Temples of Venus
O woman! How thy fingers worship thee!
these devout hands
tentatively placing daily offerings
of attentive bodily bread upon the rosy pink
thrones of milch dagoba flesh
anointing kisses of holy water
nightly supplication to those sensual deities
residing
in the sacred dome temples of your
supple life giving breasts
poem by Gregory Allen Uhan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
To visit templesTo visit temples
I visit temples and conduct rites
More to please the priest than the deities.
I visit temples and do sacrifices
More to bribe the God than cleanse myself.
I visit temples and do worships
More to fake being pious than be so.
I visit temples and give offerings
To make clean myself of sins for fresh ones.
18.01.2010
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I Love Sensual Women
I love sensual women and not passionate ones. A passionate woman closes her eyes, moans and shouts and the enjoyment of a passionate woman is blind.
A passionate woman writhes about, grabs you with her hands without looking where, clasps you, kisses you, even bites you and hurries to reach her climax as soon as she can. She has no time to display her sexual organs, no time to examine, touch with the hand and kiss your sexual organs, she is in such a hurry to slake her passion. Having slaked her passion, the passionate woman will fall asleep. The sexual organs of a passionate woman are dry. A passionate woman is always in some way or another mannish.
The sensual woman is always feminine.
Her contours are rounded and abundant.
The sensual woman rarely reaches a blind passion. She savours sexual enjoyment.
The sensual woman is always a woman and even in an unaroused state her sexual organs are moist. She has to wear a bandage on her sexual organs, so as not to soak them with moisture.
When she takes the bandage off in the evening, the bandage is so wet that it can be squeezed out.
Thanks to such an abundance of juices, the sexual organs of a sensual woman give off a slight, pleasant smell which increases strongly when the sensual woman is aroused. Then the juice from her sexual organs is secreted in a syrupy stream.
A sensual woman likes you to examine her sexual organs.
poem by Daniil Ivanovich Kharms
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Upon The Altar Of My Lord
I offer my words up freely,
upon the altar of my God.
I come to this sacred place freely,
of my own free will to serve to pray.
This ancient sacred place this land,
this holy sacred God given ground;
is where in my humble veneration,
in worship I lay my offering down.
I have nothing more; to humbly offer pray.
I have while materially poor nothing more,
than time of value worth to humbly offer pray;
this is all I have I here in true worship bore,
I offer before my most high my sacred Lord.
Near on thirty years ago, I made this sacred vow,
with my soul heart head, bowed in breath low;
though my flesh remains, be still struggle weak,
this vow before God in worship I honour keep.
I thank my wondrous Lord, who let me humbly come here pray.
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Warmth
Pull over
Let me do all the work
Chorus
My hands wrapped around
Stroking up and down
But nothing can compare to
The warmth of my mouth
I love every sound you make
When I'm down
Nothing can prepare you for
The Warmth of my
Verse 1
Mouth against your mouth
Getting you aroused
Whisper in your ear
I think I'll take it further south
Kissing on your neck
Rubbing on your leg
Slide a little further up
I feel you get erect
And now we're flesh against flesh
Breathing on your chest
So anxious to touch it
My mouth is getting wet
Just like the water from the shore
Let your rain pour
Baby brace yourself for
Chorus 2
My hands wrapped around
Stroking up and down (let's see how long you can last inside)
But nothing can compare to the warmth of my mouth
I love every sound you make
When I'm down (Just hear the water splash about)
But nothing can prepare you for
The warmth of my mouth
No place warmer than my mouth....
Bridge
Start off slow
Circles
Then deeper and deep it goes
Kisses so sensual
Tasteful
I love giving you a show
The warmth of my...
Do you like that?
Now it's my turn
song performed by by Janet Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Sensual World
Mmh, yes,
Then Id taken the kiss of seedcake back from his mouth
Going deep south, go down, mmh, yes,
Took six big wheels and rolled our bodies
Off of howth head and into the flesh, mmh, yes,
He said I was a flower of the mountain, yes,
But now Ive powers oer a womans body, yes.
Stepping out of the page into the sensual world.
Stepping out...
To where the water and the earth caress
And the down of a peach says mmh, yes,
Do I look for those millionaires
Like a machiavellian girl would
When I could wear a sunset? mmh, yes,
And how wed wished to live in the sensual world
You dont need words--just one kiss, then another.
