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    poetry


    dots Submission Name: Stormdots
    --------------------------------------------------------





    Author: Tenirsk
    ASL Info:    16/F/N/A
    Elite Ratio:    4.16 - 4/17/29
    Words: 383
    Class/Type: Prose/Passion
    Total Views: 739
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 2369



    Description:
       Mmhm...


    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.

    dotsStormdots
    -------------------------------------------


    We’ll find our peace, somewhere across these sheets.

    In the far distance a soft purr resounded through the heavens. Upon the pane came but soft caresses soaked in water churned from the land, while the faint creek of a wooden door sobered. His hands, crafted finely; worn bones of the young paused tentatively, before ensuring the lock was in place.

    While in the near distance a tension stirred within the heavens. Upon the floor pooled impassioned droplets of sky and Earth through the pane left partial revealed to its graces. His hand, with long tapered fingers, hesitated to brush upon the curtains that began to rise and fall with the tide of winds; sweeping ever so softly into the room.

    Darkness blanketed the room; and whispers curled upon the breath of the company, ‘This is how the storm begins.’

    Outside the growl of thunder rolled through trembling skies. Timid taps stroked upon the dampening pane, which began to cloud in obscurity between contrasting sides. Her hands, crafted delicately; silken flesh of the young hesitated before affirming their place entwined with his.

    While behind the pane came a deafening silence through anxious skies. Gentle kisses lay upon the moist pane, which began to quiver under pressure of Earth and Heaven. Her hands, small softly curving digits, paused fondly to brush upon flesh that began to tense with the tides of passion; sweeping ever so loving into her embrace.

    Darkness blanketed the room; and whispers twisted upon the breath of the company, ‘This is how the storm strikes.’

    Far too close the inflective stroke of lightening conjured brilliance though their heaven. Upon the pane came drawn gasps, tuned to the crash of sky and Earth, while the dim concussion of the storm resounded through the heaven. Their hands, crafted together; entwined of youth, tensed and grasped; before locking in place together across sheets.

    We’ll find our peace… somewhere across these sheets, you and I- upon breaths and whispers that conjure sound more resonant than clamorous silence and turbulent storms. In a language of hands inaudible and undeliverable to other companies.

    Darkness blanketed the room; and sighs lingered upon the breath of the company, ‘This is how the storm ends…”




    Submitted on 2006-11-15 19:11:50     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
    Submissions: [ Previous ] [ Next ]

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    ||| Comments |||
      Okay, who this is a very interesting, brilliant, and original preformance. I mean I actually saw everything you were describing...

    *We’ll find our peace, somewhere across these sheets.*

    Okay, we can understand that...mostly everyone finds relaxation and tranquilty when the make love to their partner...

    * In the far distance a soft purr resounded through the heavens. Upon the pane came but soft caresses soaked in water churned from the land, while the faint creek of a wooden door sobered. His hands, crafted finely; worn bones of the young paused tentatively, before ensuring the lock was in place.*

    I had subtle difficulty trying to digest " worn bones of the young pauseed tentatively, before ensuring the lock was in place," the word structure was to heavy and stiff compared to the other lines, which was...light, and whispery. The phrase 'ensuring the lock was in place' wasn't as fleeing and...erotic as the other lines, and it took away that beginnings of a storm feeling...

    * While in the near distance a tension stirred within the heavens. Upon the floor pooled impassioned droplets of sky and Earth through the pane left partial revealed to its graces. His hand, with long tapered fingers, hesitated to brush upon the curtains that began to rise and fall with the tide of winds; sweeping ever so softly into the room.*

    This is a good line, soft, moving this passion along where I can slip into the mood.

    *Darkness blanketed the room; and whispers curled upon the breath of the company, ‘This is how the storm begins.’*


    Ah, so now we feel the storm approaching. Do we feel it in our worn bones...? I'm loving this lines because the story/prose is coming together, we've reached the central point where our dance of passion truly begins.

    * Outside the growl of thunder rolled through trembling skies. Timid taps stroked upon the dampening pane, which began to cloud in obscurity between contrasting sides. Her hands, crafted delicately; silken flesh of the young hesitated before affirming their place entwined with his.*

    Very good structure.

    * Outside the growl of thunder rolled through trembling skies. Timid taps stroked upon the dampening pane, which began to cloud in obscurity between contrasting sides. Her hands, crafted delicately; silken flesh of the young hesitated before affirming their place entwined with his.

    While behind the pane came a deafening silence through anxious skies. Gentle kisses lay upon the moist pane, which began to quiver under pressure of Earth and Heaven. Her hands, small softly curving digits, paused fondly to brush upon flesh that began to tense with the tides of passion; sweeping ever so loving into her embrace.*

    Nothing is needed to be said about this sentences.

    * Darkness blanketed the room; and whispers twisted upon the breath of the company, ‘This is how the storm strikes.’*

    Okay, this sounds like the first wave, or the desperate climbing of an orgasm...very nice words as you continue the storm...

    * Far too close the inflective stroke of lightening conjured brilliance though their heaven. Upon the pane came drawn gasps, tuned to the crash of sky and Earth, while the dim concussion of the storm resounded through the heaven. Their hands, crafted together; entwined of youth, tensed and grasped; before locking in place together across sheets.

    We’ll find our peace… somewhere across these sheets, you and I- upon breaths and whispers that conjure sound more resonant than clamorous silence and turbulent storms. In a language of hands inaudible and undeliverable to other companies.*

    Your coming to an end as everything you need to say is coming to an end, yet you have something final to say...your giving it that dramatic, long sought, awaited conclusion.

    * Darkness blanketed the room; and sighs lingered upon the breath of the company, ‘This is how the storm ends…”*

    And now we arrive at the end of the storm with memories of long experience and passion-drunken hazes (oh, I like that, might have to use that now that I gave myself the idea ). We have come to the end of the storm to eagerly await the next one where the storm will begin, strike, and finally end.

    Awesome right. , I am in love with it, I mean you blew me away. I am definitely fav.ing and offer you a for an enjoyable and brilliant write! Ja ne!

    ~* Kudos*~










    | Posted on 2007-01-04 00:00:00 | by Twisted | [ Reply to This ]
      Checking my comment, above, I think I was criticizing it as verse ... but there's not a lot of difference, I still say the same.
    | Posted on 2006-11-15 00:00:00 | by Glen Bowman | [ Reply to This ]
      Fine writing in a short format has got to be poetry, but I'm reading this as prose ... you explain stuff, describe it, the skill of suggestion and implication is little used here ... it's not the first time lovemaking and storm have been mated in verse ... Here's a comment from someone who must not discourage anybody but is force to be a bit dubious about how well your chosen verseform here has inspired any discovery in expression. What about practising some miniature verseforms, going nuts with frustration, then making an enexpected breakthrough!
    | Posted on 2006-11-15 00:00:00 | by Glen Bowman | [ Reply to This ]


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