Blistered Passions
Blistered passions,
Rising in sweet heat.
Lays to simmer when the panting,
Soothes to cool...
A recovery to repeat.
Those blistered passions,
Are just too hard to ration.
After one kissed lips...
Is promised,
More comes after this.
Blistered passions,
Unmatched is the attraction.
Soft touches leads to snatching...
With a grabbing to unwrap.
Blistered passions,
Unmatched is the attraction.
Soft touches leads to snatching...
With a grabbing to unwrap.
Those blistered passions,
Are just too hard to ration.
After one kissed lips...
More come to follow this.
Blistered passions,
Rising in sweet heat.
Lays to simmer when the panting,
Soothes to cool...
A recovery to repeat.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Related quotes
Domestic Violence
Burned to a crisp,
And blistered by it.
Some may not come to expect,
A direct announcement one might get.
From one sharing a relationship...
That time has come,
For the two of them to split!
Burned to a crisp,
And blistered by it.
Some signs are subtle.
Like an introduction made,
Of a new face someone has laid.
Under unusual circumstances.
When a spouse or a mate...
Is caught in broad daylight,
Making obvious advances.
Other signs are more direct!
Like catching a spouse or a mate,
Making arrangements for a date!
And that date shows up...
To immediately strip,
And both expose naked butts!
THIS is a 'clue'...
Someone has been fooling around,
On you!
And cares less what it is you do!
I would think this relationship...
Has lost something 'valued' too!
Wouldn't you?
Burned to a crisp,
And blistered by it.
Some may not come to expect,
A direct announcement one might get.
From one sharing a relationship...
That time has come,
For the two of them to split!
And to prove this...
Someone dares to incite,
Domestic violence!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I kissed a girl
I kissed a girl
and something more was there,
than the touch of lips
and something of her soul
was burning into me.
I kissed a girl
and it was more sweet,
than any kiss before
and it was if that kiss
was meant to be.
I kissed a girl
and knew from somewhere,
that no kiss would ever be
like this again.
I kissed a girl
and was stunned
like by a thunderclap
and she had awakened,
all devils and angels in me.
I kissed a girl
and my passions were
aroused to extremity
and still I wanted to be sweet
and know her better than a friend.
I kissed a girl
and she turned my world
and somehow caught destiny
and I did not want
to ever let her go.
I kissed a girl
and I love her still
and you know,
that the girl are you.
poem by Gert Strydom
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A Poem on Fanciful Passions
The flowing currents
Of sheer savage passions
Awakened a forgotten era
They gate-crashed
To unlock the flow
Inundating whatever
Came their way
Directed yet directionless
The passions recklessly danced
The glow-worm passions
Settled on the night-skin and
By morning turned into
A bouquet of fresh flowers
Secretly nurtured and bloomed
Within a loving and longing heart
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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You can no more bridle passions with logic than you can justify them in the law courts. Passions are facts and not dogmas.
quote by Alexander Herzen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Private passions grow tired and wear themselves out political passions, never.
quote by Alphonse Marie Louis de Lamartine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Of all the worldly passions, lust is the most intense. All other worldly passions seem to follow in its train.
The Great Fires
Love is apart from all things.
Desire and excitement are nothing beside it.
It is not the body that finds love.
What leads us there is the body.
What is not love provokes it.
What is not love quenches it.
Love lays hold of everything we know.
The passions which are called love
also change everything to a newness
at first. Passion is clearly the path
but does not bring us to love.
It opens the castle of our spirit
so that we might find the love which is
a mystery hidden there.
Love is one of many great fires.
Passion is a fire made of many woods,
each of which gives off its special odor
so we can know the many kinds
that are not love. Passion is the paper
and twigs that kindle the flames
but cannot sustain them. Desire perishes
because it tries to be love.
Love is eaten away by appetite.
Love does not last, but it is different
from the passions that do not last.
Love lasts by not lasting.
