I Am Beginning To Understand Myself
last night was different
inside my dream i was gentle
kind to myself there was no blaming
no enumeration of sins and no formula for what must be done
it was more of taking things like a shallow river
i step on it and there is no qualm
no sounds of wild ducks
just the cool, calm waters with slight ripples from the drops of dew
from the leaves of mountain trees,
last night, we were different
we simply gaze upon our bodies
naked as we are to the honesty of who and what we are
i kissed you on the mouth and your tongue licked mine
we closed our eyes we caressed our bodies with our hands
not a word, just a savor of the fleshy feast,
no justifications, no explanations
we grip our fingers
we bite our lips
on joint orgasms, a celebration at last of having discovered
our souls, fused, divine, and forgiving.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I Could Have
i could have kissed you on your lips
and hugged you tight
and caressed your breasts
and licked your whole
white soft body
that night all i did was simply imagine
savoring your eyes
with my gaze
i did not even caress your hair
and touch
your finger
that night i was so foolish
when you left
i did not bother asking you to stay
i was so foolish
i simply wrote you this poem
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Dream Of The Flesh
we are in the river
naked
our bodies meet
like
one body
missing
another body
and the river
becomes
one warm
water
trickling down
our two bodies
body to body
flesh to flesh
hands
to hands and
arms entwine
like some
chains of
daisies
to our necks
this oneness
that we
finally make
eyes to eyes
closing
and lips to lips
searching
tongues
we dare
search
our souls
if they
are there
too
in this
fusion
for the
meantime
we have no time
to ask
the river
has no name
even
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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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You Are My Christian Grey
Of, from, or like God or a god.
DIVINE..
The only word that comes to me when I think of you
Divine.
Relieved actually you are truly one of a kind.
You make me smile
You make me cry
But most of all you have me beguile
Your intriguing gaze
He takes a step towards me wearing his sexy predatory look
You have me in disbelief
YOUR Smile... so lare
I am in trance
'IF U WERE MINE....oh my wat would I do to be his.
.....DESIRE!
As I gaze I am in awe.. astonished by his beauty
He sticks out his tongue as if to say he notices me
Reluctantly our eyes met..I marvel with despair
What. Are. You. Doing. To. Me?
I'm captivated by his stare
Oh! ! ! hw i want to taste his lips
Hold him tight just to feel I his warm embrace.
poem by Anita Khelawan
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To have a feel of my food
To have the feel of my food not just the taste of it in my tongue
I use my bare hands, the rice I fold between my palms the fish
I touch with my fingers, and then my mouth opens to swallow and savor
Just like you tonight, I feel you with my bare hands I taste you
With my tongue because you are the food of my soul and my soul
Feeds on you as you also feed on mine
We are bare all over, not just our bare hands
We touch we feel we lick we breath with our noses
On our skins, we feed on our flesh, we go deeper
Into our souls, our eyes feast on the food we lay in front of us
The lights of our eyes open in our room the festivity to a beginning
We feed on ourselves we are hungry & greedy & we are never full
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sprouting As A Phoenix By Em
does no less than denude its object of the one thing which he has which is of value, and so it degrades him effectively.'
subjectify me?
where?
it is only through our
communion
that you make me a
subject
when you go away again
you may think
that i have become a stone
you are wrong
you have already subjectified me as a
bird with eight wings
did you not see it in the navel of my body?
did you not smell it on the scent of my armpits?
when you were inside me did you not feel that i am someone so different
than before
when you only caressed my hair and kissed my neck
and licked my butt?
lover, do not underestimate my being
for i am being and you are being
in fact
i am more free than what you are
to your pebbles i am the river
to your twigs i am the leaves
to your clouds i am now the winds of chances
i now own the world
inside my mouth
and my tongue knows how to play your games
i am now a goddess transformed by your love
from the mud that i used to be
it is enough then
as you leave to your world where your heart belongs
i have already sprouted as a
Phoenix.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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My Way Of Stealing Happiness
i'll take a bite of the luscious grape
break the pulp within
savor the sweetness inside my mouth
play with the hands of my
tongue
i always close my eyes
when i swallow what is supposed
to be yours.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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When I Talk And Think About Albert
sometimes
(did i tell you that this is my
favorite word?)