Stepping out of the page into the sensual world
Stepping out, off the page, into the sensual world.
And then our arrows of desire rewrite the speech, mmh, yes,
And then he whispered would i, mmh, yes,
Be safe, mmh, yes, from mountain flowers?
And at first with the charm around him, mmh, yes,
He loosened it so if it slipped between my breasts
Hed rescue it, mmh, yes,
And his spark took life in my hand and, mmh, yes,
I said, mmh, yes,
But not yet, mmh, yes,
Mmh, yes.
song performed by by Kate Bush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Fire Air Water
Fire air water: the primitive deities in their snakish humor
Blessed you with beauty-
What a horrible solitary beauty they blessed you with;
And cursed the men in touch with you with the lust of flies.
Fire air water: the primitive deities in their punning humor
Pour passion on me to produce poetry:
As though I am fire air water too,
As though I am producing you,
As though your face is not blood, nor flesh, nor lust
But a nightly deodar island;
A desolate distant bluish island;
Nevertheless you are being used by the vulgar hands
And being dissolved across the earth of soil;
And I am being dissolved amid the shadow of stars over the distant island.
Fire air water: the primitive deities in their kaleidoscopic humor
Keep on spreading the seed of beauty,
The seed of dream on earth.
I ponder with surprise,
Where are you tonight?
Why can't beauty recognize the shadow of the stars over the solitary deodar island-
The beauty of that lady of the earth?
By the vulgar hands her beauty is being used- used- used- used- used-
Being used- used-
Fire air water: the primitive deities burst into laughter 'ho ho'
'Being used again and again and turning into pork? Ho ho'
'Ho ho ho' my troubled heart burst into laughter too! -
Amid this terrible laughter all around, the dark sea seemed to bloom
With a dead body of the enormous whale of darkness;
All the beauty of the universe stinks like the dead body of the enormous whale of darkness,
Wherever I go, among the comets over those seas and oceans
How normal, how natural!
Translation by S M Maniruzzaman
poem by Jibanananda Das
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Secret Place
i only have the key to that door.
i can open it anytime and stay there for a while
away from the crowd
away from the daily occurrences
it is a closed door
conference with myself where i talk and listen at the same time
it is dark but it is peaceful
it is small but everything in me is there: whole and intact
i only have the key
and i am not opening
or when i open it
i keep it closed that way
it is sacred
as sacred as my secret
it is holy
as holy as my soul
it is a mystery
for all the things that i worship
it is mine
and you are not welcome.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Women's Greatest Assets
Voluptuous, round, soft, and plump,
Breasts- the ultimate source of pleasure
For babies and for men, alike.
Babies, burying their heads in their mama’s bosoms,
Say bye bye to dangers, say bye bye to insecurities,
They wrap their plump lips around the little pink dots.
And voilà, they suck!
Sfuuuuuuuup~ sfuuuuuuup~
Slurrrrrrrrrrp~ slurrrrrrrrrp~
Hunger, desire, yearning,
Lust (in its most primitive form) ,
Overwhelm these babies, as they suck fervently
On the little pink dots of their mama.
Men, placing their hands on their women’s bosoms,
Say bye bye to self-discipline, say bye bye to dignity,
They circle their fingers around the little pink dots.
And voilà, they caress!
Shhhhhhhhhh~ chhhhhhhhh~
Shhhhhhhhhh~ chhhhhhhhh~
Hunger, desire, yearning,
Lust (in its most mature form) ,
Overwhelm these men, as they caress passionately
Around the little pink dots of their women.
Voluptuous, round, soft, and plump,
Breasts- the ultimate source of pleasure
For babies and for men, alike.
poem by Irene Pang
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Rise, Oh My Soul, With Thy Desires To Heaven
1. Rise, oh my Soul, with thy desires to Heaven,
And with Divinest contemplation, use
Thy time, where times eternity is given,
And let vain thoughts no more thy thoughts abuse:
But down in darkness let them lie,
So live thy better, let thy worse thoughts die.
2. And thou, my Soul, inspir'd with holy flame,
View and review with most regardful eye,
That holy Cross whence thy salvation came,
On which thy Saviour, and thy sin did die:
For in that Sacred object is much pleasure,
And in that Saviour is my life, my treasure.
