Sabbath
A whiff of feverish poisonous plants
Makes me dream in moony dusks,
And quietly I feel entwined, embraced,
And see like a sabbath of insane witches
Blood-colored blossoms in the mirrors' brightness
Pressing flaming prurience from my heart,
And their lips experienced in all arts
Swell furiously near my drunken throat.
Pestilence colored flowers of tropical beaches,
Offer her chalices to my lips,
Cloudy drool-fountains of nauseating tortures.
And one gobbles - o raving Maenad -
My flesh, drooped from the sultry vapors,
And ecstaticized in pain by terrible prurience.
poem by Georg Trakl
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The Saint
When in the hell of self-created sufferings
Cruelly indecent pictures plague him -
No heart was ever so enchanted by lascivious prurience
Like his, and no heart so tormented
By God - he lifts gaunt hands,
Unredeemed, praying to heaven.
But, only agonizingly insatiable lust forms
His rutting, feverish prayer, its fervor
Surges there through mystical infinities.
And not so drunkenly the Evoe
Of Dionysus sounds, as if his shout
Of torment forces fulfillment in deadly,
Furiously slobbering ecstasy: Exaudi me, o Mary!
poem by Georg Trakl
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Acid-colored Winter Within Thy Heart
Acid-colored Winter Within Thy Heart
Feeding lies directly into Thy veins
A blanket of white lies covers Thy soul
An Acid-colored Winter blizzard wanes.
Thy heart is clouded with uncertainty
Confusion is pumped throughout Thy mind
Blurring Thy vision like a cold winter storm
Leaving sanity far behind.
Feelings of fear and pain alike
Sting like acid vapors swirling inside
What could cause this fear filled joy
Leaving my emotions bound and hogtied?
The very first time we kissed
Left Thy emotions torn apart
Leaving a helpless void inside
Like an Acid-colored Winter Within Thy Heart.
poem by J.R. Reynolds
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A Black Rose
I gave you this Rose
so you can see
how deep is my love
in my heart for thee
It resonates black
but it's deep colored wine
this beautiful Rose, I gave you
entwined on a vine
I love you so much
but make no mistake
this pretty black Rose
can quickly break
For it is fragile, soft and sweet
it is caring and heartfelt deep
It's what lovers
wish they could find
a deep colored black Rose
entwined on a vine
Because this black Rose
has a fine line
It's how I feel for you
my love of all time.
Charlie Vergara
07.09.2009
23104
poem by White Tiger
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Sweet Addiction
Tulips…Eurasian herbs
With deep shaped cup
Close kin of Lilies
From which hummingbirds sup
Begonias…. tropical herb,
showy flowers, waxy leaves…
Besieged by legions
of honeybees
Roses…often climbing shrubs…
Fragrant blossoms filling noses
Divided leaves, prickly stems
Varietal colored, bed of roses
Lavender…Mediterranean mint
Pale purple colour
Heady perfume, to scent
Bed linen and cover
Flowers, blossoms
Predilections
Scent and sight…
Sweet addictions
Dizzying choices,
A lie down in repose
The best place to compose in…
Is no bed of roses
poem by David Whalen
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To Japan
SIMPLE You were, and good. No kindlier heart
Beat than the heart within your gentle breast.
Labour You had, and happiness, and rest,
And were the maid of nations. Now You start
To feverish life, feeling the poisonous smart
Upon your lips of harlot lips close-pressed,
The lips of Her who stands among the rest
With greasy righteous soul and rotten heart.
O sunrise land, O land of gentleness,
What madness drives you to lust's hateful bed?
O thrice-accursèd England, wretchedness
For ever be on you, of whom 'tis said,
Prostitute plague-struck, that you catch and kiss
Innocent lives to make them foully dead!
poem by Francis William Lauderdale Adams
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The Painter (Ang Pintor)
The Painter...
He colored the sky
He colored the sea
and even the mountains
and the field.
The Painter...
He colored the roses
and even the birds
and animals
in the farm.
The Painter...
even my life...
He colored.
But the Painter,
I guess no one
have seen Him yet.
