Taking A Glance At You
taking a glance at you
is poetry in itself, by itself and for itself.
there are words in my eyes
they speak in silence. They long to tell you what i feel.
there are hands on my lips. There are fingers there.
They long to go near you and kiss your lips too.
i see you as words too. Your eyes are images of my
own happiness. Your lips are shaping the shapes of ships
and they have sails to take me away to ecstacies.
i feel you as words of love, and lust and desire insatiable.
my fingers want to read every syllable in your face.
you have always been my poem.And there are so many of you
in all of them.
words, and images, and ecstacies. faces and compositions.
i love all of them. And this time i take a glance again.
at you. this poem. this is you. Believe me.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
The First Poem
The first poem I ever read
is the first words I ever said.
The words I love you
written by this beauty's tongue
turned a heart rosy red from a somber blue
and made me burn for my heart was wrung.
The first poem I ever read
is the first poem I ever said.
On her poetic lips love words refined
and shaped a sonnet on her flesh defined
On those lips I read a poet's song
And knew it was there my lips belonged.
The first poem I ever read
is the first words I ever said.
I love you, I love you
What does it mean?
These words said, to start anew
something pure and something serene.
The first words I ever read
is the first words I ever said.
Those first words she whispered into my ear
And in my heart, her poem stood near
Those are the most beautiful words one ever said
I love you, I love you, will live till its dead.
The first poem I ever read
is the first words I ever said.
I read her lips, I love you, I love you..
now to sleep I go in love's sweet bed.
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Read My Lips
verbal silence. read my lips.
if you see them.
read the words. read it here.
these words. read them like
flowers in the garden.
these words speak a little.
tips of the iceberg. They are less
compared to the color of my eyes
the warmth of my fingers
the suppressed beatings of my heart.
these words that you read.
if only you can see my lips.
if only you can see my face.
and body, naked on the flowing sheet of
pure paper. IF only you know
what silence means, how emptiness
eats it, if only you know how inferior
verbs and adjectives are
compared to the caresses of the hands
and the tenderness of the fingers,
touch.
read the lines silently.
these words do not shape my lips.
they come to your eyes.
in the silence of your understanding.
never shall they speak
about me. they only talk about
the hands that write sometimes
without any meaning at all.
infinitives are not infinite.
neither do verbs know what is it to be still.
and adjectives talk only about the surface.
deep under, the noise begins.
and silence of the verbs move to another side.
now, the mountains of ideas collapse
and bury the casualties of silence.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I could have done other useful things than writing a poem
Sometimes I have regrets writing poems
Love poems, poems about virtue and heroism
Poems that explain myself, that justify
This nothingness
That fill this emptiness,
What are these but signs and metaphors of
My weaknesses,
Symbols of my hopelessness
Ciphers of my uselessness
To life’s dreams, unfulfilled, stars that I have not
Reach or even touch with the words in my lips
I could have danced, and danced so well
Sweat things out shedding sighs and skins on the floors
I could have played a role, acted my way out
Exiting through the doors of author’s characters
And feel this sense of
It was her it was him it was not me
Sometimes I feel
To be a poet is to be dumb and dead
To demand nothing but this honor
This laurel this principle
That I cannot eat that I cannot sell that I cannot
Make use of,
Useless poetry, trashy, nothing but bad breathes
Of my being
Foul and nauseating to my sense of
What I dream what I want to be
To be this great, respected man of power
One that commands rather than take orders
From someone claiming superior feathers
I have long wanted to stop but here I am again
An addict to poetry destined for rehabilitation
In distant cruel word processing centers
Just like you, here I am again, not stopping
My fingers always wanting to type the words
My mind always listening
my heart always mouthing
Words, words, words, these words
This poem
This poem is born and I am its tributary
I am this poet now without a face without a name
I am but a mouth, fingers to my hand
Always not stopping, how can I tell you why?
When I myself, do not really know. I am this poem
With an unknown author, I am this poem just written
Taking shape like a candle lighting,
Flowing from your thoughts
Taking the forms of beings unknown to us
We claim we understand we claim we can live with
You are now lost asking the way
You could have done other things than reading this poem
Precisely this is what I really feel. Do you feel it now?
