"delves" poems
There's a certain condition known as losing connection
involving people, places and things of strong affection.
The phenomenon is marked by one or two parting to separate ways
and a feeling of disconnection is experienced highlighting the days.
Where the people concerned, in the past, were once close together,
are all now, due to a lack of communication, more apart than ever.
Once good friends, close relatives, associates and even lovers
have all fallen victim to the malady of estrangement as others.
We should never underestimate the effect of the passage of time
especially when augmented with distance that determines clime.
In this case the distance between the minds and hearts of all those who
have so drifted apart from each other no longer holding the same view.
It may also be a case where people have outgrown or transcended themselves
and do not identify any more with what was once regarded as familiar delves.
The vicissitudes of life can also be a major cause and often very decisive factor
where on the stage of this world one assumes or takes the role of a different actor.
Who knows to what degree a situation can change or influence the course of events
and leaves those alienated, that were once close together, now with different intents.
Another very obvious aspect is the physical departure because of death
of all those who, in this life, virtually shared the same space and breath.
It has also been written that, the soul of a person gone, sometimes tries to revive
or contact those whom it had most connection with while it was physically alive.
The same can be said of some of those who are still in their earthly ****** form
and cannot cope without the assurance or connection that before was the norm.
__________________________________
Oct 26, 2015
Oct 26, 2015 at 4:33 PM UTC
They're feverish with desire
Eclipsed in love
Raging like a black smoke fire
****** scents rising above
The pheromones they release
Must be smelled miles away
They've missed this, the tease
And liquid glances, it's been days
Since, either have touched the other
But they still feel that ****** tension
On every inch of their skin
When they're finally away from prying eyes
Their lips mesh, his hands move to her thighs
And hers slide up through his hair
Gripping on tight
They could be spotted, but neither cares
He pushes her hard against the wall
Bringing her legs around his hips
She thanks heaven she wore a skirt
And quiets a moan by devouring his lips
He quickly, fervently unzips his jeans
Releasing himself and promptly
Entering her sweet, wet heat
He groans as he swallows her scream
Then pounds in hard, fast, ferociously
She rocks her hips with a delicious little motion
Squeezing her core tight, biting his lips
Coming almost instantly when he growls with delight
He thrusts harder, incessantly feeling her getting tight
Moving her ankles to rest on his shoulders
He delves his shaft as deep inside as he can reach
She scratches scars along his back
And they kiss so deep like it's the final feast
She throbs in her core as another wave hits at full force
Starts going weak as she comes once more
Feeling her liquid pour, brings him to the edge
He grips her ankles stretching the limits of her flexibility
Then roars into her sweet mouth as he comes, vigorously
He lets her legs go, but holds her upright
They both sigh knowing it's the beginning of the night,
And that was just a quickie
Dec 14, 2014
Dec 14, 2014 at 3:18 PM UTC
POETRY PSYCHOLOGY
Delves into the deepest realms
inside of me
It opens my mind
Makes me see
Life, good and bad
All meant to be
Write those poems
If it eases the pains
It will lead onto the next terrain
Give Peace to sustain
POETRY PSYCHOLOGY
Nov 17, 2014
Nov 17, 2014 at 8:31 AM UTC
If love is pain and pain is pleasure,
Then these bruises she shall use as,
your affection measure.
To visualise love,
To feel your feelings,
To sense it as her wounds are healing.
Seeing, hearing,
Following Your scent,
To know just what it represents.
She’ll take the leap,
relinquish control
As further she delves down your rabbit hole.
Enjoy the journey
but were’s the destination?
Your marks, your love? The correlation?!!
Some want to hurt,
some want to bleed.
To watch the inner anguish freed.
A world, a life,
A religious order?
His canes the relics to to this mental disorder.
See external pain,
is internal anaesthetic,
His marks she believes to be truly stigmatic.
