Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
"enveloping" poems
#*God's love is delight itself it is beauty itself it is tender yet fierce sweet yet wild steadfast yet unpredictable enveloping yet freeing captivating yet boundless protective yet empowering certain yet never boring relentless yet gentle secure yet mysterious trustworthy yet exciting all-consuming yet unfathomable He is everything you’ve ever hoped for, dreamed of, longed after or imagined and so much more He is the Lover of your needy, thirsty soul and He fights continually for your heart*#
0
Nov 13, 2015
Nov 13, 2015 at 5:13 PM UTC
The Infinite Paradisiacal Paradoxical Paragon
Last night I had a dream that you died. Everyone we knew came, said their I’m-so-sorry’s, and left, filtering out the front door slowly like sand through a sideways sifter, leaving behind pieces, words and memories and casseroles I could not taste. And the whole time everyone was here, you were here, too. I could hear you, smell you, feel you. I could feel you surrounding me like the ghost of the baby blanket I once had and could never leave at home. I loved you here and here you would stay, with me, and now you would never leave. I could keep you. You were bound to me. But the ties that bind are tight and you did not like me leaving. You could not go with me and you accidentally and without words by holding, enveloping, suffocating you told me that you did not want me to ever leave again. So I stopped. I stopped leaving. And the calls stopped, too. The invites. The lunches. The impromptu trips to town. All unnecessary noise. The people left. And then it was just you and me. Until one day I saw what you had done. Tripping I glanced in the mirror and saw. You had etched yourself into my face. Dug with your nails terrifying ravines escaping the corners of my eyes. Pulled down my mouth and every shallow natural valley turned to deep empty bowl, hungry and wanting. My eyes no longer held light. I saw this, all evidence against you, and I still loved you. You had hurt me in ways you never had while you were here – here – and I knew. And I still loved you. Slinking up the stairs I called you to me. I felt you surround faster than before and closer, tighter, colder. Suffocating, stifling and so destructive in how you loved me. Slowly but faster I grew to know I would not become you and you would not become me. We were stuck on other sides of the mirror. I was so angry at what you had allowed me made me begged me to become. Realizing I gasped and put hand to heart it hurt so. I stood upright how long have I been bent took in one long deep breath of stuffy air how long since I opened the windows and called you to me when have I last heard a voice not my own called you to listen. I felt the loss of everything else friends family adventure excitement. Nothing was left of that here and I was so angry and I am so sorry and I yelled       I screamed       I roared why are you still here why are you making me like you why did you come here and hold me and keep me here with you I am not the one who is dead and I said and I regret and I am so sorry I can’t have you here go away and leave me alone and you did. You left me all alone. Why would you leave me?
0
May 8, 2014
May 8, 2014 at 1:06 AM UTC
Leaving
Last night I had a dream that you died. Everyone we knew came, said their I’m-so-sorry’s, and left, filtering out the front door slowly like sand through a sideways sifter, leaving behind pieces, words and memories and casseroles I could not taste. And the whole time everyone was here, you were here, too. I could hear you, smell you, feel you. I could feel you surrounding me like the ghost of the baby blanket I once had and could never leave at home. I loved you here and here you would stay, with me, and now you would never leave. I could keep you. You were bound to me. But the ties that bind are tight and you did not like me leaving. You could not go with me and you accidentally and without words by holding, enveloping, suffocating you told me that you did not want me to ever leave again. So I stopped. I stopped leaving. And the calls stopped, too. The invites. The lunches. The impromptu trips to town. All unnecessary noise. The people left. And then it was just you and me. Until one day I saw what you had done. Tripping I glanced in the mirror and saw. You had etched yourself into my face. Dug with your nails terrifying ravines escaping the corners of my eyes. Pulled down my mouth and every shallow natural valley turned to deep empty bowl, hungry and wanting. My eyes no longer held light. I saw this, all evidence against you, and I still loved you. You had hurt me in ways you never had while you were here – here – and I knew. And I still loved you. Slinking up the stairs I called you to me. I felt you surround faster than before and closer, tighter, colder. Suffocating, stifling and so destructive in how you loved me. Slowly but faster I grew to know I would not become you and you would not become me. We were stuck on other sides of the mirror. I was so angry at what you had allowed me made me begged me to become. Realizing I gasped and put hand to heart it hurt so. I stood upright how long have I been bent took in one long deep breath of stuffy air how long since I opened the windows and called you to me when have I last heard a voice not my own called you to listen. I felt the loss of everything else friends family adventure excitement. Nothing was left of that here and I was so angry and I am so sorry and I yelled       I screamed       I roared why are you still here why are you making me like you why did you come here and hold me and keep me here with you I am not the one who is dead and I said and I regret and I am so sorry I can’t have you here go away and leave me alone and you did. You left me all alone. Why would you leave me?
