A Morning Flash
it comes as a flash.
A body.
At first it is just lines and curves.
There is no minding at all
about anything else.
Then follows the scent that
compliments
its newly acquired
existence
its desirability enhanced
by the warmth
of morning hues
by the window of the house.
The scent brings in some
memories of
youth
some places of the heart
like a grassy hill
and an
abandoned hut
faraway.
After a while it is not just
the body
but the tongue
and palms.
The mind starts to creep in
like a cloud
and sunshine from
the south.
IT demands something more
It is not just these memories
and feelings
those touches of hues
and colors and
scents
and eventually taste.
And then the movement.
It coils around you
This psyche
This soul and then you go deeper
into a form
of regret.
This is not the body that you like
But the lines and curves
of some long forgotten
circumstances that want to be
repeated
too often
but can never be
Because there is only one body
one soul
and it is not there
anymore.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
Soul’s relation to body
I love you; who is ‘I’- soul or body?
I won over your heart; you stole my heart.
Heart- do we mean the corporal one?
Soul, the fire, catches the body, the wood.
Soul to soul and body to body, no love sparks.
Soul in body loves soul in body.
Souls or bodies exclusively love not.
Soul and body are not like air and balloon.
Soul and body is like heat and body.
3.01.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Curves
i love curves
like winding roads
that lull me
giving me such
needed rest
when i climb
mountain tops
for curves have
a way of making
things turn the
way they are not
and i marvel
about such
an intricacy
an art that winds
upon itself in
mystery, something
so profound
like what is that boa
hiding in its coils?
a pig? a goat?
a dog?
or a man?
curves heal
like a profound idea
entwining a man's mind
like a vine
delivering a yellow flower
to my lips
curves of a woman's body
like an argument that
wants to convince a stoical
and impartial jury
curves in my mind
not sharp not blunt not even piercing
but exaltingly stunning
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Open Palms
morning demands
the laying of open palms
on the table
and the palms agree
and then the wind comes
and took all the lines away
the hands do not mind
this is the last day of the body
the heart is full of joy
the mind has no word
the eyes close
and the lips finally sealed
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Death is a divorce
Death is a divorce.
The soul and the body are separated.
The soul escapes; the body decays.
Who is the cause: the soul or the body?
‘It is the body’, accuses the soul,
‘As it went unfit.’ ‘It is the soul’
Reprimands the body, ‘which found me stale.’
Who is the male: the soul or the body?
‘Male is the body’ complains the soul,
‘In whose home I entered as a bride.’
‘Male is the soul’ retorts the body,
‘Who deserted me to seek the other.’
Death is the divorce,
Where both separate.
11.02.2005
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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For literature sake.
When the body ages, does the soul do?
When the body gets wounds, does the soul suffer?
Are body and soul like sac and air?
Not so obviously.
Are body and soul like flesh and heat?
Might be.
Does not soul die when body dies, then?
Heart is not the seat of emotion, but brain.
Soul is not distinct to be treated so.
Yet soul is distinct for literature sake.
18.02.2009
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Body To Body
Body, body, bo-bo-bo-body, body
Body to body
Body to body
Body to body
Nobody does it like you do
Body to body
I love the way you make me feel
When you do what youre doing to me, oh
Touching me the way you do, you know, know youve got to feel it too
When you bodys next to mine, youve got me hypnotized
Body to body
Body to body
You know I like the way you do what you do when you do it to me, oh
Body to body
Nobody does it like you do
Body to body
You know I like what you do when you do what you do to me, no
Oh, what you do
Flowing through this magic night
I love to feel you hold me tight
You are the one thats right for me
You got me feeling tingaly
Share the night with stars above
I think Ive found this thing called love
Fever running through your eyes
You are my heavenly device
Body to body
Body to body
Body to body nobody does it like you do
Body to body
You know I like what you do when you do what you do to me, no
Oh, what you do
You opened up the world to me
You changed my life so tenderly
I know you are the only one
Youre brighter than the burning sun
Dont know where youre going to
I dont care as long as Im with you
That certain sparkle in your eyes
Has got me feeling oh so high
Body to body
Body to body
Body to body
Body to body
I like what you do when you do all those things to me
Body to body....
