Anna - the story of a love
The Indians say
that the eater is the eaten.
We caught each other's eye
across a crowded room...
she with her mates,
but blushed in my direction...
and when I looked at her,
she glowed
and I glowed.
She too was ripe for passion.
We couldn't be kept apart;
later in the privacy of my room
my lips sought her unsullied bloom,
the irresistible downiness of her young skin
and soon that soft skin
was moist with passion
as we consumed each other,
and were subsumed in unity.
Now I have died two deaths from love:
first consumed by desire, then
consumed by pleasure.
What a peach she was.
Hey, seize the moment -
there's another in the bowl.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Related quotes
In a Boast Stayed Boosted
Consumed,
With a self hatred.
And makes more room....
For a mind to sit,
Assuming doom.
Consumed,
With a self hatred.
And makes more room....
For a mind to sit,
Assuming doom.
Eyes on demise!
With fire and brimstone in their sights.
And tantillized by cries of crisis.
To observe with a wish not to grow from it.
That validates misfits witnessed!
Consumed,
With a self hatred.
And makes more room....
For a mind to sit,
Assuming doom.
Consumed,
With a self hatred.
And makes more room....
For a mind to sit,
Assuming doom.
Proud,
To be among those rowdy!
Those who show no benefit,
That comes to those who stir conflict.
And gloom is a boast stayed boosted.
That feeds upon such limitness,
Of those who love it on their minds and lips.
And...
Consumed,
With a self hatred.
To observe with a wish not to grow from it.
That validates misfits witnessed!
And proud,
To be among those rowdy!
Those who show no benefit,
That comes to those who stir conflict.
And proud,
To be among those rowdy!
Those who show no benefit,
That comes to those who stir conflict.
And proud,
To be among those rowdy!
Those who show no benefit,
That comes to those who stir conflict.
And giving up more attitude...
To those who view them useless,
And...
Consumed,
In a boast stayed boosted!
And ready to be roosters noosed...
Plucked to be served after roasting,
With a juice or good brew!
And...
Consumed,
In a boast stayed boosted!
And...
Consumed,
In a boast stayed boosted!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Storm night
Outside the wind moved in the vegetation
and the smell of love and rain filled the air
and your body glowed hot against mine.
In the room it was icy cold
and I felt your heart vibrate in your nipple
and our feelings were intense new and age old.
Tree branches moved ghostly while the storm wind blew
and you completed me perfectly.
Outside the wind moved in the vegetation
like leaves in a wood.
You were laying with your head on my chest
and I felt your heart vibrate in your nipple
and I was engrossed with you
enveloped in another world
and your body glowed hot against mine
and you said very little in the night
as if words were superfluous.
You were laying with your head on my chest
and started breathing evenly and weary
sleep carried you off.
Outside the wind moved in the vegetation
and you fitted perfectly in my arms,
at times you opened your eyes and looked at me
as if words were superfluous.
Like a river that at first drips and then flows stormy
passion again gripped us
and your body glowed hot against mine
and to me you were lovely, far past pretty,
we were caught in intense joy,
at times you opened your eyes and looked at me,
and I sprayed you with my seed
and in passion you screamed and twisted.
Outside the wind moved in the vegetation
and your body glowed hot against mine
as if emotions were driven to a knife’s edge
in the room it was icy cold,
we were caught in intense joy
and our feelings were intense new and age old.
[Reference: You were laying with your head on my chest by Gert Strydom.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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It Doesn't Take a Rocket Scientist
The duality of false representation,
Eventually shows the origin...
From where it has been created.
Consumed by ego,
Is their downfall!
And it doesn't take a rocket scientist,
To connect the culprits to their deeds.
Consumed by ego,
Is their downfall!
There is a trail of incompetence,
Wherever they go...
With a wish to get acknowledgement,
And undeserving praise.
Consumed by ego,
Is their downfall!
And unfortunate are those,
Committed to follow.
Consumed by ego,
Is their downfall!
And shoulders to cry on,
They seek to weep.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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As iron is eaten away by rust, so the envious are consumed by their own passion.
quote by Antisthenes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Masterpiece
Within the passion of your kiss I feel your soft sweet lips,
I caress your skin so gently with my loving fingertips.
I hear your cries of mercy and it stirs my very soul,
Your body is soft putty, a masterpiece for me to mould.