Continue reading...
113
After dark, energies flow in manners that pleases them most braided together in lust, two king cobras were seen spiraling up when darkness like a camouflage sets in thickly around,you're the  marijuana of my mind, seeking far horizons of pleasure. I willingly seek oblivion, when pink pointed goosebumps like tarantula's love bites, results of mating time cruelty infest all over my body's landscape, signatures of ecstasy. I feel your lips become, moist, soft, honey from each drips never enough,for me, is it possible to get inebriated more? Your sighs and moans speak the vocabulary of a forgotten ancient language love hurriedly resurrected for us from past, brevity is the crux of that lingo of erupting jets of desire, it teaches you to moan in fifty different tones in all;even more? Your sharpened nails etch cave murals on my itching back that has the searing taste of blood, in hot hot chilly red. my taste buds of lust, begs for more and more of it. You are the marijuana fueling my narcotic flights that land in your misty land, enveloping my senses as a whole. "The night is still young, hear what the darkness whispers" I hear you speak like an oracle, on things about to happen.
0
Jan 8, 2016
Jan 8, 2016 at 11:50 AM UTC
A tryst with ***** narcotic moments
I wish I could have kissed you the moment I saw you in real life for the first time; something like running into your arms and letting the world turn into static, only focusing on you. Only you. But that would have been too dramatic. Maybe you'd get shy all of a sudden or think I am too forward. So I just held your hand— warm like a heavy blanket and evidently bigger than mine. Enveloping my hand in the most comfortable of ways, like some missing puzzle piece that was bound to be together no matter what. That would have appeased me don't you think? No. Not really. I have nothing to say. I still want to kiss you.
0
Dec 16, 2021
Dec 16, 2021 at 9:33 AM UTC
basorexia.
Your laugh was a cloud Loud Enveloping Mist which covered me without the slightest resistance insistence I needed assistance to breathe Your laugh shows I'm useful shows there's a need For us as I feed on the delicious awkwardness we shared Caught unawares by being liked It's a shame your laugh was the cloud which hid a trucks headlights crash shared spent Your laugh a narcotic cloud I refuse to repent
0
Jan 12, 2015
Jan 12, 2015 at 4:13 PM UTC
Your laugh was a cloud
I find that Freckles seem to make the strangest shapes. I find that I lose myself With the connect the dots game On your face. I count three on your neck Below your soft forest of hair. A pointed constellation. I imagine inside the freckle triangle, It says: kiss here. And kiss you I do. I find that Your freckles tell me where to travel with my lips. I am going down down down And now there's goosebumps. Ah, the land is not fallow yet. Further and further. One dot, two dots, small dots, big dots. I find that My mouth is growing warm with The taste of your pastures Enveloping it. I am hungry. I find that The land further down is bare. A desert. No more freckles to follow. I look up for the first time, And there you are, Gasping for air. My turn.
0
Nov 3, 2012
Nov 3, 2012 at 6:46 PM UTC
Freckles
I miss your arms around me Enveloping like wild weeds, How you held me tight Like you needed me to breathe I miss the way we fit Like awkward puzzle pieces How you'd get annoyed But I'd soothe it all with kisses We weren't meant to be Yet we needed each other, Two lost sounds in this world Oh how I wish we weren't over.
