"entreats" poems
He called me 'little swallow'
Dark kisses like planting seeds, dotting the bumps on my spine.
Breathe sweet with curry promises heat pools on the skin of my neck.
My ******* he holds in the dim light as if they were the most precious fragile china.
Urgency and endlessness twirl as drunken dancers in my stomach.
Infinite and the finite.
Little swallow, he begs. Little swallow.
Traces of invisible letters drawn on his dark skin with such a soft rake of my nails.
He arches his back in a bridge from delight to despair as he digest the pain of lust.
I could trace the map of India on his neck, the constellations on his back.
"Little swallow," a whisper that comes out as a groan.
"You are flight of swallows, living cloud.
That I could hold you still
a thought in my head
"restless girl with her heart beating fast."
Now he roughly pulls my hair back
and my neck whips with it.
He has my arm in a lock beneath my chest, kissing the side of my neck.
'my little swallow' he entreats in a dry cough of sound
and i trace Calcutta with my feathery tongue.
Feb 27, 2014
Feb 27, 2014 at 9:28 PM UTC
Queen and huntress, chaste and fair,
Now the sun is laid to sleep,
Seated in thy silver chair,
State in wonted manner keep:
Hesperus entreats thy light,
Goddess excellently bright.
Earth, let not thy envious shade
Dare itself to interpose;
Cynthia's shining orb was made
Heaven to clear when day did close:
Bless us then with wishèd sight,
Goddess excellently bright.
Lay thy bow of pearl apart,
And thy crystal-shining quiver;
Give unto the flying hart
Space to breathe, how short soever;
Thou that mak'st a day of night,
Goddess excellently bright.
2.3k
satin slats
plumped slick
sepal pearls
Elysium entreats
welcoming warm
Mar 14, 2017
Mar 14, 2017 at 11:55 PM UTC
A voice now forgotten, your memories displaced,
What once was warm and tender, beneath the ice encased.
Bluntly reignited, defenseless your voice entreats,
Searching for the source, finding treachery, deceit.
Endlessly tortured, by the ghosts that haunt this place.
An attempt to cope, to mask this bitter taste,
My mind stoicly vacant, then demanded by your face.
Gazing into the distance, catch a flash of golden hair,
Desperate to find you, but into emptiness I stare.
Foiled again, by your ghosts that haunt this place.
Habits I must repattern, and footsteps to retrace
Dispose of lingering tokens, never to replace.
Trying to redeem, the time I have lost with you,
And the time that I have squandered, I never will renew,
By chasing your ghosts that haunt this place.
Jun 18, 2012
Jun 18, 2012 at 11:32 AM UTC
“How can I get you to go down on me,”
he asked, without preamble.
His voice, nervous,
laced with strength
hums through her form,
summoning
a tatting of ***
She moves her entire form
Across the room
pushing solar plexus
With index finger
The wingback chair collecting
His form – assuaging her intent.
Retreating nine steps
To gather
Her acumen in dripping her clothes off
Adroit pivot
portent gaze
locked
exteroception - engaged
His exhale
executed succinctly in shallow lung
puckered alveoli - clenched
resonates as her own.
Pearls scooped catatonic
atop lingering breast ascension - alone
Remain –
Summoning brine.
She tastes his pulse
Derma puckering sweat globules
Redolent aeriform vapor corpuscles
declaring his need.
Fingers supporting her upper weight
she glides - crawling
pressing half inch spurs into the carpet
Lackadaisical dactyl dance
Seizes
muscle calf to thigh
Invoking listless leg drape
Pausing
Warm breath – rendered
Upon knee cap parallel
Framing shoulders
Engorging - in aching silence
Pulse thick, wrought in shaft
Kneeling
Primed
Proud
She flicks the button
From slit fabric recess
Cupping palms under thigh,
She renders garment to puddle
half-in – half-out
whole
chthonic shaft to palette
Sliding exhale
to mound
lax jaw
focus
Iris entreats -
narrowed corneal withdrawal
Oblong lip array surrounds
Supping the creamy, coppery,
Smoky, saline inoculation.
