"anticipates" poems
by
rgpage
in this late hour on a mid-august night
the day's torturous heat now just a trace.
with heaven's dark sky splattered star light bright
and with the moon's help, how they now illuminate.
naked to the night on a blanket she waits
from a crystal flute she sips her wine.
its acrid taste makes her body brace,
and her silky skin to shine.
our lady awaits anticipates the night of love to be,
she's made her nest in secluded style
away from prying eyes, alone in the night
she patiently waits for her lover to arrive.
her warm body bathes in the evening breeze
eyes closed she lets her fingers roam,
her half-erect ******* she'll gently squeeze
'til engorged with blood they flush fully grown.
laying a hand to her most sensitive spot
the cradle of life's onset if you will,
her first finger eases itself into place,
and deftly a second does follow.
slowly and softly in clockwise rotation
wishing it were her lover's trace;
the effect was good with her hip's gentle motion
her soul now wrapped in silk and lace.
with quiet stealth on an old forest path
her mate breaks out of the tall trees cover,
spotting his sensual prey's silhouette
naked and silent he slips toward his lover.
feeling his presents her eyes slightly open
towering above her as tall as the trees,
she sees her muscular handsome young swain
in time to see him drop to his knees.
leaning in he gives her soft kiss'
his hand tracks her ******* with a gentle lover's mirth,
slowly and gently he brings her along, with a
touch as soft as a feather's fall to earth.
reaching forth and touching his face
and gently pulling him down to her lips,
they lightly touch then drift apart
as he makes his way to her ******* and hips.
the time is not urgent there's no wasted efforts,
every inch of her skin he greets with a kiss,
as a hungry lion studies his prey
not a single sound made, nor morsel missed.
seductively firm he leads her to ******
she honors his every wish and whim.
knowing his every move leads to pleasure
from pleasure to rapture time and again.
as the moon crosses over making way for the day,
and the star's disappear in the sun's early light.
our lady awakens alone where she lay
her mysterious lover is gone with the night…
Dec 2, 2011
Dec 2, 2011 at 12:00 PM UTC
Spark kissed tinder
burst into flames
As men gathered in tight knots
Stitched up a street riot
Wood warmed and glowed
Militant revolution minds
The embers hummed with ashes
As city streets burned
Tyres and tubes were rolled
home brew guzzled
Fuelled the fires further
more streets burned
Water cannons hissed
As men aflame with anger
Lit fireplaces up alleyways
With burning brain torches
Taking the political fireplaces
To the palace of no return.
As soon as the government
Dissolved into a carpet bombing
puddle
The big bear
licked its paws.
Author Notes
The Revolution continues after a lapse of two months. Most politics start around a fireplace fuelled by alcohol and hate. Once lit the fireplace chatter
moves into the street and spread rapidly.
The Bear anticipates a breakdown of law and order and amasses its troops along the border.
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, a month ago
Jun 23, 2014
Jun 23, 2014 at 9:48 PM UTC
How fragile the bones of the dying
Eroding like stone that turns to sand
How fragile the eyes
A weak glimpse into surrounding darkness
How fragile the power
Once mighty as a mountain, now a struggling memory
But of all the ailing pieces of those near death
None compares to the withering soul
Breaking and cracking, no longer whole
As one prepares to ride into eternity
And anticipates the moment a breath will come and pass
Never to be duplicated again
The soul all the while fights the battle for life
And, through consuming fragility, is defeated at last
Feb 9, 2011
Feb 9, 2011 at 8:09 PM UTC
Festive morn, I crossed with thee
Embellished silk shines with whirling elegance—
Of translucent textures and fine fragrance
The royal formation— that anticipates a chance—
A romantic browse of catered acquaintance.
As I swipe to slant,— Thy arms braced my shoulders— and uplift me—
In awe of my still,
Slipped palms of thy distant longed—
In the halls of hide and seek—
Despite the fragments,— Thou aimed to break the lines,—
Chasing this harmony,
Unravelling the elflock sway;— to clutch the Orchid; Until she stays..