Aug 2, 2016
Aug 2, 2016 at 6:56 AM UTC
Curve soft, silky, chills
Swell, taut, protrudes, aches
Tunnel, tight, hot, wet
Nub, hard, throbbing, spasms
Petals, flushed, swollen, moist
Well, soft, slick, hugging
Tube, hangs, soft, wrinkled
Bags, sway, firm, sensitive
Rosebud, closed, but opens
Pillows, press, linger, invoke
Pearls, grip, burn, mark
Velvet, glides, trails, excites
Swell, is twisted, pulled, pinched
Petals part, exposing the nub
Nub, rubbed, licked, ******
Tube delves into the tunnel
Pistoning as friction builds
Stands, hard, smooth
Hard smooth enters rosebud
Pushes, prods, breaksthrough
Screams, pants, moans
Velvet enters well, circles, exciting
Pressure builds, senses heighten
Ice chills turn to fire to volcanic
Ohhhs, ahhhs, turns to moans
Turns to gasps, and whimpers
Cries, screams that cresendo
Nectar explodes to honey that drips
Lava thick spews deep
Mixture like cream paints the walls
Tangled, exhausted
Sweat, essence
Dreams, snores
Jul 18, 2010
Jul 18, 2010 at 6:14 AM UTC
Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore,
So do our minutes hasten to their end;
Each changing place with that which goes before,
In sequent toil all forwards do contend.
Nativity once in the main of light,
Crawls to maturity, wherewith being crowned,
Crookèd eclipses ‘gainst his glory fight,
And Time that gave doth now his gift confound.
Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth,
And delves the parallels in beauty’s brow,
Feeds on the rarities of nature’s truth,
And nothing stands but for his scythe to mow.
And yet to times in hope my verse shall stand,
Praising thy worth despite his cruel hand.
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I want to know you
The way a meandering river peruses the Earth
As it twists endlessly toward the sea,
Touching everything it can,
Yet in no hurry to arrive.
Whisper to me just how you want to feel, the way
The ocean exposes all the secrets
Of the universe, one by one, with
Each crashing wave onto white sand.
Just speak to me how you like to laugh, like
The ebullient summer's downpours joke with kids
And parents alike as they puddle together with glee,
Splashing through eternity.
Call out to me how you desire love, just as a
Waterfall delves deep down into the pool, creating a rainbow,
continuing its unending journey, rushing sometimes, but often, simply enjoying the rhythm of its perpetual renewal, coming again as a comfortable river.
Nov 10, 2012
Nov 10, 2012 at 11:31 PM UTC
he laid hands and lips upon
canvas of aching nakedness
igniting...
wanton hunger; pressing into
my palate; fingers painting tender
curlicues with subtle strokes
tracing...
each line and curve, tongued
with passions ink as climactic
quivers, pause; nipping as I
ebb and flow...
he rides in cresting waves, teased,
seduction blankets our embrace;
firmness delves deep...as breath escapes us
scarlet lace lays puddled at our feet
Jun 29, 2012
Jun 29, 2012 at 1:45 AM UTC
The vane on Hughley steeple
Veers bright, a far-known sign,
And there lie Hughley people,
And there lie friends of mine.
Tall in their midst the tower
Divides the shade and sun,
And the clock strikes the hour
And tells the time to none.
To south the headstones cluster,
The sunny mounds lie thick;
The dead are more in muster
At Hughley than the quick.
North, for a soon-told number,
Chill graves the sexton delves,
And steeple-shadowed slumber
The slayers of themselves.
To north, to south, lie parted,
With Hughley tower above,
The kind, the single-hearted,
The lads I used to love.
And, south or north, 'tis only
A choice of friends one knows,
And I shall ne'er be lonely
Asleep with these or those.
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It's warm here, not just hot, burning,
I think, my stomache feels, turning.
How do I get out, where,
why, does no one else care?
My head is glowing, fingers dripping
sweat. My intestines are tripping
over all and themselves.
Deeper and deeper, as if this fire
delves a way inside my body,
spreading like disease, like virus,
like epidemic forces
combining us to fight.
These short moments brought back sight
to those who lost it, those scared at night.
But it will pass soon enough.
Oct 9, 2014
Oct 9, 2014 at 2:38 PM UTC
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, follow your dreams or they will<3
fed up on the revolt of the real
locked myself behind the dreamy doors to an an evermore of a seal
I seek you on the delves of the stormy spaces
it's like a universe I called came back with answers to shock faces
your name I heart you speak and led lights illuminate it
sparked on my heart when duty calls I fade in
-------ravenfeels
Apr 23, 2021
Apr 23, 2021 at 6:14 PM UTC
A tantalized spirit
Delves into my spine
It dictates my breathing,
It quickens my saunter
I see filth in my mind,
In my decaying lungs,
On the palms of my hands
Muck where virtue once resided
Virtue untainted by original sin
“O’ God free me”
No reply
The spirit seizes each prayer
If the spirit within should perish
Or plague babes hereafter
It is negligible
For every breast carries putrid milk
Every infant grows
And matures into a gruesome sight
Every wave peaks
And culminates
Every day passes
Every harmonious sound shall cease
Mar 21, 2012
Mar 21, 2012 at 6:51 PM UTC
I'm part of people I have known
And they are part of me;
The seeds of thought that I have sown
In other minds I see.