Latent dribble invokes tongue
Furl about lip cusp
Absorbing globule
Into slaked smile.
Feb 19, 2014
Feb 19, 2014 at 10:33 AM UTC
“Swallowing Pearls and Lace”
“How can I get you to go down on me,”
he asked, without preamble.
His voice, nervous,
laced with strength
hums through her form,
summoning
a tatting of ***
I moved my entire form
Across the room
Pushing his solar plexus
With index finger
The wingback chair collecting
His form – assuaging my intent.
Retreating nine steps
To gather
my acumen in dripping my clothes off
Adroit pivot
portent gaze
locked
exteroception - engaged
His exhale
executed succinctly in shallow lung
puckered alveoli –
Clenched -
resonates as my own.
Pearls scooped catatonic
atop lingering breast ascension - alone
Remain –
Summoning brine.
I taste his pulse
Derma puckering sweat
Redolent vapor
Knotting between each pore – skin taut
declaring his need.
Fingers supporting my upper weight
I glide - crawling
pressing half inch spurs into the carpet
Lackadaisical dactyl dance
Seizes
muscle calf to thigh
Invoking listless leg drape
Pausing
Warm breath – rendered
Upon knee cap parallel
Framing shoulders
Engorging - in aching silence
Pulse thick, wrought in shaft
Kneeling
Primed
Proud
I flick the button
From slit fabric recess
Cupping palms under thigh,
rendering garment to puddle
half-in – half-out
whole
chthonic shaft to palette
Sliding exhale
to mound
lax jaw
focus
His iris entreats -
narrowed corneal withdrawal
Oblong lip array surrounds
Supping the creamy, coppery,
Smoky, saline
Latent dribble invokes my tongue
Furl about lip cusp
Absorbing globule
Into slaked smile.
Mar 17, 2015
Mar 17, 2015 at 6:20 PM UTC
I chase the Scarab until the morning glows
With a winged friend I mistreat following a henchman's horse
To the Dunes we ride eyeing the night sky waning
The face of my child entreats for me to be weary.
A diamond in the raw, uncut was never the most valuable.
a board game logic parks upon the boardwalk of Santa Cruz
A friend would never charge for you to stay in a hotel they owned,
a game is a game only if one refrains from believing in consequence
as reality, that time is a space left between motions created by decision
evidenced by interaction precise a dreams manifested sequenced as love ever after.
A price is one custom we have all come to be adapted too, yet how are the best things in life free, if Jewels are the most expensive?
Mar 16, 2015
Mar 16, 2015 at 5:12 AM UTC
buttressed by bisected nebulae
our galaxies coalesce.
soft-spoken Andromeda hurtling
towards a somber Milky Way.
a slow dance plays
to the crooning toons
of Brand New. am i experiencing Deja Entendu
or are the Devil and God
merely raging inside us?
Christmas lights, distant as parsecs,
twinkle every which way we look.
multicolor displays flash
in dizzying arrays, winking in and out,
drizzling like dripping icicles. sad songs
spill continuously from the stereo as we drive
through one neighborhood after the next,
aimless in our contentment.
it's half-past-2:00
in the morning and i'm singing Panic!
at the Disco with (and for) you. i write of sins
and hope this doesn't end in tragedy
as Trade Wind shifts and entreats us
to drift listless as asteroids
rocked to sleep in the arms
of an ambivalent cosmos.
we may all be made of star stuff,
but we both agree:
there's no god who could love this world.
so as we lift crude gestures
to an apathetic sky, we realize
the task falls to us. we must love,
for beauty persists
in spite of all the sorrow.
i am happy to spin perpetually,
elastic and ecstatic in your orbit.
for every now and then your beams of light
filter through my prism and provide
another connection along
our wavelength.
Dec 4, 2016
Dec 4, 2016 at 7:24 PM UTC
Lean in
I'll take you
in the mouth
Kneeling
Primed
Proud
half-in – half-out
whole
chthonic shaft to palette
lax jaw
focus
Iris entreats
narrowed corneal withdrawal
agape
brine – saccharine globules
dactyl dance on your calf
I capture all - deglutition
slaked smile
Jan 26, 2014
Jan 26, 2014 at 8:47 PM UTC
Drop by any time
just tap softly upon the window
I'll hear you
and smile...
