She Is No Longer Innocent About The Ways Of The World
you think she is as fragile as a thin glass of cherry wine
that when you touch the tip with your finger
she blushes and the glass gets warmer with your thumb
its bottom at the mercy of your palm
you like to think that she is a flower blooming on the month of May
where the dews are as careful as the sap of the red melon
nothing that stains the skin and dirties the white linen
then you discover a lot of things
first, the way she uses the pillow putting it just bellow her buttocks
then the way she calls your name like the hush of the break of day's breeze
from the distant sea
mournful and yet so awakening to your senses
the way she puts her legs and spreads her arms to hold your body
she is like the full moon peeping over the window that you open
you let her in and she sleeps like a fantasy dream on your bed
every sense of you wakes up like there is a fire in the house
adrenalin rushes inside your thighs
you are undressed and in the naked truth you come to her
something unspeakable
unfathomed
giving you the freedom to plunge in the paradise
long denied by them for you
you found the map to her labyrinth of pleasure
and once there
you do not want to leave
this is your home
your niche where your hands thrive like the needles of grass
where you mind glows like the stars
alive and singing
this is pleasure immeasurable
her lips her breasts her arms her abdomen her eyes
her hands gripping your hands
her feet entwined like the vine to the pillar of your house
her soft voice her moans
the cock is crowing and by all means say hello to a very
nice morning
a new day to the first day of your life.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
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
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But They Can Never Be Mine
the face
the breasts and nipples
the abdomen
the smoothness of the skin
down to the last details
of the body
the middle and the bottom
the legs
and veins and toes and nails
all these dance before me
to my pleasure
i shut my mouth
i hold my hands and tell myself
oh how beautiful! (but)
they are not mine.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Famous Movie Poem - French Lieutenant's Woman
from the waves
she comes to your dream
a cauldron of longings
seeking your reassuring touch
thighs, legs, hands, breasts
blowing a tempest
in a bed of passions
please dont hold on to her
when it is over,
the waves will take her
to where she belongs
between the waves,
twinkling lights
charted by the breeze
and stars
the beautiest of passion
is what leaves
a bedfull of memory
which one can hold tightly to
reassuring as a treasure chest
warm as two sworn lovers'
bridge to paradise
legs, thighs,
hands, breasts..
the woman who comes
with a passion
the rolling of
incessant waves
and goes away,
quiet and swift
as a morning star
diluted by light of day
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Bottom Of The Glass
You think that you have found a way to ease your troubled mind
You fill a glass, then drink it down and fill it one more time
Well, the wine will flow and the pain will go but the spell will never last
Youll never find the answer in the bottom of the glass
Youll never find the answer in the bottom of the glass
Well, the bottom of the glass is just as empty as your life
You know it holds no secret way to help you in your strife
But for a while youre in another world and you wake up in the past
Youll never find the answer in the bottom of the glass
Youll never find the answer in the bottom of the glass
...glass
That bottle there is not your friend when its gone it leaves you cold
The strength it gives you slips away for its something you cant hold
Your hands will shanke and then youll take another from the flask
But youll never find the answer in the bottom of the glass
Youll never find the answer in the bottom of the glass
Youll never find the answer in the bottom of the glass
Youll never find the answer in the bottom of the glass
song performed by by Whiskeytown
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bottom Of The Glass
You think that you have found a way to ease your troubled mind
You fill a glass, then drink it down and fill it one more time
Well, the wine will flow and the pain will go but the spell will never last
Youll never find the answer in the bottom of the glass
Youll never find the answer in the bottom of the glass
Well, the bottom of the glass is just as empty as your life
You know it holds no secret way to help you in your strife
But for a while youre in another world and you wake up in the past
Youll never find the answer in the bottom of the glass
Youll never find the answer in the bottom of the glass
...glass
That bottle there is not your friend when its gone it leaves you cold
The strength it gives you slips away for its something you cant hold
Your hands will shanke and then youll take another from the flask
But youll never find the answer in the bottom of the glass
Youll never find the answer in the bottom of the glass
Youll never find the answer in the bottom of the glass
Youll never find the answer in the bottom of the glass
song performed by by Whiskeytown
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Last Night (Love Poem)
All through the night she keeps you awake.