Jul 2, 2020
Jul 2, 2020 at 2:56 AM UTC
in the catalpa tree
beautiful daddy flits
and flutters by
plane jane mama sits
in the branches
on patrol
spring storms savage
this little winged family
Lily cat's restless prowl
anticipates the promise of eggs
nothing
is ever guaranteed
Apr 10, 2015
Apr 10, 2015 at 3:10 PM UTC
Prologue
Flashes of a luminous glow
Swims like a Borealis across the sky.
The cold compelling breeze
Soothes my clammy skin.
A quiet rumbling,
Like the growl of angry hell hounds,
Anticipates the coming
Storm
The sky unleashes electric snakes
As the wind rips through houses and trees.
Sweeping rain impinges upon the earth,
Scrubbing the night clean
To claps of deafening thunder.
I stand, insignificant as a leaf,
And watch in awe
Of Divinity
Even as temple bells are chiming,
God has long left the altar to take a breath;
And in the wake of this night's monster
All is silent and dead.
It is strange
How such destruction calms my soul
And makes a hard atheist like me,
Hope.
Sep 27, 2014
Sep 27, 2014 at 5:22 AM UTC
I'm terrified
Standing on the edge
Unsure if the fall
Will yield pleasure or pain.
My feet inch forward
Even as I lean backward
My mind, my heart are torn
One fears, the other desires.
Will I take flight
Wings of freedom
Glorious, fiercely beautiful
Holding me aloft
Giving me new strength
Soaring to unknown heights?
Will I fall instead
The terrible moment
Before the impact
Where one anticipates
The soon reality
Shattered bones
Crushed hope
Bottomless depths?
Am I willing to jump
Even for you?
Is the risk worth it?
Are you worth it?
I feel the fragile earth
Beneath my feet
The empty air calls to it
My choice may be made
Decided by fate
Sealed without my consent
As the earth gives
Into the void
I fall to you
In love
The chasm is filled.
May 8, 2016
May 8, 2016 at 12:51 PM UTC
Charlie and D sitting in a tree, Henry VIII comes along, chops down the tree.
part of me constantly and perversely anticipates
what Islam holds dear, the cult of the moon
rather than the sun - sleeping nudges of inquiry
and reminiscence of Freud rather than this constant
pulverisation of scientific safety-nets -
the sun and the scam of diet - Narcissus myth
all too apparent, too self-conscious to feed
the beauty, laboratory type beauty,
statistician's paradise - sun and skin cancer collective,
i'm not an Arab, and i never will be,
but this sort of weather and jet-stream excess isn't
exactly helping either - Einstein might have
saved you from exacting the thought process
(never experiment with it, never)
behind Newtonian cause & effect, but this ****
isn't going away, and you won't be exactly barnacle
jumping mad with Jack & Jill if you voice your
concerns; for all that urbanity the village life
is having a comeback - hello brick, hello tree,
hello tomorrow: the day of never-be -
the Spaniards had a second try at an inquisition
via Gibraltar - the Scots sailed to Brussels -
the village life is having a comeback -
the Americans are hoarding guns prior to enacting
scenes from Bastille Sq. with the guillotine -
they don't know it yet, but they're hoarding guns
to topple the government over - elsewhere
a bunch of Palestinians were throwing stones
at bullseyes for a fluffy toy in a theme park.
Jul 7, 2016
Jul 7, 2016 at 11:35 AM UTC
Let's take a stroll here in this time,
a stroll through Glory Land;
To paint a masterpiece of old,
by brush in Master's Hand.
The background hails of purest blue,
in Heaven's by and by;
No beauty matches close on earth,
to yonder in the sky.
A pathway marked by shining light,
each soul anticipates;
What grandest beauty He'll unveil,
behind those pearly gates.
They're opened now so step inside,
to see all glory there;
To feel no pain, no hurt at all,
nor shed but one more tear.
The blind will see the lame man walk,
first step on purest gold;
Each one of those who've lost a love
will have them there to hold.
