Water-Lillies
Unwedded from the world, I stray through trees
To where a pool lies mirrored in the sun
A disk of polished gold that I have won
With labours not unknown to Hercules.
Slender they bathe, all naked as a breeze,
Their nipples hollow and their hair undone,
While from their widespread thighs cool ripples run
To rock the water-lilies round their knees.
Nymphs of the fountains, naiads innocent,
Frail sunbeams who have passed between my arms
So beautiful in your imprisonment,
Fill now my soul with symbols of delight:
Soft voices and soft fingers and soft charms
And the perfume of the lotus in the night.
poem by Harry Crosby
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On A Letter
I.
SUNBEAMS can fling no purer brightness o'er the sea
And rain-showers bring no surer blessing to the lea,
And lilies wing with no more sweetness the gold bee,
Than those few lines thy hand has penned have brought to me.
II.
Soft lies the silent fall of snow
Upon the hemlock tree;
Soft lies the moonlight's silver flow
Upon the troubled sea.
Sweet on the blossom of the vines
The night-dews drop from high;
But softer, sweeter far, thy lines
Upon my spirit lie.
poem by Mathilde Blind
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32
His fingers are strong and determined
And when he loves you
He chases, and follows you wherever you go
Like a river flowing like a brown river flooding
Scurrying its way to the mouth
Of the sea
Taking the least of resistance
But if obstructed
Like the river
There will be an overflowing
A strong raging of the waters
Of his fury
Taking everything
Houses trees fowls
Children, men, and women
And boulders
And lands
Those that block his way
His arms embrace you
And he suffocates you with the pungent odor
Of his masculine love
He breathes deeply saving all his strength
He holds you tight
His chiseled muscled body pressed
Against yours
He bends he stands he kneels he bends
Again he bows to you
Touches you from the
Tip of your toe
To the tip of you
Hair and he surveys
Every inch of
Your flesh-territories
Obeys your wishes
Takes your command
And your desires
In full obeisance
Like a slave
He breathes deeply taking the strengths
Of a hundred bulls
He breathes in the force of the forests
And the trees
And taking all the grace in you
He thrusts at you like a storm
A strong wind
You are at the center of his power
You are loved you are not destroyed
You are one beautiful weakness giving in
To this force his strength his thrusts
And when this coiling
These bombardments
These lovely conquests
Are over
As he eats whatever
He needs to make
His fill
Of your love
Famished as he is
To his longings
Of you
Like an overfed boa
He lies next to you
His eyes gentle
His hands so tender
Resting on your breast
Caressing your thighs like a soft wind
A soft breeze from the green trees of the valleys
His lips to your nipples
You are warm and wet
In so sweet still warm embrace
It is over
He is exhausted
And you are
Satiated.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Passion of a Man
His fingers are strong and determined
And when he loves you
He chases, and follows you wherever you go
Like a river flowing like a brown river flooding
Scurrying its way to the mouth
Of the sea
Taking the least of resistance
But if obstructed
Like the river
There will be an overflowing
A strong raging of the waters
Of his fury
Taking everything
Houses trees fowls
Children, men, and women
And boulders
And lands
Those that block his way
His arms embrace you
And he suffocates you with the pungent odor
Of his masculine love
He breathes deeply saving all his strength
He holds you tight
His chiseled muscled body pressed
Against yours
He bends he stands he kneels he bends
Again he bows to you
Touches you from the
Tip of your toe
To the tip of you
Hair and he surveys
Every inch of
Your flesh-territories
Obeys your wishes
Takes your command
And your desires
In full obeisance
Like a slave
He breathes deeply taking the strengths
Of a hundred bulls
He breathes in the force of the forests
And the trees
And taking all the grace in you
He thrusts at you like a storm
A strong wind
You are at the center of his power
You are loved you are not destroyed
You are one beautiful weakness giving in
To this force his strength his thrusts
And when this coiling
These bombardments
These lovely conquests
Are over
As he eats whatever
He needs to make
His fill
Of your love
Famished as he is
To his longings
Of you
Like an overfed boa
He lies next to you
His eyes gentle
His hands so tender
Resting on your breast
Caressing your thighs like a soft wind
A soft breeze from the green trees of the valleys
His lips to your nipples
You are warm and wet
In so sweet still warm embrace
It is over
He is exhausted
And you are
Satiated.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Narcissus
Since the great, glad greeting of dawn from the eastern hills
Triumphant ran with a shout to the woods below,
With the song in his ears of the clearly clamoring rills
He has lain, like a man of snow,
Slender and straight as the joyous immortals are made,
Born of woman, but born with the grace of a god.
