En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Her Kiss

He steers hurriedly the hardened handlebar
The light dims out in a cozy red chamber
A door of dreams opens with a moan ajar
A want of breeze lays layer upon layer.

Her dress is colorful but simple and modest
Her jasper hair falls on her white shoulders
He enters her cave beneath the jade forest
An old book on the shelf silently moulders.

Her skin is velvety silk, delicate and smooth
Her eyes brightly glisten, the pearls of Atlantis
One cannot find such jewels in any booth,
Her breasts pomegranates, sweeter than raisins.

Forgive me, he says, for not kissing your mouth
And she smiles and agrees yet somewhat amiss
Then he moves to the door turning to the south
But before he leaves she kisses him on the lips.

poem by Paul Hartal
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The Layers Of My Existence

peel me, not like an onion where you shall cry for every
layer, no, i do not require tears here, at most, you may need
only to smile, and then be so patient, as you peel me
layer by layer, as i watch, and as you carefully peel me
with your bare hands, i will allow it, all for you and your
curiousity,
you discover the erotic layer
and in there exists the desire
for an adventure, the disregarding
of sin, and then peel me further
move on,

find the layer of my
intellect, you shall find what i have
told you all about, my nerves and
common sense, my strivings to go
deeper towards my self, and then

peel me further, you see the bone
of my contentions, my hardened
principles and uncompromises

then peel me further, find the
marrow that makes all the blood
of my life, my sorrows and pains,
my exhilarations and bliss and
joys and happiness, and you will
say there is nothing more to find.

you are wrong. There is this last
peel that you cannot see. It is like
air, and it floats and it gets in,
it always finds an empty space,
and you cannot find it there anymore,

it is now inside you and you cannot
get that out of your system

you must accept this:
i have become
an essential part of you, and there is
nothing now that you can do.

you see, in peeling me, you find
no exit anymore. Whether you
you will be happy or sad, it is
already beyond my control.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Entangled in Her Hair

Her hair
covers my face

she

kisses my mouth
kisses my kisses.

She chuckles.

I stroke her hair.

She sways &
...moves.

Her hair
covers my chest.

She
titillates a nipple

...it tickles.

I run my fingers
through her hair.

She sashays &
...moves.

Her hair
covers my navel

& there...&
there...abouts!

I…almost beside myself
neither...here...nor... there...

Lost in the anywhere
of an everywhere.

I clutch
her hair.

She shimmies &
...moves.

Her hair
covers my crotch.

She
licks it
into shape.

She
goes to say
something

it’s on
the tip of

her tongue.

But, she says nothing
only: “Mmmmm...! ”

& smiles
...smiles.

I close
my eyes.

My hands
entangled in
her hair.

*******

TREAD SOFTLY

We rest on the bed
your head rests against my head
sharing the same dream.

poem by Dónall Dempsey
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A Pearls Worth

Silver pearls fall down her skin
She knows she must do it for she can't stay strong
For all she has to do is count to ten
She knows he's always wrong

Silver pearls fall down her face
In the dead of night, it is so dark
She stands in the room with fear, with hate
In her soul the pain he gave has left its mark

Silver pearls fall on the barrel
As she holds the gun in her hands
For long before this night their love grew stale
And oh how she thinks it is easy to hold life and death in her hands

Silver pearls fall over bruises, the pain
She bites her lip as she counts one... two
In her heart he's left the stain
She looks at his still body three... four

Silver pearls fall as she moves her hands
She walks to his side
In front of his face she stands
As her mind starts the chant 'he lied'

Silver pearls fall five... six
She holds the barrel to his head
Seven... Eight... she moves her feet just to stall
She knows it won't matter for she is already dead

Silver pearls shade her eyes
Nine... she counts on
her mind filled with his lies
Ten... her finger tightens as he opens his eyes

Silver pearls fall as she pulls the trigger, pulls the string
His eyes wonder, as he fades
His mouth moves, and she remembers the thing
Now she only see dark shades

Silver pearls fall as he leaves her, as she turns
Her daughter stands at the door at only six
Her hand turns
Her eyes search through the young girls eyes

