"fondled" poems
1383
Long Years apart—can make no
Breach a second cannot fill—
The absence of the Witch does not
Invalidate the spell—
The embers of a Thousand Years
Uncovered by the Hand
That fondled them when they were Fire
Will stir and understand—
29.2k
By
rgpage
The cool evening breeze filled with a scent of approaching rain.
Caught by playful window shears
as it passes through an open pane, to reach their
length and breadth toward the waiting bed.
He was a lover of music and his woman,
a passionate man with a sensitive heart.
She was in love with the melodic way
his gentle fingers moved with sensual touch
over her soft silk like skin of art.
He started gently around her ears softly prying
them open with the quiet richness of her melodies.
Each note of his gentle kisses leading her to a sensual abyss,
easing her down from the edge, controlling her descent, to her goal.
Down the swirling dark and light blends of the music rendered from her soul.
She was his instrument on which he placed
his soft loving fingers, moving them effortlessly,
caressing her most sensual delicate keys…Each body part
smoothly rubbed added richness to her sensual sound driven by lust
and loving trust.
Her ******* he fondled, licking and kissing, squeezing and rubbing.
Silently giving thanks, to her creator for such an amazing instrument.
Both of her hands with long slender fingers tangled in the long dark locks
of his hair as she eases her maestro’s head up tighter against her soft
beautiful mounds.
The loving melody continues with his touch now joined with the sound
of raindrops splashing into uncovered metal buckets and cans. The drops
carried on the breeze through the playful dancing shears came through the other end as nothing more than refreshing cooling mist.
Her body was his loving piano, and as with the 88 keys of his magnificent
Baldwin, the sensual areas of her equally magnificent body, when properly stroked, filled not only the bedroom but the whole house with the most glorious ****** notes known to man.
After a while the symphonic ****** builds as he masterfully impales her with his instrument of love coming into constant contact with the one special key of keys. Its special sound as his strokes came harder and faster brought the whole master piece to a beautiful melodic end as the two lovers bath in the rain’s gentle mist…
Aug 6, 2013
Aug 6, 2013 at 12:40 PM UTC
I buried him somewhere…
When I go to bed at night,
I checked the closet and he’s not there,
I tried under my bed and he’s not there.
Surely he’s dead for I buried him somewhere,
I am a woman now and not a frantic child,
It’s been a long while since I have not visited his grave,
Pray then, why must he appear now?
I tried hard to move on with life,
I persevered to love and accept myself,
I opened my heart to forgive my own,
My being is as wide as the skies.
I found solace in the plateau of my existence,
Why must he visit now?
Truly, I buried him somewhere,
And I swore he’ll never see me again.
He’s there trying to taunt and torture me,
He’s the one who mocks me,
He scoffs me when I search for happiness,
He laughs when I try beating myself.
Nightmares haunt me even at day,
He was the devil himself,
He, a vile and a disgusting man,
Who touched and fondled me in my innocent years.
He violated my freshness to rotten,
And it took me years to pick up the pieces,
Now that I’m almost whole I couldn’t understand,
Why must he resurrect in my dreams?
I am a woman and I still live,
Yet fear still envelopes my being,
I can never forgive and I will never forget,
But surely, I buried him somewhere…
Oct 28, 2015
Oct 28, 2015 at 1:42 AM UTC
Take me back to a different hotel every night and living out of a suitcase. Getting comfortable in our naked bodies around each other; comparing breast size and stretch marks—examining ourselves like the men who’ve carelessly fondled us before for our likes and dislikes. Sharing a bottle of lukewarm tequila in the world’s smallest bathtub and then I sing you to sleep. Highway cars buzzing past and there’s only one road to get lost on, but we manage it every single time. Your car becomes a dressing room at gas stations where people stare with disapproving glares and worry for the safety of their wallets; because we don’t belong here but we laugh—still drunk from the early morning hours and just trying to find the next check-in spot for the night. There never is a real destination but home always seems too close and we both hate that part. It doesn’t feel right when it ends or when I have to crawl back into my own bed without a time frame to be out by in the morning—before the housekeeping maid comes banging on our door,
yet again.