There's something of me in the throne
And in the gallows tree.
There's something of me in each one
With whom I work and play,
For islanded there can be none
In this dynamic day;
And meshed with me perchance may be
A ***** in Cathay.
There's me in you and you in me,
For deeply in us delves
Such common thought that never we
Can call ourselves ourselves.
In coils of universal fate
No man is isolate.
For you and I are History,
The all that ever was;
And woven in the tapestry
Of everlasting laws,
Persist will we in Time to be,
Forever you and me.
1.9k
From my new book, Poems of Ancient Rome and Greece, available in paperback on Amazon and Barnes & Noble, as well as eBook on Kindle, Nook, and Apple Books: https://www.amazon.com/Poems-Ancient-Greece-Christopher-Saitta/dp/B0DS6933HB?ref_=ast_author_dp
My mother the sea,
She woke my sandy eyes,
Just to tell me she had to leave,
Draw past the markets where the fish are sun-dried,
Snarled by the coral-rough hands of divers deep.
My mother the sea,
She left her running tab
Of the grocer’s choicest greens,
Thumbed the velamentous rinds and spiny scarola,
Her xylem and phloem are the slow moving cruciferousness of a breeze.
My mother the sea,
Charwoman of tides,
Who dips and delves upon her knees,
Who scrubs her brothel-coves with chamber lye,
Cyprian mistress of the salt-stained sheets.
I have looked for you, mother,
A scugnizzo amid the striped awnings of the marketplace
~ like sails to the sky ~
Where the fishmongers hawk their pride
Of conch, cavallo, and black sea bream.
I have looked for you, mother,
Walked sun-forged along the boardwalk,
Amid the neon-mascara of signs,
Hand-in-hand with only the ladyfingers of salt and vinegar fries,
Toward the crisp syllabub of pebbles and sand.
A beach is window-warmth spread free, cosmopolitan,
The longeur of eyes crushed in the glass-dust of cities.
And in the sputtering of the frosted spume of tides,
Held broken seashells in my hands like broken needles,
Heard the pump-click of the ventilator through your mask of sand.
My mother the sea,
A naked convalescent,
Whose ever-turnings have taken
A turn for the worse.
Who will know her by her death, who but me?
Jan 21, 2025
Jan 21, 2025 at 8:29 AM UTC
You dreamed it once
The slow bend in the road
Past which the world delves
Into the realm of the unreal
Unrealised futures selves
That are as material as
Anything will ever be
In this stretch of land
Between here and infinity
Where a million bonded yous
Could be living in flawed
Synchrony, a dissonance of
Possible lives you will never see
Even now at the precipice
Of all that waits to come
The time it takes for a hum
To bloom into the vibration
Of a body growing wings
Is that step that lays down
The brick for the next
Two feet never together
On the same square inch of ground
There lies the sound of cracking shells
A chrysalis to which you are bound
By birth, where inside you lay the
Stones of the inverted pyramid
With each clean bone leading
Cleanly to the edge, the rising temple
Held up by the apex of the roof
Long before belief has penetrated
The invisible heart of the root
May 9, 2021
May 9, 2021 at 5:54 AM UTC
**At first light I made a gift of coffee
it’s aroma stirred just one long leg
I lifted her naked into the wet warmth
to bathe awake and wash long hair
carrying her towelled wrapped form
bowed lips now sip then fight me
as I dress her in jeans, socks and top
beauty made calm and simple
Drunk sad at her leaving party
keeping her warm I had let Lust sleep
now still lolling in grief for dark peace
my selfish need drags her ****** up
into light trapped by the green valley
walking on along its grass path
the canoed river spits past a-whirl
rediscovering the torn through pocket
her hand delves questioning
to withdraw unhurried, stroked
by a flicking fishing rod
Recovered now leading me
over the bridge above the Boat
then on up the steep valley side
we arrive at the Ostrich for beer
then to dine on fish in the open
feeding and sharing her lips
we consider audaciously
the little garden’s potential
she hums prayer murmurings
pleased by the moment
On into the nearby woods
high above the Kings trail
to slowly descend hedged paths
we return to the river valley
slipping between shop doors
lifting a book we idle along
a new couple enjoying life
taking tea under waterfalls
back besides the Boat where
her beauty is now Queen
She leads me smiling by the hand
along both banks in the setting sun
till we near the Abbey's stone ribs
skipping around it's green shadows
a bank helps us to vault within
Fenced alone
ignoring distant figures
jeans and top colour
the darkening lawns
beckoning me closer
Lust now sits astride
the grass and stone
an open ****** grin
A week only, no more
I am left alone in her bed
on this smaller island
she ashore in another
busy - separated by a day
we talk lovers spells
and write away our hopes
Three months and two days
a call **** you we were....