i am shocked by my own
ingenuity
(sometimes i equate it with
shallowness
a loquacious mouth of the river
falling upon
a rock and smashing its
hands on the
floor of the
earth)
i blame myself for
changing the meaning of a word
like the way
i am changing the meaning of
my life
(or perhaps the lives of
other people
around me)
creating landscapes
putting trees where there are
no mountain
putting talkative women
in the house where
the house is still a
thought
(a student wants to say
i am crazy
but there is also a doubt
whether i am
one
she has the wisdom of
keeping her
mouth in the silent
mode)
i am not stupid
not crazy i still know what right
is,
i can still tell you
who are those in the left
side of the
equation
one day
i redefined a poem
it need not be a house
with a door and
windows
i can simply be stairs
or path
it can simply be a star
on the roof
it can simply be a conversation
without a direction
like a Freudian dialogue on
the sofa
where comfort is actually
moving the paths
of meteors
with a broom and
light
(do you always talk
to achieve
fulfill a mission?
what is your mission?
what is your
purpose?)
women go to the market
buy some things
for the kitchen
they do not linger upon a
talk
men go to their work
thinking about their kids
most of the time
they do not bother about
work really
they also dwell in the bodies
of other women
about those nights away
from the eyes
of their wives
people have scattered minds
unto each other
they pretend that they are devoted
into something
worthwhile
kids go to school
carrying bags filled with books
that they do not bother really reading
if they have to be honest
about who they are
the only care for the games of their
minds in those
playgrounds and
play stations
what kind of world is this
there are only so few
that live
so many people are going to
the places of death
without really knowing
each step
the famous man (you know his name)
discovered the bomb
and from then own
they own all these countries of this world
he is the real meaning and so they claim
him to be
the only meaning of this world
a nuclear god
who cannot die in that history of pain
and misery
may his soul (if he has one)
rest in peace.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Breaking Free
The heat begins as the movement starts,
Two bodies, two hearts,
One place, one dream,
The sweat becoming a steady stream.
One against the other skin pressed,
Their bodies together, both undressed,
Together they move, together they feel,
Both wondering how this feeling could be so real.
They lay together fingers raoming, tracing,
Bodies steady, minds racing,
Bothe wanting, both longing.
The feelings so vivid, the so taunting.
Lips roam over features, memorizing turns, dips, taste.
Bodies tangled together, hands laced,
Breathing so uneaven, yet so right.
Together they stay, through the long night.
Moans break through the air,
Into eachither they melt, into their eyes they stair,
Both so lost, yet forever lost in one place,
Skin together as one, as hearts race.
The bodies meet and one enters the other,
Both in pain, both in longng for the other,
Both wanting more, bothe lost in their dream,
as they melt together soft as cream.
Their eyes flash bright and open,
Both hoping, both wanting to feel it again,
Together they smile, love is all they now see,
Their eyes close, their hearts slow, they break free.
poem by Bethany Maxwell
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The Kiss The Tongue And The Twitting Bird....
when you get near me when you
press your lips against mine, you shall feel the coldness of my dawn,
you keep your mind open like eyes staring at the sun,
yet what you see is still the haze, the fog hanging by the mountain
since it has always been a very cold day,
when you put your tongue inside my mouth, you feel the rain rushing
making a river of rippling waters and it is the force inside that
you will feel
you close your eyes and trace where it is going, and you shall know
that every dropp of rain that makes this river
is always going away from you away from us, and you start to browse
over the silence of the my day, and you shall find that this day is an
empty page where all my words have already been erased because i do not want you to know anymore what i feel and who i am,
i am detached, i am numb, and i do not wish to know what love is all about and where it is going,
i just like to hear a bird twitting alone on that old tree.
whatever is it that it is singing, i do not really care.
for what i know is that i am alive, and for what purpose, who cares?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Renewals
I place my hands on you
feeling your body stiffen from anticipation
unused to warm hands probing
yet hesitantly hoping
that Body would come alive again.
I let my fingertip glide
along your shoulders
electric skin explodings
collar bone stiffening
mouth pouty
as I kiss
your nape
settling there like home;
you exhale
as I
surrender to your heaving front
leaving no part of it untouched
in its quivering quiverings
in its exploding satiations
exalting our souls
breathings synchronized
we move from
side to side
with tight-against-me glide
massage oil allows.