Unheeded airs, caressingly cool, have played
With his hair, and the nymphs have trod
Close to his side, and have kissed him, waiting to flee—
But Narcissus, what recketh he?
In the pool where the lithe fish flashes and slips
From his covert to snap at the careless, fluttering flies,
Narcissus has seen the curve of his drooping lips,
And, like mirrored miniature heavens, his shining eyes.
And a flush like a dew-dipped rose has dyed the pool,
He has laid his cheek to the ripples cool;
Brow touches brow, lips lips, and his eyes of violet roam
Down through the crystal depths. In the darkening dome
The stars shine forth from their faint, far ways,
Trimming their lamps; and, from the purple haze,
The moon, cloud-veiled, her circle just complete,
Wan as a travail-spent mother, plants her feet
On the carpeted hills, and fearful of change
Seeks her reflected face in the sea’s southward range—
But Narcissus, what recketh he?
Narcissus, Narcissus, where is thy boyish bloom,
Thy long, slim form that lay beside the pool,
And the lips cold smiling to their smiling image cool?
Narcissus!
Only a strange, indefinite perfume,
And a dim white spot in the night when soft airs blow;
A flower, bending, bending low
Its petals and its yellow heart to where the waters flow;
Its scent the winds have borne
Through the pearl-gray east to the arms of morn,
To faint and to die in the wakening light—
But of time’s swift flight, the dawn, and the noon, and the night,
The sun’s gold glory, the moon’s white mystery,
Narcissus, what recketh he?
poem by Guy Wetmore Carryl from The Garden of Years and Other Poems (1896)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Lily Bed
His cedar paddle, scented, red,
He thrust down through the lily bed;
Cloaked in a golden pause he lay,
Locked in the arms of the placid bay.
Trembled alone his bark canoe
As shocks of bursting lilies flew
Thro' the still crystal of the tide,
And smote the frail boat's birchen side;
Or, when beside the sedges thin
Rose the sharp silver of a fin;
Or when, a wizard swift and cold,
A dragon-fly beat on in gold
And jewels all the widening rings
Of waters singing to his wings;
Or, like a winged and burning soul,
Dropped from the gloom an oriole
On the cool wave, as to the balm
Of the Great Spirit's open palm
The freed soul flies. And silence clung
To the still hours, as tendrilts hung,
In darkness carven, from the trees,
Sedge-buried to their burly knees.
Stillness sat in his lodge of leaves;
Clung golden shadows to its eaves,
And on its cone-speced floor, like maize,
Red-ripe, fell sheaves of knotted rays.
The wood, a proud and crested brave;
Bead-bright, a maiden, stood the wave.
And he had spoke his soul of love
With voice of eagle and of dove.
Of loud, strong pines his tongue was made;
His lips, soft blossoms in the shade,
That kissed her silver lips--hers cool
As lilies on his inmost pool--
Till now he stood, in triumph's rest,
His image painted in her breast.
One isle 'tween blue and blue did melt,--
A bead of wampum from the belt
Of Manitou--a purple rise
On the far shore heaved to the skies.
His cedar paddle, scented, red,
He drew up from the lily bed;
All lily-locked, all lily-locked,
His light bark in the blossoms rocked.
Their cool lips round the sharp prow sang,
Their soft clasp to the frail sides sprang,
With breast and lip they wove a bar.
Stole from her lodge the Evening Star;
With golden hand she grasped the mane
Of a red cloud on her azure plain.
It by the peaked, red sunset flew;
Cool winds from its bright nostrils blew.
They swayed the high, dark trees,and low
Swept the locked lilies to and fro.
With cedar paddle, scented, red,
He pushed out from the lily bed.
poem by Isabella Valancy Crawford
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To Prepare for You
To prepare for you
I scrub the soles of my feet
and cut my toenails.
I wash and brush my hair
Flicking it out with my fingers
so each strand will dry fast and sweet
in the breeze of the ceiling fan.
I smooth oil on my elbows, thighs, and knees;
brushing oil from my palms
over my nipples
so they’ll stick to your fingers.
I wrap myself in a silky sarong
choose a cunning earring
which will jangle in your bed
when I shake my hair over you.
Will you notice that I’ve cut my hair?
One side is longer than the other
but I won’t neaten it.
I’ll wear the earring on the long side.
I streak perfume through my hair.
