"ferocity" poems
Let me mold my body along your curves; trickle yourself into my entire being
*Vulnerable, **** my heart exposed*, palpably we connect across the starry sky; you ... within me
I want your intimacy to linger along the edges of my lips hours after you've gone
I ache to be consumed by your eyes, intense with emotions, long after the dawn
Take me to your intimate chambers where hearts race; the rhythm of our silhouettes melded on satin sheets
Leisurely feel your way; a slow descend along the avenue of my rhythmic swell; forgive me of my quivering wanton needs
Allow me to graze at the gates of your femininity, drinking the honey from your pink walls; to feel your crowning point between my lips
How can I resist those wandering lips that stirs the curtains of my garden alcove; perfectly painted in honey dew, I throb for the touch of your kiss
Drape your thighs upon my shoulders; let the waves of satisfaction cascade up your spine
I beg to be released, dear God, of this intoxicating spell; I submit myself, heart laid bare; oceans of emotions no longer can I hide.
Find your eyes locking with mine; my torso parallels yours, my body pressed to you; equal in ferocity and tenderness
Mesmerize by your burning eyes in our melting flesh, so strong your hold; yet so tender your caress
Utter our names in fiery moans both whispered and screamed in heated breaths on our solitary night
Vile obscenities float out on heated breath, as cool air kiss our molded skin on the evening our time takes flight
Take me to your heart & cast away the flesh; allow our souls to weave in the throes of passion as our bodies mix into one; slow-motion ecstasy
A longing deep inside, the locked chambers of my soul to exotic places beyond our imaginations; you sneak into my heart to fulfill my every fantasy
Feed me the lullabies you paint on your canvas; orgiastic symphony we conduct in cascading tides; trembles throughout our bodies when our fluids mix
Let me paint upon your heart a ballet of our duet; the crescendo palette of my tide drown you in the spirit of our lyrics
Your ripe fruit quivers tenderly while our union completes; take my hands and let me be yours
Hold my sated body that tremors from the wake; a union of our souls ensnare a bond secure
~
Sep 18, 2017
Sep 18, 2017 at 7:34 AM UTC
I still remember you
I lost you because non-commitment was all I could give.
Now I wake with my sheets soaked with the residue from my nightmares, suffocating me.
I long for those days when the sun was setting and hand in hand we'd sit, in silence.
You'd pull me closer to share your excitement with me; grab a fist full of my hair to allow you to enter into matrimony with my lips.
I long to have your presence next to me; to see the rise and fall of your chest reminding me that that is where my home is.
To have you wake me in the morning with your arms protectively caressing me, rhythmically and suggestively moving along my body...
To have you send shivers down my spine with your hot breath as I feel you smile into my neck
I remember your lips became the metaphor for our young hasty affair:
your lips often grazing every crevice on my body, arousing feelings in me I never thought existed and exciting this dormant precious place between my thighs.
My thighs, which are now the empty hallways you used to roam with so much passion and ferocity used to release waterfalls that cascaded down in a pleasurable release,
long for one more body trembling exhilarating encounter.
But most of all I long to be loved again.
Mar 28, 2014
Mar 28, 2014 at 3:34 PM UTC
No thoughts, concerns, hesitations.
Worries can wait.
Happiness shouldn't.
Despite how fleeting it may turn out to be.
I'm happy with him.
Happy enough to forget
about the clouds that have a tendency
to settle into the snug horizon.
He's like a red balloon
that keeps me looking up.
Distracted from all the cracks in the pavement
that make me trip.
Oblivious to the wavering skies.
Focused solely on keeping my eyes
on patterns of movements.
Memorizing this new thing.
Piloting something unknown.
Let's refrain from using maps that lead down past paths.
I'll use my sense of adventure to navigate my way.
Illuminate the trails
with the colors of your mind.
If I get lost, I'll anchor down in your arms.
Clutching each of these moments
with a ferocity that
most will never understand.
Let them question why
I'm staring at reflections of light
through a bit of plastic.
They'll never know
that you gave me rainbows.
All the more reason to look at the bright-side.