pregnant” her sacrifice ours
on a stainless alter of
that new god Career**
.
May 12, 2010
May 12, 2010 at 2:45 AM UTC
The further she strides from me,
the stronger my desire to die becomes.
The further she cares for me,
the stronger my regret becomes.
The further she leaves me,
the stronger I welcome my knife into my lungs.
*The more I want to die,
The more I consider her,
The more I think of her,
The more I want to live.*
The further she is from me,
the stronger my feelings of harm becomes.
The further she distances from me,
the stronger my loneliness becomes,
The further she thinks of my,
the stronger my guilt becomes.
*For if I die,
How long will she cry?
Will she believe it a lie?
She will want to die,
I pray this falsify.*
The further she strides from me,
the stronger my desire to die becomes.
The further she cares for me,
the stronger my regret becomes.
The further she leaves me,
the stronger I welcome my knife into my lungs.
*The more I want to die,
The closer she draws to me,
The closer she is to me,
The less I want to die.*
The further she is from me,
the stronger my crave for she becomes.
The further she delves into me,
the stronger my desire to breath becomes.
The further she surrounds me,
the stronger my will becomes.
Because,
*I wake for her,
I dress for her,
I run for her,
I eat for her,
I breath for her,
I sing for her,
I live for her.*
But the further she walks away from me...
Dec 9, 2015
Dec 9, 2015 at 4:58 PM UTC
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, what is worse than shame? HUMILIATION:\
rumors fly up in the high
in the above in my ears in my skies
get my squirms of death into the rays of the red dies
and the humiliate in the tides
shed the tears in silence I fear they collide
with looks of disgust and shame they rise upon my eyes
just like an equivalence of the delves of the deep
from them of a cut to dig drips and swallow grief
arise arose arosen awake awoke awoken
trap me unnoticed and leave me broken in the heart swollen
fed on lies unspoken surrounding in the field
am I a prisoner in hell or even better in Tolkien???
I craved and carved the woods into a shade of a pink that I need
till you put the greed and stole in brief with no feels
want me dead then demand I alive to up come
burning and whipping regrets of the twos with the fives
if I not to remember wrong
counting stars and fleeing out just all in an empty round about
------ravenfeels
Apr 13, 2021
Apr 13, 2021 at 4:00 PM UTC
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, funny how a book can be translated by everyone's Mercury differently--edited;}
on a beauty so mystical on a plastered smile an essence so beam
yet not everlasting not in a bare nor a second tormenting blurt
such stars she begged them Gods for she tormented in a skeptic hurt
she trails her menaces to **** in a drip
of a bordeaux in a wine in a mindless sip
yearning erased letters from people from faces
a charm of a devil monster selfished her feels down her laces
a bound to the intimate
flushed upon the ultimate
of the hate of the ends
an evermore of upcoming pained centuries
moments the gods abide to hide to conceal
from human memory to blank and come across a past life to steal
then to the unconscious to plant on dreams and make souls heal
speechless left
one on the fictional
two on the cure in the weeks my delusional
believed seven constellated freckles pure by the character been held
mooned self-expressionism in sick mind delves I label mine
forever fallen saint on the line
--------ravenfeels
Apr 19, 2021
Apr 19, 2021 at 3:49 PM UTC
,,A trance ,probing "
"a dictum //
intricate,ruby mayb quite& itt comes
A-diction
" down the rAbbit hole" in time,
a-room built off crystALs&&the orbs
again again again again as
thiss keps coming in in-blocks/compeletly-A-solatire-
/pristine in,here , itt-wass , inn rapture.as it
,is, now,was liked pretty muchh
the behemouth my mann , done /repeatdly,
all-corenrs
forr everr it isbent
everytime,everytthing tht i cann remember
a lott off withering / whineingg,
lott off talks just mi-alone
and this i remmember
"she" is the sheep she said
, drifting /at angles/only lonely
all the bigg/pretty pearls
forr manny many more pages to come
she says it polietly
that it delves deep some place ,here
Jun 27, 2018
Jun 27, 2018 at 11:04 AM UTC
The poet looks
and delves.