Now more insistent
I pull you to me
touching first
at your two points
then a lingering body press
thigh to thigh
breast to breasts
your eyes slowly closing
soft lips plying
soft skin erecting
my mouth gliding across
nape
down to diaphragm
and beyond
lips availing
knees weakening
bodies moistening
in the warm night;
touchings
from the inside out
helpless two
inside
the Lovers Arch
first
concave
then convex
melding hearts
at one again
on our anniversary
renewing our bodies;
wedding vows.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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As They Dance
The heat rushed through her body
as she moved her body along side his
The movements were fast and breath taking
as they moved with the tempo of the music
His body bends back
as hers bends forward
His body bends forward
as hers bends back
Their bodies intertwined
as a vine on a wall
Their bodies move side to side
up and down
The music keeping the beat
as the danced
The stage lights dimmed to green
as they moved together
His hands run down her body
as she sways side to side
Her mouth open her eyes closed
his eyes on her body
He keeps his hands on her hips
as she ran her hands up his body to his face
Their lips met and their hearts raced
as the music stopped
poem by Bethany Maxwell
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P L E A S U R E
Pink nipples and
Cow’s milk on my table
On my bed
Your pink nakedness
Spread
Dipped
In the grassy coolness
Beneath a gray, open space
I touch your pubic softness
With my jitters
I breathe in the smell
Of your earth
I exhale caress
Like my tonque
Dripping words
In your ears
I lay back
My legs spread
Towards the moon
It is the night of my life
And I shall long for you always
I am burdened
But your weight
Shall smash me into
Meteors of my galaxy
And I shall be light
Piercing into your darkness
The darkness
That I now so loved
I am still
I can quiver
To this night of loving
And I must not stop
To this undying
It is this
When our bodies
When our two bodies fit
Into the hollowness
Of our solitude
I shall have a soul shaped
Into hands
Putting a red rose
Between your lips
And giving it longer life
I dampen it with
My truths
The fearful dryness
Shall be lost in the wells
And the rivers that won’t dry
My hands shall map
The secret paths of your body
Your lines shall melt me
Your touch
Shall cause the rapture
Of my stillness
To an endless space
Of our universe
I ask how
The cruelties of this earth
Shall conceal the sweet contours
Of this pleasure
A small world of the
Damp, wet, and gray,
Of the heat, the dripping and
The force and softness
Entwined in the oneness of
Irony and even disbelief
That I that I can make
This world
Through closed eyes
In such a closed space
Yet bursting into
An infinite openness
The silence of a thousand
Quivers
Savor, savor, savor, the pleasures
Of my small world
Unshared by the multitude
The crowd unthinking
As it is only you
I care
I worship
I kept inside
Unshared by all
My little pleasure
Yet encompassing my whole universe
Unfathomed, unscaled,
But now totally known
By me
By you alone
And words
Find no space
To justify their existence,
Ahhhhhhhh, -
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Pleasure (upon Request, I Am Posting This Back)
Pink nipples and
Cow’s milk on my table
On my bed
Your pink nakedness
Spread
Dipped
In the grassy coolness
Beneath a gray, open space
I touch your pubic softness
With my jitters
I breathe in the smell
Of your earth
I exhale caress
Like my tonque
Dripping words
In your ears
I lay back
My legs spread
Towards the moon
It is the night of my life
And I shall long for you always
I am burdened
But your weight
Shall smash me into
Meteors of my galaxy
And I shall be light
Piercing into your darkness
The darkness
That I now so loved
I am still
I can quiver
To this night of loving
And I must not stop
To this undying
It is this
When our bodies
When our two bodies fit
Into the hollowness
Of our solitude
I shall have a soul shaped
Into hands
Putting a red rose
Between your lips
And giving it longer life
I dampen it with
My truths
The fearful dryness
Shall be lost in the wells
And the rivers that won’t dry
My hands shall map
The secret paths of your body
Your lines shall melt me
Your touch
Shall cause the rapture
Of my stillness
To an endless space
Of our universe
I ask how
The cruelties of this earth
Shall conceal the sweet contours
Of this pleasure
A small world of the
Damp, wet, and gray,
Of the heat, the dripping and
The force and softness
Entwined in the oneness of
Irony and even disbelief
That I that I can make
This world
Through closed eyes
In such a closed space
Yet bursting into
An infinite openness
The silence of a thousand
Quivers
Savor, savor, savor, the pleasures
Of my small world
Unshared by the multitude
The crowd unthinking
As it is only you
I care
I worship
I kept inside
Unshared by all
My little pleasure
Yet encompassing my whole universe
Unfathomed, unscaled,
But now totally known
By me
By you alone
And words
Find no space
To justify their existence,
ahhhhhhhh, -
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Watching
this is plain watching
two souls
two bodies making what they
are supposed to
do inside a room
beside them the white silky curtain
caressed by the wind
from the sea
salty and soft and sapphire like
in feeling
there is the bursting of stars
inside your heads
there is the celebration of what
you have become
so intimate
discovering
what long seeped
between your arms
and legs
slowly, love is reborn
the moon
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Lovers Meeting Beside A River
two lovers meet beside a river
they are on to something prohibited
but they cannot be stopped by your beliefs
dogmas and laws do not work for their love
so strong
so uninhibited
the feelings that gush like a river
flowing
naked they touch their bodies
their hands exploring all the possibilities
of love
they kiss, they make love
they lay their bodies on the grass
rolling, one on top of the other,
tight, and warm
sweat and salivations
until the apex is reached
the climax of love
the ecstasy
the fulfillment and then
the much needed rest
the other one sleeps
and dreams
the other one smokes
blows a breath
to the sky
makes circles
and plays with the
images of the clouds
at night
when the moon shines
so bright
and the star glitter
no one knows about this
except the river and the trees
the trees sing
the river flows
and then the sun shines
the morning after
the two shadows are gone
leaving some traces
on the grass
dried sweat
disturbed grass
some maps
without names
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Fog (Story)
The fog moved slowly across the ground
Like a cat on the prowl.