Sep 23, 2012
Sep 23, 2012 at 4:26 PM UTC
The tenderness as they described it is circumnavigating more than the ******* and the roundness of my protruding *******
Perhaps by tenderness of the breast, what they really mean is tenderness of the soul and the emotions one hurriedly tucks under the crevices of their *****
If one imagines how ******* are anything but tender, with their ferocity of nurturing life and their wholly encompassing nature to weigh and weigh and weigh
Weight carried by a mother,
Shed off by her daughter,
Caressed by the one she lies with in the crevice of her soul and the gap between twin XL bunk beds and walls full of picture of people who no longer weigh her down
It's the feeling of nostalgia and nostalgia feeling this tenderness growing from one's *******
Growth of the ***** of life as a life imagined is destroyed, nullified, kaput.
But most of all she feels nostalgia.
Nostalgia for the people whose tenderness she felt,
Nostalgia yes for her brother and grandmother cloaked in love around her neck like crystals from an iridescent silver clasp
Jun 1, 2015
Jun 1, 2015 at 10:36 AM UTC
Artemis of the wood,
sweet skill of deadly
silence,
her accurate aim and steady
strength
finds the subtle seam,
between
all things.
Her swift sentry,
airborne,
elegant and true,
flies with focused
ferocity.
The soft,
wet earth
surrounds and
welcomes;
her realm of the hunt.
The scent
of the fallen leaves,
cool and colorful,
subdue
my soul.
The forest hush is all that
remains...
Apr 20, 2018
Apr 20, 2018 at 10:47 PM UTC
To be a gentleman in a Chatroom,
One must always introduce themselves as a number.
As an age.
To inform the fine maidens of the Chatroom that,
'Yes! I am legal.'
So that way they feel obliged to tell you:
'Why, I am too!'
You must also accompany such a number with your gender.
Just so that they won't get confused,
And know that you are a
masculine
manly man
of manliness.
It is of the Gentleman's Etiquette to note your existence afterwards.
A simple 'Here' would suit.
Or spice it up with a
'You?'
Afterwards.
Make sure you always ask how your possible future **** partner is feeling, it's only polite. If they say
'I'm feeling wonderful, how about you?'
or
'My day's been ghastly. How about yours?'
- No matter what the answer, make sure to reply with a steady:
'Nothing much', or if you're feeling impatient, 'nm'
Just to show that no, you don't really care
and want to get straight into business.
- Which shows that you are a man with a clear goal in mind, and as we all know, women adore men with confidence!
The next step is the bargain.
You need to sell yourself to the feline with flair,
Ferocity,
Wit, style, charisma.
'Wanna fuck?'
And if they reject your courteous advances, all you can do is tip your hat and carry on to the next lady in waiting.
Mar 2, 2019
Mar 2, 2019 at 1:48 AM UTC
she loved the rain
the splitter splatter sound
every drop makes
were music to her ears
she loved the thunder
the ferocity of its roar
gave her the strength
to hold on for awhile more
she loved the lightning
the beauty of each stroke
containing the lethal power to hurt and ****
yet remain in inexplicable beauty
in short she loved thunderstorms
a mixture of rain thunder and lightning
just like her inner conflict of thoughts
and emotional turmoil
she compared herself to thunderstorms
not that she was a beauty
but she believed that
it depicted the words she wanted to say
she loved them so much
she chose to die on the day
there was a thunderstorm outside
pouring out things she never said.
Sep 24, 2014
Sep 24, 2014 at 9:06 AM UTC
Twisted reeds sway gently in the wind as black seabirds slice the sky overhead.
Waves rolling one by one crash with increasing ferocity on to the rocky beach,
And I watch the red sun set fire to the spray while the tide encircles me.
Tugging at my feet, pulling me forward, it beckons for my consent. I give in,
And all is quiet even in such chaos. All is nightmarish and beautiful all the more.
The blood red horizon seers my retinas; freshly unleashed tears take to the sea.
These waves, such enormous swells, crash in on me; an unseen war is waging.
They press me down and back, and then drag me further into the endless blue.
Over and over again, repetition loses count, my outcries die prematurely.
Only seawater and air manage to sputter from my lips, cracked and worn.
Not a whisper can be heard out here in such a true state of despair, but not all
Castaways are without faith. The past I once cherished has been lost to the depths,
Yet a knowing tingle in my gut keeps me searching for a message hidden merely
'Neath the surface. Drifting deeper into my pain, I notice a curious thing:
The force of the waves lessening as I gracelessly surrender to Sorrow and the sea.
