta Stone 