0
Jul 28, 2014
Jul 28, 2014 at 8:45 AM UTC
Beautiful Weeds
I’m working to unwrap you slowly To form you up like a theory To create a habitat for you in my head My steps grow wider when I see you at the end Lying, lounging, an old lion Afternoon sun low and tired Rays and shadows streak the road like enveloping arms As I grow closer, you project even further away I just long to reach you Rest my head against your ***** and Sleep against your softness like a pile of feathers To rest at last. But at times I think I’ll never reach you, As I approach you reflect even further away I wonder that this road is endless, thinning into the distance The black wires radiate into the air above me Mutating my simple DNA into something else entirely A sole purpose survivor, a solider The cause is more desperate now They’re buzzing to each other above my head, talking about me Their scrutiny banging between my ears The dust becomes a new layer of me, with incredible thirst Just fields of dehydrated dandelions, just nothing They soak up the liquid from everything With their chemical and electrical waves The fields are screeching as they shrivel up, like dying children Now it’s all yellow, beige, and far away It’s all so tiny against the horizon, For all I know, your silhouette has become a statue by now Just this long stripe of dirt I treat like a passageway Just a ladder to a final place of rest I’m desperate for a stop in my trudging motion But I know I can’t lie down in this unworthy sand.
0
Dec 4, 2012
Dec 4, 2012 at 5:52 PM UTC
Yellow
Vines crawling on the old mottled wall fog bypassing the fence enveloping the entire chalet the mystic sky over the castle a lightning awakening the gloomy valley ghosts and goblins floating around extinguishing white candles a witch with a broom the silver haired wizard in a black hat standing in the darkness of spells the enchanted princess sleeping in the black chalet prince charming leading a team of knights sinister roses blooming quietly spitting murky fog tongues of flames light up the dark tunnel the prince kills the bloodthirsty bats witches and a clan of phantoms the prince kisses to wake the princess who’s been asleep for a millenium.
0
May 18, 2015
May 18, 2015 at 12:46 PM UTC
Video game
awakening with the gradual rise of the subdued heather hued sun a palpable spectral silence permeated the air the anticipation of celebration intercepted by an enveloping phantom black malaise hiding in obscure shadows the terror of the twin towers final doom elucidated quivers of melancholic nuances rippling through the greying vicinity my birthday september 11th a tuesday my night to sing at abravanel hall with the utah symphony unable to serenade death our voices remained indubitably silenced in hushed wistful reverence ensuing 9/11s channel somber sentiments cloaked with annihilation while dark visions occupy smudged iphone screens this anniversary i will dissipate despair transmuting dark despondency splashing all with lucent petals of delight i’ll live this day with passionate intensity and those subsequent with equal ardor ferociously painting back the light i will raise my voice with effervescence and sing in wild abandon for my precious brothers that were lost demonstrating devotion through a refusal to be silenced by fear bestowing honor with a conspicuous message that love wins ©2016janetaylor
0
Sep 11, 2016
Sep 11, 2016 at 6:22 PM UTC
9/11 birthday
The burning feelings we had Passionately we loved Like flames enveloping us till everything turned to dust I guess we might have loved too much The spark that we ignited turned into flames we could not handle The fire spread From HEARTWARMING Came to HEART BURNING This is just heartbreaking But no longer Shall I fret For no longer will my heart break for only ashes remain From the once burning heart From the once burning Love
0
Nov 15, 2015
Nov 15, 2015 at 10:29 AM UTC
Burning
Delicately pink hearts gently unfurl From nests of lively minds; There is nothing weak about Southern women We are supposed to wear ugly dresses, Enamel bugs, French scarves that wrap around and Tie us all together from the inside out Football and sassy new haircuts might not make faces look younger, But they can lift spirits And just because you spend all day advising others Of their secret trials Doesn't mean that you can hold your family in a cage, Golden and happy though you may want things to be. Remember that if you feel new, an outsider, Your personal tragedies seeming too much to bear, You will always find comfort in laughter Especially if laughter through tears is your favorite emotion. You might not pick up boys or money, But friendship steeps in small salons Like sweet tea. Prickly sarcasm and pessimism aren't always the hallmarks Of a heart devoid of caring, It's just a natural response after two deadbeat husbands and Three ungrateful children; somewhere in all of it is a promise Of hope. And even in a barren womb new life is discovered, And even in death joy is found, And even through pain, Sisterhood blooms, Delicate steel petals enveloping grieving hearts.
