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V  Oct 2018
; garden of ecstacy
V Oct 2018
we explored one another,
similar to that of how the seven sins
would explore their vices,
corrupting their virtues.

but that's what made the garden blossom,
grow with intense passion that radiated
with a melancholy glimmer, with a dipped
and ragged vine of sweat and sheen
arousal and desire.

  craving, begging, mewling, whining;

gluttony, craving for the excess
sloth, craving for moments of rest,
envy, craving for a bearing of arousal,
lust, craving for a touch, a sinful taste;
greed, craving the moans and swatches,
wrath, craving for sullen destruction,
pride, craving for the fall of a bereaved apology.


    our garden;
a place of virtues, a place of our vices.
you showed me the deepest things,
darkest epithets of what was to be explored,
blossoming a crimson rose of pure desire
in the pit of my abdomen, vines of thorns
wrapped firmly around my hips
and the soft ashen flesh of my wrists
soon to be accompanied around
the thin circumference of my ankles.
the shark divots soon finding their
way around the swells of my breast,
and the tremble of my inner thighs;
body arching, lips quivering,
ecstacy of your words,
your seed planted garden that
became a part of me.


I found the cardinal sins in
the dropping countenance
of your words, of your demands, and of your wishes,
and i bathed in it,
soaked myself up in the lavender of
your scent, the scratchiness of your thorns.

our garden was the place to cast our sins,
delve into them, and it ruined me,
but oh how I solely craved it.

our encounters, our actions, our experiences
putting even the seven deadly sins to same,
forcing them to turn when catching a glimpse
of us. The swells of their cheeks blossoming
with that of a rose tinted hue.
Peartini  Nov 2015
Ecstacy
Peartini Nov 2015
He's my Fleur de lis
My hot fantasy
In charge
On large responsibility
To me For me By Me
Into me
His mouth His ***** H I S
Not his turn His Property I
Tap it Turn it Wake me up
****** Romantic Redemantic
David Leger Aug 2014
Late night car rides,
Empty pints of *****,
A one-night ecstacy,
With a heartbreak dawn:

She shows her shallows,
As if they're great depths;
A cry of sorrow? Honey,
You ain't seen nothing yet.

She's not an open book,
She's just a bookmark type of personality.
Stuck between the pages of something more interesting,
Like a catalog or a Cosmo magazine.

Oh, she's always just caught between someone's pages,
With bits and pieces of their's stories rubbing off on her,
But them words don't look the same tattooed on her, oh no.

So stop pretending you're the deepest sea,
Your pretentious crap never fooled me.
Meant to be a spoken word, the tone is sort of casual carelessness, or a passive aggressively condescending. Hopefully that helps you to understand the tone of this piece.
Sara Kellie Jun 2018
Twenty years in the fast lane, speeding
was ecstacy at the time.
Sweet heady bubbles of coke,
buzzing at feeding.
No softeners added, lemon or lime.
My therapy, my medication.

******, my mind on a long vacation.
Knowing this time would
one day arrive.
My restless legs, my tired insides.
My not so central nervous system,
twitching fingers, flickering eyes.
This to me is no surprise.
My therapy, now my reprise.

Peotyr by aKydee.
Drugs saved my life once.
SC Kelley Aug 2018
I write about the stars too much.

I blame you.

Eyes holding galaxies in sweet captivity.

That starstruck feeling when you look at me.

Lips that taste of constellations.

Ecstacy of cosmic proportions.

Words drawing me in like a black hole.

Your body, like a goddess swimming in stardust.

Accidental perfection parallel to the Milky Way.

Your laugh as bright as a thousand supernovas.

Heart made of stars, filling the space in my own.

I write about the stars too much.

But really, I just write about you, the best of them all.

~S.C. Kelley
For The One You Love
SomeOneElse May 2021
I wish my face were in between
Your soft delicious thighs.
With your legs locked in ecstacy,
your feet rubbing my back.
Your lips pressed tightly to my lips
Treating me to your snack.
I would lick and tease your ****,
I'd kiss and rim your ***.
I'd make you *** a dozen times
and enjoy every drop
there's not an inch I wouldn't kiss,
No spot I wouldn't lick.
I wouldn't stop until you're done
and begging for my ***.
How I wish my face were tween
your soft delicious thighs.
New ****** poem
Jackie ONeil  Aug 2012
Ecstacy
Jackie ONeil Aug 2012
My ecstacy is strolling along the ocean
Breathing deep within
The wonderful aroma and
Feeling the gentle waves upon my feet.

