Casual Relationship
you ride in a bus
on a long trip to Pagadian
beside you is a woman with long black hair
pink blouse, not wearing a bra,
juicy lips, smooth skin,
perfumed
just the two of you
and it rains
heavily and the bus speeds its
way climbing steep roads
then her head rests on
your chest
she must be tired
your heart beats faster
something in your body
grows
you do not want this journey
to end
you caress her hair
she wakes up
and smiles
and then you kiss
at the terminal she rushes
to the road where a black car is waiting
she waves her hand
bidding goodbye
just that.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
On The Long Road To Pagadian
1979. rough times.
there was this
no man's land.of
rebels
dead bodies
were unaccounted for
on the road to
Pagadian.
we were on the bus.
it was a long travel
north of this
coastal island
the seagulls were
at sea looking
for a catch of
silvery fish
we pass them by
the bus was muddy
and the rain fell
hard on the roof
and we closed the
glass window
afraid to get wet
slowly your weary head
inclined towards
my muscular chest
and rested there
and you began to
sleep soundly and
weave your own dreams
i smelled your soft, black hair
and i saw a beautiful face
with luscious lips
red as a rose in bloom
an inch away from mine
i could have kissed you
without your knowing
a slight touch could have
perfected love
on your cheek
but i didn't.
Now i ask myself
if i ever have any regret
living a longer life in this
world. I have an answer.
it was a long, long travel.
and we at last arrived there.
the rain stopped.
the sun started to shine.
i still ask: why did i not kiss you?
why did i not even ask your name?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Bolton
Black skin,
Black eye,
Black hair,
Black lips,
Black tail! !
A small one,
A long one,
With the blue of the sky and,
The green of the grass!
And within time and patience,
And like the elephants at the seaside;
But, Bolton is here to teach you.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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L4,2212
red dragonfly meets
blue dragonfly one bright
day for these
insignificant dragonflies
do their
tail to tail
love
in mid-air
explosions too
serially
beautiful
in their silent
flights
to be fathomed by
a beautiful woman
with long black hair
and well sculpted
pair of legs,
pressing her head
upon a muscular man's
handsome
chest, her hands on his
navel, his lips on her
flowing hair, softly the winds
caress
like butterflies slowly
fluttering from one flower
to another flower
fair and square, in circles
of eternal travels.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The First Tentative Trembling Kisses
I kiss your hand.
I kiss your knee.
I kiss the little space
between here (& there) .
I kiss your ear.
I kiss your hair.
I kiss your shoulder.
I even kiss your blouse!
I even kiss myself by mistake
where my hand caresses your hair
I kiss your hair.
I kiss your hair.
Surely this
can’t stop
...here!
poem by Dónall Dempsey
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A Handsome Man
i am a handsome face
long black hair
aquiline nose
slim body
kissable lips
sharp eyes
white teeth
smooth brown skin
lean and muscular body
i promise you nothing
i have no time
and i do not know what
love is
i am the vagabond of
this earth
a wanderer of its bosom
no one owns me
and i own no one.
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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Suffocation
Last night I had the weirdest dream
I dreamt that I was lying in bed
With this girl whose hair was
As black as the night and as
Thick as a forest,
And her hair, her hair was
Smothering me
Or at least, I thought it was
Her hair,
Until I noticed it was her hands
Running over my face,
My lips
My eyes
My cheeks.
As hot as the desert
And smooth as silk
But pressing down
Pressing me into my pillow
Until I could see nothing
But the pink of her skin
And I thought,
Im gunna die
Those hands are gunna
Kill me
Until I realized really,
It wasn’t hands,
But lips,
Sucking the air from mine
Engulfing my last breath
And drawing it into her being
And I thought, well,
At least lips are
A nice way to go
Until finally I came
To my goddamn senses
And I realized,
I realized it wasn’t her lips
But the words coming
From those sweet lips
That was suffocating me
And it was “I love you”
I was choking on
Not her hair, hands or lips
At all.
poem by Nick Downer
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Dreaming Of Hair
Ivy ties the cellar door
in autumn, in summer morning glory
wraps the ribs of a mouse.
Love binds me to the one
whose hair I've found in my mouth,
whose sleeping head I kiss,
wondering is it death?
beauty? this dark
star spreading in every direction from the crown of her head.
My love's hair is autumn hair, there
the sun ripens.
My fingers harvest the dark
vegtable of her body.
In the morning I remove it
from my tongue and
sleep again.
Hair spills
through my dream, sprouts
from my stomach, thickens my heart,
and tangles from the brain. Hair ties the tongue dumb.