song performed by by Gloria Estefan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Body And Soul
rise with me this body of mine
sail with me o' soul of thine
for mine is a matter of time
to mold a body of mine
and have a kind
i prefer, as without me
there is none, and without you
there is no me
send me a sense to my body
o' body of mine
a friend and shadow of mine
without a dime
take me from wrong to conformity
lead me from animosity
unchain my soul from vanity
for mine is a body and soul
detach me from the unknown
shine on me o' body and soul
bring me a blessing to my soul
connect and share with me o' body of mine
laugh and talk with me so fine
run and steady with me so divine
the body of my soul and awhile
take me back to my body as a child
...possibly not! i presume...
if i die, you too die
and there is no more of me then
from whence to the end
for i live(d) with you 'til then
extract from 'body and soul'
'footsteps' june 2012 v.7
opn18062012/1534
poem by Onalethuso Petruss Ntema
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Live your life and let others do theirs
For you to
Conform to what is said in the title
You need to understand
The following
Though you own a house
You are not that house
Though you own a car
You are not that car
Thus, though you own your body
You are not that body
You are not that anything
Which has a relation with your body
So, you are not a father or mother
You are not a son or daughter
You are not a brother or sister
You are not a man or woman
You are not a professional or otherwise
You are just a soul
Occupying a body and controlling it
The second important understanding is
That you are not doing anything
Your eyes have seen, you have not
Your ears have heard, you have not
Your intelligence has understood, you have not
Since you are not your eyes, ears or intelligence
Or anything that a relation with your sense organs
You have not done anything
Anything done by your body
Of which you are the soul
Is nothing but the response
Of your sense organs
To the their respective stimuli
Third understanding you need to have is
That the soul in your body is
A part of a super soul
Whom, you may call as God
And He is aware of and witnessing
Everything happening around you
And elsewhere
What you need to do
With this understanding
Direct your body
To selflessly and non-emotionally perform
Those duties
Which have been assigned
Naturally and
Which have been assigned
Based on the skills
Acquired by your body
With common good in mind
And with no attachment to the results therein
Guarding against
The possible arrogance
Of having performed
And seek for guidance
From the super soul
For sustenance of the
Above knowledge and performance
While dedicating everything
Done by your body
As an offering to the super soul
Keep you ever attached
To the super soul
By directing your thoughts, words and deeds
Towards Him
Sustain these
And
You live your life and
Let others do theirs
(An attempted retelling of Bhagavad Gita with an appealing twist)
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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A Body
A body gets tired. A body gets weak,
too damned tired to even speak.
A body that's worked so hard everyday
is too damned tired to even pray.
A body that is slowly succumbing to fate
knows in its bones that it's too damned late.
And so it looks forward to a long sweet dream
one where it can awaken,
one where it will seem
as if the body does'nt count anymore.
For it is finished. Something else is in store.
No more aching, being tired and sore.
A body's just a body and now it is done.
No regrets are with you, not even one.
A soul's not tired. A soul's not weak.
A soul lives forever. It is unique.
If you enjoyed this poem visit my poetry site at
stores.lulu.com/reizerj
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Obeisance
What obeisance is more captivating
than the scent of a woman?
Without the flowers and herbs of old
perfume enchanted by body bold.
Perhaps well worked, or well refreshed
without some falsely scented flesh
For the scent of a woman is unrestrained
although my memories may be stained
In this fair prison where I remain
a body male, and male a brain
poem by Poet Dragon
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Another Way Of Looking At It
it is the body
that takes me
it is this body
that uses me
i am one helpless
soul
abused by my body
molested
by its taste
its tongue
its hands.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Between This Body And This Soul
my body thirsts for water
my soul thirsts for another
my soul immersed my soul entwined
my body grows my soul static as a thought
i shift from one channel to another
body to soul, soul to body,
the body's nature to sin
the soul's quest to heaven
God is in between.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Soul has an extra mileage
Soul and body: who depends on who?
Soul and body: who adds values to who?
Whom do you regard: soul or body?
Who is the cause of your actions?
Does soul departs for body decays?
Does body decays for soul departs?
Soles alone are ghosts; bodies alone are corpses.
Soul and body together gain values.
Must soul have an extra mileage?
