Laying Bare And Lovely Still On A State Of Bliss
amidst the softness of the big
sofa
you lay your naked body
your breasts stare at the ceiling
your hair freely falling
on the arm
of that big sofa
you close your eyes on this
baring
you point your toe
to the carpeted floor
your arms are light
as your hands rest
on the furry cover
the silence is sweet and this
time the world is calm
no word creeps on your lips
come to think of it
what is the description
of this bliss?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
When The Romance Fades....
boredom finally
arrives
laying itself in the
blue sofa
still dressed
from the usual party
it does not spread
its legs
the blanket covers
the rusty arms of
the bed
the shoes are sleepy
on the carpeted floor
silence is
at this hour of the night
comforting
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
DEFEATS OF THE FLESH by emma z.
my eyes stare at
your body
my hair falls down
freely
my hands hold unto
a bar
my breasts shake
my lips all wet with
your lips all wet
my tongue moans
for your name
i am on top of you
in this struggle for
freedom
this revolution of
love
we come at the apex of this climb
we surrender
all in defeat to the powers of our flesh
you & i
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
We Like To Be Reminded Of Our Presence
we get tired and try to take a nap
on a soft sofa in our sala
we lay there in silence
we do not want to talk
we simply want to close our eyes
and see things inside us
we remember a lot of things
a cup of coffee that we sip together
on a roadside cafe somewhere in france
we remember little things
like a pin, a ring, a handkerchief
then we move on to something
that knows what rotting means
a dry leaf, a mossy side of the pool
a dead tree, a rolling log, a cabin
then we get too engrossed in silence
and hazy places, a room dimly lit
by this halogen lamp creating a certain
warmth that we remember
some arms and hands and lips
we want something delightful
we begin to speak to someone beside us
how was your day? have you eaten your dinner?
then you transfer to your bed and then
you sleep and dream
with her beside you. You turn off the light.
Outside, it is dark like the color
of a woman's hair.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Mozart Overture
this is quite different from
a trance
the music that curled in my sleep
on that soft blue sofa
foam, cotton, kapok softness
on my head some notes of
a lullaby
some notes getting into
my ears and my nostrils
a deep sleep
inhaling
this overture is quite different
it is the rising from this deep sleep of
kapok,
foamy softness
i rise and
stretch my hands to the ceiling
i wake up and
i hear
the notes come again like
dripping morning rain
from the nipa roof
falling on
some white pebbles
on my pavement
like my tears
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
118
mozart overture
this is quite different from
a trance
the music that curled in my sleep
on that soft blue sofa
foam, cotton, kapok softness
on my head some notes of
a lullaby
some notes getting into
my ears and my nostrils
a deep sleep
inhaling
this overture is quite different
it is the rising from this deep sleep of
kapok,
foamy softness
i rise and
stretch my hands to the ceiling
i wake up and
i hear
the notes come again like
dripping morning rain
from the nipa roof
falling on
some white pebbles
on my pavement
like my tears
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
No Matter
no matter how i put my head
to the softness of the pillow
the feeling of falling from the 12th floor
of the Taipa hotel
keeps on going
like there is no floor
like my hands do not know
anymore what to hold
i close my eyes to end this madness
but there is only this endless chasm,
i peep upon an opening of light
to see you once again
how can i be so cruel to worship
the goddess of truth?
i touch my hands and tell my nerves
this is not the right place to hurt
this is not the time
set aside the truth, there is no need for it
one sphinx as a sacrifice is enough for this world
there is this hunger that you know
let it not be known by her
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Feelings...
actually we are falling
like rain
but the difference is that
we fall
upward
because we are transcendental
creatures
who know the cycles of light
and darkness
who know that life is a ring
there is no end to this falling
and so we
simply stay
there is no floor
we only dream of skies
no ceiling
we only have space beyond
and this pretty makes all interesting
together
we are actually floating in this fall
and so we simply feel
that we are watching things around
us
we invent television and
we sit by the sofa
and watch
there is no falling after all
we are here
dots on earth taken by its spins and
revolutions
we are like stones now
stable on the sand...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I Love You
I love your lips when they're wet with wine
And red with a wild desire;
I love your eyes when the lovelight lies
Lit with a passionate fire.
I love your arms when the warm white flesh
Touches mine in a fond embrace;
I love your hair when the strands enmesh
Your kisses against my face.
Not for me the cold calm kiss
Of a virgin's bloodless love;
Not for me the saint's white bliss,
Nor the heart of a spotless dove.
