Cybering ( #dversepoetics #cybersex )

Canon Love

He came in a plain text wrapper
Not the sort of package to turn her head
No warning that the contents could turn her inside out
Turn life upside down

Romance repurposed
Thrust her through the portal
Plunged by a double click
Into unreal realities

Garbed in boolean doublespeak
Veiled in fifty layers of intrigue
Bound by neurotronic entanglement
Resistance was futile

Pillow talk encoded in binaural beats
Texted breadcrumb trails between souls
Sexted intimacy
Emotion embedded in the vibrations of their cells

Love's illusions fashioned from ones and zeroes...
Can it ever rise above a zero sum?
In cyber everything is a lie
and nothing is.

~Nara Malone The prompt for Poetics today is change. Click through to see what others wrote or to join the fun yourself.


Poet Porn

Handwriting in Old Diary

Typing poetry is like vibrator sex
words nailed down
precisely spaced insertions
emotional withdrawal method

Writing longhand
words and thoughts entwine
like lover's limbs
one covering another
emotional foreplay
creative juices flowing

Poems don't love a keyboard
insist on a gentle fingering
in roaming lines
a slow-hand diddle
pen over page
making love to words


Since the summer, I've been slowly teaching this writer brain of mine to rough draft a story on the keyboard instead of longhand. Full length novels drafted across several journals, tucked between poems, sketches and to-do lists, are not an efficient way to get that job done.  It's been a war, me against the words. I thought I'd won. Then cleaning up the other day I picked up an old journal and a pen wandered into my hand and these words fell out on the page. This could be why I haven't had many poems to share these past few months.

This post was written as a contribution to G-Man's Friday 55. Click through to see what others wrote or to join the fun yourself.



Rope Burns (erotic poem)

owned_final copy

I burned them
untying each knot
lining them up in tidy rows
on soot-stained hearth
an addict cutting lines.

my drug
red lines of jute
mirrored in flame
gone to ash.

I prowled the years
listening to the soft creak and moan
of foundation shifts
and memories

like old rope tracks
secret marks
collaring ankles
crossroads between breasts
between thighs
sculpted impressions
refusing to fade.

Rope fingers
phantom limbs
teasing secret spots
making pussy glisten with tears
my eyes refuse to shed.

Knotted cords glide
whiskery threads licking
fingers retracing invisible tracks
pinching the craving from puckered nipples
working the feverish burn from quivering lips
rereading love stories written
in shibari-Braille

immersed in fantasy
nostrils flare
drinking in musky male
tongue twitching against tang
achy knot bathed
in heat of his release

I lock in the past
with eyes squeezed shut
one hand fisted against the burn
heart clamped in his jute fingers
I come

~Nara Malone


It's been a long time. I was starting to think I didn't have a poem left in me. My contribution to dVerse Poetics. Click through to see what others wrote or to join the fun yourself.