Frantic grasping touches mixed with loving longing sounds,
Strokes of wanton desire wrapped in passion that surrounds.
Trembling with desire that flows through us feeding on our lust,
Content within our being, we embrace the one we trust.
Pressure from my hands as now I begin to play,
Tremours of desire rip right through us as we lay.
Your breath it is suspended as my tongue now travels far,
It gives such a sweet sensation and you shine now like a star.
We are lost within the moment as our bodies do compress,
An electrifying sensation, your skin pressing on my chest.
The wetness of your tongue feels the prescence of my heat,
Our bodies are on fire as the two of us do meet.
There is a desperate hunger that is fueling both our needs,
As two lovers come together both now desperate to feed.
Taking all my passion, wanting, feeling only me,
The joy it is transcended, we become what we can be.
I hear your longing whimpers, the smiling face of you I see,
Watching as you writhe below, you lock your gaze on me.
Clutching fingers tightly there's heat and passion in this room,
Your eyes can see right through me, in you I long to be comsumed.
Pounding hearts beat faster, beads of sweat begin to drop,
Lost within a moment that neither one of us can to stop.
I bite your lips as we kiss and pull upon your hair,
Our bodies move in rythm in the steamy humid air.
The moment is upon us cries of passion grip us now,
As within each thrusting motion we release not knowing how.
As we lay within each other we remember what has been,
We lay looking in each others eyes, the dream it was so keen.
Within the passion of your kiss, I felt your soft sweet lips,
I caressed your skin so gently with my loving fingertips.
I heard your cries of mercy and it stirred my very soul,
Your body was soft putty a masterpiece that I did mould...
Spread the love... The peace will follow...
poem by Cosmic Dreamer
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A Passion Gone
things that we like to
do never tire us
it is the tiredness
that surrenders
this passion makes us
alive
desire stirs us like
a big whirlpool after a tsunami
it is this quest
that makes us indefatigable
but when every passion is gone
every desire consumed
what is left is nothing
there is no reason to live
and we find ourselves
dying to be dead...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Consumed (Stream III)
The consumer consumed
Like a snake eating its tail.
The worm in the bud,
The rotten apple,
Rotten to the core,
No core.
A corpse eaten inside out.
Outside the circle,
Circling in for the kill,
Killing time
Time to kill.
We slowly die
Outside in,
In need,
We are addicted.
Waiting for our next fix,
Try to fix it
Mr Fix It.
We're in a fix.
With fixed gaze
We watch the ads.
The ads add,
Add to our wants.
Feed our addictions
With sugar and technology.
A hunger we cannot satisfy
Dissatisfied we die inside.
We are subsumed,
The consumer consumed.
P H Brookes Copyright 2012
poem by Paul Brookes
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Peach
Soft is the
Skin
Of the ripe peach,
So gently,
I will coarse
My
Innocent hands
Through
It's fine hair
Caressing
It's
Curving surface.
How
I wish for a bite.
Soft is the
Skin
Of the ripe peach.
Sweet it is
To savor.
In
My hand, I hold
It,
Waiting to
Treasure it's
Taste.
My tongue is teased.
How
I wish for a bite.
poem by Tim Stensloff
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Bed of Lavender and Lilac
It is my extraordinary pleasure
To feel the hem
Of her blue dress
As the sunlight dances
On her soft, shoulder-length hair
In the delicate afternoon.
I have child-like eagerness
To kiss her wine-touched lips
In the magical moment of desire
When I place my hands
On her sweet and girlish hips
And I begin to slowly taste
The warmth and passion
Of her exciting perfumed skin.
I will transform myself
Into the most perfect lover
She ever undressed with
In a room full of flowers;
She will not forget
When our bodies met
On a bed of lavender and lilac.
poem by Uriah Hamilton
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Brave Passion
Brave passion whose fire
is quenched by another’s reason.
The journey to the light of love
is consumed with agendas.
Other paths and presentations
dim and darken the way.
He’s angry who does not
find an easy path to joy
chance might place
within an easy grasp
one whom she can persuade.
Knowing pain and pleasure
at passion’s passing.
Thy love is a binding treat,
It is as wiley as a wood nymphs
path one attempts its capture.
For more than a span of time
Beings run wild to attain it
Kisses grown cold from lack of use
Heat quickly when love’s embrace
lights the embers of desire.