But give me the love that so freely gives
And laughs at the whole world's blame,
With your body so young and warm in my arms,
It sets my poor heart aflame.
So kiss me sweet with your warm wet mouth,
Still fragrant with ruby wine,
And say with a fervor born of the South
That your body and soul are mine.
Clasp me close in your warm young arms,
While the pale stars shine above,
And we'll live our whole young lives away
In the joys of a living love.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
On the bed she lies stretched out almost naked,
On the bed she lies stretched out almost naked,
in a transparent night-gown
with her breasts and large nipples
immediately drawing my attention,
her love triangle
with dark pubic hair shines through
when passion causes her
to rip the front buttons of my shirt off
that falls like raindrops
pattering on the wooden floor
when my body is hot against mine,
with my hands finding her soft supple breasts
with her lips smouldering on mine,
with her hand leading me to her boiling point
and we are both shivering
caught in moments of lust
while she has difficulty
to unbuckle my belt,
to zip it down
and we both melt into each other nakedly.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Trusting No Light
you wrap my body with your breasts
and i face the pillow my body presses
on the softness of materiality, you run
your fingers on my arms looking for
the secrets of my flesh, and i keep my
hands steady on the railing of the bed.
you whisper to my ear the tradition that
in true love there are no more secrets.
i smile to the white linen and i close my
eyes back to the horrors of my pasts.
you put your chin on my shoulder and
you kiss my hair and you caress my
head and neck down to my hip and butt.
you kiss me again and you signal that i
now must face you in this intimacy. And
i look at you and gently i kiss you in return.
I am Cupid and you are Psyche. I must tell
you again, i trust no light. Love exists
by itself, through itself, for itself, & in-itself.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
My God Walks
my god walks naked in the stillness...
her long hair falling in the moonlight.
her bare feet touching the earth,
her lips wet with the dew.
her breasts heave with the coming
and going of the waves...
her eyes shine like lanterns,
her breath bathes the trees...
and in her softness small animals take refuge...
in her growl change is born...
in her desire time is renewed.
and she sings the hymn of dialogue,
and touching, always touching....
she bends down to me and whispers
her hidden name...
while spiders and turtles begin
the work of redemption...
wolves howl, and mountains breathe...
my god takes the hand of the hungry child,
and walks past the point of distance!
while i follow the sound of my own heart,
to the point of nearness!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
There Shall Be No Blank Space Of This Jalousy
she broke a piece
of the window, a plank of glass
and the cat gets in at night
and sleeps on my favorite sofa
i never like this
i don't like a blank space where a cat slips in
and takes a portion of my sofa
this is strictly prohibited in my world
today the plank of glass is delivered
and there is no emptiness left along the lines of this
space
where the wind is free to
to get in and then move out like nothing happened
between the cat and the sofa.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
At The Middle Part
..and then she faces me
this time exposing every part of her
a tall. lean white body with long black hair
cascading like a waterfall
of silence
she walks towards me
as i lay my head on the pillow
as i signal her to come
and share with me
love and sorrow
and the passion of our presence
she takes a slow movement
her hands touching my hair
her lips getting near
my face
and then we close our eyes
and enter into another world
where we are one
so close
airtight.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
How I Wish You Were Here
how i wish you were here
i sit by my window and you
are just beside me and i become your
face tissue and you are some tears
or we could be something else
or could be that i am the microphone
of the videoke and you are the
song or could be otherwise
or i could be the sofa
and you are the guest sipping beer
or a coca-cola or could be that we
are all guests and we are all the singers
and the rest are the songs and the sofa
and the glasses and the wine
and the ham and bread
whatever, i only wish that you are here beside me.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Face Of Ponder
the classic one
naked, butt on a rock
legs extended
body sits and hands
supporting the jaw
like a pillar
to a cellar
got one today
with my glasses on
i stare to the sea
amidst the storm
with my window
open
i am not naked
nay,
i am fully dressed
without any plan of going
to any place
my hands hold the frame
my feet rooted on the floor
my soul like water inside a glass
overflowing
i am emptying
because i am full.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
What is it all about
We try to talk about many things
Petty and not so vulgar
We try to overwhelm ourselves
With so much words as I choose
What to put to make you marvel
And you pretend you marvel
That I make sense, but in truth
That is not the point of this meeting
Of two souls, it is the meeting of bodies
Of two bodies, needing each other’s warmth
And wrath, as I tell you about something
Interesting, you know that I am just
Pretending, my eyes are looking at every
Corner of your skin, the tip of your fingers
Wanting to touch me, too,
The softness of your body, the lines in
Your curvatures, swaying towards
My lips, I stop, I kneel before your
Gentleness, as you close your eyes
As you hold my hair, as you caress
My neck, my arms, my chest and you
Have sympathies for my gentleness
My humiliation, you ask me with the
Signal of your hands, and eyes, and
Lips that I rise up
To kiss you, it is all about it, and
We have no chance saying words
Again, we breathe each other’s longings
We fill our mutual emptiness, like we
Are all cups now filled with air.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Ballade of the hours of night
Our love had bloomed fully
when naked you came to me
with a small towel covering you,
when it fell from your body
and your eyes caught mine glittering,
when silence hanged luring between us.
