En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Satana

SHE draws all men to serve her, and her lure
Is her pulsating human loveliness—
The beauty of her bosom's rippling lines,
The passion pleading in her eyes, the pure
Soft contour of her cheek, her dainty dress,
With all the rich aroma of her warm
Glad womanhood perfumed, her supple form
Curving and swaying like a living flower,
Aflush with life and youth. These are the signs
By which she queens the hearts of men, the power
By which she makes her sovereignty secure!
But though her red lips mock me of their wine,
And that low laugh of hers fills me with fire,
As, spent with loving, in her scorn I lie;
Yet some day she will come to me and twine
Her slender arms about me; and desire
Will plead in those eyes that were all disdain,
And break her bosom with a sob of pain,
And her hot lips will lavish all their store
Of hungry kisses on me—then shall I
Remember all her queenly coldness, or
With kisses make her breathing beauty mine?

poem by Arthur Henry Adams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

A Forecast

What days await this woman, whose strange feet
Breathe spells, whose presence makes men dream like wine,
Tall, free and slender as the forest pine,
Whose form is moulded music, through whose sweet
Frank eyes I feel the very heart's least beat,
Keen, passionate, full of dreams and fire:
How in the end, and to what man's desire
Shall all this yield, whose lips shall these lips meet?

One thing I know: if he be great and pure,
This love, this fire, this beauty shall endure;
Triumph and hope shall lead him by the palm:
But if not this, some differing thing he be,
That dream shall break in terror; he shall see
The whirlwind ripen, where he sowed the calm.

poem by Archibald Lampman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Lingering Kisses

A lingering kiss remains on my lips
I can feel your warm skin below
Entangled in our passion

Pure
Raw
Undeniable

Sparkling eyes stare off into the the distance
Hands tremble, voices break
the soft Moonlight kisses every curve of your body

Groping hands explore every part of an unknown world
Taboo
A fire ablaze in our kiss

A mad passion
eyes open and the hunger quells
Breathe in

Breathe out
A lingering kiss remains on my lips

poem by Katherine H. Belle
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Lips Like Sugar

She floats like a swan
Grace on the water
Lips like sugar
Lips like sugar
Just when you think you've caught her
She glides across the water
She calls for you tonight
To share this moonlight
She'll flow down your river
And ask him and she'll give you
Lips like sugar
Sugar kisses
Lips like sugar
Sugar kisses
She knows what she knows
I know what she's thinking
Sugar kisses
Sugar kisses
Just when you think she's yours
She's flown to other shores
To laugh at how you break
To melt into this lake
She'll flow down your river
And ask him and she'll give you
Lips like sugar
Sugar kisses
Lips like sugar
Sugar kisses
She'll be my mirror
Reflect what I am
A loser and a winner
The King of Siam
And my Siamese twin
She knows what I'm thinking
???
She'll flow down your river
And ask him and she'll give you
Lips like sugar
Sugar kisses
Lips like sugar
Sugar kisses

song performed by by Coldplay
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

Kissing Power

Kisses upon kisses
Teases upon teases

Certain madness fills the air
It is termed as love I fear

Kisses upon kisses
Teases upon teases
Touches upon touches

My hearts broken pieces
Are once again at peace

Kisses upon kisses
Teases upon teases
Touches upon touches
Flattery upon Flattery
Love always sparkles without batteries

Lips upon lips
First a taste of your tongues tip
Admiration induces exploration
While love ignites imagination

I can feel your kissing power
And the sensational effect it showers
I can feel your kissing power
As you handle me like a delicate flower

Week legs
Pleasure begs
I can feel your kissing power
While you kiss me by the hour

Don't stop!
Be my hero not my flop!

poem by Sylvia Chidi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

What a Beauty-Full Life

Beauty is in flowers, and the petals
Bathing in the early morning dew

Beauty is in the eyes of a father
When his son takes the first step

Beauty is on the face of a baby,
Sleeping in mother's lap

Beauty is in freedom,
When you fly high on the wings of hope

Beauty is in the expressions of a poor man
When he gets food after eternity

Beauty is in the pride of a teacher
When his student supersedes

Beauty is in the compassion of a devotee
When he finds solace

Beauty is in the innocence of a child
When he asks you questions

Beauty is in the sips of laughter,
You share with your friends

Beauty is in the springs of desire
that arrive after a prolonged autumn

Beauty is in the cry of a woman,
Whose womb succeeds

Beauty is in the silence,
When you don't speak, and you say a lot

Beauty is in the warmth of passion
That builds around the arms of a lover

Beauty is when those small fights,
End with tears of joy

Beauty is when the first raindrop,
Kisses your cheek

Beauty is in perseverance,
When the world's showing off

Beauty is in the enigma,
When everything's certain

Beauty is in a poem,
Where poetry meets prose

Beauty is in little chunks of life,
Filled with joys and sorrows

Beauty is in your eyes,
your heart, and in every single breath

Beauty is when you say,
"What a Beauty-Full Life..."