Dec 12, 2020
Dec 12, 2020 at 1:06 AM UTC
"After mysteries am I, mysterious men too"
together when we slipped away from others
she told me with a grin, evidently hysterical,
it gripped me, for some unknown reason.
"More in to mysteries than anything else"
I gently notified to her my intentions
"I've never been able to **** a male ****** ever"
She indicated the area of her present curiosity
but isn't it strange,that she sounded wistful?
If I heard her right,she mentioned repeatedly
about,"The Third Brest,"as if she has a mystery
for me in store.When buried deep around my *******
her teeth transmitted a hunger, and I felt it:
what exactly a mother feels suckling her baby
her heart beat went out of control,I could see
the pangs of child that has never been fed
from her mother's breast, or fondled by her
And the mysterious part of the game
she saved for me was finally unveiled,
my expectant eyes
saw a chest devoid of any kind of swell, except
the memories of the two full ones taken away
mercilessly by decease.I saw blood in her tears.
Dec 17, 2016
Dec 17, 2016 at 6:49 AM UTC
Give me just one innocent touch,
My lovely sister of compassion "
I just need your blushed cheeks
Like an apple in time of harvest
To caress them as the feather
Fondled by gentle wind,
Don’t step back, don’t go away!
Leave me just a little innocent kiss
My lovely sister of memories,
to refresh my blurred senses
to feel the warm sun of your heart.
Leave me just an innocent kiss
On your honey lips,
Kissed so many times by your lover
To melt in your sweet nectar
Endlessly longing for your look,
My lovely sister of childhood,
To hold you in an innocent hug
As I'm your bhai from land of sugar cane
Where the vast lakes merge with horizon...
I want only that from you,
Is my desire not innocent?
© n.nour
Jul 7, 2015
Jul 7, 2015 at 12:12 PM UTC
A dream came true today
But was shattered just the same
And I can see it now
A room of pastels
A long line of stern faces
A delicate, submissive vase
Ma's in her curlers
Putting her head down
Pretending to sleep
Pa's reassuring quiet
His slippers tidy by the bedside
Putting on a mask of peace
A crease has grown in the mattress
Cause symmetry is strong and clean
I saw this image even clearer
When I set down my wreath
Even more so than when I
Was scrambling for words to speak
Twilight's glow of life
Was upon the snow that night
And never before have I
Fused so fully with such still silence
I watched my mute shadow
As I glided through the rooms
A vacuous face, but beaming heart
Guided me to a cerebral place
That suddenly paled in comparison
To any word, rhyme, or thought of mine
I lost my sense of touch
As I fondled the key and turned the lock
It was right where it's always been
Unused, dependable, like clockwork
Unlike me
I sat down in a firm chair that fit like a glove
But I wouldn't be its heir
Instead I went above to where
Sparks of light shoot and drift
Like a darting pen in the hands
Of a boy who's yet to learn to write
Here I can't be picked apart
While there, not a creature stirred
Not even my heart
Nov 25, 2011
Nov 25, 2011 at 8:45 PM UTC
lovely bones scattered on the floor,
beautifully red and intersecting all over the door.
lovely bones ran clean with no scrapes from the knife,
the very knife that took their life.
lovely bones, so beautiful, so pretty.
more beautiful than their blood that tasted ever so sweet.
lovely bones decorated the floor so beautifully and gave it the beauty of death,
not caring that i took their owners breath.
my beautiful bones, my lovely bones,
smooth and heavy as beautiful stones.
my lovely bones, i stroke your skulls,
your blank inexpressive expression tells it all.
i love your beautiful ribs and spine,
knowing that they are now mine.
but my favorite of all time is the arm and leg bones,
i love that bone.
its beautiful and long with a unique characteristic.
its beauty is just so majestic!
my beautiful lovely bones, i adore you!
i laugh wickedly as i fondled you.
my lovely bones, so beautiful,
only getting you was a task i must fulfill.
come to me, my fantasy as beautiful as dazzling stones,
my angelic, lovely bones.
May 19, 2012
May 19, 2012 at 10:48 PM UTC
I fondled you with my hands
I didn't remember my eyes
I forgot my stories
When I felt you in my little heart
I don't know...