Her skin so soft as she sleeps in your arms,
Her breath so quiet as you hold her tight,
Her scream of pleasure as you come as one,
Her body on fire as you climb the hill,
Her heart beats fast with rhythm of love,
Her gasps of pleasure as you slip inside,
Her lips so hot as you kiss her so hard,
Her breasts so perfect in the act of love,
Her desire so strong as you feel her wet,
Her passion so wild as she strips for you,
Her love so perfect as you look in her eyes,
Her beauty so radiant as she smiles hello.
All through the night you remember last night.
poem by Ian Beckett
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Your Between And My Betwixt
We so easily
slip into the
intestacies
of Time's Pauses
where we
make love;
where time
draws the window curtains
for our modesty
and our pleasure.
Moments
swirl
dance and play
on window sills
and make
toys
for our play
and taffida
ornaments
singing.
Touch my lips
with soft breath,
finger tips
down my
curved back
where hands
land
on smooth skin
erupting
senses
meshed
rising.
Instants
play
on your chest
dance upon
your breasts
rising to my touch.
All is wonderful here.
Shut away
are the Outside Fears
the Them Out There
for Inside Here
is Our World
perfectly mixed
with your Beating Open Heart
and my Desire-
My Between
and Your
Betwixt
Igniting.
There is in this
no other time
than this
Our Time
there is no other gift
than this gift given
Betwixt
and Between us.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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SUPpRESSED DESIRES
Her only home is herself
her only contact to her body
her hands
untouched by man who want
to sleep with her in the nest
of desire,
she refuses all offers
regardless of color and shape
deep within her
pressure is building
like a tornado
but she keeps herself
composed like a placid lake
like an undisturbed sky
glittering with the beauty of
the stars
a volcano is erupting inside
her breasts
she refuses hands and lips
and mouths
her house is herself
abandoned by the sun
and the rain
she is alone and too lovely
still
the moon tonight by her
open window shall be her lover
she is after all a metaphor
of suppressed desires.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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For You Love Me...
my forehead has dirt
there is shit on my cheek
my arms are dusty
and my hands are getting clumsy
my feet are muddy
and my lips are cracked
i am tipsy and drunk
and with someone else
on some cheap bed
yet when i come back
you make me still feel
that sense of home
you kiss my forehead
touch my cheeks with
your kind hands
and tell me
you miss me so much
and as i am tipsy and
drunk
you offer me hot green
tea
you open the door of
the house
and let me step again
inside the room
of love
full of affection
we embrace again
nothing about history
nothing about
what i must say
because you always
tell me
that whatever happens
you will always love me
now, who wants to be
away from you?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Near Yet So Far Away
you are just a breath
away from my
face. My fingers want
to jump off
my hands to
run over you
and indulge
in the lust of touch
and caress
my tongue wants
to run away
with your lips
my thigh
trembles beside
your hands
you are so near
yet
something holds
me away from you
(how can i
ever explain it?)
as i take
a glance, for the last
time at you
beside the glass window
of the car
i finally look down
and wish that
i kiss your feet
(i am in a
quandary between
shame and
satiation)
so near and
yet so far, i close
my eyes
and travel
inside my veins
my blood pumps
up and says
be good
take care as i leave
you are so
far now,
at the end,
at a certain edge
even the hands of my dreams
shy away
to hold and kiss
your shadow
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Pin Has A Head, But Has No Hair
A pin has a head, but has no hair;
A clock has a face, but no mouth there;
Needles have eyes, but they cannot see;
A fly has a trunk without lock or key;
A timepiece may lose, but cannot win;
A corn-field dimples without a chin;
A hill has no leg, but has a foot;
A wine-glass a stem, but not a root;
A watch has hands, but no thumb or finger;
A boot has a tongue, but is no singer;
Rivers run, though they have no feet;
A saw has teeth, but it does not eat;
Ash-trees have keys, yet never a lock;
And baby crows, without being a cock.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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Trois.....