My feet torn by jagged rocks no longer felt, my eyelids blistered by the red
Eternal sunset, a few waves push me under before the siege of the sea falters and
I learn to ride the surf, taking each afront as it comes, whether predicted or
Suddenly upon me. My pain ebbs away slowly with the passing of each episode,
And with each wave I acknowledge my loss, relinquishing my burden.
Like so many desparinging hearts before me shipwrecked in the sea of tears,
I forcefully remind myself that one day the lush, inviting green shores of the
Other side of the sea will appear in my line of vision. Yet, for now, I let myself
Drift through the grief of grieving you, often unsure of whether I'm meant to float
Or should let myself sink toward the blackest crags of my mind. Here alone.
Apr 19, 2011
Apr 19, 2011 at 11:30 PM UTC
Letting go can be tough
Perhaps the harshest measure
Many times we will face
Changes that last forever
"What if I'd done this?"
"What if I'd done that?"
Questions to go unanswered
And irrelevant to the fact
The adoption of acceptance
Is your only quest
The only option to be alloted
Now swallow to digest
Observe the tremble in your hands
Your eyes begin glistening
Your heart is in your ears
But who's the one listening?
As it courses through your veins
Something celebrates in your heart
Every storm runs out of rain
The Truth in you prevails
As you begin to emerge
Once again to raise the sails
You've let it run it's course
You've stopped the irradic spinning
Focusing on the Now
Every breath a new begining
The only stake it has claimed
Is to your education
Simply a reminder
Of life's continuing alteration
To err is only human
And Forgiveness is Divine
You, they, deserving or not
Just turn the coin to see the shine
Yes, we have a choice
To see the brighter side
We don't have to dwell
In the illusion of The Lie
Just as it came
Let it go with an ease
Accepting what it WAS
Join your Self and thaw the freeze
It will come again
Your Knowing, now a weapon
It has lost the ferocity
Sanity no longer threatened
You can call it thick skinned
Or unwavering balance
You can call it indifferent
I will call it an Allowance.
Jan 22, 2015
Jan 22, 2015 at 10:53 AM UTC
Stereotypes manifesting always,
(Always)
Trying to form themselves from something once seen,
But not really believing in oneself,
I see ignorance,
I see arrogance,
I see the lack of hunger,
Observing such savage pride of life,
I run from it all into a previous state,
(Anonymity)
I've reached the heights of total in-completion,
I build walls of isolation upon myself,
I am the collateral default of widespread degradation,
I stand in the gap between teeth and consumption,
I am the breed conceived by prey and predator,
Widespread suspended animation: that is our future,
We've tried to replicate the human makeup with mechanical frames,
And the translation of electronic gates,
Yet this is a folly,
For staring at the mirrors of selected life in an artificial environment,
Numbs our lives with emulation and self delusion,
The days of nobility dismantle into fragments and sink to the bottom of the glass,
Never to be turned over again,
Scattered,
Living among remnants of a life once lived with some sort of intensity,
Now smoldered in a quite ferocity of anger beneath the surface,
(Quiet tremors coming in flames)
Because we don't live our dreams,
We stand in the shadows of ruins,
We are afraid of the future,
We are afraid of the past,
Where does that leave us?
Leave me?
I stand on the edge of The Void
I'm holding myself hostage in the self sabotage entourage of the usual suspects,
Our friends, our families,
Disconnected with all intentions of coming together,
Because they die in front of their screens,
Not really living,
Right?
Light pollution massacre...
We'll fall like stars
Jul 5, 2013
Jul 5, 2013 at 11:58 PM UTC
Darling, I'm a thunderstorm
and my rain pelts down harsher than the
words you spit
in vehement violence
Darling, I'm a thunderstorm
and my lightening strikes brighter than the
empty promises you made
(brighter, but just as fleeting)
Darling, I'm a thunderstorm
and my rage is vast, immeasurable
filling oceans with its ferocity
Darling, I'm a thunderstorm
and this too will pass, leaving
chaos in its wake.