Brave passion thee are not
forgotten only left to glide
In space between duty and desire.
For the span of day let passion reign
and reason chase duty to the edge
of reason’s blessed disaster.
poem by Sandra LampeMartin
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Shivering With Passion
Shivering with passion
Shivering with passion
As soon as his lips on mine
Lust creeps up my whole spine
His large hands playing on me
All inches of body aching for more
Keep up your powerful skill
Withdraw my resistance out
To make me without any will
Just panting for him
Shivering with passion
Total body compatibility
No other way of serenity
Let it be let lust overcome
Any hidden upcoming fear
Throw and shut it out of mind
This passion is burning me blind
his touching with such dexterity
Absolute tremendous sensuality
Shivering with passion
For the moment nothing counts
Than feeling his real desire
Taking my body as part of his
Demanding responding his way
Waves of pleasures splashing
Into my very internal caves
Nobody ever did it so right
Till his soft open lips aroused mine
Shivering with passion
When starting to wet within
Asking for more to be explored
Pit in my stomach vibrations
Tongues searching to restore
Lost sensible sensations
Stretching in wonderful ways
Whole of myself arching
In pain to absolute surrender
Shivering with passion
Only once in lifetime can one find
Such a total flesh connection
This thirst and hunger of mine
To renew the encounters
More and many more times
How will I ever have the strength
To leave this outbursting lovemaking
Once consumed behind
I shall always shiver with
A certain kind of passion
When in the future surfaces
sudden warm thoughts of that
love making of the past
poem by Morhardt Carmen Mencita Monoi Angel
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Skin
Have you ever thought about the skin,
And how the only thing keeping from one being slipping into another,
Being consumed by, and consuming them completely, is skin?
Have you ever felt someones skin against yours,
So close to being one entity,
Yet restricted by skin.
Such a small thing,
They keeps us from being entirely one,
An organ that keeps our organs separate, apart.
It's depressing in a way,
That two people can become so close they feel each other melding together,
Yet the skin remains a boundary between one and the other.
Maybe that's what happens when we die,
The last barrier removed from the equation,
Allowing us to finally unite with our other half, complete and entirely, together.
poem by Bethany Maxwell
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Desire’s deserving
Does the lion deserve the bison
That he chased and consumed?
Does the man deserve the woman
That he chased and consumed?
Are they criminals? Must they be
Punished? Desire does not care
If it deserves what it desires.
27.10.2009
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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I think people become consumed with selling a book when they need to be consumed with writing it.
quote by Ann Patchett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Romantic Feeling
Feeling romantic is quite a strange feeling
A feeling that really has no meaning
A feeling aroused by the spark of passion
That grows like fire and engulfs your emotions
Till you feel a partial end has come..
To an infinite craving..which appeared like a storm..
Of deep seated desires..and left behind absolutely nothing..
But for a little more craving…
For the same old pleasure or pain..
As we scamper towards a mirage like goal in vain
Our mind is consumed by these distant targets
Which we want to shedoff but just can’t forget
As these impossible thoughts keep knocking
Deep within our subconscious self
We feel the pain but just can’t help
We feel the pleasure one simply can’t share
But can cherish and treasure for a few moments in life
In vivid fantasies of our romantic strifes
It is all up there within our minds
A romantic feeling …it’s truly unkind
It kisses and flogs your heart and senses
It breaks through all your mental defences
The craving remains etched forever
As you stride ahead an inch nearer to nowhere
But somewhere in the mind
In a romantic love state that is blind
Making love to your stars on the silver screen
As you kiss their lips and feel their skin
You may waltz with the moon..or challenge death
Or converse with God..to keep the faith
To be the earthy fragrance of moist soil
Or to be the sensuous perfume of some scented oil
Or to be the lifeless oil itself..that gives the glow
To some soft fair skin..a desire for another sin..
You may want to feel the pain, which others have felt
Go through the same emotions somebody else has dealt
You may cling to your sweetheart pillow and cry all night
You may want to break a wall with all your might
You may be a rock star in a barren piece of land
You may not have a guitar and you may not have a band
You may love someone you’ll never see
But will be in love with the imageries of her facial glee
As I scribble down the thoughts..the verses don’t come
In my turgid heart..I feel lonesome
I may have whatever I want
But I still don’t have that something that haunts..