Flow gently like music for my soul
comfort me
caress my fevered brow
easing me to sleep...
Each fluid movement
each wetted kiss
entreats me to forget my burdens
my friend...
sweet evening rain.
Oct 3, 2012
Oct 3, 2012 at 5:49 PM UTC
O, the month of May, the merry month of May,
So frolic, so gay, and so green, so green, so green!
O, and then did I unto my true love say,
Sweet Peg, thou shalt be my Summer's Queen.
Now the nightingale, the pretty nightingale,
The sweetest singer in all the forest quire,
Entreats thee, sweet Peggy, to hear thy true love's tale:
Lo, yonder she sitteth, her breast against a brier.
But O, I spy the cuckoo, the cuckoo, the cuckoo;
See where she sitteth; come away, my joy:
Come away, I prithee, I do not like the cuckoo
Should sing where my Peggy and I kiss and toy.
O, the month of May, the merry month of May,
So frolic, so gay, and so green, so green, so green;
And then did I unto my true love say,
Sweet Peg, thou shalt be my Summer's Queen.
May 10, 2015
May 10, 2015 at 12:10 PM UTC
The clouds drawing pictures
on a tapestry of land.
Distorting but not destroying
the beauty that's at hand.
The suns lending light,
To a perpetual eye.
The land lending colors
to make this temporal sight.
The land throws in contrasts
to an ever changing hand,
but it's entreats go unnoticed
like critics to a masters plan.
For when the day is finally done;
the sun tiring of it's show.
The sky will show the land true art
and a beauty that it rarely knows.
Aug 10, 2010
Aug 10, 2010 at 2:42 PM UTC
Why?
Every day goes by
With this question echoing in my head
Why you?
And not me
I can barely hear what's said
Over the screech of the tires
And your screaming
They said, Everything will be okay
I nodded, but inside I yell, Liars
The blackness entreats
Greets
They ask, how are you feeling?
I answer without even seeing
Because I'm already gone
Lost to the darkness
May 5, 2012
May 5, 2012 at 4:13 PM UTC
I like it not.
Some actors' stumbling lines
Or patient yawns
Leave Shakespeare's thoughts delivered
Barely breathing or still-born
While others' jousting runs the play
Unchecked, unfettered, and yet un-free.
Mercutio's fitful rantings smoulder some,
Then, tired, lose their place,
Extinguished fire that nearly casts
A plague on any houses
Before a lingering death brings
Sweet relief to all the house.
Old Capulet, more bored than angry,
Tirades only tiredly at his daughter,
The last in a line of several disappointments.
We wait his piece to end,
Endure the hanging and begging and starving
In the streets, while Juliet entreats...
Gosh, I could use a bit to eat.....
O God in Heaven!
Give us up a little leaven
From this acting now so leaden.
Sadly, young Mercutio's dead,
And soon, Paris, and young Romeo,
Followed by young Juliet, and then Old Capulet....
The priest's alive, so we can fret
What further mischief he may still beget.
Dec 11, 2017
Dec 11, 2017 at 11:22 PM UTC
Back in the day,
If I had a problem I'd hit her up.
Now times progressed
And her name has changed,
But the formula is still the same.
When them girls wit no names.
Cause me hurt and pain
Her voice tames my heart then
Clears the thoughts out my brain.
Her perfume opens my nose,
a unique fragrance of her own.
Like smoke her aura fills my lungs.
Her name may not last,
Yet her presence is always felt.
This more then love,
And we're more then friends.
Everything about her entices me
From her smile to her body
I want it all.
Her lips entice me while,
Her body entreats me for pleasure.
Yet her mind is last to know.
So much I can say about her.
Tho, her name is all I know.