poem by Piyush Kaushal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Prose to a Rose

Such A flower is the rose
Its colour bursting red
Such a flower if the rose
The flower of passion the poets often said
I could gaze upon its beauty
And not lift thine eyes
And when it closes its petals to go to sleep
A tear of sadness rises in my eyes
Such a flower is the rose
For it reminds me of you my dear
When ever I gaze upon a rose
It makes me wish you were here
Its petals are soft as thy skin
The colour like your lips
Its fragrance is sweet and pure
Like the flavor of your kiss
Such a flower is the rose it beauty
Has been endless through out time
And when ever I see a rose be reassured my love
You are for ever on my mind

poem by John A. Hancock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

My Love

SHE has tender eyes that tell
All her prim, set lips suppress—
Daring thoughts that ever dwell
Prisoned in her bashfulness;
Hints of sudden tenderness
That within her breast rebel.
Till her bosom's fall and swell
Tell her meaning all too well,
To her heart's demure distress.
She has soft, smooth cheeks that flame
As she nestles close, so close,
With the new half-joy, half-shame,
That within her bosom glows,
And each fevered feature shows.
Her hot pulses beat acclaim
Of the hopes she dare not tame,
Fervid thoughts she cannot name—
Till I kiss her, and she knows.
She has clinging arms of white,
Little hands and fingers fine,
And she holds me tight, so tight;
While her eager arms entwine
Deep I drink her kisses' wine.
Hush! I feel through all her slight,
Trembling figure love's delight,
And she knows that all is right,
And her bosom beats with mine.

poem by Arthur Henry Adams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Non Sum Qualis Eram Bonae Sub Regno Cynarae

Last night, ah, yesternight, betwixt her lips and mine
There fell thy shadow, Cynara! thy breath was shed
Upon my soul between the kisses and the wine;
And I was desolate and sick of an old passion,
Yea, I was desolate and bowed my head:
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.

All night upon mine heart I felt her warm heart beat,
Night-long within mine arms in love and sleep she lay;
Surely the kisses of her bought red mouth were sweet;
But I was desolate and sick of an old passion,
When I awoke and found the dawn was gray:
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.

I have forgot much, Cynara! gone with the wind,
Flung roses, roses riotously with the throng,
Dancing, to put thy pale, lost lilies out of mind;
But I was desolate and sick of an old passion,
Yea, all the time, because the dance was long:
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.

I cried for madder music and for stronger wine,
But when the feast is finished and the lamps expire,
Then falls thy shadow, Cynara! the night is thine;
And I am desolate and sick of an old passion,
Yea, hungry for the lips of my desire:
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.

poem by Ernest Dowson
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
Vote! | Copy! | In Romanian

Incandescent

I remember all
The soft summer morns.
I remember all
The supple sweet suns,
And I remember all
Their incandescent warmth.
How their beams would kiss my cheek
Like they too did kiss the earth.

I remember all
And I remember well,
For all those supple suns,
Upon all those tender summer morns
Lay down all their loving kisses
Like little flames of light
Exploding in pure radiant swarms,
and gave the Earth over to life.

poem by Graham Stone
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Non Sum Qualis eram Bonae Sub Regno Cynarae

Last night, ah, yesternight, betwixt her lips and mine
There fell thy shadow, Cynara! thy breath was shed
Upon my soul between the kisses and the wine;
And I was desolate and sick of an old passion,
Yea, I was desolate and bowed my head:
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.

All night upon mine heart I felt her warm heart beat,
Night-long within mine arms in love and sleep she lay;
Surely the kisses of her bought red mouth were sweet;
But I was desolate and sick of an old passion,
When I awoke and found the dawn was gray:
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.

I have forgot much, Cynara! gone with the wind,
Flung roses, roses riotously with the throng,
Dancing, to put thy pale, lost lilies out of mind;
But I was desolate and sick of an old passion,
Yea, all the time, because the dance was long:
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.