Hair ascends the tree
of my childhood--the willow
I climbed
one bare foot and hand at a time,
feeling the knuckles of the gnarled tree, hearing
my father plead from his window, _Don't fall!_
In my dream I fly
past summers and moths,
to the thistle
caught in my mother's hair, the purple one
I touched and bled for,
to myself at three, sleeping
beside her, waking with her hair in my mouth.
Along a slippery twine of her black hair
my mother ties ko-tze knots for me:
fish and lion heads, chrysanthemum buds, the heads
of Chinamen, black-haired and frowning.
Li-En, my brother, frowns when he sleeps.
I push back his hair, stroke his brow.
His hairline is our father's, three peaks pointing down.
What sprouts from the body
and touches the body?
What filters sunlight
and drinks moonlight?
Where have I misplaced my heart?
What stops wheels and great machines?
What tangles in the bough
and snaps the loom?
Out of the grave
my father's hair
bursts. A strand
pierces my left sole, shoots
up bone, past ribs,
to the broken heart it stiches,
then down,
swirling in the stomach, in the groin, and down,
through the right foot.
What binds me to this earth?
What remembers the dead
and grows towards them?
I'm tired of thinking.
I long to taste the world with a kiss.
I long to fly into hair with kisses and weeping,
remembering an afternoon
when, kissing my sleeping father, I saw for the first time
behind the thick swirl of his black hair,
the mole of wisdom,
a lone planet spinning slowly.
Sometimes my love is melancholy
and I hold her head in my hands.
Sometimes I recall our hair grows after death.
Then, I must grab handfuls
of her hair, and, I tell you, there
are apples, walnuts, ships sailing, ships docking, and men
taking off their boots, their hearts breaking,
not knowing
which they love more, the water, or
their women's hair, sprouting from the head, rushing toward the feet.
poem by Li-Young Lee
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Opression
a woman with long
hair
on a pink blouse
on the street
is pulling a boy
with a yellow shirt
towards the other
side of the road
onlookers
have twisted faces
their arms loose
inside
their pockets
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Degradation of a race
Black hair, black skin, black eyes,
Square face, square teeth, square chin,
Fleshy breasts, fleshy back and fleshy lips
Are features of Dravidian descendents.
Pale hair, pale skin, pale eyes,
Long face, long teeth, long nose,
Thin chest, thin locks and thin lips
Are features of Aryan descendents.
The former is flesh eating, lustful,
Emotion ridden and industrious.
The latter is grass-eating, lust tamed,
Manoeuvring and goal conscious.
Siva, Parvathi, Kali with Asuras
Are portrayed with Dravidian features.
Rama, Krishna, Lakshmi, Sarasvathi
With devas are of Aryan features.
All Itikas, Puranas and Epics depict thus.
They are held as holy scriptures
By both the races alike.
08.10.2000, Paralkemundi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Black Woman
black woman
woman black
sing to me
sing to me
like Roberta Flack
tell me your longing
say you'll be there
tell it like honey
your cool moist breath
black woman
black as the cat
who strives in the night
sleek as the bird
daring in flight
black as the land
in which you were born
and bleak the day
from that earth
you were torn
black angel
black eyes aware
ebony skin
natural hair
black woman
woman black
love me forever
love me now
don't hold back
poem by Martin A. Ramos
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Making Love To A Black Woman
How do you make love, to a Black Woman?
How do you make love to a Black Woman,
Romantically and Patiently;
Take the time to make love to her mind.
Fulfill all of her midnight wishes.
Cover her entire body with soft wet kisses.
Tell her, so that she will know!
There's no place on her body
your tongue won't go.
And, when you love a Black Woman,
you love her real slow.
How do you make love, to a Black Woman?
How do you make love to a Black Woman,
Passionately and Sincerely;
Let her Sweetness become your Weakness.
Do not use just the Penis, But include your ear.
Listen to the sweet sound of her moans
and see what you hear.
Feel the warmth and care of her loving embrace.
Place your mouth on hers and savor the taste.
How do you make love, to a Black Woman?
How do you make love to a Black Woman,
Sensually and Honestly;
Say what you mean and mean what you say.
Tell her that you love her,
more and more with each passing day.
Let all of the fantasies that dance in her head.
Become her moonlight reality
when it's time to go to bed.
Kiss and lick all over her body
until you find all her right spots.
Touch and caress her soft skin
and make her real hot.
Mutual satisfaction is a lover's plan.
Love her, cause you are in love with her.
She's your Woman and your her Man.
How do you make love, to a Black Woman?
How do you make love to a Black Woman,
Lovingly and completely;
Love her until her 'Screams of Passion'
are all you that hear.
Suck on her neck and stick
your tongue in her ear.
Hold her soft round ass
in the palm of your hands.