Yes.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Everything In Poetry Is Allowed
everything in poetry is allowed
so much sweat had been wasted
so many words alienated from their own meanings
on the issue of which is true poetry
enough of that
let me state once more that everything in poetry is allowed
whatever is it that comes from your mouth
that slips from your lips
becomes a poem by the intensity of your intention
today my mouth gives birth to bees
and i am telling you a poem is a swarm of bees
like a set of hands spreading some prayers
tonight i shall dream of words escaping from my mouth
i see them as snakes singing
oh, i see, i am telling you a poem is a choir of snakes hissing a song
(do you really imagine that? am i not a little bit
weird?)
i never tire giving birth to words, and images, and metaphors
and a poem never gets weary like the insomniac still not wanting to sleep
oh, i see, you too must have words like these
those that never sleep, you see? what a poem can be?
a poem is a set of sleepless words, smoking at night, looking over the window,
naked, like a very beautiful woman, looking for love.
you want things to make connections? hmm, don't be silly, some connections
do not seem to be
takes time, sometimes, takes even death upon one's self, to see the light.
but don't you worry, whatever is it, becomes a poem by the intensity of your
affections.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Love Is Not Like A Poem
the years of experience
of being real, concrete as
cemented pavements, real as
these hands that are warm
and callous, love has not become
like a poem
where metaphors are written
for more understanding
pulsating hearts
and other nuances of
sly literature, words, and more words,
and more connotations and denotations
of this image and that image
this scent of roses and colors of sunsets
too beautiful to behold in our mortal
eyes and bleeding hearts
my love is real, it feeds on love and thrives
on your love, my love is real like stones
i hurl and disturbs the calm waves
of the sea,
my love is not like a poem
need i say, it is more than any poem
beyond metaphors
and images, the face that i touch
the lips that i kiss, and the night
cold enough for us to think
that we badly need this hug.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fingers
In that photo of yours
I saw you –
Your face, your shoulders,
Your hands, and then
Your fingers…
My lips quivered
So did my hands
And I felt like touching you,
With my quivering lips
And unsure hands,
Those very beautiful
Exquisite fingers…
Reading your poems of love
And pondering over your letters…
Sometimes I imagine
You writing to me
With those very same
Slender and artistic
Adept fingers…
Very often I feel
And wonder…
If your fingers
Ever do ache
Writing so long,
So nice,
And so very endless,
Day after day…
And if they do, my Love
I feel like pampering them
With tender, loving care
A kiss here, a kiss there…
Holding them,
Caressing them,
Sucking them slow…
Your fingers in my mouth
Taking turns to go
One by one,
I feel them,
Nibble them,
Suckle them,
Make love to them,
Within the deep recesses
Of my oral crevice…
Till they feel pampered
And satiated
And I feel the same too…
Contented and happy
Making love to you
With your fingers
In my mouth…
A wonderful tryst
Of love and lust,
Warmth and arousal,
And then if you wish…
And if I'm also willing,
We can play this game
All night long…
Where you don’t win
And I don’t lose
We both win over together
And lose ourselves
To each other…
I give free rein to
Your fingers…
To touch, feel
And explore
The inner crevices
And every pore
Of my body…
The mouth has had its turn
Now, do you wish to go
Further down..?
And see how it feels
To caress my breasts,
My derriere and my
Yoni,
With those seeking,
Exploring fingers of yours…
You’ve penned a lot of poetry
And your letters intoxicate me…
How about writing
Some letters of love
And a few lines of love ballads
On the spaces and margins
Of my body…
Dipping your fingers,
And drinking into
The juice of my
Dripping Yoni…
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Say The Words
Every light shines on you tonight
Making a fool out of me
Why wont this love leave me alone
All of the people in this smoky room
Crowded with faces I know
I feel them watching me watch you
Chorus
Say the words
Say the words
Say the words
Say the words so I can leave its over
Your eyes are deeper
They are worthy of many words
But none I can conjure up will do for you
I shouldnt see you
cause I know my own motivation
Its taking too long for this love
To leave me alone
Chorus
Say the words
Say the words
Say the words
Say the words so I can leave its over
Bridge
Oh love you worry me
When you say youll wait forever
I have another life
We just cannot be together
Chorus
Say the words
Say the words
Say the words
Say the words say them for me
I need to hear you say its over
Say the words
Say the words
Say the words so I can leave its over
song performed by by Vonda Shepard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When I Will Meet You Again
when i meet you again
i will not use words
i will not utter your name
i will look at you and go closer
my lips closer to your lips
my hands caressing your hands your hair your body
i will have no use of words
they will be unnecessary and time so short shall have no regrets
for i shall have your kiss your sweet caress
i have no use of words for i shall make love with you the whole night long.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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There Was A Poem Long Ago
THERE WAS A POEM LONG AGO
There was a poem long ago
A poem of youth and hope
Now there are other poems
Poems of age and sorrow.