3. To thee (O Jesu) I direct my eye,
To thee my hands, to thee my humble knees,
To thee my heart shall offer sacrifice,
To thee my thoughts, who my thoughts only sees:
To thee my self, my self and all I give;
To thee I die, to thee I only live.
poem by Anonymous Olde English
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Hymn
Rise, O my soul! with thy desires to heaven,
And with divinest contemplation use
Thy time, when time's eternity is given,
And let vain thoughts no more thy thoughts abuse;
But down in darkness let them lie;
So live thy better, let thy worse thoughts die.
And thou, my soul, inspired with holy flame,
View and review with most regardful eye
That holy cross whence thy salvation came,
On which thy Saviour and thy sin did die!
For in the sacred object is much pleasure,
And in that Saviour is my life treasure.
To Thee, O Jesu! I direct mine eyes,
To Thee my hands, to Thee my humble knees;
To Thee my heart shall offer sacrifice;
To Thee my thoughts, who thoughts only see;
To Thee myself, myself and all I give;
To Thee I die, to Thee I only live.
poem by Sir Walter Raleigh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sacred Holy Breath
Sacred holy breath
Flows gentle across my chest
Not a sound no air displaced
Not a tear no second guess
Just peace, in my sacred face
Just released love that was put to test
Having hands holding each others fears
Holding hands fate-ing future seers
More than holy we have arrived
Even in this insanity our time abides
sacred Holy, breathe again
Sacred Breath Holy again and again
Flows gentle if this wind
Your love can send
poem by Midnights Voice
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Love Of Christ Which Passeth Kowledge
I bore with thee long weary days and nights,
Through many pangs of heart, through many tears;
I bore with thee, thy hardness, coldness, slights,
For three and thirty years.
Who else had dared for thee what I have dared?
I plunged the depth most deep from bliss above;
I not My flesh, I not My spirit spared:
Give thou Me love for love.
For thee I thirsted in the daily drouth,
For thee I trembled in the nightly frost:
Much sweeter thou than honey to My mouth:
Why wilt thou still be lost?
I bore thee on My shoulders and rejoiced:
Men only marked upon My shoulders borne
The branding cross; and shouted hungry-voiced,
Or wagged their heads in scorn.
Thee did nails grave upon My hands, thy name
Did thorns for frontlets stamp between Mine eyes:
I, Holy One, put on thy guilt and shame;
I, God, Priest, Sacrifice.
A thief upon My right hand and My left;
Six hours alone, athirst, in misery:
At length in death one smote My heart and cleft
A hiding-place for thee.
Nailed to the racking cross, than bed of down
More dear, whereon to stretch Myself and sleep:
So did I win a kingdom,—share my crown;
A harvest,—come and reap.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A man with a pink umbrella
Pink day
Pink hedge
Pink porch
Pink balcony
Pink woman
Pink ghost on a pink road!
Pink door
Pink hello
Pink dream
Pink sparrow
Pink night
poem by Framarz Bagheri
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
When the Great Sun Sinks to His Rest
When the great sun sinks to his rest,
His golden glories thrilling me,
And voiceless longings stir my breast,
Then teach me, Lord, to worship Thee.
And when the stars—the daylight fled—
In serried, shining ranks I see,
Filling the splendid vault o’erhead,
Then teach me, Lord, to worship Thee.
Or if in solemn forest shades
The calm of nature steals o’er me,
And silence all my soul pervades,
Then teach me, Lord, to worship Thee.
Not in the sacred shrines alone,
Which chime their summons unto me,
Would I look upward to Thy throne,
But everywhere would worship Thee.
poem by Maltbie Davenport Babcock
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
Vote! | Copy!
‘holy Family Church House-warming, Perundurai, T.n.’
Excerpt from Dr John Celes’ Welcome Speech
(to be held on 05-02-2010)
The Shepherd comes to meet his flock,
And bless the church that’s newly built,
Wherein an older church had stood on rock –
A sacred ground of prayer for Catholics!
Let’s welcome him; let’s welcome him, ye sheep!
He brings with him his staff that protects us;
This is the time our hearts with joy must weep;
The anointing will give us greater bliss.
Let’s thank the Lord for giving us this house
Of prayer to worship the ‘King of kings’;
Let everyone take Jesus Christ as spouse,
And tread the road to heaven as earthlings.
The Church though small looks splendidly laid out;
It has been christened ‘Holy Family Church’;
Our parish is a small one without doubt,
Nevertheless, peeps in internet-search!