The Painter...
can anyone paint the colors
of His life?
poem by Marites C. Cayetano
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Red Colored Stars
I'll open my eyes, and a new day will come
I'll see Red Colored Stars in the sky and in your eyes
Fast away the ugly, just one more bill to pay
All the past will be moon dust that flies, from where we lay
I can feel it, I can feel
Red Colored Stars in my hands are the stones that were cast
They left us with scars, reminders
There's a wall in my way, there's a war in my way
Tales of love that consumed me
Hide from the fight
I'm a slave in my head, I'm awake in my bed
Tell the worms they can soon eat tonight, eat tonight
I can feel
Red Colored Stars in my hands are the stones that were cast
They left us with scars, reminders
Can you feel it?
Can you feel it?
Sleep, there's a wall in my way
There's a war in my way
Sleep, there's a wall in my way
There's a war in my head
Start our cars and be around, there's room enough for you and me
When the sun comes up, we'll leave them down and stare into the dream
Red Colored Stars in my hands are the stones that were cast
They left us with scars, reminders
I can feel it
I can feel it
I can feel it
I can feel it
song performed by by Ours
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Elegy
The girlfriend juggling with green flowers
Plays in moony gardens -
O! what glows behind yew hedges!
Golden mouth which stirs my lips,
And they ring out like the stars
Over the brook Kidron.
But the star-nebulas sink over the plain,
Dance wildly and unspeakably.
O! my girlfriend your lips
Pomegranate lips
Ripen on my crystalline mouth of shells.
Heavily the golden silence
Of the plain rests on us.
The blood of the children
Murdered by Herod
Steams to heaven.
poem by Georg Trakl
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A Kissing Mouth
something's pressing to my lips
something's trying to kiss me
mouths clash
saliva splash
stains my face red
i can't feel
anything
just a funny smell
something pulls my lips apart
something hot and wet and fast's
kissing me
and i'd scream
but for an alien tongue
i can't hear
anything
just a funny sound
my head's getting light
i try to struggle
but only hit my own mouth
the tongue between my lips
is so poisonously sweet
something's pressing to my lips
something's kissing me
mouths sing
depths unseen
and hope for a better world
i can't say
anything
just a simple chain of words
poem by Max Kuvaev
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Shadows of desire, mirrors of the soul
Oh were I the breath that you take and lived in your heart, said he
Oh were you the blood that’s pounding passion in me, said she
Where I your hands that caress gloriously, he said with a sigh
Were you my lips that seek you hungrily, she said with a shy smile
Were I your fantasy, that makes you crave me, said he with rising passion
And were you the responding cry that receives me in delight, said she quietly
If this is the way it was meant to be, then who am I and who art thee
Shadows of desire, accepting each other, as we are
Mirrors of the soul, separate vessels
And one, in communion
poem by Anita Atina
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Suffocation
Last night I had the weirdest dream
I dreamt that I was lying in bed
With this girl whose hair was
As black as the night and as
Thick as a forest,
And her hair, her hair was
Smothering me
Or at least, I thought it was
Her hair,
Until I noticed it was her hands
Running over my face,
My lips
My eyes
My cheeks.
As hot as the desert
And smooth as silk
But pressing down
Pressing me into my pillow
Until I could see nothing
But the pink of her skin
And I thought,
Im gunna die
Those hands are gunna
Kill me
Until I realized really,
It wasn’t hands,
But lips,
Sucking the air from mine
Engulfing my last breath
And drawing it into her being
And I thought, well,
At least lips are
A nice way to go
Until finally I came
To my goddamn senses
And I realized,
I realized it wasn’t her lips
But the words coming
From those sweet lips
That was suffocating me
And it was “I love you”
I was choking on
Not her hair, hands or lips
At all.
poem by Nick Downer
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What brings me joy?
What brings me joy? A cool day in the summer time, the air that flashes across my face,
A gentle kiss that is embraced on my lips, to be held when the lonely feels sets in, Peace with in my heart when there is no one around,
What brings me joy? To know that I am loved and that I could love with no question asked,
To feel your heart press against mines, to taste a good taste that makes my mouth water,
What brings me joy? To be nowhere but feel as if I am on top of the world, To fly high in the sky and never get off the ground, To be overwhelmed with a feeling as if this is my world.