There was a poem once
Of love – and happiness in love
Now there is a poem of lovelessness
And sadness.
There was a poem once
Of the long and distant open road
Now there is a poem of the dead end.
There was a poem once
That believed in Poetry
Now there is a poem that knows
Even the most beautiful worlds of words
End in dust
There was a poem once – long ago.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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This Is Mumbling This Is Rambling
do not care to read me carefully, just skim over
some words that may call your preferential attention.
do not mind the smaller ideas, or the images that
you find hard to imagine. They may not be images
after all but just blotches of my stains, the negligence
of my trembling fingers, the lapses of my brains,
the slip of my tongues, the cliches of humanity,
seeking meaning in the meaninglessness of words.
this is mumbling, this is plain rambling
do not ever mind what i am writing. this is not about you.
or myself, or the society that like sheep simply graze on the grass
not knowing that on the next step is the landmine that kills them,
or why look for the meaning of loneliness in words or lines or poetry.
are you going home tonight? on a train. sit there. look over the window.
see the line of trees, do they shout at you? No.
and move your eyes, as though you are scrolling for names on the
cell phone, like roving camera, you do not have to look that far on the
20th person sitting across the other side.
someone is sitting next to you. listen to his silence.
feel the vibrations of all his problems. try to unmask the cover of his face.
are there words covering his face? none.
or if words cover his face and body, try reading them all silently.
most of the truths are not said. Not even written. You always see them
next to you. Be it on the train, the bus or the plane. Or simply when you
walk along the cemented paths of the park. Here comes another
lost soul. Talk to him. Do not write poetry.
this is mumbling this is plain rumbling. Do not speak poetry.
write them and let them cover your face. That is the best way to speak.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Silent Conversation With Myself
do not care to read me carefully, just skim over
some words that may call your preferential attention.
do not mind the smaller ideas, or the images that
you find hard to imagine. They may not be images
after all but just blotches of my stains, the negligence
of my trembling fingers, the lapses of my brains,
the slip of my tongues, the cliches of humanity,
seeking meaning in the meaninglessness of words.
this is mumbling, this is plain rambling
do not ever mind what i am writing. this is not about you.
or myself, or the society that like sheep simply graze on the grass
not knowing that on the next step is the landmine that kills them,
or why look for the meaning of loneliness in words or lines or poetry.
are you going home tonight? on a train. sit there. look over the window.
see the line of trees, do they shout at you? No.
and move your eyes, as though you are scrolling for names on the
cell phone, like roving camera, you do not have to look that far on the
20th person sitting across the other side.
someone is sitting next to you. listen to his silence.
feel the vibrations of all his problems. try to unmask the cover of his face.
are there words covering his face? none.
or if words cover his face and body, try reading them all silently.
most of the truths are not said. Not even written. You always see them
next to you. Be it on the train, the bus or the plane. Or simply when you
walk along the cemented paths of the park. Here comes another
lost soul. Talk to him. Do not write poetry.
this is mumbling this is plain rumbling. Do not speak poetry.
write them and let them cover your face.
That is the best way to speak.
This is what is life is all about.