The flock is one led by our parish priest,
Father Claudius, a dynamic, young man!
Who works hard without mistakes in the least;
‘May God give him good health and long life-span! ’
Our heart-felt thanks to Bishop and all souls
Who gave the land for building the new Church;
Our hearty thanks to all who played new roles,
And doled the sums that can now help to preach.
God made it possible to build His house!
Let’s worship Him with masses, hymns and pray;
Let’s reach the world at the click of a mouse!
And preach the Word of God by night and day.
We thank You God for giving us this place,
And worship Jesus Christ, as a family;
Let sweat of foreheads reinforce this base,
And help to rear this provident LILY!
Dedicated to: The Most. Rev. Dr. Thomas Aquinas M.A., DCL.,
Bishop of Coimbatore diocese
Rev. Fr. Xavier Claudius, the Parish priest and
All parishners of ‘Holy Family Church, Perundurai, T.N., ’
Copyright by Dr John Celes 4-11-2010
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I Can Never Get Out Of This
This flesh, its demands, its whims
And caprices,
I despise, this flesh, but how can I
Ever get out of this flesh,
When this flesh is in me,
Wrapped by my skin,
And loved by the senses of my mind
The taste of wet, the whispers I hear,
The smooth touches I feel, the
Sensual sights that I see,
How I promise to be true to
The longings of my pure soul
To pure grace
And sublime wishes, as white as light flinging
Seraphims and Cherubims,
Hands praying in God’s garden,
This flesh
Throbs and thrusts like sin, like demon’s
Favorite poses and twists
This flesh imposes, like these fidgety hands
Arguing again, not wanting to be held,
These hands now ready, willing
For the caprices of my flesh,
These hands shall now touch the secrets of
The night and how my eyes pretend
Not to know,
In such delights, they all now close.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
At times he is shattered, dumb from the impact of life
He zips his leather jacket
looks life right into the eyes
and when his motorcycle breaks
he feels like putting it alight
but struggles on until it gets life again
but it’s empty in him
and sometimes he is shattered, dumb from the impact of life
as if everything around him looses meaning
and existence is only for the here and now.
When he stops at a traffic light
a street preacher shouts over a bullhorn
about the love of God which is endless,
but he doesn’t see God, just girls looking at him
even one with a baby in her arms
who asks almost inaudible
it he feels like screwing her
when he parks his motorcycle
at a shopping centre
and she gets out of the car next to him
placing the baby on the car’s seat
and bends over
as if she has lost her contact lenses
and he sees her hard big nipples
that appears braless, uncovered pink brown
making his male member awake, aflame.
He wonders if there are answers
in bodily pleasures,
if a person has to screw every beautiful thing
that comes your way
have to find pleasure, just where you can
and looks at the wind whirling leaves aimlessly,
people walking to and thro to cars
and the sexuality of the woman next to him
is like a living flame
and he wonders about the endless love of God
and bodily pleasure takes his shaking hands into hers
and her nearness goes like a thunder stroke through him
but it’s empty in him
and sometimes he is shattered, dumb from the impact of life
as if everything around him looses meaning
and existence is only for the here and now.
and his appetite for her is almost unstoppable.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Stroke
Stroke yourself up and down,
Down and up, on the sides and
Edges, the folds and fullness
Of your protruding tip.
And feel that sacred place
I want to worship ~
With my kisses x x x x
Yes, that potent phallus
Of yours, the holy 'lingam'
That would bestow
My Yoni with the seeds
Of our Progeny.
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Worship Erected Temples Cathedrals Mosques
in worship we aspire to please God
in offerings we aspire to please God
in buildings we aspire to please God
in sanctified creation songs sculptures
paintings plays poetry we aspire desires
felt dedicated to God by faithful devotes
worship erected temples cathedrals mosques
history abounds in massive building faith
building faith erected to honour God
transition in building worship utilization
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A burden.
Devotion to God is met by many ways.
Sing or hear songs made in praise of God.
Attend discourses; undertake pilgrimage.
Visit temples and worship the deities.
Attend festivals and perform rituals.
Do penance and pretence in public.
Select a seer and go after him.
The profound faith you repose in Him
Will take you to the mount of happiness.
The salvation assured from devotion
Will take you to the valley of quietness.
Of course, you forgot to work for your bread,
Or live on the hoarded or borrowed wealth.
As a a burden to the population.
23.01.2012
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!