Silver pearls fall as she mouths her last breath
The trigger is pulled as she sinks to her knees
The girls screams fill her mind, for she feels the hand of death
And only now she sees

Silver pearls fall as her daughter sinks to the floor
The pearls fill her eyes as she watches her daughter fade into black
She closes those tired eyes for now she knocks at heavens door
It's life she knows she lacked

Silver pearls fall as the rubies of blood over her face
As she goes, and says goodbye
She looks to the light, white as lace
As she rises into the sky

Silver pearls fall as her daughter waits
As she lays there with a cold heart
No feeling, no end, no clean slate
Silver pearls fall as she takes the dart

Silver pearls fall from her daughters eyes
The daughter she shall never hold again, never watch laugh
For now silver perls fall from her eyes
For only she knows the pain that she has left behind

Silver pearls so cold
Siver pearls worth more than gold
Silver pearls that haunt the girls dreams
Silver pearls that fell from her mothers eyes that night

Silver pearls fell down her skin
She knew she must do it for she couldn't stay strong
For all she had to do was count to ten
But now she knows she was wrong, now shes gone, as silver perls fall

(ok yeah this is my longest poems and probibly most confusing, so I guess I will make a summery: a lady was abused by he husband so in the night she kills him and then she turns to see her 6 year old daughter and kills herself and leaves her daughter alone. hope that helps, and I hope you like the poem)

poem by Bethany Maxwell
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Halfway...

halfway
to exhaustion

death is nowhere
to find

one sits on the
grass

meeting beauty
and kissing it

one sleeps with
grace

falls asleep
embracing dreams

halfway a door opens
as gently

as a very delicate
pink bud

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Wings

Wings, like curtains' float,
beneath the morning clothes
Blow the wind like breath
fading on the nest of wools' clouds.
Fire crackle dancing flames at the sun watch.
The morning arms embrace,
the warm nature, starving the day of whitening light,
and at the laugh of your body, trembling at my touch.

I shall find pearls of shells
kissing your roseate breasts
dress by leafs of nubile trees.
Enfold my breath, on the river of your neck,
softly sailing your lips.
So that naked, rising from your spine,
it will make you shine like a chandelier of jewels.

Now the room prays at the light,
at the side of the bad, cold like steel
dizzy like flocks of roses, under the weeping elms.

Your eye's thief s, oh young girl, that stole my heart.
Indiscrete you carry that brat golden smiles, of my youth memories
when my hands whisper like webs, tickling your face.
Hiding on corns fields, of scruffy kisses.

poem by Luca Menin
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for Juvy...

Juvy is a thirsty woman
she is thirty, a widow for three years now
her husband died on a car accident
leaving her with
a daughter

tonight she cannot sleep
her breasts are making fire

she goes out of the house
and finds the brook nearby outside the fence
of her house

when she gets there
it is cold and dark but her breasts are glowing like cinders

she undresses herself
and goes into the water
her breasts are playful on the ripples of the water
she goes deeper
and dives
opens her eyes looking for happiness

she opens her mouth
drinks the fresh water of the brook

she is thirsty and wants to drink
everything

satisfied for now
she goes out of the water
dresses herself again
under the moon

she goes home
opens the door of her room
and with her hair still wait
she lays in bed and begins to sleep

the picture of her husband
is no longer
on top of the table

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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for Juvy...(a little correction)

Juvy is a thirsty woman
she is thirty, a widow for three years now
her husband died on a car accident
leaving her with
a daughter

tonight she cannot sleep
her breasts are making fire

she goes out of the house
and finds the brook nearby outside the fence

when she gets there
it is cold and dark but her breasts are glowing like cinders

she undresses herself
and goes into the water
her breasts are playful on the ripples of the water
she goes deeper
and dives
opens her eyes looking for happiness

she opens her mouth
drinks the fresh water of the brook

she is thirsty and wants to drink
everything

satisfied for now
she goes out of the water
dresses herself again
under the moon

she goes home
opens the door of her room
and with her hair still wet
she lays in bed and begins to sleep

the picture of her husband
is no longer
on top of the table

her decision is to empty
her past and free it from dusts.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Meanings...