Speechless. Alone always.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Reading Out Loud
As I stood up in front of the crowd
They all sat still and silent
Their eyes and ears aimed like rifles on me
And I slowly read my poem aloud
My knees shook with every spoken lyric
My lips quivered as I couldn't stop
They listened intently, focused
As if my every word was the word of a mystic
Heavy emotions make me weightless
My eyes are shaking and my heart is too
My poem is almost finished
But the words aren't bitter and tasteless
I look at the crowd's emotionless faces as I finish reading
Their monotone lips curve upward as they clap
I walk off the stage nervously trying to maintain balance
And in my head the words of the poem repeat
poem by Christian Rivera
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What Would You Like
Tell me you name, tell me your sign.
Please tell me that my mind is right.
I just want to take you to my home.
Where we can talk by a fire all alone.
There's just one thing that I need to know.
Could you ever be there when I woke up,
Or will you be just another and be gone?
Should I buy you a dozen roses?
Should I write you a love poem,
Of how my heart can't stop beating for you?
Should I take you to a lakeside with a romantic dinner?
Would you like candle light flickering in front of us?
Would you like the lovely words that could roll off my tongue?
Would you like me to express how much you mean to me?
Would you like that soft romantic music in the background?
I take one look at you and my heart can't stop smiling.
It begins to display on the outside and my lips curl up.
Looking at you from across the void I can see my life with you.
You take a glance at me and can't help but notice to.
I walk around the corner and fade out of your sight.
I love playing this game.
Should I buy you a dozen roses?
Should I write you a love poem,
Of how my heart can't stop beating for you?
Should I take you to a lakeside with a romantic dinner?
Would you like candle light flickering in front of us?
Would you like the lovely words that could roll off my tongue?
Would you like me to express how much you mean to me?
Would you like that soft romantic music in the background?
You chase me around the corner at the end of the aisle.
And we both meet each other eye to eye.
My hands behind my back.
Can you guess what I've got in mind.
Oh I think you'll be suprized.
You look at me and begin to smile.
Should I buy you a dozen roses?
Should I write you a love poem,
Of how my heart can't stop beating for you?
Should I take you to a lakeside with a romantic dinner?
Would you like candle light flickering in front of us?
Would you like the lovely words that could roll off my tongue?
Would you like me to express how much you mean to me?
Would you like that soft romantic music in the background?
I see the moonlight fall across your face as you sleep.
I take one look at you as my fingers gently stroke your cheek.
You breathe in and breathe out and stir awake.
Looking up at me and smiling all the while.
I bend down and kiss you ever so slowly.
Should I buy you a dozen roses?
Should I write you a love poem,
Of how my heart can't stop beating for you?
Should I take you to a lakeside with a romantic dinner?
Would you like candle light flickering in front of us?
Would you like the lovely words that could roll off my tongue?
Would you like me to express how much you mean to me?
Would you like that soft romantic music in the background?
My lips want to take in every taste it can.
My fingers what to rub your smooth skin.
My eyes want to see all your love dep inside.
And no matter how hard I try.
My mind can't comprehend the beauty within.
If I bought you a dozen roses would you fall in love?
If I wrote you that special love poem would you kiss me tight?
If I took you to a lakeside of of a romantic dinner would you stay the night?
Would you like the candle's flickering lights?
Would you like the expressions of my words rolling off my tongue?
Would you come be with me even though the night's young?
Would you like the kiss that takes the breath away deep within your lungs?
Would you want to be with me through the rest of your life?
Would you want to be with my heart through the beating might?
Would you want to grab my hands and love me through all the bad time?
Would you want to hug me in the anger of emotions and try to fight?
Would you stand within my heart and dance in the spotlight?
Would you like to be with me through the whole night?
Should I buy you a dozen roses?
Should I write you a love poem,
Of how my heart can't stop beating for you?
Should I take you to a lakeside with a romantic dinner?
Would you like candle light flickering in front of us?
Would you like the lovely words that could roll off my tongue?
Would you like me to express how much you mean to me?
Would you like that soft romantic music in the background?
poem by Josh Burnett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Some Thing For Words
words
kiss on pages...
words kill
on lips...
words
hang with mind...
words
spread with a love...
all about words...
only speak at
bad..with good...
god words are
good......
devil words are
bad...
are
some thing...
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Painted Canvass: Perspective Master Strokes
Luxury. Time and a whole new poem to cite.
Exquisite. An exceptional poem a classic write.
A great poem from a favourite master poet.
