"emersion" poems
It's after the magic happens.
It's our own personal time, when time stops,
When our eyes make four, and in that moment my heart drops.
We understand that no place is better than here.
Where love in our hearts is the only imperative thing,
Our fingers entwine, I'm your Queen and you're my king.
Everything about you seems different, yet somehow still the same.
Here you have my heart, you can be the puppeteer,
I don't mind the submission, I'll gladly volunteer.
You have my undivided attention because the look we're giving each other cannot be divided.
Your body is warm like a summer's day,
I can't for the life of me explain this feeling in my chest, not even in the most simplest way.
I'm speaking but your eyes are focused on my lips.
Forgetting what I said, I'd rather not bother,
It's probably two minutes, maybe ten, but it feels like forever.
The emersion of the sun breaks our gaze.
Now it's that time again to cut our ties,
It's unfortunately time to say our goodbyes.
I yearn for our time once again.
With an aching heart I give you the final kiss,
You leave and the sweet smell of your perfume is stuck on my body, that I'll truly miss.
I look through the window.
You open the cardoor.
"Wait", I silently say, but you could hear me no more,
As you go to put one foot in, an abrupt pause I saw.
It's like your heart heard mine.
A sharp turn and there you run,
The sound of the door open proves that both our hearts beats to the same drum.
I stood there, and multiple the emotions hit me all at once.
You were like a cagged animal being set free,
Fright, happiness, excitment...all rapidly came over me.
In your arms you held me, as we manage to make it up the stairs.
The atmosphere is silent, cool and absolutely beautiful,
Your skin seems to glow more, I could see into your soul, it's wonderful.
Back to the bedroom we walked.
For after we made magic, we would pillowtalk.
~Gabbriella with 2 b's~
Apr 24, 2017
Apr 24, 2017 at 11:27 PM UTC
so let the words bubble.
so let the words churn.
precipitants always settle,
unless they're stirred or burn.
eyeballs bigger all the time,
seeing veins of tulip leaf no more.
only balloons will satisfy.
apples have too much core.
swimming: is emersion, is not to float.
dive on in, dive on in, dive on in!
the world sees the world through a glass- bottom boat,
though we’re each and all born with a
fin.
Dec 4, 2012
Dec 4, 2012 at 6:46 PM UTC
Fluctuations, Frustrations
A Dragon tears apart emotions
A Master tapping on my shoulder
Bewildering, indeed,
But are you going to open?
I snap my fingers
Deep breath, palms extended
Music plays
I move along
What words can describe
these contradicting times?
Layered with clarity
Awkward and confused
But I'm done with managing
False control dismantling
No means of direction
or need for protection
This is all mine
How easy it is to play with distortion
what a misfortune
to pervert such purity
assuredly, this takes maturity
Open
Open
Open
to all that I am
It does not require definition
Just allow this transition
No force No exertion
This is the simple emersion
There is No Separation
This spirit is mine
This Energy is me
My awareness is no one else's
In my own oneness, I am free
Jul 15, 2020
Jul 15, 2020 at 5:20 AM UTC
If the sunset had a voice , it would sound like yours.
If the smokey mountains had eyes, they gave their never ending blue and green to you.
If thunder had breath, its chest would rise and fall late at night as yours does while wrapped in a mess of sheets.
I can't help but to be reminded of your beard as I run through fields of tall golden grass , it brushing on my bare thighs.
If warm summer breeze had a laugh , it learned its warm emersion from you.
I never knew the ocean would gift its crashing waves to someone's hips
Once great oaks had a heart, surely you have stolen them,
Along with my own.
Aug 3, 2014
Aug 3, 2014 at 8:49 PM UTC
Waking up feeling as if I were born tired
Missing the on ramp to the free way
lost in the alleys, back tracking
Rebelling against the Universe
I Slap away the open hand
and eschew greener pastures
for a land sewn with salt
I Lick the bitter taste spread across my cracked lips
and dream of loving hot sand
slipping through my fingertips.
I once bottled the wind,
and believed that lightning bugs lasted forever in a jar,
when the luminescence faded,
alone with an empty bottle and a jar,
I popped the tab open to release the wind,
a peacock feather flew from my brim,
away into the unknown.