0
Apr 17, 2014
Apr 17, 2014 at 3:44 PM UTC
Steel Magnolias
A supine position upon my bed and a slow turning of my head I look out through my window and by chance LISTEN!! Hearing the howling and chilling desultory gusts of wind Noticing seemingly deceptive immutable muffled grey-white low hanging clouds enveloping everything in its heavenly path with coinciding feelings of being enclosed, a slight hint, the oncoming winter A sunless sky also matches the early November mood as virtually motionless elongated pearl-grey-clouds having distinct wind-kissed topsy-turvy-wavy-ruffled bottoms that travel and permeate onward across the heavens These eerie vapors s t r e t c h from north to south east to west casting Buddism's grey colored shadows upon the earth below while not permitting any sky blue to peek through A distant howl and barking of a dog, my inner volcano snuffed out, the tranquilization of Hercules... Time seemingly stops altogether and hangs... ... heated feelings dissipate    into      cool nothingness...
0
Sep 20, 2014
Sep 20, 2014 at 4:27 PM UTC
November Mood
I cracked the window to my past wondering, hoping, I was strong enough to bear what was left of the pain of the life I’d left behind. But the pain, still real, erupted inside ripped wide the scar. Blood and tears combined, exploded and filled my mind and soul with fear. I feel myself slip down that lonely road again being drawn down that black ribbon; its blackness seeps in through the cracks in my soul and muddy the joy I knew. How can I brace myself against the tide pulling me, holding me, enveloping me, and dragging me down until I no longer can breathe beneath its endless waves? I fear now I may never be so strong as to face my memories. So I entomb these behind a mighty shield like the Chernobyl of my past.
0
Mar 31, 2018
Mar 31, 2018 at 12:07 PM UTC
NEVER STRONG ENOUGH
There was a time I saw... The beckoning stars, in your eyes, juvenescent. Like beacons from afar. There was a time I felt... The burn of your lips. The rush of crazed blood that held in tight grips. There was a time I inhaled... your intoxicating scent. Inciting cardiac somersaults in a time long spent. There was a time I thought... We would last forever through the last of grains. Hourglass doomed to shatter. There was a time I knew... That nothing could ever alter, same tune we have hummed, words we've carved in each other. There was a time I dreamt... Of floating in your seas. Your vast body enveloping, drowning out my insecurities. There was a time I worried... for your dreams of grandeur. When you spoke of seeking, the dream of life much better. There was a time I died... When you had packed and gone. Leaving only the broken promises and empty dawns. There was a time I hoped... That sooner you'd be back. Standing at my door, beside you, your travel laden sack. But now you're back... The pain gnaws in greater bites. The stars, they twinkle no longer they were killed by the city lights.
0
Oct 14, 2014
Oct 14, 2014 at 1:47 PM UTC
Stars
*So young and trite is the day Born from this new light Creatures of the dark and mist curl and wither Only to return by midlight The rose afar rises and stretches Bloodshed velvet bleeds its regal glow Smooth tips and enticing fragrance Dark greens, stiff and sharp as spines Beads of water glisten and shimmer A blood’s true jewel Thy shadows came in thy’s slithery way Enveloping Devil’s Beauty Charcoal webs and silver-black imprints Spiral and intertwine, death and blood a dangerous omen Thy Beauty’s velvet lips decay A cancer slow moving and fast changing Taking over thy body in one gulp Last, final tips of red appear before swallow Accenting and tracing its last magnificent life Midlight turns to midnight Bloodlines disappear As the wind wails through the dead A song, chilling, unnerving to us all*
0
Nov 10, 2012
Nov 10, 2012 at 11:42 AM UTC
Midlight
I fell in love with the dark. I found comfort in the sorrow-filled shadows . selfish, I know. but it is all I know. you used to help me find beams of light, but now there are no traces of hope remaining. I have been consumed whole.