Oct 10, 2019
Oct 10, 2019 at 6:50 PM UTC
The handcuff bites my wrist
as teeth sink, searing flesh.
A breath, a scent too familiar to forget.
Blind.
Massive palms, razor point
carving canyons down my spine,
blood is the wine.
The burn of beard
feigning consent.
Fistfuls of hair conquering words.
A corpse to rob me of life,
the press of perversity against satin.
Fighting, writhing
satisfaction.
Pain swells in every limb
the wet swell reveal my sin.
Slaps stinging awake
every fiber of clothing still keeping me safe.
The drive of possession
splitting secrets wide,
fingers around throat clenching tight.
Sweat running red,
the rising growls growls resonate in my head.
The raw force bruising
like claiming a slave,
body & mind consuming.
Ferocity leads to frenzy,
my senses rage against me,
The thickness rips,
devours,
conquers my body for paradise.
And I scream in the ecstasy taken.
A clenching incites eruptions,
the pulsing beast flooding.
My purpose awakened.
Jul 9, 2016
Jul 9, 2016 at 4:10 PM UTC
over a snow-covered mountain top in heaven
some secret river lies
stirring not earthwards
this river of the Gods
and then a prince disturbs
her peaceful ferocity
with determined prayer to cleanse
the sins of his forefathers
Look she trembles with wounded pride!
Not a mere mortal river is she
a Goddess, her anger awakened
but she must proceed
the Gods have asked her so she shall go
but she makes her displeasure known
threatening to swallow all of existence
she follows
the earth shakes
it cannot hold her weight
her power her strength her majestic gait
life-giver, she is now a messenger of death
in her anger she is beautiful,
this world cannot sustain her
only he who wields the trident
can reign in her fall
and then the Mahadev traps her
even as she falls in a mighty torrent
thinking she will sweep him
to the nether regions
in his locks she is lost
struggling, she resembles
the naga around his neck
she spits like a cobra
this immortal river
stays tangled in his locks for many a year
till, defeated and frustrated
she begs forgiveness
and then with his blessings
she trickles down
still furious in pace
but in heart at peace
the mother of all rivers-
this river of rebirth
her sound like thunder
her hair like streaks of lightning
celestial beings witness
the skies are lit
the parched earth satiated
Ganga has descended
as Bhagirathi
- Vijayalakshmi Harish
03.09.2012
Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
Sep 3, 2012
Sep 3, 2012 at 3:32 AM UTC
Mangled skirmish, of bespeckled olive-green
serpents.
Their sinuous anarchy runs cold upon her
skull.
Caravaggio, you immortalized the *****
immured her, hermetically sealed her within
that shield.
Her reflection was at once the face she
never saw...stoned, she...then beheaded.
I notice you've even painted the shield the
color of her serpentine locks.
Serpents registering her ontological shock--
retentive, entwining, dangling in an odd
curl here and there.
Blood spurting from her almost indiscernible
neck, as if to draw a passable neck of blood,
almost like rays of blood, Christ's pierced side.
Her eyes seem so determined to chisel their
way out of stone, reconnect her head to her
body.
Her face is stunning, an excruciating ferocity
bulking stiff, slightly opened mouth about to...
explode out of her eyes.
Eyes hissing downward, sideways--there in the
pitch black glint of them...a primordial drama
to be continued.
Oct 27, 2013
Oct 27, 2013 at 8:23 PM UTC
i saw you
across the abandoned street
flushed in tints pouring out of the moon
soaked in hues dripping down the ruby neon lights
smothered in summer's cool
like
fresh strawberries
plump tomatoes
a fallen rose petal
a pinch of cayenne
no need to turn around
your beauty already pierces the dull city
with the ferocity of a desperate swordfish
watch in smug as it bleeds
so casually through
your waist to thigh
these red eyes
watching in awe as your move
effortlessly around your curves
navigating the stares into
a river of desire
rushing down the hills of San Francisco
yet there you stood alone
the awkward sore on the pale face of street
greeting the thinning traffic with a broken smile
painting the corner with your heavenly red light
Oct 31, 2011
Oct 31, 2011 at 10:44 PM UTC
Boiling blood and angry eyes
Boil over in tears that do not cry
For this idea, one last good-bye
Is a selfish notion
Proximity breeds what hearts belie
Jagged emotion
So this, our little rendezvous
I swore that I would never do
Until, of course, you asked me too
The doorknob's turning
Now, it must be followed through
My heart lies burning
Ferocity to match my own
Intensifies this time alone
The love has long-since been outgrown
There is no forgiveness
Just pleasure like we’ve never known
This time, I’ll win this
Then finally, you’ll realize
I’ve grown into these golden thighs
That seem to have you hypnotized
Within their power
And far too late you realize
You’ve been devoured
By the woman who stands glistening bare
Watching you with tainted glare
In a flash the passion flares
Drunk acrobatics
Bring forth new heights our bodies share
Now spent and static
Breathless and dripping wet
As close to hate as love can get
And this amazing last duet
An exclamation
In this goodbye lives no regret
No indignation
May 29, 2010
May 29, 2010 at 6:45 PM UTC
Sometimes...