What brings me joy? My life and all that it has to offer.
poem by Kimbaline Navas
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If You Are My Food Spread On The Table
granting arguendo
my dear beautiful girl
that you are my food for dinner
what shall i take first?
your lips, oh, i love delicious lips
sweet lips, wet lips and tight lips, and
gripping lips to my lips
then your eyes
so i can enter your soul
these windows that cannot close
someone so lovely and loving you
as i try to be this air
invisible and yet so essential
to your being
i shall take every flesh in you
and every bone and every nerve
but there is one thing i shall not attempt to take
away from you
your heart, you may not tell me, but i know
it already belongs to someone else
in respect for true love
i shall leave it there
breathing, wishing, and still loving....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Bianca
Her cheeks are hot, her cheeks are white;
The white girl hardly breathes to-night,
So faint the pulses come and go,
That waken to a smouldering glow
The morbid faintness of her white.
What drowsing heats of sense, desire
Longing and languorous, the fire
Of what white ashes, subtly mesh
The fascination of her flesh
Into a breathing web of fire?
Only her eyes, only her mouth,
Live, in the agony of drouth,
Athirst for that which may not be:
The desert of virginity
Aches in the hotness of her mouth.
I take her hands into my hands,
Silently, and she understands;
I set my lips upon her lips;
Shuddering to her finger-tips
She strains my hands within her hands.
I set my lips on hers; they close
Into a false and phantom rose;
Upon her thirsting lips I rain
A flood of kisses, and in vain;
Her lips inexorably close.
Through her closed lips that cling to mine,
Her hands that hold me and entwine,
Her body that abondoned lies,
Rigid with sterile ecstasies,
A shiver knits her flesh to mine.
Life sucks into a mist remote
Her fainting lips, her throbbing throat;
Her lips that open to my lips,
And, hot against her finger-tips,
The pulses leaping in her throat.
poem by Arthur Symons
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Kiss Me, Kiss You
Kiss me, I know you want to
Kiss you, because I want to
Lips soft like butter
When you kiss me it makes my heart flutter
Kiss you, makes my heart sing
Kiss me, I hear the bells ring
With this love, it's not a thing
Holding me back
Do you feel me quiver?
Do you feel me shiver?
I don't need to have you
Inside of me to feel love
Kiss me, passion as our lips meet
Passion as we feel the heat
Kiss me, I want to feel free
Kiss you, come closer come and see
Love to most is the same
But with us our lips is the game
poem by Raesheka Antwine
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A Silent Sonnet on a Mid Day Afternoon by Silent fingers
With the sun dancing in her heart-colored hair, a dream flowing in her honey-tinted eyes and a turquoise-hued gem prostrating her ears – she sits in her garden with sleeping white angels and smiling wise gnomes, a calm and numinous place where every bird has a song to sing, where every flower has a life to live, and every wall a story to tell.
Oh, I have never felt a feeling more blessed than her mystical presence.
For a while my breath stood still, and with me, the breeze too. Yes, we stood face to face, while time played a silent sonnet on a mid day afternoon.
With a sugary spell she had cast over her light-filled shadow, she lets her henna-dyed feet float among perfumed pink ‘kaneerumaa’ praising the round yellow one, among marred pieces of colored glass resurrected as bright jovial mirrors, among dangling little dream catchers humming sweet soft lullabies and painted vivid hand-prints gently pressing onto white rugged walls.
Oh, I have never heard a poem more eloquent than her whimsical world.
For a while I stood still, and with me, the world too. Yes, there I stood, face to face with her, while fate played a silent sonnet on a mid day afternoon.
With the marriage of a fiyaathoshi wall to a nookula door, she paints her castle yellow, sometimes violet, and sometimes white. With a flucid stroke of her magic-bound hand she creates cyan-colored beings and olive-colored poetry. Words fly out of her mouth like freed birds, while she swings her soul to-and-fro, and commands the sunny-rays-gone-astray to obey and kneel at her feet, to kiss her hands, caress her cheeks and rest in her eyes.