It is my place of serenity
Takes me anywhere I care to go
Gently allowing my body to float upon the waves
Or happily splashing thru it all.

I love the seashore
My get a way from the hum drum of city life,
Giving much pleasure
Too fill me up.
Jackie ONeil
Yaz Dincer Jan 2017
Few years ago I lost my grip on earth reality
and dwelled in a place where tears of bliss filled me daily.

I remember so vivedly,
as I had never felt so close to insanity.
My heart imploded and I cried happy tears for what felt like eternity.

I was so confused at what was happening, having never experienced such ecstacy for no such reason.

I remember telling myself, whatever happens from Now, it doesnt matter.
For experiencing this, nothing will shatter.

It comes unasked, unmasked, unnoticed.

Complete surrendering presence.
It could not be understood or named,
Only dwells in sweet deep silence.

And when I read of mystics who speak of such experiences,
I cant help but weep from rememberance.
Some where amidst
Sanity and insanity,
Some where amidst
Agony and ecstacy,
Some where amidst
Canyons and alps,
Some where amidst
Dusk and dawn,
Some where amidst
Fantasy and reality,
Some where amidst
Spring and summer,
Some where amidst
Autumn and winter,
Some where amidst
Sun and Moon,
Some where amidst
Mercury and Venus,
Some where amidst
Earth and Mars,
Some where amidst
Jupiter and Saturn,
Some where amidst
Uranus and Neptune,
Some where amidst
Pluto and the unkown
Dwells a Lonely poets soul.
ShamusDeyo Feb 2015
As her eye's' melt into Mine
A soft sweet shiver
Runs up my spine
While I recall another Time
Together-
The touch of her Tongue
Like Butterflies upon My Breast
Slowly Wanders Softly
Toward Loves sweet Nest
While her gentle Hands
Caress My Hips
I feel the tender Pressure
of her sweet Lips
Kissing me to Ecstacy
JMF 98
This Poem is from the Collection "POETIC STALKINGS"
*second printing*
All the Work here is licensed under the Name
®SilverSilkenTongue and the © Property of J.Flack
ShamusDeyo Sep 2014
As her eye's' melt into Mine
A soft sweet shiver
Runs up my spine
While I recall another Time
Together-
The touch of her Tongue
Like Butterflies upon My Breast
Slowly Wanders Softly
Toward Loves sweet Nest
While her gentle Hands
Caress My Hips
I feel the tender Pressure
of her sweet Lips
Kissing me to Ecstacy
JMF 98


*This Poem is from the Collection "POETIC STALKINGS"
All the Work here is licensed under the Name
®SilverSilkenTongue and the © Property of J.Flack
Warren Gossett Oct 2011
The dream haunts me
often, far too often, building
in intensity but is initially
disguised in absurdity and the
nonsense of a young man's lusts
with an old man's deficits.
This woman-like entity,
ill-defined at first but forming
voluptuously, emerges from
swelling curtains. She moves, more
levitates, toward my bed, buoyed
by what I don't know, but angelic-like
it would seem. Or perhaps
an Aphrodite reincarnate?

Oh this goddess, what pale
skin, as Parian marble, full bosomed,
jutting *******, ***** that
beckon, nearly drool, and pursed
red lips beaded with sweet
juice stolen from the wild cherry
tree beneath my window.
Far too much clarity for a simple
dream. But such a dream! And what
seething testosterone I feel!
I am become a hedonist, raging,
pulsing spermatozoa, renewed
of time and youthful energies.

Nerve into nerve we join, ecstacy
compounding ecstacy, bodies wantonly
impaling the other on this love bed
to the result that each cell of our
individualities melds. We are indistinct,
yes - as one, and any ****** impulse
between us is shared to the point of
utter exhaustion, depletion. I am
nearly drained of life, it would seem.

Then, as it always must,
the scene changes, Act II.
Inexplicably, shedding a ******
serpentine-like skin, she slings it away
and drops limply upon me - entirely
skeletal, dry cartilage, sinew, lifeless,
sexless, motionless. The horror
of a diabolical hollowness
stares through me, and I am
suspended, fully terrorized, in
this paralysis. So, this is
succumbing to the Succubus?
God, my dear God, that I should
never dream again!

--

— The End —