That haunts me! …over and over again…
Like a poem or a song that has no end
poem by Avik Datta Gupta
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The art of living
at the center of my room
delight
on fresh roses
like your
red lips
on my bed
soft and warm silk blankets
strawberry juice on the side table
and cherry on the
glass
the window is open
fresh air from the sea
cools the room
silence is gold here
and solitude is silver
every moment is
a moment
every hour is not a rush
but on softer touch
every inch of skin
is a caress
every thought is
beautiful
every reality is true
embracing and embraced
this is the art of living
every second a relaxation
sleep comes on cat's feet
like a cloud drifting away
peace in the corner
privacy in my door
and yes, love is always
air-conditioned.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Wanting
She can't help it
The wanting of him
A simple glimpse
Across a crowd
She hides her smile
As her imagination
Goes
Into
Overdrive
Goosebumps rise
Along her flesh
Somewhere deep
A quickening begins
Her heartbeat accelerates
Her blood warms and
Begins to pulsate
As she
Holds on
Always
Yearning
Wondering
If he kissed her
Would she moan
As his mouth consumed her
Enslaved her
As his hands touched her
Caressed her flesh
His nearness makes it difficult to breathe
All of her wishes
To melt into him
Reach out and
Touch
A glimpse of her
Across a room
Leaves
Him
Wanting
Wanting to
Reach out and touch
To hold her face in his hands
Brush the tip of his thumb
Across her soft lips
Caress her skin
Let his hand travel
Travel
Across her throat
Feel her pulse
As it glides
To the back of her head
Grab a fist full of raven hair
Tilt her head back
Look into her languid eyes
Her parted lips
And trace kisses along her flesh
As she forgets
How to breathe
Their wanting of each other
Is hidden well
In the ease and flow
Of a crowded room
Maybe neither knowing
Neither certain
Both aware of the other
Both
Wanting.
poem by Rabia Minhas
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Lost in the afterglow
fireworks sparks
whenever we make love
you caress me in the dark
though not completely roman candles are lit
your love light a fire and
my hearts consumed in its flames
I burn with tender passion and
I surrender to you
Hearing the sound of your voice
easily puts me in a trance
seducing me
whispering sensual words into my ear
and your loving eyes would study my beauty
as your fingers travel my body like a road map
lips meeting mines as we'd kiss passionately
and a night of romance and passion would ensue
you got me so in love, kissing you
A nights full of pleasure
provided me with a lifetime of happiness
It's these moments that my heart treasures
poem by Marcquiese Burrell
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Consumed Within the Process
Consumed within the process
That process we call life.
Immuned? Not from this process.
It keeps the vision near yet uncompromised.
And far enough to become realized.
Consumed.
Within the process.
That process called life!
Don't assume...
This process,
Is a process you can't like!
Consumed.
Within the process.
That process called life!
Don't assume...
This process,
Is a process you can't like!
Consumed.
Within the process.
That process called life!
Don't assume...
This process,
Is a process you can't like!
Consumed within the process.
That process we call life.
Immuned?
Not from this process!
It keeps the vision near yet uncompromised.
And far enough to become realized.
Closing its eyes only when it wishes,
To call itself out!
Consumed.
Within the process.
That process called life!
Don't assume...
This process,
Is a process you can't like!
Consumed.
Within the process.
That process called life!
Don't assume...
This process,
Is a process you can't like!
It keeps the vision in precision,
Until it's in 'all' sights.
Consumed.
Within the process.
That process called life!
Don't assume...
This process,
Is a process you can't like!
Consumed.
Within the process.
That process called life!
Don't assume...
This process,
Is a process you can't like!
It keeps the vision in precision,
Until it's in 'all' sights.
Consumed.
Within the process.
Just consumed.
Within the process this process.
Consumed.
Within the process.
That process called life!
Don't assume...
This process,
Is a process you can't like!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Growing And Aging....
growing up
is to know what a ripe
fruit is,
the skin turns yellow
flesh soft
orange spots appear
sort of
wrinkled matter,
you mellow
down
and exude that
responsible scent
of maturity
that sweet flavor
of surrender
you know what happens
next to
the ripening
you fall, and there is
no regret
it just happens that
way
as natural as
what this world
takes
without question
or complaint
a kind hand picks you
up
your want to be
desired
to be consumed
wholly
is now perfected.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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