History gets written
on lazy weekend afternoons
with mounting passions
dripping sweat
and throbbing pulses.
The first sight of you
and confusion set in
Was it the sight of raindrops
glistening on your naked back
or the sunrays deflecting
from your bare skin...
I didn't want to find out
I cared not
for all of a sudden
I found my palms sweating
aching to feel your
all consuming wet embrace
Was I blushing furiously ?
Could you read my thoughts ?
Was the ferocity of my thoughts so obvious?
Suddenly I no longer cared...
I wanted you to know
I wanted my brazenness to
spill over your naked soul
I wanted my desires
to embrace your
sensuous breaths.
Such chemistry as this
could only be mutual...
My steps no longer hesitant
I rushed to you
my eager fingers
caressing your bare back
I could feel my pleasure
as I mounted you
Then with a sinking heart
I suddenly realized...
this was an affair not meant to be
I would never be able to
taste ecstasy's unparalleled heights
This was it...
I could feel my frustration
as it hit me all
of a sudden those
...frenzied heights
could never be mine...
I would have to
hire a chauffeur at the earliest...
and watch with dismayed heart
...as a new affair unfolds
before my very eyes !!!
( Oh !God !When would I ever learn to drive ???)
Sep 26, 2010
Sep 26, 2010 at 11:36 PM UTC
for a writer to be lovesick
is my only required ethic
in creating a work of heart
so when i skimmed your
saint kissed mouth
and moonlight eyes
indeed my first thoughts were— ah! art!
there it was
cupid’s finely-poised dart!
draw, aim, fire!
o, so sweet, a sinful desire
lovesick! lovesick! lovesick!
i wish to write you a work of art, angelus dulce!
you smiled
you whispered with ferocity
“love is an illusion, chèri.
but illusion is the first of all pleasures”
and at that moment
i dipped my body in your delusional paradise
and praised the saints for giving me the ****** wine to drink
illusion is the first of all pleasures.
May 9, 2020
May 9, 2020 at 7:51 PM UTC
Men have been great,
from birth till death,
from Jesus to Napoleon,
Men have been great.
But what is it that makes men 'Great'?
Is it compassion and heart?
Passion and intensity?
Ferocity and battles?
humility and wisdom?
It depends on who you ask.
Fame perhaps, makes these men great,
thats something they all have in common.
A positive reputation in the eyes of someone,
be it a follower, a supporter, a believer.
What is 'greatness'?
such a good question.
What makes men 'great'?
Another good question.
The time has come
to ponder on this final question,
"Can I too be great?"
Feb 6, 2013
Feb 6, 2013 at 8:14 AM UTC
Inhale. Hold. Submerge.
This is all the grandest illusion
that’s one disappointment away from shattering.
Take a deep breath
feel the pain in your chest.
Every night
I drown in a wine glass
Dive off the ledge with such fever and ferocity,
The splash of a cannonball--
No high marks from the judges.
When you look at me,
I know now it’s irreverent.
We are a lie.
In the deep end, where I can’t touch anymore.
Time to wash away this sin
Hurt doesn't go,
It just lingers
Like our ghosts, lurking behind closed doors.
I can’t be rid of you
Because I don’t want to be.
Go on,
Haunt me until the end.
But I know
You cannot swim
so for now,
I'll sink further and further
into wine so dark
I disappear.