Maybe
The grain field was beautiful in my dreams
My ******* are be beautiful, too
When your lips become golden
I didn't want the sky...
با دست هایم
...تو را نوازش می کردم
چشم هایم یادم نبود
قصه هایم را فراموش می کردم
وقتی که تو را در قلب کوچکم احساس می کردم
...نمی دانم
شاید
در خواب هایم گندم زار زیبا باشد
سینه هایم زیبا باشند
لب های تو طلایی باشد
...من که آسمان را نمی خواستم
Feb 19, 2018
Feb 19, 2018 at 6:14 AM UTC
The upland flocks grew starved and thinned:
Their shepherds scarce could feed the lambs
Whose milkless mothers butted them,
Or who were orphaned of their dams.
The lambs athirst for mother's milk
Filled all the place with piteous sounds:
Their mothers' bones made white for miles
The pastureless wet pasture grounds.
Day after day, night after night,
From lamb to lamb the shepherds went,
With teapots for the bleating mouths
Instead of nature's nourishment.
The little shivering gaping things
Soon knew the step that brought them aid,
And fondled the protecting hand,
And rubbed it with a woolly head.
Then, as the days waxed on to weeks,
It was a pretty sight to see
These lambs with frisky heads and tails
Skipping and leaping on the lea,
Bleating in tender, trustful tones,
Resting on rocky crag or mound,
And following the beloved feet
That once had sought for them and found.
These very shepherds of their flocks,
These loving lambs so meek to please,
Are worthy of recording words
And honor in their due degrees:
So I might live a hundred years,
And roam from strand to foreign strand,
Yet not forget this flooded spring
And scarce-saved lambs of Westmoreland.
1.8k
Spring dawned after the biting chill,
Beams of sunlight filtered down,
Flakes of snow melted away,
The Earth bathed in brilliant glow
He came,
The dainty Darling of our dreams!
With promises full and hopes in store,
To fill the void,
within our souls.
To burst the silence,
with the clatter of sounds
To dispel the gloom,
that hovered on
He came,
High from Heaven,
like a cherubim sent,
with the glow of umpteen candles lit,
He came,
To gladden our doleful hearts,
To deliver us of our blighted state
He came,
Like the first rain on parched ground,
To drench the arid lands in profuse shower,
To ease the ***** of sweltering heat,
To put out the fire of growing drought
Marveling over the seizure of treasure,
long hidden within the crevices dark,
We stood, so pleasantly taken aback,
over the gift, ere vouched, but long delayed.
Like an eagle in its aerial route,
flew my spirits in ecstatic rounds
Like the Swallow, soaring high above,
my fancy took wings and set to fly.
He lay close to me, the bundle of joy!
His dark little eyes poised on my face,
full with words on silent lips,
and innocence on his glistening visage
I peered into that cute little face,
the face I had long fondled in my dreams,
I whirled in the feel of prime feed,
and swam in the current of maternal bliss!
Nov 18, 2016
Nov 18, 2016 at 6:47 AM UTC
There were some roses, once, a long time ago.
They grew out of nothing, out of a tiny seed that burst and ****** its contents out into the new and terrifying air, and even then they didn't exist but for the idea that one day they might.
There were some roses, once:
the product of a process that included water and light and the removal of weeds and the implementation sharp protection from predators: deer and birds and squirrels and the like.
There were some roses once:
great surges of crimson fruit that bloomed so fiercely in their rebellion against the surrounding thorns
dedicated to the protection of the home of the finely spun veined silk that blossomed almost overnight.
There were some roses once:
Never has such beauty been guarded so staunchly;
and with good reason, for the rose in its radiance has but one short season to stretch its arms and breathe its perfume to which all lovers beg and swoon.
There were some roses once:
They faded,
green
then red
then crimson
then purple and umber.
But in their slumber we see the bloom we once beheld on that summer day.
We fondled their petals, hastened their decay.
There were some roses once, a long time ago.
They had to die, as if on cue, as living things tend to do,
and oh, they dried so elegantly!
Plainly meant for royalty.
And even in their most brittle form, they're somehow warm
Somehow still new.
So you plant some more, you cut the weeds, you draw blood on their thorny guards,
knowing that it's not for you, but for the birds in their back porch churchyard.