There was a kind of hunger and thirst in me,
when your lips found mine,
with your hair braiding through my fingers
when the alarm slowly counted the time
and we both were longing for something eternal,
when silence hanged luring between us.
Like falling rain was the smell of us both
on the big old fluffy blanket
with your legs and arms crossed over me,
when my heartbeats sounded in my ears,
and there was a much deeper more intense urge
when silence hanged luring between us.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Another Night with Miss Pinkie
Miss Pinkie (she dropped
the title Mrs from
her name ages ago)
lay on the sofa
and said
take me if you want
spank me if you will
and he stood
looking at her
a glass of scotch
in his hand
the music of Mahler's
symphony number 4
coming through the door
from an outer room
she lay butt naked
her amble flesh
spread out
her hands resting
on her breasts
who's the orchestra
on the Mahler piece?
he asked
can't remember
she said shifting slightly
her blue eyes searching him
aren't you going to oblige?
she said
he drank back
the scotch
and put the glass down
on the small coffee table
can I sit first?
sure
she said and sat up
and moved over
to allow him room
beside her
he gazed at her
at her dyed blonde hair
at her eyes deep
like oceans of blueness
knowing she had
19 years upward on him
and all she wanted
was a few hours
of talk and laughter
and a leisurely screw
one of the old guys
died at the home today
he said
out of the blue
oh which one?
she asked
the one who sat
in his room each day
and looked out
the window
and said next to nothing
oh him
she said
think he was
broken hearted
she added
he took in
the beauty spot
on her cheek
like Marilyn used
to have years ago
so how about it?
she asked
are you ready for it?
the Mahler piece softened
some moving movement
well?
she said placing
a hand on his thigh
maybe you could put
on Brahms for a change
he said
sensing her hands
move upwards
maybe
she said softly
if you're a good boy
the lights were low
the lights from the street
added a different shade
of glow
ok
he said
and her hands moved
and did their work
and so did his
bit by bit
time over time
the music playing on
in the background
that and flesh slapping
and the sofa squeaking
was the symphony
of a sexual sound.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Remember that silence is sometimes the best answer....
smile,
stand there,
look at the
outside world,
go back to
your room
lay your body
in bed,
put your hands
on the side
of your body,
feel the softness
of the linen,
close your eyes,
sip the silence
of the room,
do not disturb
it with your
sound......
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
What he likes in her
What he likes in her is that she had his instincts:
He remembers he has strong arms and strong strumming fingers
His fingers sing like a man and
With a voice so penetrating to the notes of
Bold and pure love
Determined and purposeful
To her feminine softness
Scrutinizing inquisitive lips
His boldness to her inquisitive softness
His strong fingers opening her scrutinizing lips
And they always
Like said meeting of curiosities
Almost childlike, playful.
He surges on her softness as she lay like a helpless white defeated woman
He claims victory
But later he surrenders every part of him, his buttocks, his abdomen, his torso, and his legs
And even that which
Makes him importantly as a man conqueror
She receives him like a weak woman, helpless now
She stoops, she bows she crawls over him, in a change of positions
She keeps him strong.
She now conquers him, with a total surrender of everything she also owns
Her breasts, her neck, her lips, her hips, her mouth,
Both are lost, and both are looking for their important parts, afterwards
There is nothing under the bed, or this sofa.
It will take them a long time to recover the parts that seem to be
Unrecoverable.
Once, one part was inside her. Once one part
Deluded her mouth disguising as a hot food for dining.
She did not really mind, and she would not tell anyway,
Her mistake is intended for the pleasure of both, and there was no feeling
That something was wrong or even dirty.
It was so lovely, both concluded.
What he likes in her,
Her tight tonguetiedness.
Delights and more delights, for these coming nights.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!