Isaiah said each man walks in his own fire
for his sins. Love allows us to walk
in the sweet music of our particular heart.
poem by Jack Gilbert
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Of The Blood
it is of the blood,
that we carry, that we turn,
that we walk...
the blood that feels,
and touches,
the raw and the forbidden.
it is of the bood,
that we breathe, that we sweat,
that we join,
in moments of passion,
great and small,
in the simple and mundane.
it is of the blood,
that we drink, that we pray,
that we wear...
on lips parched and blistered,
smeared over the doorway...
the blood that takes back,
that seizes the moment
in the undressing of the heart!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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The first glance at History convinces us that the actions of men proceed from their needs, their passions, their characters and talents and impresses us with the belief that such needs, passions and interests are the sole spring of actions.
quote by Hegel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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All Of The Babies, They Can Feel the World; That's Why They Cry
the ancients could find
comfort in meaning
in paradox and irony
but they didn't know a thing
outside the primal workings
of a manifest god
found in circles and trees
rivers
sunsets
unmovable mountains
the ability to rely
solely on blistered hands
and soft kisses
I can hear a bird sing
as the wind makes all the leaves
in a forest shiver
with a single breath
it's beautiful
but it doesn't mean a thing
to me
my soft hands are as blind
as my hardened lips are numb
to such will
poem by Wes Thompson
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The idea is that the state doesn't have rights to limit individuals' wants and passions. I disagree with that. I think we absolutely have rights because there are consequences to letting people live out whatever wants or passions they desire.
quote by Rick Santorum
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What a mistake to suppose that the passions are strongest in youth! The passions are not stronger, but the control over them is weaker! They are more easily excited, they are more violent and apparent; but they have less energy, less durability, less intense and concentrated power than in the maturer life.
quote by Edward Bulwer-Lytton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What a mistake to suppose that the passions are strongest in youth The passions are not stronger, but the control over them is weaker They are more easily excited, they are more violent and apparent but they have less energy, less durability, less intense and concentrated power than in the maturer life.
quote by Edward Bulwer-Lytton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Only passions, great passions can elevate the soul to great things.
quote by Denis Diderot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Only passions, great passions, can elevate the soul to great things.
quote by Denis Diderot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Yes, My Poems Are Imaginary
these poems tell about despair
and who will ever like despair? you grumble
why can't these poems have
happines as its theme
a poem that like a belly dancer must entertain
weary bedouins
oasis to the thirsty camels
cool green palms to travellers whose feet are dusty
and even blistered
grass to some snakes
and trees to black birds
rest for the night
tent and wine and bread and lyre to our passions
but do not worry my friend
these poems are imaginary
like a garden existing only in our minds
we transport some toads and butterflies
and clouds and sun and tonight
let us have the moon and some glasses of strong wine
let us put our bed outside
in this garden where the moon shines
and creates the silver sheen in our happy faces
we love illusions, we can have all the illusions we need
when we are drunk, when we dance when we are finally drunk
when we even want to make love
when we are drunk & when we make love and we do not choose
whom to kiss and caress and touch an unknown body
with our hands and lips and choose
what we remember and what we do not want to remember
now i want to write
about illusory gardens and imagine despair that despair
has no place and must leave right away
let me
do not hinder me write what i want
about what i can disown
but i assure you, whatever that is, these poems
i am talking to you, as a friend, and even be a lover at the end,
even if the rest are imaginary, and fiction and illusory
i am still real amidst this grumble and rubble
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Swell
Blistered fingers,
Grasp too tightly
Terrified to let go
Unable to give in
For fear of change
And the loss of skin
poem by Stefanie Fontker
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Passions Embrace
As the ember glowed in the fire to heat
so too did the bodies in sweat
for the passions of love that were mingled in lust
burst forth in the sand without shame
The freedom to love in the oceans so pure
unbridled in a passionate thirst
did bring forth a cry of a satisfied soul
that was spent in the heat of the night
The fire that raged now simmered down light
to an simmer of warmth and embrace
and the heat that was strong
now ebbed and subdued, relinquishing all of its lust
When two souls entwine in the spirit of one
all wonders on earth can be seen
and just as the fire that once burned so bright
so does the yearning to release
poem by Marama Kelly
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Kill Me Gently (Acrostic)
Kill me with soft words of love
Irritate both fate and death,
Love Crimson, by killing all she is,
Let love be, but hate with all her passions.
Martyr that of thyne heart
Eat away at every scarred part.
Gorge on the feast I have provided
Eat like a king, you shall behead me the same,
Not all can be loved, but your passionate kill shows the most passion,
Toy with me, my death is evident, yet theres no murder
Let me die quickly as to not suffer your passions anymore,
You finally did it, you killed me with your nothings.
poem by Crimson Love
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To Lori Singer
You send the news of the leaves
when the sky is red brick
Stream your bed on the couch
Between radio and seismograph
Myths and legends ash
News continues on the randomness of your hair
Between exotica and aesthetics
Against heat blistered legs
Running and playing in the rain
'There is no banana leaves here'
Everything is weary brush
but with warm voice...
poem by Imam Setiaji Ronoatmojo
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