She wonders if he ever stops,
him, this rushing-forward-breathlessly train,
if he did park himself in fantastical paragraphs;
the poet is dumbfounded at him
ceasing.
In construction sites of grammar,
where free ideas float in ruins,
poet wonders how,
how, how
he came to plan to live
up
to an exclamation mark.
And condensed so many dribbles and strikes
of strange and fruitful, even withered
paragraphs into one line and pointer -
a smile and a lope-stagger dance of a walk -
an exclamation mark.
The poet stares, once again
astounded by the little streaks of the universe
and longs to hold on to something.
Disarmed,
she can't quite put a finger on it,
his gaping honesty and his quiet one,
that contradiction
shouting in her face
while whispering in her eyes.
The poet laughs -
laughs of, in, out
of sleep.
Summer is here.
And she chooses to notice.
He laughs too,
but he's always been noticing
and the poet writes down how
she learnt to bite and chew into the fruit of the world
and taste
it sour runny sweet cold explosive lingering
just as him.
The poet saw all
colours rolling in one
strange song of limbs.
She did not like the music
but she made herself a blank white canvas
and listened
and laughed
clean, silly laughs
fluting out of the incongruity
of simple,
simple
moments.
Fun life, easy stretch of the mouth -
it is possible to smile down at
what a clown pain is.
He declares this boldly
without saying a word
or two.
The poet is dumbfounded at him
being.
She did not see and had not seen and now only began to picture
but she was blind.
He said he was blinder and that
was true. The poet
did not smirk but giggle at the irony -
he lived in pop-bold spectacles,
she slept in black and white films.
But both were blind.
We cannot see and
we
are blurs.
The poet likes that life scrapes away at her
because she can see chinks of white sunshine
through all the sheared-off layers.
Clean, clean,
bright, bright -
he teaches her in a beam
without a hello.
The poet writes poetry
on breathing action prose.
And she laughs -
You are everything I don't want
but I'm curious.
Sep 23, 2015
Sep 23, 2015 at 5:48 PM UTC
Needless, pose a question:
Miracles save themselves...
Long in the tooth, looking for a blessing
Worlds to weigh, with the voice of what delves?
Minus the stone
The rue of visits and cares...
To awaken in the arms of harmony
History to a dare, to lend the kindness of what fares?
Special...
And doted upon, like a dream can feed...?
The spareness of speed in the eye, of what will
To sakes aled, and meant, to be the end of all in heed...
The pout of summation, to which we will know intimation?
Praises be, cares see, the coming order to a least...
At worthy faces, in a common hope, to live the life of sin?
Like a weary lover was, the only force of decency to cease...
Of a silent offer, of season and risk...
To these calls of opportunity, the mated chance
Of cause curious, and questioning the weight of a reason's wish
Paced with the passion of deliberateness, is a wish a saving, romance?
Feb 3, 2023
Feb 3, 2023 at 4:00 PM UTC
Little winged one of murky wings
do flutter in origami folds. To glide
in endless times engulf that needing
of seeing where in twilight all is a
shadow and all is seen within the night.
Quiver unseen but felt unto the breeze,
a shudder unfolds on their shadow in
ease, you taste upon droplets of fear.
Little origami wings do grace into
the flightless moments their but unseen.
Your shadow convulses in its presence,
Knowing subconsciously what it needs.
But you are but connected separates that
Could not be further apart. Like a puddle
swimming, nearly drowning in your depth.
It unfolds into form, for unseen like an
extension not noticed by self, a shadow
not as should seen. tiredness as into shadows
Of lost moments its delves ever deep. unravelling
it seeds into the darkness a continuation breaths
It departs for a shadow replenishes and its parts
Now origami folds in need of shadow will dance
upon every motion to unfold and feed, the cycle
is ever in motion, for twilight is its birth and life
its nourished in obscurity forever to feed.
May 2, 2016
May 2, 2016 at 5:16 PM UTC