Our Lord and King will shed His Light,
with Him we're soon to stand;
That oh so glorious day,
we'll see our Beulah Land!
Mar 23, 2017
Mar 23, 2017 at 8:04 AM UTC
what is this love
for I have beheld it
cast in metamorphosis
a love that makes
transformations on the mind
permissible transformations
improvisations of the self
in ****** intensity
which emphasises the drama
of sometimes, dark, violent
and repressive potentials
vicious energies of hate and ambition
that propel the enactment
of intense and exhausting experience
of vigorous vertiginous chaos
indomitable in its desires
what is this love
is it a registered predicament
made memorable by vivid language
that would butcher in ritual
gratuitous memories and testify
to an urgency of unwisely relinquished emotion
what is this love
does it flourish in flawed
and unreasonable understandings
accumulated upon the mind
in vicarious thrill of sympathy
where traits are highly exaggerated
and eagerly anticipates
the oppressive weight of the past
that functions upon a common collapse
of distinctions
or does it manufacture artificial precepts
pretending in attractive collaboration
to associate fiction rather than fact
what is this love
is it that by treaty or inheritance
with loving ferocity would embalm all tears
and hide all those collaborations
in flared conflagrations of the heart
and yes create a turmoil in the mind
hotter than a thousand summers
and vividly stamp upon a twisted body
a moral viciousness of fathomless malice
that wouldst close its ears
to the admonitions of conscious
and thus through an improbable
incantatory verbal rite
touch the hidden order of all things
in disassembling nature
what is this love
if only it was known
Aug 17, 2013
Aug 17, 2013 at 5:26 PM UTC
A flourishing field of flowers strides across the teeming landscape
Weaving wind currents disperse fallen leaves; birds soar above the bellowing howls of Zephyr
The meadow is illuminated identical to the shining stars seen overhead
Such a place as this can’t be described merely in words
To understand the field, one must hear its echoing melody
Can you hear its blissful humming in the crisp night air?
Can you hear the birds serenading every dawn? Can you hear them whistling lullabies every dusk?
Can you hear Gaia’s song? So splendid, you not only hear it but can taste its saccharine stanzas?
To know the field, one must feel its warmth and bask in its radiance
Can you feel the firm grasp of the Sun's rays? Can you tell it won’t ever let go of you? Do you care?
Can you feel the field’s invigorating warmth enticing you?
Can you feel it take away your gloomy desolation? Can you feel it take away your stress and doubts?
To appreciate the field, one must see its abundant life
Can you see the trees growing in peace as they amass their armies yet carry no animosity and strife?
Can you see the pure, unpolluted streams that flow forever as if in a perpetual race against Father Time?
Can you see the Nightingale in her tree composing? Can you see the other as he anticipates her words?
To fathom the field’s perfection you must find it yourself. “Where is this field? Someone must know”
It’s in a place that must be found on your own. There’s only one place where it could begin to grow
The field lies where anyone can find it but it’s also a place where many will never find its mark
The paradise you seek can only be found deep in your heart, after you let Love cultivate the Dark
Oct 28, 2012
Oct 28, 2012 at 2:55 PM UTC
Cages
And my ears itch
Cages
And my eyes twitch
Dirt
On a solid floor
Blood
On an iron door
I can't think about it
I cant leave
I try to be content
But I am restless and afraid
And your hugs they feel like cages
And I my mouth anticipates
And my lips are always dry
And my mouth swells in size
Because touching burns like acid
Kissing tastes like it too
And I can't help but try
And escape from this life with you
And I see
Cages
Around my life
I feel
Dirt
Between our skin when we touch
And my
Blood
Tries to leave my body
Because your affection becomes too much
And I don't know
When I became scared
I don't know when
I lost that flame
But I feel
Cages
Dirt
And blood
Apr 1, 2017
Apr 1, 2017 at 3:03 AM UTC
Sometime early in the year,
Calving drawing on,
Seeders and tractors
Lose their dormant chill,
Began demanding preparation,
Murmuring anticipation:
"Clean the seed for planting!"
