En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Good Friday and More

Good Friday. Dark purple over
All the statues. Grimstock stares
At windows coloured glass light
Shines through. Kim Keltis on his
Right dressed in black mind in prayer
Standing there. Crucified on a brass
Crucifix a Christ hangs the eyes
Closed arms stretched out the hands
Nailed. Grimstock's eyes lower down
To the slim waist of Kim and lets
Eyes move over firm buttocks fleshy
Thighs her dark dress caressing.
Unaware of his eyes her eyes closed
Holds to prayer talks to God confident
God is there not knowing Grimstock's
Stare. Grimstock's eyes like feelers
Reach and touch suck and feed in mind's
Eye greedily the prayer book in his hands
Clutched tightly becomes part of the girl's
Fleshy thighs becomes this becomes that
His dark eyes moving up rest upon her
Brushed hair. Kim standing still in prayer
Not aware Grimstock's there with finger
From forehead to her breast from shoulder
To shoulder makes soft sign of the cross
Imagines her own sweet Crucified hangs
For her in pain there Sweet Jesus she mutters
Like eased breath. Grimstock dreams she's
Undressed beside him in his bed making
Love passionate utterings sexual soft touches.
Kim opens her dark eyes sees Grimstock's
Greedy stare travelling over her standing
There his rough eyes like fingers touching
Her ravishing her soft flesh raping her in his
Mind and knowing that deep down that this
Man pushes hard onto her Jesus' thorny crown.

poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In The Dark, Painted Pink

eyes blazing in the dark
do not be slumbered
by sleek black hair
and soft touching
of breath from
ripened lips of red

eyes blazing in the dark
do not fall into sleep's abyss
as gentle touch
fingers promises on brow
with polished nails
pointed painted pink

eyes blazing in the dark
do not drift in dreams
of allures sweet scent
such intoxicates
and dims the wit
of weary men

eyes blazing in the dark
look into souls
and reflect
what is within;
eyes blazing in the dark

poem by David Taylor
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Angel Eyes

Those eyes of an angel
Made strangers feel easy
In the dark irises
Goodness lived completly

Those eyes of an angel
Made heaven's wonders collide
Radiated the sun
Oh, those angel eyes!

Those eyes of an angel
Complimented her dark hair
The coils and strands
Drew in many a stare

Those eyes of an angel
Were so often understood
And I stared at them so long
Before they closed for good

Those eyes of an angel
Pierced my soul to its core
And though I'd stare for hours
I'd want to see them more

And still I dream of their dark streams
That never relvealed their end
I mourn and pray that one day
My eyes find hers again

Though mine aren't as beautiful
I inherited them, I see
Oh, but I miss those angel eyes
That use to stare at me

poem by Whitney Albright
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Krishnakali

In the village they call her the dark girl
but to me she is the flower Krishnakali
On a cloudy day in a field
I saw the dark girl's dark gazelle-eyes.
She had no covering on her head,
her loose hair had fallen on her back.

Dark? However dark she be,
I have seen her dark gazelleeyes.

Two black cows were lowing,
as it grew dark under the heavy clouds.
So with anxious, hurried steps,
the dark girl came from her hut.
Raising her eyebrows toward the sky,
she listened a moment to the clouds' rumble.

Dark? However dark she be,
I have seen her dark gazelle-eyes.

A gust of the east wind
rippled the rice plants.
I was standing by a ridge,
alone in the field.
Whether or not she looked at me
Is known only to us two.

Dark? However dark she be,
I have seen her dark gazelle-eyes.

This how the Kohldark cloud
rises in the northeast in Jaistha;
the soft dark shadow
descends on the Tamal grove in Asharh;
and sudden delight floods the heart
in the night of Sravan.

Dark? However dark she be,
I have seen her dark gazelle-eyes.

To me she is the flower Krishnakali,
whatever she may be called by others.
In a field in Maynapara village
I saw the dark girl's dark gazelle-eyes.
She did not cover her head,
not having the time to feel embarrassed.