Oh, I have never seen a queen more refined in her placid manners.
For a while my heart stood still, and with it, my life too. Yes, There I stood face to face with her, while life played a silent sonnet on a mid day afternoon.
… and then she asks, “Have we met before? ”
… and I thought, “Yes, perhaps eight hundred years ago! ”
poem by Silent Fingers
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Please smile
A smile on your lips comes absolutely free; spreading
waves of unsolicited
exhilaration in my persona,
A smile on your lips looks mystically enchanting;
resembling sweet coats of
molten nectar,
A smile on your lips accentuates your immaculate
teeth; portraying your
mesmerizing grace,
A smile on your lips gives me loads of renewed hope;
instantly assassinating
all the anguish I face,
A smile on your lips reveals your boisterous nature;
encompassing me
completely in supreme exultation,
A smile on your lips impregnates me with hope;
prompting me to overcome a
battalion of dismal failures,
A smile on your lips makes me walk fast; keep up pace
with the uncouth speed
of mundane world,
A smile on your lips looks ravishing in the tenacious
moonlight; instigating
me to stare unrelentingly in your sapphire eyes,
A smile on your lips sculptures your face to resemble
a fairy; bestowing upon
my dreary soul a plethora of riches,
A smile on your lips makes me oblivious to time; and
hours unleash themselves
into days without traces of boredom,
A smile on your lips reinvigorates my exhausted bones;
encouraging me to walk
for marathon distances in sweltering heat of the sun,
A smile on your lips makes me feel exorbitantly
special; placing me several
shades above the common pedestrian,
A smile on your lips makes me ostentatiously dream;
sequestering me from harsh
realities; blending me with ostentatious walls of the
palace,
A smile on your lips incorporates me with tumultuous
confidence; making me
extravagantly speak at business meetings,
A smile on your lips gives you that frivolous look;
melting my stringently
compact composure; instilling my demeanor with
inevitable desires,
A smile on your lips makes me feel flying high in thin
clouds; incessantly
constructing a building of dreams,
A smile on your lips reinstates my belief in mankind;
inducing me to be
philanthropic towards my fellow beings,
A smile on your lips pacifies soaring temperatures of
viral fever in my
silhouette; alleviating the soreness in my intricate
throat,
A smile on your lips makes me incorrigibly feel I am
real; have a definite
purpose while existing on this earth,
A smile on your lips distinguishes you from the
solitary girl; granting you
the invincible status of being holistically alive,
So for heaven sake sweet heart; wake up from the
realms of unconsciousness and
PLEASE SMILE.
.
poem by Nikhil Parekh
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Apology
Why do I write today?
The beauty of
the terrible faces
of our nonentites
stirs me to it:
colored women
day workers—
old and experienced—
returning home at dusk
in cast off clothing
faces like
old Florentine oak.
Also
the set pieces
of your faces stir me—
leading citizens—
but not
in the same way.
poem by William Carlos Williams
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Confiteor
The colored pictures which life paints,
I see them gloomily only by twilights,
Like frizzy distorted shadows, cloudy and cold,
Hardly born, already defeated by death.
And since the mask fell from every thing,
I see only fear, desperation, disgrace and plagues,
Mankind's heroless tragedy,
A bad play, staged on graves, corpses.
This terrible dream-view disgusts me.
But a higher authority wants me to stay,
A comedian who speaks his role,
Coerced, full of desperation - boredom!
poem by Georg Trakl
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At Your Love
Pallor has spread on my forehead.
The brows, boas in shape, have drooped.
The lips, a boat in cut, have drooped.
The shoulders, a scale, have drooped.
The breasts, two pyramids, have hung.
The heart, fat with love, has shrunk.
The limbs weak, bangles slipped off.
You don't see my agony.
To show you my waned body,
My modesty forbids me.
Your delay causes tension.
Hold my hand in public, soon.
Had I not lost my innocence
To you, I would not have pleaded.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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