And the moment the first rose peers around from inside the womb, well
there's your reward,
to forward the growth of something so fragile and sweet.
So ruthless if you aren't aware of its teeth.
Aug 21, 2014
Aug 21, 2014 at 4:17 AM UTC
with Mary.
I was seduced
in Barnes & Noble,
lured to the poetry section
next to coffee and pastries.
I touched her Blue Iris,
fondled her Red Bird
and recounted why
she wakes to watch
the early sunrise.
She looked better than I remembered
in a brown jacket
with a striking
emblem of a bear
on the front.
She took me to her tent
near Truro
and told me of turtles, toads,
hermit *****
and her fear
of ridding her garden
a small harmless snake.
I spill my passion
on the ground — our bed for now — beside her.
Under her cover
she shares phrases,
moles, verbs,
and curves
of sweet new perceptions.
We are intimate beyond belief.
Her verbal kisses
bring sweat to my palms.
I’m high, hallucinating
on Mary
my drug of choice.
I’m having an affair
with Mary Oliver.
Oct 5, 2013
Oct 5, 2013 at 10:10 PM UTC
.
And quiet, a cemetery of the ancients,
fondled by the coiling mist of morning,
snuggles deep in the heart of the forest,
its quintessential stillness undisturbed.
And the sun ignites the darkened glade,
with a light that transfixes time itself,
heralding the infernally ponderous day,
when life endures the basics of survival.
And the moon shines in silver shards,
slanting beams with mystical hues,
announcing the delicious dark night,
where once again lies endless sleep.
And the shades of ageless dead relatives,
gravely sit and tell old ghost stories,
silencing the cold stone walls of tombs
with historic wisdom of times long gone.
© Pagan Paul (2017/18)
Jul 30, 2018
Jul 30, 2018 at 6:18 PM UTC
Patchwork, these lightning strike scars
thundering and unkissed
as though in some sort of burlesque swing –
attractive enough to be fondled, still throbbing.
I do not have bandages,
I do have a gun, I do have a tongue
to slick each wound like an envelope I close
shipped cross-country and not to my postal code:
gave foreigners the tornado –
now, we have the flood. Their lungs must
be strong enough or I’ll need to patch them too.
Mar 24, 2013
Mar 24, 2013 at 5:59 PM UTC
The siren sat on the rock and sighed
The ocean had exhausted her lungs
She exhaled the pain she felt inside
A beautiful cry of weeping songs
The waves crash and drape the shore
Drawing the limits of her blue cage
Far beyond, is a dream to explore
A better chapter on a new page
As she sings a symphony of despair
Winds coming from beyond the sands
Refresh her lungs with tender scents
Gently caress her skin, dry her red hair
Echoes of her voice
Fascinated an elephant passing by
His heart made a choice
And searched for the origin of the cry
Never knew he could run
Never knew he could jump
He found her shining under the sun
Came closer to lift her with his trump
He carried her through fields and lakes of mud
On his back, her throne, the lap of God
Her sad songs turned into cheers
Her voice fondled his big ears
She lived and cherished each moment
She found a world without torment
Without her fears
Without her tears
Days and weeks raced to end
The elephant’s back started to ache
He forsake his new friend
And fated her heart to break
The mermaid broke down and cried
A waterfall of deceit and betrayal
Too many tears until her eyes dried
Like the dying scales on her tail
She crawled back to the sea
Like an injured soldier of war
No more beauty for her to see
But the waves, whipping the shore
Filling every time the holes
Between the particles of sand
But not the one in her soul
That she will never mend
The siren sat on the rock and sighed
She had nowhere to belong
She exhaled the pain she felt inside
Reviving another weeping song
The sweet dream withered
But forever, will be remembered
Like a mortal flower
And its immortal beauty
Intertwined with the thorns’ cruelty
Another siren was watching her
Shared with her the lost endeavor
She smiles, dives and flips her tail
Strives to create her own happy tale
In the depths of the woeful sea
~Epic Monkey
June 2013
Jun 20, 2013
Jun 20, 2013 at 5:57 AM UTC
The Sparrow
I desired to be loved
and flew down to them
They were so kind that
They just fondled and
Set me free to fly away.