Dark? However dark she be,
I have seen her dark gazelle-eyes.

poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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Geraldine's Bus Ride to Work

Geraldine rides the bus to work.
She sways side to side with the
motion of the bus, sitting in the
compact human zoo, faces, limbs,

bodies, eyes, mouths. The sky
outside is an early morning icy blue.
A man opposite stares, his eyes
moving over her, his hands in his

lap, fingers playing with each other.
His eyes settle on her legs, drink
them in. She feels as if he were
undressing her, taking each item of

clothing off one by one. His eyes
are dark, deep set. She stares back
at him, takes in his lips, parted, thick
and saliva sits there. Her thoughts

move to Holly and the night before,
the game they played, the role plays,
the pre-sex drama. The man shifts
in his seat, wrinkles his nose, moves

his eyes to her breasts. She looks away,
senses his eyes fondling her tits, his
imaginary fingers groping. Holly would
have said something to the creep opposite,

would have shown him up, but she
doesn't have that way with her, she sits
it out, pushing thoughts of him away,
focuses on Holly's tongue licking the

inside of her thighs, sensation electrifying.
The man looks away, no doubt to masturbate
in his dark mind with his imaginary fingers.
Geraldine lets the thoughts of Holly and

her deeds linger, sucks in the hotness,
the scents, the sighs, the smells. She stares
at the man. He looks at his hands, his fingernails.
There is dirt beneath the nails, black as soot

as if he'd rooted in dark soil. She looks away;
Holly has set her (with her deeds) to sexual boil.

poem by Terry Collett
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No Difference

i stared out the window
at the bare frozen limbs
of my favorite old tree...
i closed my eyes...
saw leaves bud forth
and turn green...
i opened my eyes...
knowing there was no difference.

i stared at the young girl
reading at a corner table
i closed my eyes...
and saw an old grandmother
washing dishes with her grandbabies
playing in the floor at her feet...
i opened my eyes...
knowing there was no difference.

i saw the young man
carrying his son on his shoulders
i closed my eyes...
and saw an old man standing
by his son's casket
draped by a flag...
i opened my eyes...
knowing there was no difference.

i saw an old man
standing on the corner begging
i closed my eyes...
i saw a young boy
playing ball in the street
laughing and dodging cars
i opened my eyes...
knowing there was no difference.

i saw a crack head shivering
by an electric heater in a bare apartment
i closed my eyes...
and saw a young a/g student
helping some kid with his math
i opened my eyes...
knowing there was no difference.

i saw a desperate girl
walking the streets
looking for a john
i closed my eyes...
and saw a young girl's room
stuffed animals on the bed
pictures of her and her daddy on the wall
i opened my eyes...
knowing there was no difference.

i saw a young man
wild-eyed with fear
in a prison cell
i closed my eyes...
i saw a young boy gone hunting
with his grandpa on thanksgiving morn
with his dog by his side
i opened my eyes...
knowing there was no difference.

i pulled back the veil of time...
knowing, there is no difference!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Iron Cross

THEY pass, with heavy eyes and hair,
Before the Christ upon the Cross,
The Nations, stricken with their loss,
And lifting faces of despair.
What is the prayer they pray to Him,
Christ Jesus on the Iron Cross?
The Christ, neglected, dark with moss,
Whose hands are pierced, whose face is grim.
Is it forgiveness for great sin
They plead before the Iron Cross?
Or for some gift of gold or dross?
Or battle lost, that they would win?
With eyes where hate and horror meet,
They pass before the Iron Cross,
The Cross, that ancient words emboss,
Where hangs the Christ with nail-pierced feet.
His hair is fallen on his face.
His head hangs sidewise from the Cross —
The Crucified, who knows all loss,
And had on Earth no resting place.
'O world of men,' he seems to say,
'Behold me on your Iron Cross!
To me why kneel and tell your loss?
Why kneel to me and weep and pray?
'Have I not taught you to forgive?
And bade you from my Iron Cross
Believe, and bear your grief and loss,
That after death you too may live?
'You have not followed at my call!
You keep me on this Iron Cross,
And pray me keep you from all loss,
And save and comfort you withal.—
'You ask for love, and hate the more! —
You keep me on this Iron Cross!—
Restore to me my greater loss,
The brotherhood of rich and poor.'
They pass, with weary eyes and hair,
Before the Christ upon the Cross —
The Nations, wailing of their loss,
And lifting faces of despair.

poem by Madison Julius Cawein
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Oh! Lisa With These Lovely Eyes

Lisa with the dark brown eyes
So please tell my soul to sympathize,
We shall cry forever in overcast skies
Lisa with the dark brown eyes,

Lisa with the dark brown eyes
Heartbroken heart spoken, not taken back
To change a mind so is lifes dream
Lisa with the dark brown eyed

Lisa with the dark brown eyes
That blends your butter scotch face insight
Smiles which brings sparkles to my mind
Lisa with the dark brown eyes

Lisa with the dark brown eyes
Many pre thoughts of your strays hypnotize
French, African, English culture dies
Lisa with the dark brown eyes

Lisa with the dark brown eyes
She dabbles her life in fiction trash
her soul with curious follies
Lisa with the dark brown eyes