Let her sexual wishes
become your loving commands.
Love your Black Woman with
your Mind, Body and Soul.
She's the most precious gift on this Earth.
She's worth her weight in gold.
How do you make love to a Black Woman?
There's only one true way to start.
To make love to a Black Woman,
just give her your Heart.
poem by Samuel Newton
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One Last Time
Just one last time
Before I go
Let me tell you much
I love you so
Just one last time
Will you hold my hand
As we walk down the beach
With our toes in the sand
Just one last time
Will you give me a kiss
Let me taste those sweet lips
I know I will miss
Just one last time
Let me gaze in your soul
Let me get lost in forever
Let me lose all control
Just one last time
Can I hold you so tight
All through the day
And all through the night
Just one last time
Let me feel your caress
Let me place your head
Upon my heart and my chest
Just one last time
Let me feel your gentle touch
For your skin on my skin
It gives me so much
Just one last time
Let us make love
Let us join as one
Be at peace like a dove
Just one last time
Let me smell your sweet breath
Let me caress your soft hair
Before I meet death
Just one last time
Before I go
Let me tell you much
I love you so
poem by Ryan Lee Morris
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White Skin Black Heart
Yeah, whatcha gonna do now, now that you started?
Whatcha gonna do now, now that its done?
The words got out there, they float around and are coming right back down.
You gonna leave us lying here
Dealing with the consequences of a bad sound
Of a bad sound.
White skin black heart
White skin black heart
Whatcha gonna do now, that its spoken?
These words of a habit, have not faded away.
.................... it clear, conscious gets opened like a wound.
If you cant concieve a better line and better times,
Then let silence bury you, in the end.
When you feel it, when you feel it
Youre condemned.
You see, youve lost your strangle on the freedom road! you
Think ........................of something a long time ago! you
[spewed it out you were so] insecure! it was like ............. on
The toilet floor! youre a [nine seat] drunk, ............... and
You say you want something, .......... you heard the rednecks
Roaring for blood and then they wanted more! life was so small, you
Couldnt get enough. you made a start.
White skin black heart
Dripping,
White skin black heart
White skin black heart
White skin black heart
White skin black heart
Drag your eyes from [aurora] black heart!
White skin black heart
Drag your leg, get outta here [my sight]!
White skin black heart
White skin black heart
White skin black heart
White skin black heart
You didnt have to start
White skin black heart
White skin black heart
song performed by by Midnight Oil
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bizet's Carmen
blue cards
woman with black
hair
a black fan
a kiss
underneath
the trees
a sigh
and a thought
long after
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Afternoon
a woman with a long black hair
sweeps the road
using a coconut broom
three children pass by
and suddenly throws a stone
to the mango tree
a motorcycle speeds its way
from the market
a dog crosses the street
the little girl runs after
we hear a screeching sound of the
brakes
and that is how the case starts
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Gorgeous Dancer Steals My Stubborn Heart!
Wearing her pink sports bra, black short shorts,
knee-high black legwarmers, overlapped by pink
slouch socks, and powder blue dancing shoes,
she dances with her life in the critics’ hand.
Her bronze thighs vibrate endlessly and her
long golden hair sways back and forth during
her performance. Her dancing is simply
unforgettable, as is her alluring beauty.
Afterwards, she approaches me with a proposit-
ion; it was for one dance. Overwhelmed, I
become dumbfounded and slowly shrink down,
shrinking to five...four...three...two...one foot tall!
The gorgeous dancer steals my height as well!
poem by Michael Fischer
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Jelly Roll
Oh yeah, yeah
Ain't that bad, ain't that black, ain't that fine, yeah
Ain't that bad, ain't that black and ain't that fine.
Sunday after meetings and Saturday with a man
Sweet potato pie when you eat from the pan
Ain't that bad, ain't that black and ain't that fine
Ain't that bad and ain't that black and ain't that fine.
Can you dig it?
Dancing the latest dance and eating ribs and tips
Digging all the new sounds and drinking gin in sips
Ain't that bad, ain't that black and ain't that fine, baby
Ain't that bad, ain't that black, ain't that fine
I could go for a ride on your sweet jelly roll
But I wouldn't give nothing for my juicy, juicy soul.
I could go for a ride on your sweet jelly roll
But I wouldn't give nothing for my juicy, juicy soul
Ain't that bad, ain't that black and ain't that fine
Ain't that bad and ain't that black and ain't that fine
Let's go, let's go, let's go.
To tie up my do right (?) and tighten up my 'fro
Wrapping myself in black and still I shine and glow
Ain't that bad, ain't that black and ain't that fine
Ain't that bad, ain't that black and ain't that fine.
song performed by by Nina Simone
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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