we are all the same
towards the destination
that island of
desire
three of us in this
boat
body
we do not mention names
what for?
the elements of wind and fire
and hands and thighs
and tongues
making memories on sands
and picking time like pickles
licking the
toothpick
and opening the
legs of what they do not
beforehand
understand as the three of these
who are here
unwind and in freedom
discover
the secret of
what cannot be uttered
here leave the hands
and mouth
open.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Glass Boy, Spare Some
Pliant flame, spare one simper for a boy
Who wore a vessel of naked sincerity too lucid
That reduced his opulence into thin films
Of frailty, steadfast with detrimental affection
Of vulnerability, committed to debonair convictions
He submits into a disposition of undeserving woes and pains
In a terrain with no tender arms, a valley of jagged hopes
That glistened like the epitomizing skin of shattered glass
Phosphorescent crust encumbering a fragile soul
Spared of scarce sympathy, corrupted of his golden crown
Abrade of flaws and lamentations, tethered in a town
Of make believe people and cheap bliss that tinker
Inside a hollow glass receptacle too agonizing to touch
The papyrus-thin veneer of diaphanous crust
In a vow to transparency to the skeletons and demons
That cordially lingered in the wardrobe of terror
Giving away all that there is; hope and its disease
Porcelain grandiosity drained in a lack-lusting ride
Of rueful nights, sullying to impotency a glass-like pride
Held by the hand, but who would hold such fragile hands?
Shattered mirrors and razor edges, fulminate thy prancing light
And devour the darkness of the mantling abandonment
Spare a piece of heaven, glass boy of flimsy grip
Spare an ounce of faith, glass boy of authentic grief
For I have enough spared for a goblet full of emptiness
Iron eyes for a glass frame, a boy too earnest.
poem by Norman Santos
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You Came To My Senses
I picture you on the beach
Lying in the sand
Out of reach of my trembling hands
I picture you in a car
Blonde hair in the wind
I picture you in my arms
And the touch of your skin
The smile on your face
The way that you taste
(chorus)
You come to my senses
Every time I close my eyes
I have no defenses
You come to my senses
I cant stop this ache inside
I have no defenses
You come to my senses
Driving home in the cold
January rain
Ive got to find my way out of this pain
I reached for you in the night
I dreamed of your kiss
I woke before it got light
With your name on my lips
Alone in my bed
Your voice in my head
(chorus)
I picture you in my arms
And the touch of your skin
The smile on your face
The way that you taste
You come to my senses
Every time I close my eyes
I have no defenses
You come to my senses
I cant stop this ache inside
Oh, I have no defenses
You come to my senses
Ah...
song performed by by Chicago
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You Come To My Senses
I picture you on the beach
Lying in the sand
Out of reach of my trembling hands
I picture you in a car
Blonde hair in the wind
I picture you in my arms
And the touch of your skin
The smile on your face
The way that you taste
(chorus)
You come to my senses
Every time i close my eyes
I have no defenses
You come to my senses
I can't stop this ache inside
I have no defenses
You come to my senses
Driving home in the cold
January rain
I've got to find my way out of this pain
I reached for you in the night
I dreamed of your kiss
I woke before it got light
With your name on my lips
Alone in my bed
Your voice in my head
(chorus)
I picture you in my arms
And the touch of your skin
The smile on your face
The way that you taste
You come to my senses
Every time i close my eyes
I have no defenses
You come to my senses
I can't stop this ache inside
Oh, i have no defenses
You come to my senses
Ah...
song performed by by Chicago
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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serving God so well....