Bought near the Jain temple
in Udaipur
palest green scent distilled from a root
dissolved in oil of sandalwood
Last time I left you
I could smell you in my hair all day.
poem by Kaye Aldenhoven
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Im Never Gonna Let You Go
Lets turn the lights down soft and low
And watch the fire embers glow
Lets lock the world outside the door
This is the night weve been waiting for
The moon is shining through the window pane
I hear the echo of a passing train
Taking someones lover far away
But in your arms is where I wanna stay
Tonight Im the luckiest man in the world
Wrapped in the arms of a beautiful girl
And now that Ive found you
Im never gonna let you go
Let your hair fall across your breast
Show me the warmth of your soft caress
The musics playin soft and slow
Were driftin into the afterglow
Tonight Im the luckiest man in the world
Wrapped in the arms of a beautiful girl
And now that Ive found you
Im never gonna let you go
Im never gonna let you go
Im never gonna let you go
Im never gonna let you go
song performed by by George Strait
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Of That So Sweet Imprisonment
Of that so sweet imprisonment
My soul, dearest, is fain -- -
Soft arms that woo me to relent
And woo me to detain.
Ah, could they ever hold me there
Gladly were I a prisoner!
Dearest, through interwoven arms
By love made tremulous,
That night allures me where alarms
Nowise may trouble us;
But lseep to dreamier sleep be wed
Where soul with soul lies prisoned.
poem by James Joyce
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In The Shade Of The Green Wood
In the shade of the green wood
The holly does grow,
While in soft rays of sunlight
The wild roses glow,
And I smell their sweet perfume
That gently floats by,
Past trees strong and mighty
That reach to the sky,
The pathway of gold autumn
Leaves still remain,
As I walk through the green wood again.
In the shade of the green wood
This bright sunny morn,
That's so cool in the shadows
A new day is born,
All the birds in the treetops
Are singing for me,
Sweet songs of the summer
Which fill me with glee,
And know from its beauty
I never shall part,
For the green wood does live in my heart.
In the shade of the green wood
A soft gentle breeze,
Now caresses the branches
And whispers through trees,
A sound reassuring
Shall carry me to,
All the scenes that exist
In each marvellous view,
It's here that my spirit
Shall always now stay,
And the green wood is guiding my way.
poem by Andrew Blakemore
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The Sun Has Long Been Set
The sun has long been set,
The stars are out by twos and threes,
The little birds are piping yet
Among the bushes and the trees;
There's a cuckoo, and one or two thrushes,
And a far-off wind that rushes,
And a sound of water that gushes,
And the cuckoo's sovereign cry
Fills all the hollow of the sky.
Who would go `parading'
In London, `and masquerading',
On such a night of June
With that beautiful soft half-moon,
And all these innocent blisses?
On such a night as this is!
poem by William Wordsworth
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Beautiful Irish Dreamer
Beautiful dreamer who wake in the morn
Love and sweet passion, wait here with the dawn
Sounds of the morning, come with the day
Ill' kiss your sweet lips, here in the hay
Beautiful dreamer the Queen, for whom i do long
Lie in the soft sunlight, on this beautiful day
Soft is your heartbeat, that beat so strong
Beautiful dreamer, for whom i do long
Beautiful dreamer, who bathe in the sea
Like Mermaids sunbaking, on a rock made for thee
Over the water my love is born free
Beautiful dreamer girl of my song
Beautiful dreamer for whom i do long
Life is so sad now, now that your gone
Love has left us gone with the dawn
Beautiful dreamer, let me dream on
Beautiful dreamer, please wait for me
poem by Allan James Saywell
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Pussy Willows, Cat Tails
Pussywillows, cat-tails, soft winds and roses
Rainbows in the woodland, water to my knees
Shivering, quivering, the warm breath of spring
Pussywillows, cat-tails, soft winds and roses
Catbirds and cornfields, daydreams together
Riding on the roadside the dust gets in your eyes
Reveling, disheveling, the summer nights can bring
Pussywillows, cat-tails, soft winds and roses
Slanted rays and colored days, stark blue horizons
Naked limbs and wheatbins, hazy afternoons
Voicing, rejoicing, the wine cups do bring
Pussywillows, cat-tails, soft winds and roses
Harsh nights and candlelights, woodfires a-blazin
Soft lips and fingertips resting in my soul
Treasuring, remembering, the promise of spring
Pussywillows, cat-tails, soft winds and roses
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Body Of Lies
frankly, i do not need
a lot of dawning light
for me to see clearly
your body of lies.....
i do not wish to see
each curve and whiteness
of each soft skin and
smooth edge of your
fingers,
your neck that
smells like perfume
of those night
blooming flowers...
it is so beautiful when
felt than seen...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Psalm for 9-11 (dedicated to Fr. Mychal Judge)
I hear your soft voice
In the hushed evening breeze
as gentle wind fills
these tall, murmuring trees.
For you're never too far;
your soft breath I can feel.
My soul stirs with faith
that no anger can steal.