"Till the soil and ready it for seed!"
The farmer, wanting rest,
Anxiously awaits first sprouts,
Anticipates the time to till the noxious weeds,
Watches capricious sky for signs of rain or hail;
Tends fences; guards his fields,
Where ripening grain cannot predict the yields.
June scrambling begins:
The readying for harvest,
The hopeful storage plans,
The preparation of harvesters
Expensive beyond budgets,
Soon to lumber out and gather
Dying summer in....
Autumn's chilling breath
Calls quickening to the work:
The gathering of straw,
The hauling-in of hay,
The opened stubble fields for cows;
The planting of winter wheat,
That first must sprout before frost....
(If not the seeding may be lost).
May 2, 2016
May 2, 2016 at 5:19 PM UTC
One fearfell a passion-tree:** LOVE**.
Two fell wildly passionately embracing kissing
Hard soft sensuously profusely tender profound heavy breathing.
Then out of the sapphire brilliant blue three said "passion get a room"
Four peeked through the passion keyhole light wanting needing more...
Five felt the sunday sweat of being real close to verify passions' comfy edge.
Six *** *** *** *** *** all whispers still echo sexier passion welcome in one's ear chills.
Anticipation of seven alone together again & again heavens' passion fills anticipates more more more.
Eight big screen dreams enjoy the weather change and the voyeurs passing passion on & on sharing.
Nine ecstasy time for divine mind(s) heartbeat(s) passions' flame as one vibrant strong beat BEATS.
Ten one fell in [PASSION~INFUSED] with love undone. KNOW PASSION lives on & on & on in one.
Sep 20, 2013
Sep 20, 2013 at 2:55 PM UTC
*He stands at my door,
arms crossed,
leaning up against the wall.
He wants permission to enter.
I decline.
He says he’ll wait.
He anticipates my response:
“You will!”
He’s at my door again,
waiting.
I tell him not to waste his time.
He mimics me,
laughing.
I look.
He’s there:
At my door,
again.
He asks if he bothers me.
I tell him no.
I tell him to take his time.
I tell him that I will never,
let him in.
Once more,
he resides at my door,
waiting,
patiently.
My anger is volcanic.
My anger is obvious.
My anger is…
Desperate.
He knows the fury is symbolic.
He knows I am breaking.
He knows…
It’s just a matter of time.
I open the door.
Charon is there.
He stands before me,
scratching his matted beard.
I am tired and weak;
in no position to fight him anymore.
“Can I enter?” he purrs.
I stand aside.
As he passes, I wear his putrid breath like a mask.
A sewer on a hot day.
“I suppose you want this,” I say,
holding up a coin.”
He takes it,
biting the metal to check it’s authenticity.
“Thank you," he grunts,
“now keep up…
We have a boat to catch.”*
Jun 7, 2010
Jun 7, 2010 at 7:02 AM UTC
A hopeful romantic whistles
His two note call
Outside my window,
Down toward the open pond
Flaunting winter-killed carp.
A raucous crow caws
Derision in black and naked trees
Though in the stillness
And the damp of spring,
His mindless clamor
Doesn't mean a thing.
The chickadee knows only life,
Anticipates the nest to come,
Sings a two-toned song
And beckons to his mate,
For which, libidinous, he
The air with amor fills.
Mar 15, 2016
Mar 15, 2016 at 1:47 PM UTC
She's like
mars ain't no
place to raise dem
kids it might as well be
a billion miles from here
then bam flashes in riveting
pulsating colors giggling blushing
HEAVEN ANTICIPATES EARTH
right up to the bullet proof glass
in my orange or pin stripe jump
suit of conjugal dreams of the
wildest break outs of the
most real ever now's
eternal longings
some forlorn
forgotten
Nov 9, 2012
Nov 9, 2012 at 2:19 PM UTC
I envy the sun.
I envy the way she glides through the sky with summer breeze.
The way she anticipates the moves of all those below her.
The way she controls the earth that controls the moon.