Lisa with the dark brown eyes
Loneliness, has come far a sad. sad day
Emptiness in your mind and heart pay
Lisa with the dark brown eyes

Lisa with the dark, dark, brown eyes
You walk the world in beauty forgotten
They speak about you something forbidden
Lisa with the dark, dark, brown eyes

Lisa with the dark, dark, brown eyes
Your body your mind so whole same so
Your gave birth and I wish I could understand, understand
Lisa with the dark dark raven eyes

Lisa with the dark dark brown eyes
Curiosity is so special time flies, my sighs
Persuaded a fool to be wise, so wise how wise
Lisa with the dark dark brown eyes.

poem by Klayne Mario Burton
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While Hair Brushing

Juliette drags the brush
through her hair you have
to brush it at least one
hundred times her mother

had said years ago and say
a prayer each time you get
it through and maybe God
will bless you and as she sits

and brushes her hair she
remembers her mother standing
over her when she was a child
and the hair was as long then

as it is now and oh God she
says how I hated it the knots
and tangles and the number of
times I used to cry each time

she pauses in front of the mirror
the brush held mid air sometimes
when she brushes her hair and
stares in the mirror she sees him

there looking at her as he did back
then watching her every move
his dark eyes greedily drinking
her in and once he placed his

hands around her waist and kissed
her neck how she cringed his spittle
still there her uncle his breath his
hands touching always when she

was alone and once when undressing
he came in and stared and said he
thought she was becoming a beautiful
young girl now she brushes her hair

again the brush stiff and heavy gripped
in her hand and as she stares into the
mirror heavy with times and care she
thinks she sees him still staring still there.

poem by Terry Collett
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Hard Eyes

hard eyes stare into the night...
hard eyes with calloused gentle hands.
hard eyes that have listened and seen.
hard eyes that have touched.
hard eyes that have fought
battles that couldnt be won...
hard eyes that have shared
the suffering of others....
hard eyes that have known beauty and loss...
hard eyes that make choices that are not easy.
hard eyes that have been betrayed,
hard eyes that have loved...
hard eyes that cross the threshold...
hard eyes of the sword and cross.
hard eyes that look into the soul,
and sometimes even smile.

poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Girl With Magic Eyes

I sit in thought
My hand to head

My heart it wants to cry

My face turns sides
My smile sheds

The girl with magic eyes

The piece of mind
My eyes they tear

My brain it starts to fry

Vanished in air
I cannot hear

The girl with magic eyes

To see her face
Deep in my mind

My breath it starts to sigh

Touch her soft skin
I like this kind

The girl with the magic eyes

To breathe her smell
Just from a thought

I feel like I should die

To taste her lips
That I have fought

The girl with magic eyes

To have her close
Is all I want

I stare into the sky

Stuck to my dreams
My mind she haunts

The girl with magic eyes

poem by Paul Celano
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Putting in the seed

Your body is soft and hot
where you lie,
stretched out on the bed.

Every part of your body
draws my eyes
and somehow there’s more,
than just need and lust
that awakes between us.

Two mounts with tipped peaks
rise up and down
and respond to soft touch
and your neck is slender
and slim under my lips.

You shiver as I touch your ears
and something in your eyes
make my manhood raise
and your soft fingers
lingers magically over me.

A curling patch
with tuffs of black hair
draws my fingers,
down to the hot and soft intensity
of becoming part of you.

a Hallowed moment hangs
between us
and when I enter you
there’s magic,
that envelops me
and we twist and rise
and sway
and your cries and moans
drives me wild
and I feel you shudder
under me
and the seed frizzes out.

Moments drag on and on
and I am putting the seed
into fertile ground
and I hear you breathe
and feel your heart beat
as part of me
and I am yours
and your hair brushes
soft and tickling
over my cheek
and there’s sparks
deep down in your golden eyes
and somehow I can feel God
in the love between us.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Holy Saturday Gains and Losses

Holy Saturday. Lulu softly rubs her
Black rosary held between fingers.
The church cold and dark. Waiting
For the light. The candle brought by
The priest and others of his ilk to bring
Light to the darkness. Rudandoff stands
Still silent in shadows watching her
Outline in candlelight's glow. Lulu feels
Smooth wood on fingers and thumb
Mutters her pure prayers watching
The candle light up the darkness.
Rudandoff smells her the scent
Touching him the shine of her hair
Caught by passing light her profile
Moves him her moving fingers stirs
His dark embers stiffen his manhood.
The holy candle brings light to the
Church. The priest and others chant
Out the long prayers. Lulu's soft lips
Kiss the crucified Christ on her crucifix
Warm lips on smooth wood. Rudandoff
Wishes those were his kisses his manhood
Between her moving fingers her tender
Body beneath his hot frame. Lulu closes
Eyes imagines her Christ blue bruised
And beaten hammered and battered
Gazing through eye slits bringing her true
Love never forsaken. Rudanoff's hot lust
Swells in the darkness his sausage fingers
Want to reach and touch to squeeze and
Fondle to greedily suck her female juices.
Holy Saturday. She finds her love's light.
He loses lust's kiss and burns in darkness.

poem by Terry Collett
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Martha' Crucified.