13.08.2006
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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POW from Sheba's Dressing
Reminders of her ransack,
His collage of memories;
Like podcasts playing in his psyche;
Her flowing locks,
Pitch black with quaint curves,
Hugging the upper margin of her luscious hipbones;
Waltzing in the serenading breeze;
Her smile, like the advent of spring;
Amidst a Celtic winter-coated dawn;
Petite Dentile stubs that shimmer;
Like a string of white topazes;
Awakening spring time;
Her body, a luscious carpet;
In a Celtic glow, that ushers in, a scent of perfection;
Celtic clay immaculately molded by God's palms;
To conceive my goddess, Eve;
With a skip in her step, a gazelle's gait;
As I slurp the remnants of the droplets of liquid food;
That scatter inside the squalid margins of my plastic plate;
As I rest in my collage of memories;
Of her, my fleeting sylph;
Waiting to taste precious freedom;
As I gaze at her aura from behind my iron bars;
The only sanctuary left,
For a prisoner of war in Sheba's dressing.
poem by Dilantha Gunawardana
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Heart Body And Soul
the soul knows
the body
which the body
doesn't sometimes
the heart beats
and knows the
state of the soul
you see the eyes
of the heart
as the soul feels
the beatings of
your heart
when the body sleeps
the soul practices
its journey to the
gate of the heart
as the heart shies
away from the
reasoning of the
body
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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When Sorrow Is Forgotten
When sorrow is forgotten
the sun can finally be seen in the dusk sky of warm hues
your mind feels light and open
and your body that was once locked up in chains is free as a young eagle
When sorrow is forgotten
life presents you with the gift of love and happiness
your wings can dry from the tears that dampened them
you can finally let go and soar
The higher you fly, the lighter you feel
the weight that once kept you confined, starts to fall from your shoulders
your lungs can finally envelop the cool air
of Earth
When sorrow is forgotten
you mind can think clearly again
your body is your temple again
and your heart can finally feel again
Essences
The shadows that follow my essences,
capturing the invisible power that commands
the love of men kind; many thou of odor's
form an invisible rule, capturing the intoxicating
scent that blinds beauty.
Odor's, scent are capture from the most small
particle and pieces of existence, ruling each
movement awakening passion and lust.
The splendid orange blossoms that preserve my
youth, will then perish when age comes near.
But my scent will stay alive in every part of my
belongings and in every place of my existence,
and in the shadows of my death, the essence will
rule the existence of my lover taking a last breath,
my soul and spirit will take over to
assure my life will not be forgotten after I'm gone,
the essences the intoxicating scent of a woman's
skin will always rule the mind of men kind.
poem by Elenushka Toledo
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Sonnet: The Master’s Masterly Strokes
The beauteous butterfly’s body and wings,
With printed riot of hues and designs,
To mind and heart of human beings brings
The Maker’s marvelous feelings and signs.
The little ant’s cute brain and body parts
That move with precision and perfection,
Surprising scientists’ searching minds and hearts
About the Creator’s innovation.
The frond of green that changes shapes and hues,
And manufactures starch by sun and gas,
Remains an unraveled mysterious news
That human effort can’t ever surpass.
And yet, man strikes dead his offspring in womb
To annul earthly population boom?
Copyright by Dr John Celes 7-14-2010
poem by John Celes
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Value your soul
The soul and the body aren’t separate.
They’re as integrated as body and heat.
To love or hate a person is soul’s act.
To love or hate a thing is body’s act.
Soul, not body, experiences shame.
Body, not soul, ignores guilt and qualms.
Value the soul to value yourself.
07.02.2009
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The Shell....
i once had
a beautiful body
many beg to
touch it
many want to
sleep with me
even without
any responsibility
i look at myself
in the mirror
grateful for this
body
i had conceit
like a prince
of arrogance
time is my enemy
my body wears out
skin is loose
and bones become
brittle
there is a squeak
when i walk
sometimes i
regret having this
body
since i never had
used it
the way others
want it
if they had it
i tell myself
that it would have
been better
if this body
is the body of the
one i love
it would have been
more useful
perhaps lovelier
and i would have
been happier
my body is silent and indifferent
it has no independent mind of its own
it is one of those shells
where the hermit crab dwells
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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