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Weather, weather... let's see... well, what follows is the best I could come up with:

The cold, clammy fog of solitude held my heart
In a icy grip, shrouding my lonely soul
In dark banks of grey, cloying haze that would not part,
Long tendrils of damp mist poised to swallow me whole…
 
    Radiant goddess of light, your love parted the veils
    Like the sun filtering through black clouds overhead,
    Your warmth dispersing for good the last wispy trails
    Clouding my mind and spirit, leaving hope instead.
 
Now the skies are blue, with nary a nimbus left;
A hot wind of passion has risen to brush aside
Our inhibitions, gale of desire bereft
Of restraint, where my arousal and yours collide
 
    In a great hurricane of lustful ecstasy,
    An out-of-control tornado consummating
    Our deepest urges, until we are quite ready
    To climax as if struck by thunderous lightning.

Ivan

Edit: Was in a dark mood on writing this but feeling better -- PLEASE don't let me kill off a second topic in a row, I promise I'll write a lighter one!

We sat together,
I the rock and You the tree,
And weathered the storms.

One day the rain comes
With the atmosphere so charged
And lightning strikes you.

You changed forever,
Your body naught but splinters,
Your face so ashen.

Never will I know
The force that disfigured you.
I am but a rock.

Sorry about the double-post, but I wanted to follow up with something completely different.

Dedicated to the one who helped bring me from brooding to beaming this morning.

I am the lake below the waterfall
Cold, pure, pristine, serene.

I am lifted by your gentle touch
All my particles rising up
Forming wondrous shapes in the sky.

I cannot resist your siren's call
Though you do as you always do
And when you have drawn up enough of me
I can resist no longer.

I send electrons through you
A flash erupts from below
And you are lit up so very brightly.

I return to earth once more
And await your next caress.

And it seems F has killed it off again. Somebody post new rules, otherwise it's just going to be me and Sharp doing it.

Well, what about a new theme like... The happiness?

(04-29-2016, 05:24 PM)CBM97 Wrote: [ -> ]Well, what about a new theme like... The happiness?

That theme was done quite early.

Topic: A single kiss
Form: Triolet

The triolet is a short poem of eight lines with only two rhymes used throughout. The requirements of this fixed form are straightforward: the first line is repeated in the fourth and seventh lines; the second line is repeated in the final line; and only the first two end-words are used to complete the tight rhyme scheme. Thus, the poet writes only five original lines, giving the triolet a deceptively simple appearance: ABaAabAB, where capital letters indicate repeated lines.

Our lips meet in tenderness,
The joy of us together,
The softest touch, a light caress,
Our lips meet in tenderness,
Lips part, tongues find togetherness,
Shared feeling thought and pleasure,
Our lips meet in tenderness,
The joy of us together.

Similar to a theme used by Kyrios previously (conversation), I am setting a new challenge of Questions & Answers. It’s quite simple really; I was asked a question, to which my poem is the answer. I end it with another question, which the next person answers with their poem, ending it with another question for somebody else to answer.
 
Try to keep questions simple (don’t ask somebody to write an essay on Bentham’s theory of Utilitarianism), and it can be either general knowledge or a personal question (but not too personal, keep it light).
 
Rules are:
Three stanzas of five lines
First and fourth lines of each stanza must rhyme
A final three line stanza asking the next question
All three lines must rhyme
 
 
So what is the first question needing an answer?
“What is the capital of France?” I am asked.
I know this! It is the city of Paris!
I’ve only been once, but there I met a dancer;
Her name was Amélie, such a pretty little thing.
 
Ballet was her trade, her art, her one love;
And as such her body lithe yet strong;
Her breasts small yet perfectly shaped.
She was beautiful and delicate, like a dove;
Yet ferocious the moment her clothes came off.
 
Two wondrous nights I spent with Amélie;
In her apartment on the banks of the Seine.
Though it was our two rivers that never stopped flowing;
I swear between us we almost flooded the city;
Me and my sweet Amélie.
 
A question now for whomever wishes to take it:
On orgasms, no less, and do you always make it
Across the finish line, or have you ever had to fake it?