so many things that you do
with so much pleasure with so much esteem
beyond money and awards
noble
when you drive yourself to your way home
at night on that long dark road
you hear music inside your heart
your fingers move upon a beat of indescribable pleasure
you are your best friend
in silence
when you arrive home there is no one there
no child greets you
you remove your shoes
undress
naked you hug your bed
soft pillow
you sleep like a dead man and when you wake up
the following morning
you become a new man, strong, and firm and smiling
to the sun by your window
there is no one here
you feel confident, God is so alive inside you
you have served Him well.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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When You Are Sleeping
i look carefully at the restive pose,
hands on the side, the head inclined towards the window
the breathing breast is as calm as the sunset sea
the eyelashes like a silk skirt on the side of the eye
nothing covers you except the soft breeze
your hair spreads like the gentleness of the night
your naked feet rests on the white pillow
your lips curl like a bow to its arrows
love hits me again and i am vulnerable
to its caresses, as i stand and hold the frame of this window
out there is the wide wild world of my dreams
where i do not belong anymore
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Simplest Bliss
the night as backdrop
an easy chair to rest my legs
a soft pillow where my head leans
an orange glass vase
a bud of red rose
a single leaf
hushing wind from the sea
my hands on my thighs
i dream
my heart beats always
you know
for you,
far, far away
like a distant island on the
shoreless sea
how i wish my thoughts
are dead
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Bianca
Her cheeks are hot, her cheeks are white;
The white girl hardly breathes to-night,
So faint the pulses come and go,
That waken to a smouldering glow
The morbid faintness of her white.
What drowsing heats of sense, desire
Longing and languorous, the fire
Of what white ashes, subtly mesh
The fascination of her flesh
Into a breathing web of fire?
Only her eyes, only her mouth,
Live, in the agony of drouth,
Athirst for that which may not be:
The desert of virginity
Aches in the hotness of her mouth.
I take her hands into my hands,
Silently, and she understands;
I set my lips upon her lips;
Shuddering to her finger-tips
She strains my hands within her hands.
I set my lips on hers; they close
Into a false and phantom rose;
Upon her thirsting lips I rain
A flood of kisses, and in vain;
Her lips inexorably close.
Through her closed lips that cling to mine,
Her hands that hold me and entwine,
Her body that abondoned lies,
Rigid with sterile ecstasies,
A shiver knits her flesh to mine.
Life sucks into a mist remote
Her fainting lips, her throbbing throat;
Her lips that open to my lips,
And, hot against her finger-tips,
The pulses leaping in her throat.
poem by Arthur Symons
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By Any Other Name
BY ANY OTHER NAME
Written by Elizabeth Marie and Wilfred Mellers
Tangled in a mess I've made
It was I being timid and quit afraid
No longer do I want to run nor neither flee
In your arms is where I truly want to be
My love, my heart, and my very soul
With you I’ve lost all sense of self-control
Lay me down and hear the sighs I cry
Now you can touch my cherry pie
White silk sheets and passion sweet
Gently caressing and rubbing my feet
Leaning forward to taste your loving lips
Feelings so great the sun it eclipse
Yearning I am to kiss your face
Implanted I am in your loving embrace
Your essence I want to desperately taste
Unbound the buckle hands now release posthaste
Gazing in your eyes drifted I ever deeply
Breathing heavier sounds I make ever sweetly
Bodies entwined as friction climaxes
Opened my peach as the thighs relaxes
Tongue gently passing on pink breasts
The flower moistens to loves conquests
All desires eagerly set a flame to the greatest attention
Love’s fire blazing no longer I seeking affirmation
Dom Perignon sipped from her glass
Ferns ornate lips tenderly to pass
Dragon rises from a restless slumber
In pastel garden the serpent places chocolate member
Warmth and tingles travel throughout my torso
A shivering chill goes down to my elbow
Elastic juices flow like fine Bordeaux
Your love on me you now bestow
I want stop, scream, and shout
In your arms again to dwell no doubt
I close my eyes and dream of you
Never had a love so tender, so true
poem by Wilfred Mellers
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