I stared into the jar
and saw knives piercing hearts
My own heart began to bleed
one hundred barrels of boiling quicksilver
bathed in ache
contaminating my chest
exposed, naked in front of a mirror,
I took off my mask and stared into black shadow holes,
I held out my arms for 11 minutes,
index fingers pointing to Jupiter
raged with a primal yell and saw
the animal inside my face,
alive, quaking red,
a bulging flesh emersion of veins and teeth,
and shiny eyes that see into the night
breaking the bonds that tattoo our souls
Caged birds fly free
set ablaze the brown grass
where I used to lay
Lover, you lie
and the lie you deny becomes truth
because we are animals inside
and we want to feel loved all the time.
Prophecies fruit on the tree planted by forked tongues,
plucked and tasted
sweet,
yet are they hearty enough to fill you for years?
A fortune is left on the table,
there amongst the shattered pieces
of manilla cookie shell
It reads,
"In this destruction, see the meaning"
Apr 25, 2014
Apr 25, 2014 at 1:01 AM UTC
Eyes dimmed by calicanto vapours find
ecstasy in blurs as sandalwood scents arise
from burning candles, melding to provoke
an original entrancing redolence, a fay’s
potion delicately sending me into raptures.
Cocooned in the crystalline aqueous lymph
nakedness allows fondling drops to slither,
softly caressing skin with each emersion only
to immerse once more for greater pleasure.
Intensifying warmth enhances my perception
of this bliss persuaded, that nothing else
could touch me in this place, placental womb
imperturbable enchantment, secluded, from
reality shielded by a shell made of steam.
Enthralling haze incites fantasy to unleash
enticing indulgence in blind hallucinations
where ethereal substance imposes its flesh
upon my liquescing essence.
Chimerical cleansing drowning impurities
that will escape, when I’ll remove the cap
I will watch them whirl away, sheathed
in my bathrobe a chalice of red wine
will remain untouched as I’ll refuse
to relinquish the beguiling delight.
Feb 12, 2018
Feb 12, 2018 at 5:53 AM UTC
December 17th - 22nd, 2020
I.
At an Old Park Bench, She Let Herself Drop,
Seagulls Soared as they Travelled at Her Stop
Below her Feet, She Saw them Land, and Stare at her Brown Paper Bag
But the Aves Brought her No Blooming Smile, No Joys of Generosity
To Her, their Eyes were Stationary & Sterile, Like Glass Models, Just Beaks on a Hunt
There was No Way for them to Relate
II.
Above Her Lumpy Seat, Nirvana was Seen in the Sky
An Emersion Filled with the Growth of Amethysts, Sparkles of Cider, and Deep Ocean Water,
To Her, All that Energy Didn’t Matter, its Beauty Bore her No Sightseeing Delight,
The Composite in the Clouds Held Empty Meaning
She was Blind to a Bright Blue Day, a Heavenly Rain, or a Pinprick of Snow,
With Her, the Day’s Dissolve Only Expressed Violence, Sewn Within its Violet Hues
III.
She Slid her Hand into the Old Paper Bag
The One the Seagulls Eyed,
Yet a Loaf of Bread Did Not Appear
The Bottle Wasn’t Meant to be Shared,
Like an Assassin’s Dagger, She Quickly Swiped the Wine Free
She Gave a Sharp Glance, Made Sure No One was Near
Then She Lifted the High Shoulder’s Spout to Her Lips
Its Meeting was Her Most-Desired Mix
IV.
Her Savored Sips Soon Became Gulps
The Burn was Indulging as it Slid Down her Throat
And She Turned a Blind Eye to its Dry Ice Effect
A Cold and Sterile Connection, Leaving Scorching Flames in its Track,
For Her, Merlot had Once Been a Beautiful Word, Like a Poem, or a French Verse,
Now She Thought of Coins Circling in her Purse
Protean Drupelets, Floral Notes, Lost Within the Nameless Tonic
V.
Swaying Away, the Birds Gave Her their Backs,
Without a Baguette at Arm’s Length, they Saw No Reason to Stay
Waving their Wings of Flight – they Took Off into the Impending Night
The Seagulls Soared Unbound – Toward the Painting of Heaven,
Left Alone on the Tattered Bench
She Tried to Sit Up, but Found Herself Slump,
Her Precious Liter of Red, Still Clutched in Her Hand
The Roots of Artificial Salvation,
She Took in a Breath, and Sighed in her Suffering
And Again, Drank from her Grapes of Poison
The Source of Her Love, & Her Agony
Dec 23, 2020
Dec 23, 2020 at 12:17 AM UTC