I cried for madder music and for stronger wine,
But when the feast is finished and the lamps expire,
Then falls thy shadow, Cynara! the night is thine;
And I am desolate and sick of an old passion,
Yea, hungry for the lips of my desire:
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.

poem by Ernest Christopher Dowson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Cynara

Last night, ah, yesternight, betwixt her lips and mine
There fell thy shadow, Cynara! thy breath was shed
Upon my soul between the kisses and the wine;
And I was desolate and sick of an old passion,

Yea, I was desolate and bowed my head:
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.
All night upon mine heart I felt her warm heart beat,
Night-long within mine arms in love and sleep she lay;
Surely the kisses of her bought red mouth were sweet;
But I was desolate and sick of an old passion,

When I awoke and found the dawn was gray:
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.
I have forgot much, Cynara! gone with the wind,
Flung roses, roses riotously with the throng,
Dancing, to put thy pale, lost lilies out of mind;
But I was desolate and sick of an old passion,

Yea, all the time, because the dance was long:
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.
I cried for madder music and for stronger wine,
But when the feast is finished and the lamps expire,
Then falls thy shadow, Cynara! the night is thine;
And I am desolate and sick of an old passion,

Yea, hungry for the lips of my desire:
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.

poem by Ernest Christopher Dowson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

I Love You

I love your lips when they're wet with wine
And red with a wild desire;
I love your eyes when the lovelight lies
Lit with a passionate fire.
I love your arms when the warm white flesh
Touches mine in a fond embrace;
I love your hair when the strands enmesh
Your kisses against my face.

Not for me the cold calm kiss
Of a virgin's bloodless love;
Not for me the saint's white bliss,
Nor the heart of a spotless dove.
But give me the love that so freely gives
And laughs at the whole world's blame,
With your body so young and warm in my arms,
It sets my poor heart aflame.

So kiss me sweet with your warm wet mouth,
Still fragrant with ruby wine,
And say with a fervor born of the South
That your body and soul are mine.
Clasp me close in your warm young arms,
While the pale stars shine above,
And we'll live our whole young lives away
In the joys of a living love.

poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Fragoletta

O LOVE! what shall be said of thee?
The son of grief begot by joy?
Being sightless, wilt thou see?
Being sexless, wilt thou be
Maiden or boy?

I dreamed of strange lips yesterday
And cheeks wherein the ambiguous blood
Was like a rose’s—yea,
A rose’s when it lay
Within the bud.

What fields have bred thee, or what groves
Concealed thee, O mysterious flower,
O double rose of Love’s,
With leaves that lure the doves
From bud to bower?

I dare not kiss it, lest my lip
Press harder than an indrawn breath,
And all the sweet life slip
Forth, and the sweet leaves drip,
Bloodlike, in death.

O sole desire of my delight!
O sole delight of my desire!
Mine eyelids and eyesight
Feed on thee day and night
Like lips of fire.

Lean back thy throat of carven pearl,
Let thy mouth murmur like the dove’s;
Say, Venus hath no girl,
No front of female curl,
Among her Loves.

Thy sweet low bosom, thy close hair,
Thy strait soft flanks and slenderer feet,
Thy virginal strange air,
Are these not over fair
For Love to greet?

How should he greet thee? what new name,
Fit to move all men’s hearts, could move
Thee, deaf to love or shame,
Love’s sister, by the same
Mother as Love?

Ah sweet, the maiden’s mouth is cold,
Her breast-blossoms are simply red,
Her hair mere brown or gold,
Fold over simple fold
Binding her head.

Thy mouth is made of fire and wine,
Thy barren bosom takes my kiss
And turns my soul to thine
And turns thy lip to mine,
And mine it is.

Thou hast a serpent in thine hair,
In all the curls that close and cling;
And ah, thy breast-flower!
Ah love, thy mouth too fair
To kiss and sting!

Cleave to me, love me, kiss mine eyes,
Satiate thy lips with loving me;
Nay, for thou shalt not rise;
Lie still as Love that dies
For love of thee.

Mine arms are close about thine head,
My lips are fervent on thy face,
And where my kiss hath fed
Thy flower-like blood leaps red
To the kissed place.

O bitterness of things too sweet!
O broken singing of the dove!
Love’s wings are over fleet,
And like the panther’s feet
The feet of Love.

poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Kisses

You've kissed a hundred girls by now
and never found the one
whose kisses taste like cherry wine
and warm you like the sun.

But when it is you touch my lips
and brush them soft and sweet,
You'll lay your life before me
and feel like you're complete.

For I, my love have saved my lips,
saved them just for you.
And now that you have felt them
there's nothing you can do.