scattered
practically (hmm probably)
thoughts are
like dry, yellow, leaves
already unsure
from which twig did it
come from

no one asks about
the history of a leaf
no one

there are too many of them
meant either to be
blown away, buried upon their
own kind,
layer upon layer,
rotting upon one another
or simply just to be burned
heaps of them
turning into smoke
phantoms against
the rains of
dark skies

we are leaves

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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It's toughest to forgive ourselves. So it's probably best to start with other people. It's almost like peeling an onion. Layer by layer, forgiving others, you really do get to the point where you can forgive yourself.

quote by Patty Duke
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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N4

my theory lives thru
as you have said it: these are all lies
lies and more lies
and you know them all to be lies,

but as you said it,
you begin to understand the truth
beneath these lies

a layer of grass
another layer of flowers
another layer of clouds

beneath is the niche
burying the nuggets of
my own wisdom, how i live my life

and justify it later
before God, shall all lies be
truths

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Seeing a Clearer Me

layer by layer
i peel so that
like a glass
you can view me
crystal clear as a virgin river
a polished diamond

decades of
practice for those
seasoned fingers
to strike at her core
to bring out those few
beethoven scores
he tuned up the world for

a great watch maker
filing his cog to tighten time
the precision of mind
to keep a universal lie at bay

verse by verse
layer by layer
i peel to get to
the sheen the almighty
laid hidden in me
layer by layer
i peel off the world
to see a clearer me

poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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My Silence Shall Be

i find this in the forest of trees
long trees, shady, such that what you can see
are only shadows of leaves
and what you hear is only the sound of the wind
choked between tight walls,
this is my silence,
moist, and soft, between a growth of wild
ferns
rotten leaves heaps and heaps of
rotten leaves
layer after layer of rotten leaves
thick and pushed still to the roots
smashed to the ground
some seeds from the oaks
or maybe from the flowers of the orchids
or some sweet fruits and red berries fall
in there
and they begin to grow
rich as humus is this soil down
the darkness of this forest,
this is my silence
deep inside me
moist, rotten, but soon
lots shall grow
seeds turning into sprouts
to trees again
perhaps taller than ever
some fruits so sweet and colored and shiny
some flowers scented and so lovely,
this my silence
shall be, i am keeping it for years

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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84

my silence shall be

i find this in the forest of trees
long trees, shady, such that what you can see
are only shadows of leaves
and what you hear is only the sound of the wind
choked between tight walls,
this is my silence,
moist, and soft, between a growth of wild
ferns
rotten leaves heaps and heaps of
rotten leaves
layer after layer of rotten leaves
thick and pushed still to the roots
smashed to the ground
some seeds from the oaks
or maybe from the flowers of the orchids
or some sweet fruits and red berries fall
in there
and they begin to grow
rich as humus is this soil down
the darkness of this forest,
this is my silence
deep inside me
moist, rotten, but soon
lots shall grow
seeds turning into sprouts
to trees again
perhaps taller than ever
some fruits so sweet and colored and shiny
some flowers scented and so lovely,
this my silence
shall be, i am keeping it for years

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Faces and layers of faces

At first, this is the face I will show you
Shallow, thin, smooth
Then we feel each other, like some kind of
New found friends, I
Take another layer, and tell you, this is my face,
Some scars, and lines of age, and furrows,
Then we write many emails, and remember
Common things, like a certain familiarity,
Another layer is taken and exposed,
The face of a sick man, with some
Disappointments in his mind,
Some wounds, wrinkles, and so you
Think, are there other layers of faces still
To show,
Deeper, deeper is there another layer to show
Another face of this man?
Yes, there is another layer, more faces
Hidden underneath each layer,
As we go on, learning from ourselves,
And me learning from myself,
I will be digging for more faces,
Because I am never static
I am growing, and for each growth
Like molting
Another face comes out

Soon, I hope, I must come out
With the most beautiful face
The we can be both proud of,

It is just a matter of time
Depending on how well you have loved me.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Thirteen