Through the cold, empty night
you fill my dark soul.
Your brilliant light breaks
death's harsh hold.
In the morning I'll hear
your clear voice proclaim
that my life you've restored,
bitter tears wiped away.
poem by Steven Federle
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Time sneaks past so quickly
Time sneaks past so quickly
when you lie next to me
and I would like to have it different.
The dark night throws long shadows
that draws fingers over your cheeks
and the intimate smell
of you and me
is like the scent of rain
that brings new life.
You big breasts are pointed and soft
and I feel every time
that you take a breath
and soft hot air
blows against my cheek
like a confession,
that still catches
the earlier passion.
Somewhere in the late night
your whole body
lies hot against mine
and your auburn hair
tickles my face,
while your soft and warm lips
find mine
and it’s blissful
to have you against me once more.
poem by Gert Strydom
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So Soft
Held in your arms in the back seat,
Cruising down the main street,
How can anyone have such little defense?
You're soft.
In between the sheets, left in limbo,
Covered me like the pillow
I can hardly tell the difference.
You're soft,
So soft.
To be, to be with you
I'd leave everything.
But I don't know how to deal with you.
I swear you'd fall like a feather if I was cruel.
Love would melt me like hot butter.
You're soft,
So soft.
To be, to be with you
I'd do anything.
Walking down the street, brushing arms,
You're moonlight dancing.
I try hard to keep my feelings in.
You're soft.
Dancing to the music, so low.
I knead you like dough.
How can anyone be so loving
And soft,
So soft?
To be, to be with you
I'd leave everything.
But I don't know how to deal with you.
I swear you'd fall like a feather if I was cruel.
You melt me like hot butter.
You're soft,
So soft.
To be, to be with you
I'd do anything.
song performed by by Kate Bush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hidden Charms
Her lips are sweet
Her legs are big
Her looks can make you
Dance the jig
Her touch is so soft
Her heart is so warm
What knocks me out
Is your hidden charms
Her voice is so soft
Her love is so true
I think about her
Thats all I do
Shes weak and wanton
In my arms
What moves me darling
Is your hidden charms
When I hold you
In my arms
Brings out all of your
Hidden charms
Her kiss is so pure
As the morning dew
A real gone love
Is exciting too
Her eyes that talk
They say cmon
What kills me baby
Is your hidden charms
When I hold you
In my arms
Brings out all of your
Hidden charms
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Putting in the seed
Your body is soft and hot
where you lie,
stretched out on the bed.
Every part of your body
draws my eyes
and somehow there’s more,
than just need and lust
that awakes between us.
Two mounts with tipped peaks
rise up and down
and respond to soft touch
and your neck is slender
and slim under my lips.
You shiver as I touch your ears
and something in your eyes
make my manhood raise
and your soft fingers
lingers magically over me.
A curling patch
with tuffs of black hair
draws my fingers,
down to the hot and soft intensity
of becoming part of you.
a Hallowed moment hangs
between us
and when I enter you
there’s magic,
that envelops me
and we twist and rise
and sway
and your cries and moans
drives me wild
and I feel you shudder
under me
and the seed frizzes out.
Moments drag on and on
and I am putting the seed
into fertile ground
and I hear you breathe
and feel your heart beat
as part of me
and I am yours
and your hair brushes
soft and tickling
over my cheek
and there’s sparks
deep down in your golden eyes
and somehow I can feel God
in the love between us.
poem by Gert Strydom
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My heart is slave of morning scene
serene is the dawn and calm mind...
soft is the grass with drops of dew
clouds are grey on the sky blue
flowers fresh and trees look kind
breeze is never so soft as now
unmindful of all it's jollity and fun
heedless of all, it constantly runs
innocent buds will face it-but how?
birds are singing without any fear
using jargon take God's name
the sun is peeping through its frame
in such moments HE looks near
my heart is slave of morning scene
finer, fragrant, cool and clean...
poem by Shahzia Batool
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I know that you really love me
You press my hand
against you chest
and I feel life,
pulsing through you
and your hand
is soft on mine.
The smell of your hair
goes through to my soul
and your breath
is hot in my neck,
while I draw you
deeper into my arms.
It’s nice to have you
right against me
while we are lying wedged up
and I feel a nipple,
coming alive
and become hard under my fingers.
There’s intenseness in our kisses
and my tongue
braids around yours
and your skin is soft
under my fingers
and I see sparks
in your golden green eyes.
The picture on the TV
takes its own route
and we are unaware of it,
while love and lust and passion
are steaming between us.
When you lie soft against me
and I disappear in the depths
of your golden eyes,
I know that you really love me.
poem by Gert Strydom
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