0
Nov 14, 2015
Nov 14, 2015 at 6:25 AM UTC
Enveloping into Darkness
Puissant piquant and predatory And observant from afar He looks down on your slumber Like a door that's left ajar Plying with his manly vice A reckless male visage A rogue of masculine device Seeks entrance to your mind He saunters with a swagger A macho savvy moxie To personify virility's incarnate His dream zone's metier He sifts your ****** entourage In search of sprawls recumbence To tantalize climactic fervor With lambent photic scenes Grasping at your revelries He spies the wanton lust With swanky strut appealing Your primal urge to sate He leaves undone resistance With innate resilience seized The lavish wayward implications Of unrequited livid deeds Like passion's lurid lecheries An insatiable torrid sooth You wrestle with his adamance Your  carnal ecstasies revealed You pounce on his exsertion You splay your agile form wriggling like a supple nymph You accept his blatant storm You writhe in your abandon In a euphoric supplication His machismo ****** enveloping Your wildest latent needs With no regrets or reticence you awaken from this dream To find yourself alone again Like it had never been
0
May 19, 2018
May 19, 2018 at 9:51 PM UTC
Incubus
Life and its shade canvased by god God made it beautiful But we are adding shades of greys and black enveloping the sky turning fog into smog Putting solute in water bodies that are not dispersible making it turbid mislaying its transparency water is not pure anymore Deforestation converting the forest into the barren land beautiful landscapes are mechanized by man buildings and more building watching stars sounds bookish nature is losing its charm Emotions are blowing over relationships changing accepting changes changing our own self mirrors are showing someone else image and asking you who you are?
0
Mar 10, 2011
Mar 10, 2011 at 12:50 AM UTC
Who You Are?
Purple sheets of petal, Softly glowing in the dark Of almost night. Softly touching my cheek, the enveloping cloud surrounds me like a neon cloak. I can see your face reflecting in an overflowing purple pool of mist. And petals gently plopping, enveloping the image of your loveliness. (Jacaranda madness)
0
Dec 24, 2014
Dec 24, 2014 at 12:26 PM UTC
ABUNDANCE
Your shrill, yet oddly pleasant sound, echoes loudly down the long corridor. I try to ignore you as the jaunty sound clashes with my melancholy mood, Yet I find the notes and melodies cling to my mind like tissue stuck to a shoe, Hanging on for it's own amusement, Ignorant of my desire not to be teased nor humoured at this anxious time. I feel I shouldn't like your racket, My naïve ears and young years sense, not only an inappropriate comedy in your sound, But also a daunting undertone, Adding to my sense of having been plunged into deep icy waters. Perhaps your music soothes those who are leaving, Your high happy notes providing optimism and assurance of recovery, Or of a restful sleep enveloping dear ones. For me, however, at the point of no-return in my pilgrimage, I hear only the low notes, Out of time with my quickened pulse, And lending a foreboding soundtrack to my slow deliberate steps. But you play for no pay, Busking in this hospital, Doing good both night and day. Yes, you are well known in this place, Admired for the hours you commit to this space where lives can hang in the balance, And where your instrument by day is a sharp sleek scalpel, Invasive in its desire to alleviate suffering, Your steady, practiced hand rehearsed and well versed in the methodically planned procedure of a surgical concerto. But out of hours your instrument of choice lends you a voice, Allowing flourishes and improvisations. But were you aware that for visitors like me who visited repeatedly, The clarinet would take on a significance beyond other instruments, Taking me instantly back to bittersweet memories of visiting my family, As, in turn, they aged and became unwell and recovered and became unwell again. Now I am older and a little wiser, I reflect and ruminate on this period; My memories of family are more than just hospital visits, And I wonder if I could ask one thing of you? Why no Rhapsody in Blue?!