And mine all mine to read now in the night.
With deep appreciation, I read these words in hues of light.
Others may fear fail to tread, this path that shines so bright.
First we avid read, then deconstruct, then reconstruct,
the words are whole again, with new fair crafted insight.
If we do not venture, into the words?
How will we know, there meanings?
The poem was whole, written in theme concepts.
Word play gifted images, savour ponder contrasts.
Mine eye perceives perspective, shaped in logic art.
The images drawn forever grace, astound my heart.
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Looking for your kiss
Looking for your kiss,
Not finding it for now,
Searching for your lips,
Still listening to your words,
Your telling me you want me,
You speak of what could be,
But I'm looking for your kiss,
To tell you how I feel,
To put in my passion and joy,
You feel for as I feel for you,
So I'm looking for your kiss,
Searching for your lips,
Looking forward to somethng new,
Searching for your lips,
Listening to your words,
I'm waiting for your kiss.
poem by Holly Heron
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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If You Could Feel My Words
If you could feel my words they'd touch you softly,
Like my hand grazing your cheek, warming your heart,
And sending you comfort and peace.
If you could hear my fingers tapping nimbly
Over my keyboard they'd be a love song,
A soft whisper chanting my soul's mantra,
Quietly calling your name.
If I could make love to you with pen and paper
You'd feel my thoughts as intensely
As they pour from my mind.
My fingers strumming over the keys
Would be caresses gliding over your skin,
A kiss on your sweet lips,
On your neck a gentle bite.
If I could make you love me with a poem
My phrases would wrap around you like
Silk metaphors tickling your senses.
The stanzas binding your heart to mine
As rhymes charm and seduce you into submission.
Our days would be a jaunty limerick
And our nights a passionate ballad.
If only you could feel my words.
poem by Susan Brealey
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Talkin' To Me
Funny how it's hard to find the words sometimes you know
Wishin we could read minds
Don't wanna let our feelings show
So even if you say you don't understand
I'm willing to give as much time as I can
Every time our eyes meet
Every time our eyes meet
Be talkin talkin talkin talkin to me (talkin to me)
Talkin talkin talkin talkin to me
Just ain't no need for words to speak (oh)
Cause every time
Be talkin talkin talkin to me
Be talkin talkin talkin to me (Talkin to me)
Your always actin so composed and cool
Never got to many words for me (To many words)
You always turn your head and make sure I see (Just to make sure)
Baby ain't nothin' wrong with the love
That you and I dream of
So sweet
Your actions say more than your lips can speak
My friends say that they just can't see (They just can't see)
How a love unspoken can be so deep (Can be so deep)
And every time that you look my way
I see
What your heart wants to say to me
Every time our eyes meet (oh yeah)
Be talkin talkin talkin talkin to me (Talkin to me)
Talkin talkin talkin talkin to me
Just ain't no need for words to speak (Ain't no need for words)
Cause every time
Be talkin talkin talkin to me (no no no no no)
Be talkin talkin talkin to me
Every time our eyes meet (My eyes meet your
song performed by by Amerie from All I Have
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An Unfinished Poem
The only song that is attributed to you,
And the words that create your images,
Enchant me.
The only colour,
That you opt to be clad in, on a certain day,
Enthralls me.
Only those scenes,
Which your eyes have cast a gaze upon;
Captivate my eyes.
Only the flowers,
That beam because of you,
And steal scent of your lips,
Fascinate my eyes.
If you smile, smile the ages;
These stars, moon and skies,
Flowers, colours and seasons,
Fragrance, and the throbbing heart,
And all sights sway in rapture,
Because of you.
My words too,
Formed in verses begin to flow,
In numbers, because of you.
Oh! My beloved: my life, my soul,
How long I should praise you,
For I confess, I am too deficient to reckon,
Your sweet dimensions,
In words and in images,
In metaphors and similes.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Compulsion
the eyes are already tired
wanting sleep
but the fingers still want to caress
the words
for another poem
a bad poem,
a demanding one
vomiting
words with no intention of making any meaning at all
it is this compulsion
the body resisting sleep
a rehearsal for death
the eyes are not aware of this
it is the spirit
that oozes in the fingers
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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