Martha had this thing
about the Crucified.
The image, the cross,
the stretched out arms.

The one in the convent
school along by the chapel
always caught her eye.
Stood there staring.

Get a move on Martha,
the nun said. Don't gape so.
Or the image in the dining
room stuck up on the wall

above the abbess's table.
Painted on she thought.
Not the same. Her mother
had the one her mother

gave her on her deathbed.
Old wood and plaster.
The plaster peeling from
the hands of the Crucified.

Martha gaped at Him,
at His wounds, at the wound
in His side where the spear
went in. Forgive them for

they know not. They did so,
the bastards, she muttered,
putting her fingers on the wound
in the side. She had an ebony

rosary in her skirt pocket. Black
Christ on the small ebony cross.
She fingered in her pocket, said
the prayers, felt the stiff body

on the cross. Sometimes she
took it out and kissed it; the ebony
body, the head, the arms. Once
she had a cross around her neck,

silver, small, given by some old
codger. She felt it warm between
her small breasts. Lost it when she
took it off to wash and it slipped

down the plughole in the convent bog.
She knew her mother had this wooden
crucifix on her chest of drawers.
A dark wood, a fleshy plastered Christ,

nails through and hands and feet.
She kissed the hands when her mother
was out, her lips touching the smooth
plaster, the eyes closed, the feel of

smoothness on flesh. Not the real
Christ of course. Least not yet.
She'd wait her turn. The real thing.
See what death and Heaven bring.

poem by Terry Collett
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Marcella

(hey yeah marcella)
(hey yeah marcella)
Shes a bright girl
(hey yeah marcella)
Hey hey
(hey yeah marcella)
Mystic maidens more than soft and sexy
She can mess my mind with the stuff that she knows
Her new found beauty goes beyond her covering
And sets a flame in her soul
One arm over my shoulder
Sandals dance at my feet
Eyes thatll knock you right over
Ooo marcellas so sweet
(hey yeah marcella)
(hey yeah marcella)
Shes a bright girl bom bom bom bom bom
(hey yeah marcella)
Hey hey
(hey yeah marcella)
Brave new woman standing proud and dazzling
Grips the goal that eluded her soul
Direction bringing her to nows tomorrow
And my love for her still grows
One arm over my shoulder
Sandals dance at my feet
Eyes thatll knock you right over
Ooo marcellas so sweet
(hey yeah marcella)
(hey yeah marcella)
Shes a bright girl
(hey yeah marcella)
Hey hey
(hey yeah marcella)
One arm over my shoulder
Sandals dance at my feet
Eyes that knock you right over
Ooo marcellas so sweet
One arm over my shoulder
Sandals dance at my feet
Eyes that knock you right over
Ooo marcellas so sweet
When she puts one arm over my shoulder
Sandals dance at my feet
Eyes that knock you right over
Ooo marcellas so sweet
When she puts one arm over my shoulder
Sandals dance at my feet
Eyes that knock you right over
Ooo marcellas so sweet
When she puts one arm over my shoulder
Sandals dance at my feet
Eyes that knock you right over
Ooo marcellas so sweet

song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Your Eyes

What have you told me, baby
With your eyes!
It’s so tough to subdue eagerness
To tell it to everyone!

Your eyes know so sweet language!
Your eyes have told me so sweet words!
I want to listen more from your eyes!
If you would tell me more with your eyes!

You have made me dream so sweet dreams!
You have made me crazy
By colorful silence of your eyes!