You can't go back to other's lips.
They would not feel the same.
The bitter taste they'd leave you with
would have you then exclaim.

'I need your lips. I long for them
and how they make me feel.'
So when you place your lips on mine
you'll know our love is real.

poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The Enjoyment

Come my Laura, come my love;
Come my tender turtle-dove;
Let me from this host retire,
To languish in a softer fire,
How the waving elms invite us!
How the rosy bowers delight us!
How their am'rous foldings twine,
To imitate thy arms and mine!
See these snowy lilies blowing,
With the blushing roses glowing,
Silently the soul inspire,
To kindle at thy lover's fire:
See these springing violets rise,
Animated by thy eyes;
Lavishly their charms they spread,
To make a soft enamelled bed;
And like this downy swelling breast,
They rise, and languish to be pressed.

But O thou happy, happy grove,
Sacred to the God of love,
With the thickest umbrage shade us,
Let no piercing rays invade us:
Let no light but Beauty's charm us,
Let no heat but Beauty's warm us;
Make our artificial light,
Close and sweet as our delight.

And now, my dear, no longer coy,
Let us give a thought to joy!
Then, closely lay thy lips to mine,
And let our souls and bodies join:
Let me suck thy balmy breath,
And fainting, glory in my death.
Take me dying to thy arms,
Ah me! I die with pleasing pain,
O kindle me to life again.
And now, my brighter Queen of Love,
I'll confess the stronger Jove.

O happiest transport, dearest blessing,
Sweetest-rapture past expressing!
Who can tell the thrilling pleasure,
When the nymph resigns her treasure!
When she melts in ripen'd blisses,
Breathing out her soul in kisses!
When in Paradise she lies,
And rolls her pretty dying eyes:
While the Snake with softer strains,
Sweetly stings her tickling veins!
She pants, she sighs, she heaves her charms,
And locks her vig'rous lover in her arms.

poem by William Pattison
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
Vote! | Copy!

Forever Mine

The room is dark, all alone am I.
Sitting here thinking of times gone by.
Remembering the past, the way things were.
A different time, when so much was unsure.

During these times, you came to my life.
Bringing happiness and laughter and love into sight.
Never such a feeling had I felt before.
Every moment spent with you, just left me wanting more.

More glances and stares, from your eyes so bright.
Eyes that see deep in my soul, making everything alright.
Wanting more kisses, from your soft lips so sweet.
Lips that make my legs weak and my heart skip a beat.

Wanting more time spent in your loving embrace.
Arms so strong and gentle, such a safe, loving place.
Wanting your warm touch, as you caress all of me.
Such a sensual feeling, setting my body so free.


Here we are, so many years more.
Not much has changed, I just want you even more.
Not a day goes by that I don't give thanks for you.
Every morning I think that our love is like new.

A new beginning. A fresh new start.
A new day to tell you what's deep in my heart.
You've made me feel loved, wanted and adored.
No one could possibly ever love me more.

And now here we are, loving each other from a far.
Waiting for the day, to awake in your arms.
To look upon your face, and deep in your eyes.
Knowing we'll never have to say our good byes.

Until that day comes just know this is true,
Everything I have to give, I have given to you.
I give you my heart, soul, body and mind.
And dream of the day you'll forever be mine.

poem by Shauna Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Seeking

Bright eyes, sweet lips, with sudden fevers fill
My strong blood, running wildly, as it must;
But lips and eyes too soon beget distrust.
A soft touch sends a momentary thrill
Through sense unsubservient to the will;
But warm caresses leave a dim disgust;
Like Dead- Sea apples, kisses turn to dust.
I kiss; I feast; but I am hungry still.

O, where is She — that straight and upright soul —
True friend, true mate, true woman — where is She?
True heart — as true as needle to the pole —
True to the truth, not only true to me —
Worth all I have to give — the best — the whole.
When shall these eyes Her unknown beauty see?

poem by Ada Cambridge
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

A Portrait

HER glance is equable, serene;
She looks at life with level brow;
She strides through circumstance—a queen!
To compromise she cannot bow—
Even to love she will not lean!
Not hers the head that, like a flower,
Trembles upon a swaying stem;
Her neck is firm-curved as a tower,
And on her brow for diadem
Shine steadfastness and peace and power.
She wills no limits to her scope;
Her head imperiously borne
Above her gradual bosom's slope;
Her chin a dainty-moulded scorn,
Her eyes a deep, untarnished hope.
By gusts of passion undistressed,
She spurs not on a panting pulse;
Throned in her womanhood, at rest,
No ripples of her moods convulse
The tidal swayings of her breast.
She is no fevered Sex to flush—
A woman-weakness that should yield,
A fruit for love to clench and crush,
A fragile warmth that arms should shield,
A whisper that a kiss should hush!