At first, this is the face I will show you
Shallow, thin, smooth
Then we feel each other, like some kind of
New found friends, I
Take another layer, and tell you, this is my face,
Some scars, and lines of age, and furrows,
Then we write many emails, and remember
Common things, like a certain familiarity,
Another layer is taken and exposed,
The face of a sick man, with some
Disappointments in his mind,
Some wounds, wrinkles, and so you
Think, are there other layers of faces still
To show,
Deeper, deeper is there another layer to show
Another face of this man?
Yes, there is another layer, more faces
Hidden underneath each layer,
As we go on, learning from ourselves,
And me learning from myself,
I will be digging for more faces,
Because I am never static
I am growing, and for each growth
Like molting
Another face comes out

Soon, I hope, I must come out
With the most beautiful face
The we can be both proud of,

It is just a matter of time
Depending on how well you have loved me

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Bouquet

Come in the evening,
on the lake.
Together we will watch
the sunset.

Some unsung lines have been left
on our lips.
Some fractured smiles,
and some unwashed tears,
on the misty cheeks.

Sadness was stuck
in our reddened eyes.
Layer by layer
I want to wipe it.
A song, a reed, I will arrange
in a bouquet
in the name of redundant past
holding the unblemished time.

Come, when it is dark
in the night.
Together we will watch
the moonrise.

poem by Satish Verma
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Star of Bethlehem

‘Will you come again? ’
I asked you that evening
Your steps moved silently
Towards the door
The setting sun by then
Stealthily entered through
The door ajar
All set to grab you
The floor under my feet
Felt damp
Dusk, gathering its shadows

The question silently repeated
As silently as the stars that
Revealed themselves
On the fading sky

You turned your head
Standing one step
Outside the door
Your eyes twinkled
As those stars

Hope hoisted
A star-like flag…

poem by Indira Babbellapati
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She Enters My Garden

Red wolf has come
Drizzle of madness in the forest
Pulled into your blue deep sea
Shrunken into a clock with doors
Peer into the poppies of Shangri
Chagrin with the tolling bells
Sensual clouds cover my sleep
She thinks of me in satin ropes
She enters charkas of Venus
Winds of silk permeate the moon
Black lace and fishnet chains
Moonlight of feline eyes

Violet spells like flowers on a piano
Parlors where burgundy dreams
Green jade sculpted by gnomes
Sabers of silver magic
On the stairway a ruby ghost
Lauding mariners
Ports of ancient Thrace
Purloined queen of fire
Acrimony hibernates in pedicures
Pearls glow on her soft skin
I am indulged in mystic perfume
She enters my garden

poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Winter Stroll

Come, let us
Take a midnight stroll
Through the snow-white forest,
A place where no one can find us.
Let us walk silently,
We shall shod in white, silk fur,
Looking like snow-white queens
As we glide across the white snow,
With nothing but the bright moonlight shining on ur eyes\As we walk across the elegant white forest
Us both in white, silk fur
With nothing but the moonlight shining on our eyes.

poem by Ahmad Abdul Awwal
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Skin Hair…

Skin Hair…

Where else does the earth rise?

settle down with a fall,

cover with strand...

after other strand,

of hair curl,

loom adversely,

along the length,

along the breadth....

of a man, woman

where it is delicate, where it is private...

pronounced an' concealed.

on the face above the eyes,

like a brush of feathers,

above the lip,

a moustache…

eloquently trim,

tweezed eye browses,

hair flock grace the neck,

onto the back.

Along the shin,

Along the skin,

Smooth touch rendered,

Chill rising the hair follicles,

Desire burn,

In the shower wet with soap,

Silk fiber strand,

Run through fingers of a lover,

Relishing the sensations erect,

Tiny hair, almost as fur…

Souring along the back,

Trough upon the skin,

Collect scent of a love scene.

The skin here dark,

Chocolate born,

Wind caress these, both hair an' skin

Creature so supreme,

Conquer all but this, delicate

Feather brush of skin against skin,

Hair rise here thin,

Space of a love gaze seen,

Hair on skin….

poem by Merlin Mwaura
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