0
Sep 16, 2018
Sep 16, 2018 at 6:45 PM UTC
The Medical Clarinettist
Your shrill, yet oddly pleasant sound, echoes loudly down the long corridor. I try to ignore you as the jaunty sound clashes with my melancholy mood, Yet I find the notes and melodies cling to my mind like tissue stuck to a shoe, Hanging on for it's own amusement, Ignorant of my desire not to be teased nor humoured at this anxious time. I feel I shouldn't like your racket, My naïve ears and young years sense, not only an inappropriate comedy in your sound, But also a daunting undertone, Adding to my sense of having been plunged into deep icy waters. Perhaps your music soothes those who are leaving, Your high happy notes providing optimism and assurance of recovery, Or of a restful sleep enveloping dear ones. For me, however, at the point of no-return in my pilgrimage, I hear only the low notes, Out of time with my quickened pulse, And lending a foreboding soundtrack to my slow deliberate steps. But you play for no pay, Busking in this hospital, Doing good both night and day. Yes, you are well known in this place, Admired for the hours you commit to this space where lives can hang in the balance, And where your instrument by day is a sharp sleek scalpel, Invasive in its desire to alleviate suffering, Your steady, practiced hand rehearsed and well versed in the methodically planned procedure of a surgical concerto. But out of hours your instrument of choice lends you a voice, Allowing flourishes and improvisations. But were you aware that for visitors like me who visited repeatedly, The clarinet would take on a significance beyond other instruments, Taking me instantly back to bittersweet memories of visiting my family, As, in turn, they aged and became unwell and recovered and became unwell again. Now I am older and a little wiser, I reflect and ruminate on this period; My memories of family are more than just hospital visits, And I wonder if I could ask one thing of you? Why no Rhapsody in Blue?!
Continue reading...
35
bathed in light I can almost touch it feels alive around me enveloping I feel my ancestors fear and respect as I capture it on digital SD card
0
Jun 21, 2022
Jun 21, 2022 at 6:54 PM UTC
Sunset
It's an addiction The feeling of ink to paper flowing from the mind to a needle delivering relief It's an affliction A disease that manifests itself as dialogue and description It's an abomination A beast that bares its teeth and sinks into the page It's creation That bleeds and breathes and loves and hates and learns It's desolation That manipulates and destroys enveloping the world in its darkness It's imagination That addicts, creates, and destroys nothing but the mind
0
Jul 20, 2014
Jul 20, 2014 at 10:21 PM UTC
Imagination
We were just like stars. Exploding and crashing into one another. It was beautiful at first glance. Like glowing specks dotting the night sky. But it was painful like deafening explosions. And ashy clouds suffocating the inhabitants below. As your hands enclose themselves around my throat. I used to think that passion came from the heavens It doesn’t. It comes from a place of evil not unlike this. One where wars are fought over control. And can only be thought of as an enveloping abyss. One that I know, you no longer miss. Because now I am yours, with or without consent. We were like stars glittering, so very far from the rest. I thought it would last forever, that we would dance Into eternity, with your hands locked in between mine. The moon dust splattered like droplets of fresh paint. Across a vast canvas that was never to be finished. I was unaware and unprepared for the intensity of An abusive relationship. That to outsiders looked like desirable goals. If they only knew what happened behind closed doors. We were beautiful, just like stars But we were just as violent. With a hauntingly quiet release, a single star fell. You return to the evil that you call home, but that I call hell.
0
Dec 7, 2018
Dec 7, 2018 at 3:23 AM UTC
Just like Stars
The sun is setting blissfully and subtly touching the branches on this hill. A flood of color is emerging from heaven and enveloping the world in heat. All I am on this hill is a part of the grass. Broken by the wind, and taken by the rush of beauty. All I am on this hill is and was, and will be. And it is alright. Because mother nature is resting her head. Enlightening the world in an overpowering aura. For a second malice is nonexistent evil is unheard of, and every piece of good seems part of this day, so fragrant. All I am, on this hill is a stranger glancing at the light.
0
Oct 6, 2014
Oct 6, 2014 at 3:23 PM UTC
stranger at sunset.