Everything was as quiet as can be
Not even a rustle in the trees.
Out of the mist she walked slowly towards me
Her eyes was the only thing that I could see.
They glowed like lanterns in the night
My heart jumped - my mind took flight.
So many thoughts going thru my head
Am I alive or am I dead?
What is this that I am seeing
Or is my mind playing tricks
And having me believe it.
As she came closer she started to take
An hour glass shape, and all dressed
Up in black pants, blouse, boots
And black cape.
Was I to die? Was this my fate?
Her eyes black as her outfit and hypnotic
As can be, and the softness of her voice
Capturing me.
'You look like you've seen a ghost' she said
I looked at her eyes then bowed my head.
She was the most beautiful woman that
I had ever seen or ever met
But something about her that I couldn't
Figure out yet.
Then the thought came to me ' vampire diary'.
I knew that this was only a movie, and no such
Thing exists. 'but' - what if?
I did not hear her heels as she walked up to me
And her eyes as big as can be, taking full control of me.
I felt my body go limp as I lost my self in her eyes
Then she licked her lips, and I felt I was paralyzed.
She took my face in her hands and kissed me OH SO TENDERLY
And in her arms was where I wanted to be.
Her lips like the taste of wine warming my every being
This was all that I was seeing.
She unbuttoned my shirt and started kissing my chest
Then I felt her climb up to my neck.
Her breath so hot that it sent chills down my spine
To last me till the ends of time.
She kissed me again and her tongue went deep inside
To a point that I wanted to cry,
She pulled away then looked at me
And opened her mouth very wide
AND THEN IT HAPPENED! I woke up!
Ha Ha hope you liked the ending.
poem by Louis Rams
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River
Here is the river
And I am searching it
In the map that is
On the wall of my house
That is not there.
I do not know
The mountain is in between
The river and my house
That dressedup geography
And taking me from
Place to place.
I am on my own journey
While the sky is breaking
And I with the night dream
Passing passing and passing
The hard days with
Fire of the mountain
And water of the river.
Where is the river
That I am searching
To driveout troubles
Where I am
Here is the river
Wash your face eyes
Somebody is kind enough
To tell in my house.
I am not in my house
See.
And Where am I
And the sea is here
No river no mountain
Here is the river
If you find again
Inform me please
I am grateful then.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Oh Horny Night
Erotic parody of the Christmas classic, O Holy Night
Oh horny night
My lover's glow in the dark condom is brightly shining
It is the night of my first sweet orgasm's birth
Long do we plan to lay panting and lustfully moaning
Till the dawn appears
We will make the most of what this night's worth
A thrill of desire
Our sweaty bodies rejoice
For yonder breaks thru my hymen a new and glorious moaning
Oh how he adores
When before my man
I fall to my knees
Oh hear the rising of erotic voices
Oh on this night so divine
Oh on this night when a virgin's first orgasm is born
Oh with a man so very sexy and divine
Oh on this night, this night so very delicious and divine
Pantie lines my man shall break
So gentle and caring will be my lover
And in shouting out his name shall my fears shall cease
Sweet groans of joy together we'll share in greatful chorus as we
Explore intimate secrets inside and out
Moaning one another's names
Oh my lord!
Don't ever let him
Don't ever let him stop
Oh no oh no
All the sweet and tender things he is doing
On this night, oh on this night so delicious and divine
Oh no oh no
On this night, on this night so delicious and divine
Oh no oh no
On this night, on this night so delicious and divine
2008 Ramona Thompson
poem by Ramona Thompson
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Clair de Lune
In the moonlit room your face,
Moonlight-coloured, fainting white,
And the silence of the place
Round about us in the night,
And my arms are round about you
In the silence of the night.
Lips that are not mine to kiss,
Lips how often kissed in vain,
Broken seal of memories,
Where the kisses come again
That the lips of all your lovers
Laid upon your lips in vain;
Eyes that are not mine to keep
In the mirror of mine eyes,
Where I tremble lest from sleep
Other ghosts should re-arise;
Why enthrall me with your magic,
Haunting lips, triumphant eyes?
For the silence of the night
Swims around me like a stream,
And your eyes have caught the light
Of a moon-enchanted dream,
And your arms glide round about me,
And I fade into a dream.
poem by Arthur Symons
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