S. Bharat
Apr 10, 2019
Apr 10, 2019 at 5:21 AM UTC
i crave for loneliness to brush my hair,
mother me tenderly to sleep
as you did when i had carvings
on my left wrist at twelve years old
—a braille i fondled with every day,
i. don't want. to be. here.
somehow, my nightly hiccups
never drove me to my end.
i am still gentle because
you follow me wherever i go;
visiting me at the right moments
especially when i am accompanied
by my own ***** and the cold bathroom floor—
and then you stay quiet the whole hour
to give me some time to grieve.
i wear you like a protective charm now,
for you are the only love i've ever known.
Jun 20, 2023
Jun 20, 2023 at 9:08 AM UTC
I fondly remember,
every libidinous mirror,
that fondled me
with sensuous abandon.
the reflections I approved
were not strictly
my exactitude;
most erogenous,
that gave me sleepless nights-
of salacious cravings.
I made mirrors proud
by getting represented in them,
the way I loved me, myself
that made them glad.
I give the mirrors
more pleasure,
than the images that I love-
send me in to raptures.
I abhor ****** liaison with mirrors,
though I love the way they pamper.
I've no love left for others,
when a mirror catches me unawares,
in such lasciviousness-
that I love in myself,
it would send shivers through the mirrors,
yes, I am not unaware,
but that secret is theirs.
Jul 31, 2012
Jul 31, 2012 at 10:16 PM UTC
Hmmm, let's see
I cradled the sun like a sick razor-blade
I found a warehouse of abandoned unborn hearts
I abruptly stopped a dead man to talk
I bottled up new souls for a long desert drive
I snuffed out every star with cathodic eyes
I fondled the carcass of eternal trouble
I found the hungry embalmed mouth of the first paid woman
I dug a hole; I tied rope; I burned cars; I cried dope
I shied away; I broke sway; I uttered “May-Day”
I danced! I sweated; I pigged out
I catapulted myself on fire
All this:
to see the harrowing sepulchered moons of tomorrow
like a strange weightless liquid
where I will appear and reappear
to the eventual astonishment of billions of years of shadowing sentience
Another universe gawks
Jun 30, 2012
Jun 30, 2012 at 4:47 PM UTC
Rage...
A fuelling flame, burning bright
Rage, Rage
A dancing fighter captured against the cold of the night
Nowhere to go,
but still, he moves to find the center of the light
refusing to grieve as he moves past the cold winter night
Rage, Rage
as the cold be fought like a blight
What sin can be found against the dim, darkness amidst fright
where men be fondled across the crooked bridge high
on the cold winter night
Rage, Rage
do not run nor let the ego falter
take on the cold winter night as if it were a blight
good soldier.
Rage, Rage..
like a fuelling flame, burning bright
May 14, 2021
May 14, 2021 at 5:54 AM UTC
Silhouetted shadows creep silently, through the mysterious half light mist of the wine fueled mayhem.
The party was in full swing.
Wind blew softly around their ears, gently rustling her soft tresses,
He gently stroked her cheek, smiling,to himself.
Feeling relaxed in her presence, she turned into his touch edging her body closer to his.
Never before had she felt so wanted.
He made her feel so special.
Their kisses were passionate, filled with potential for the creation of ecstasy, between two young people in love.
The silence of their first moment was shattered, as a new experience became so intense.
They both erupted into internal quivering,as they each provided ****** touches, experiences never experienced before.
Her touch was so tender, as his was so strong.
Both appearing to know what it was all about in the promotional anticipation of such uncertain pleasure.
He gently ushered her down,laying her near naked body onto the grass.
He fondled her breast, while she reached to his manhood, this was a new experience.
They were both overtaken by physical desire.
His rigid **** entered her slowly, gently, they moved in near perfect rhythm, building up momentum, waiting for warm waves and explosions internally in unison.
Their love was now sealed, the memory of purity extracted.
He held her tight and kissed her.
They walked hand in hand back into to the party.
Knowing something that no-one else would ever know...it was their own secret!
A first love sealed!
By ladylivvi1
© 2014 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
Jan 11, 2014
Jan 11, 2014 at 5:47 PM UTC