Yet with the tears her soul has shed
Her innocence is seared within;
Her heart is not a white thing dead:
She lifted dauntless eyes to Sin,
And from her splendid frown he fled!
But when love breathless to her trips
And joy within her laughs elate,
Her soul to no surrender slips—
She meets the kiss that crowns her mate
With vivid eyes and virile lips!

poem by Arthur Henry Adams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Introit : V. Litany Of Beauty

Joy, if the Soul or aught immortal be,
How may this Beauty know mortality?

O Beauty, perfect child of Light,
Sempiternal spirit of delight!
White and set with gold like the gold of the night,
The gold of the stars in quiet weather,--
White and shapely and pure!--
O lily-flower from stain secure,
With life and virginity dying together!

One lily liveth so,
Liveth for ever unstained, immortal, a mystic flower:
Perfectly wrought its frame,
Gold inwrought and eternal white,
White more white than cold of the snow,
For never, never, near it came,
Never shall come till the end of all,
Hurtful thing in wind or shower,
Worm or stain or blight;
But ever, ever, gently fall
The dews elysian of years that flow
Where it doth live secure
In flawless comeliness mature,
Golden and white and pure.
In the fair far-shining glow
Of eternal and holy Light.

Beauty of earthly things
Wrought by God and with hands of men!
Beauty of Nature and Art,
Fashioned anew for each Time brings,
For each new soul and living heart!
Beauty of Beauty that fills the ken
Till the soul is swooning, faint with delight!
Beauty of human form and voice,
Of eyes and ears and lips!--
O golden hair and brow of white!--
Wine of Beauty that whoso sips
Doth die to a spirit free, and rejoice,
Living with God and living with men,
Rapt rejoice in eternal bliss,
Raising his face to meet the kiss
Of the Beauty seraphic he sees above
In figure of his love.

O Beauty of Wisdom unsought
That in trance to poet is taught,
Uttered in secret lay,
Singing the heart from earth away,
Cunning the soul from care to lure,--
O mystic lily, from stain and death secure,
Till the end of all to stay!
O shapely flower that must for ever endure!
O voice of God that every heart must hear!
O hymn of purest souls that dost unsphere
The ravished soul that hears! O white, white gem!
O rose that dost the senses drown in bliss!
No thought shall stay the wing, or stem
The song or win the heart to miss
Thy love, thy joy, thy rapture divine!
O Beauty, Beauty, ever thine
The soul, the heart, the brain,
To own three in a loud perpetual strain,
Shriller and sweeter than song of wine,
Than song of sorrow or love or war!

Beauty of heaven and sun and day,
Beauty of water and frost and star,
Beauty of dusk-tide, narrowing, grey!

Beauty of silver light,
Beauty of purple night,
Beauty of solemn breath,
Beauty of closèd eye, and sleep, and death!

Beauty of dawn and dew,
Beauty of morning peace,
Ever ancient and ever new,
Ever renewed till waking cease
Or sleep for ever, when loud the angel's word
Through all the world is heard!

Beauty of brute and bird,
Beauty of earthly creatures
Whose hearts by the hand of God are stirred!

Beauty of the soul,
Beauty informing forms and features,
Fairest to God's eye,--
Beauty that cannot fade or die
Though atoms to ruin roll!

Beauty of blinded Trust,
Led by the hand of God
To a heaven where Cherub hath never trod!

Austere Beauty of Truth
Lighting the way of the just!

Splendid Beauty of Youth
Staying when Youth is sped,
Living when Life is dead,
Burning in funeral dust!

The glory of form doth pale and pall,
Beauty endures to the end of all.

poem by Thomas MacDonagh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Beautiful Ladies

small or tall, little or big
short to long hair, let it flow
green to brown to blue, eyes to adore
frowns to to smiles, grins from cheek to cheek
slender to chunky to heavy set, size no matter
their gentle touch, the voice so soft
their hearts so big and brains so smart
their tears so sad, cries so bad
they are all the same in side and out
spirits and souls for us to enjoy
never forget who they are
a soul mate for someone, like you and me
look be on the cover, there is more to enjoy from the soul
beauty is the eye of the beholder
blind we are for the beauty might be in our eyes
and the smiles might turn to kisses
love them who there are, not for dreams we want
before we lose the one we love

poem by Michael Peterson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!