I can’t help staring at you now, baby
Since your eyes are the windows of your mind!
You attract me like a black hole by your eyes!
Please let me live in your eyes!

poem by Asif Andalib
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In Your Eyes

accepting all i've done and said
I want to stand and stare again
Til there's nothing left out, oh
It remains there in your eyes
Whatever comes and goes
I will hear your silent call
I will touch this tender wall
Til i know i'm home again
Ooh
In your eyes (in your eyes)
In your eyes (in your eyes)
In your eyes (in your eyes)
In your eyes
Love i get so lost, sometimes
Days pass and this emptiness fills my heart
When i want to run away
I drive off in my car
But whichever way i go
I come back to the place you are
And all my instincts, they return
And the grand facade, so soon will burn
Without a noise, without my pride
I reach out from the inside
In your eyes
The light the heat
In your eyes
I am complete
In your eyes
I see the doorway (in your eyes) to a thousand churches
In your eyes
The resolution (in your eyes) of all the fruitless searches
In your eyes
I see the light and the heat
In your eyes
Oh, i want to be that complete
I want to touch the light
The heat i see in your eyes
In your eyes
In your eyes
Love, i don't like to see so much pain
So much wasted and this moment keeps slipping away
I get so tired of working so hard for our survival
I look to the time with you to keep me awake and alive
And all my instincts, they return
And the grand facade, so soon will burn
Without a noise, without my pride
I reach out from the inside
In your eyes
The light the heat
In your eyes
I am complete
In your eyes
I see the doorway (in your eyes) to a thousand churches
In your eyes
The resolution (in your eyes) of all the fruitless searches
In your eyes
I see the light and the heat
In your eyes
Oh, i want to be that complete
I want to touch the light
The heat i see in your eyes
In your eyes
In your eyes
In your eyes
Accepting all i've done and said
I want to stand and stare again
Til there's nothing left out, oh
It remains there in your eyes
Whatever comes and goes
Oh it's in your eyes
In your eyes
In your eyes
In your eyes
In your eyes
In your eyes
In your eyes
In your eyes
In your eyes
I want to stand and stare again
Oh, it's in your eyes.

song performed by by Peter Gabriel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Milky Eyes

I take your hand,
You fold, and squeeze your fingers
Into my hand,
Waves ebb, and flow
And splash our feet on sand,
Your dark, cool flowing hair
Enwrap our shoulders, blown by wind
You laugh and chuckle
A voice that suits, a band
Out I pull a nut,
You nibble it on my hand
Your milky eyes, your breath,
Above sea birds fly and land
Your milky eyes kill me, I'm done, its heaven
Landing on your shoulder is a sea bird
To it I reach and your soft hair, I touch
Your eyes sparkle, a wake, I crave the dreamland!

poem by Charles Jagongo Ogola
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Let's Take One More Rocket To The Moon

Let's take one more rocket to the moon
Before we wake I'll kiss your eyes and lie between
While you sleep is all around
Just look up in the air and find it
Just wish upon a star and find it
It's dawning I'm gently falling
The rhythm of water and windows are white
Darling soft as your pillow I'm slowly drowning
Go spiralling down as you catch your breath
A keychain in your pocket just for luck
I hold it in and close my eyes to hide a tear
And what we need is all around us
Just say a little prayer and find it
Just look up in the air and find it
Walking into your life love without knowing
I'm out of my mind
Calling straight to your heart
I'm slowly drowning and morning is here as I catch my breath
And what we need is all around us
Just look up in the air and find it
Just say a little prayer and find it
Walking into your life love without knowing
I'm out of my mind
Calling straight to your heart
I'm slowly drowning and morning is here

song performed by by Erasure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Eyes Wide Open

Your eyes are wide open, but yet you don’t see
All the love I have inside of me.
Eyes wide open, but you don’t look around
You don’t open your ears, you don’t hear a sound.

Eyes wide open but the beauties that surround you
Do not seem to exist.
Is it that your eyes on you are playing tricks?

Eyes wide open and yet you have a blank stare.
Have you closed off your mind?
Or you just don’t care.

What can I do to remove that haze
So that on my face you can gaze.
If I hold you tenderly in my arms
And kiss those beautiful eyes.
Will they move? Will they cry?

What must I do so that you can see
That our love was meant to be.
They say that you went deep inside yourself
To hide the hurt and pain
But without your love “ I am the same”.

Eyes wide open. Did they just glance at me?
Is it because your heart is finally free?
I see a tear forming in your eyes
Emotions being let out that you tried to hide.

Eyes wide open- now they are mine
I can see your love for the very first time.

poem by Louis Rams
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jose Feliciano, españa verde

In fact blindness speaks

Unmouth words
They come in shades of light
Specks
Trickles
Unmouth words

Now they come
From your eyes

Closed eyes

From a blindness of so much love

Unmouth your words
Let the words come
As shades of light in a dark soul
Speck of light
Trickles
Of
Feelings
Like pearls
Of teardrops

From a blindness of so much
Unmouth
It is your eyes speaking
Closed

With soft hands
Reaching
The touch
Of my heart in pain.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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