Dec 26, 2012
Dec 26, 2012 at 5:20 PM UTC
My eyes plead for sleep, for sleep
But night entreats me to creep, to creep
Out in the black so deep, so deep
And follow the fence so neat, so neat
Up the hill so steep, so steep
Where light shines so meek, so meek
In a cold breeze so weak, so weak
Under a tree that's sharp, not bleak
And do the wild dance for dreams
Jun 9, 2015
Jun 9, 2015 at 2:20 AM UTC
and then..
and then..
then, you're standing in the kitchen -
your weight on your left leg,
the fan blades consistently cutting the air,
the irregular mouse-clicks ringing in your ears.
tiny cockroaches hustling about;
pulse throbbing,
vision blurry,
sweltering heat,
thick-fat-scarred-thrawn twirling lines; vertigo.
dingy, yellow t-shirt.
rustling murmurs, dimmed out groans.
smothered, crippled deadwood flesh.
tongue-tied entreats.
head-splitting vertigo.
the boundless horrors -
of one, cold, fathomless minute.
it's cold now.
it's cold, now.
the white-marble floor of barren feuds.
I wish someone were to find me, this night.
tender arms of wordless embrace.
cradled in love, my soulful gambles.
Hold out,
Hold on,
Hold back;
Hold me.
God forbid, I long for thee.
I seek thy flickering emerald eyes,
tracing my lass-shaped solitude - wistfully thine.
to scream with terror -
the blubbering toys,
the warmth of doldrums.
late-November's mourning drizzles,
roadside affections; words in vain.
merci, O darling, merci.
~A
Dec 8, 2020
Dec 8, 2020 at 3:24 AM UTC
The residual feeling of
politest departure with
the loving manner,
sings out its heart to you.
This systematic means of the
language entreats its unquietly
wordlessness to give an
affectionate embrace to
your benignity.
The lover of this epic love
seems to be astounded by the
expounding intervention of your
tender verses.
-Restoring overtures of a trouveur endures an unnecessarily
worrying heart.
Shivpriya
#beautifulthingsandemotions
Apr 7, 2019
Apr 7, 2019 at 3:29 PM UTC
Some of you write of love and its passion and softest touch.
Do you not know the savage weaponry of which you speak?
Has the blade never sliced 'til core exposed you feel nothing?
Have you never been lured by the soft whispers it entreats with?
And with a rage so harsh seen your very heart torn from you?
Loves romance with keys to fit your every defense leaving exposure?
Vulnerability you wouldn't volunteer in moments of sanity.
Of loves passion, it is a trap. So far will you fall when it springs.
A wound so deep is love that you will never feel whole again.
Tender caresses of flesh to captivate and weaken your mind.
Luring and dulling the common sense and with blade at ready.
You are drawn to that deceptive softness, the apparent warmth.
And yet still love is armed with throat and heart as targets.
Entrapped you give way to the hold of it, the thought of it.
Loves power will take your soul and crush it and leave it dust.
And yet like you I crave it still and insanity causes me to think....
This time love will be kind.
Mar 12, 2019
Mar 12, 2019 at 11:21 AM UTC
turning our backs
with judgmental eyes
lack of tact demoralize
fellow man down in need
not realizing how easily
they could be you
or even me
beggars on the street
demolish devour disgrace
pretend they have no face
earnestly entreats the elites
not realizing how easily
that could be you
or even me
young innocent naive
with child she believed
horrified immortalized
abandoned aborticide
not realizing how easily
that could be you
or even me
adolescent candy man
hanging out big time men
positive poisoned gat plan
dart defunct departed deceased
not realizing how easily
that could be you
or even me
Jun 21, 2019
Jun 21, 2019 at 6:09 PM UTC
There’s a madness within
that roils my soul,
and entreats me beyond safe confines.
What is it that pushes me to the edge of the mountain
tempting me to jump
and end the uncertainty?
It’s not just wanderlust,
not just a desire for peril.
It’s a quest past aching to outright pain.
Let me jump the brane from internal peace to the terror beyond.
Can’t wait for unknowable possibilities.
Can no longer sail with prevailing winds.
I must hurl myself into the typhoon.
Nov 13, 2020
Nov 13, 2020 at 1:31 AM UTC