She shines all day and all night.
She is not envious.
She is never tired.
She is the sun.
Feb 18, 2019
Feb 18, 2019 at 3:34 PM UTC
Release all your fear
Heaven anticipates earth
Rolling in laughter
Aug 28, 2012
Aug 28, 2012 at 8:35 AM UTC
I look behind me
& you vanished all too soon,
leaving me to find the proper branch
to spin up a cocoon
& wait
for something
magnificent
to happen
I think you are magnificent
but I know I shouldn’t so I’d better not
& I’m sorry the sun burns your skin
but your hands burn mine
& every time I look behind me
you’re always gone
& if I look beside me
you’re holding someone’s hand
but it’s never mine
& though I understand love dies
sometimes it goes on, hopelessly inside
someone like me
broken and battered and sanguine still
someone who anticipates her empty heart
to be filled
& I keep looking behind me
as if you’ve just slowed down to tie your shoe
but I never pay attention to what’s coming ahead
& crash into cars and walls instead
Dec 16, 2013
Dec 16, 2013 at 7:33 AM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
If it quacks
Like a duck
Acts like a duck
Why get stuck
It’s a duck
What the ****
Here’s what
The case is
Of course he’s a racist
He’s covered all bases
When it comes
To other faces
He spews hate
That he reitterates
At rallies
And debates
Where he anticipates
The reactions
That he rates
Chances are
None to slim
That we would ever
Vote for him
He’s a prisoner
Of his own whims
If it quacks
Like a duck
Acts like a duck
Why get stuck
It’s a duck
What the ****
Cedric McClester, Copyright (c) 2016. All rights reserved.
Mar 13, 2016
Mar 13, 2016 at 5:29 AM UTC
Comfotably numb-without the Floyd
Comfortably numb
not dumb:
Just mute.
Riding silence
instead of life.
A presence atrophied.
An altered mind.
The kind
of
High
that drops you low.
The kind of stale
that leaves you pale
And weak at the knees
Id cry,
only tears take time
and the
seasons
will change
without waiting
for
my voice
to saturate
my face.
Translucent
liquid nuggets.
...
noiseless
as they slide
off the record
and onto my plate.
I'd offer you a bite
but
we all know
what happened to the hand that
fed
the hunger.
You look at me
as if
i were a ghost,
a spectre:
The nightmare
that anticipates your every
move.
Look in the mirror
for
an emulation
of the degenerate
debris
that is,
was,
has become,
U/us.
Comfortably numb.
in this
miasma:
This miriad of mechanical madness.
Feb 9, 2010
Feb 9, 2010 at 2:35 AM UTC
She doesn't walk, she glides
Like smoke over water,
Like snow in the wind.
Poisonous, cold, but beautiful.
Every tap of her fingertips,
Every angry twitch of her lips,
Every subtle movement hits him like a tsunami
And he's drowning.
One of many.
She bats her eyes and a hurricane ensues,
Swirling above her.
The beauty of Heaven
And the destruction of Hell
At her beck and call.
Her lips part
And every breath on earth ceases.
Waits.
Anticipates.
Her words are precious
Tendrils of invisible perfection
Floating from one person to the next,
Until the globe knows exactly what she's said.
He doesn't dare blink.
Mustn't miss a moment.
Every man has felt her breath on his neck,
Every woman felt her knife in her back,
But they cannot hate her.
They want tot be her.
She is what we all wish to become.
Sensuality personified.
The epitome of temptation.
And so he sits and watches,
Drinking in her every movement,
Gladly absorbing her venom,
Letting it deep in his blood,
Until he can resist
No more.
Feb 14, 2013
Feb 14, 2013 at 9:11 PM UTC
Emotions are pure.
Intentions are true.
As eyes wander,
my heart flutters.
Can you not feel?
Can you not see?
My heart still palpitates,
soul still anticipates.
But feelings are already far
and I am now barred.
For you are with another
and mine no longer.
Oct 3, 2017
Oct 3, 2017 at 10:37 AM UTC