Oct 21, 2012
Oct 21, 2012 at 4:49 PM UTC
*Turning a blind eye to the dark clouds
Looming over the horizon
Lightning lashing across like whip
Loud crackle and the thunderous roar
Lightning strikes with archer’s precision
Hitting the target with a vengeance
Cauterizing life in a matter of seconds
Zeus, unleashing the thunderbolt
So much rage in the Ether
Punishing relentlessly with nature’s fury
Now the clouds break loose
Intense darkness shrouds over the day
Clouds have opened up with running streams
As it washes away all the agony
It opens the eyes to an invigorating event
Replenishing the parched Earth
Waterfalls and rivers flows with life
Nature calms after the ferocity, bringing hope*
Aug 7, 2014
Aug 7, 2014 at 5:11 AM UTC
Lions of this far country,
of this desolated arid land,
exhibited unusual signs of ferocity-
-you could see it in their eyes, the way they moved and how they behaved.
Aug 15, 2018
Aug 15, 2018 at 5:23 PM UTC
I could cry at any moment
tears pouring deep and wide
from the everlasting well of heart and soul
buried in the dark depths of my uneasy chest
I could smile at any instance
Joy spreading like butter
smoothly and easily from one side to another
as I remember the light rays of happiness who's shadows once graced my face
I could yell in a heartbeat
at the Fierce Ferocity gaining momentum
from the bottom of my toes obtaining speed as it overcomes my earthly being
I could laugh at the corny attempts of your mistaken humor
or at the twisted path you push yourself to follow
—hilariously distraught with comic ambition
I could dance in the silver sprays of moonlit grace
ignoring all but the life within myself
listening to the music of the rhythmic unknown
unsure of what song to play next
I could hide—
from fate, from love, from lust, from fear
Refusing to be powerless
Refusing to be broken
in a world made whole by imperfections
I could run
my body to the ground
the world to oblivion
Fueled by Passion
or none at all
but I don't
I just sit here
waiting.
May 14, 2014
May 14, 2014 at 8:15 PM UTC
Hesitations grips me
Sometimes with a soft gentle squeeze and sometimes with an iron fist
That split second where you see that girl with whimsical hair and a playful smile and your body is screaming at the top of its lungs “GO AFTER HER YOU FOOL!!!” while your brain mulls over the endless stream of stressful situations
I can hear Robin Williams calling out to me “Let me hear your YAWP!” and I’m shaking, quivering, rattling, generating the vocal ferocity of a lion! And all that comes out is a whimpering “yawp…”
Hesitation grips me
A harmless compliment to brighten someone’s day, no harm done, just a quick simple “I like your pants” a smile and I’m on my way
Simple! Wrong!
That flickering candle of pleasantries is cut short by a swiftly shutting window of opportunity
The breeze not hesitating to extinguish its light
Hesitation grips me
How many moments must I suffer paralyzed lips before my can of complimentary worms is opened?
How many lovely strangers will continue to mill about their days in unblissful ignorance of my enjoyment of their simple, subtle or overt characteristics?
This hesitation grips me!
It shackles me and holds the key in front of my face and all it requires is one real Yawp! The mustering has begun! That key is my freedom of hesitant chains! Just! One! Yawp! I think I can I think I can I think I can! Just! One! Yawp! “yawp…”
Hesitation grips me
May 29, 2014
May 29, 2014 at 11:35 AM UTC
It was always natural for him
To smell like cigarettes
Even though I was pretty sure
That he had never touched one directly
In all his years of living and lusting.
But who am I to judge,
The local Laura Palmer
Who thinks with ambition
That she has the world by the entrails?
Sweat dripping, anger sipping
Wine out of her clavicle cavity,
She and I are a beast,
A torrential force to be reckoned with
Though I cower.
So bravely, so tenderly,
I cower so as not to ruin
The pleading ferocity
Of cigarette boy,
His hand pressed
Firmly against the curve of my hip.
Cigarette boy pulled me from my cowering the other night,
Took his own hand off my hip
And whispered to me
That I was as big as I wanted to be
And I could over power the earth
With my love and care.
These are the things I love him to say
Between the drags I take off him.
Nov 22, 2014
Nov 22, 2014 at 12:12 PM UTC