"lulling" poems
Ah yes, the magic of human touch,
Trusting to warm my soul's skin
Tis nature of loves connection, as such.
My body accepts, oh if you only knew
Like an honored guest, I grin
Anticipating the pleasures, one of the few.
Skin to skin, our bodies converse.
Uninhabited, my mind wander
Deep inside, my craving thirsts.
Artful hands sculpt with purpose
Lulling layers open, you're quite the artist
Soothing caress melt my body formless
I'm yours, silently, I surrender.
As my flesh cries out for more
Arching waves of splendor
Rewarded my senses sated.
With newfound clarity reborn
Mind, body and spirit replenished.
I thank you for your gift of touch.
Lovingly, I would return the favor,
as such.
Oct 19, 2015
Oct 19, 2015 at 11:34 PM UTC
Sun to set, to herald the arrival of my moon
Prepare my vessel for an odyssey, golden mast and all
Best be on my way, best be soon...
Done this a hundred times come every nightfall
This night, I wish it different, wish it otherwise
My head isn't where it's supposed to be
Swimming in the clouds, in the star spangled sky
Speaking of plans to which the heart would agree
Time is now, it's time to finally drift away
Let go of all worldly trepidations
Hold all unfounded apprehensions at bay
Be brave to pursue fantastical notions
This journey ahead, I want to immortalise
Don't think I'd want to turn back
Leave behind the pillow stifled cries
With the moon as my guide across an ocean of black
*"Close your eyes and just feel the drift
Know that the stars are protectively watching
Picture your moon; her hands bearing a gift
A gift you'd soon receive, after much longing"
"Feel the water, like a thousand hands propping you afloat
Passing you over to more hands that lay ahead
Lurching forward gently, this ethereal boat
Rest now upon your giant floating bed"*
I took that leap of faith... I'm sailing
Cresting and bobbing towards my moon
I hear the stars for they are singing
Lulling me by with a celestial tune
On my way, now on this nighttime adventure
Don't think I'll ever look back
Together this night would span forever
Floating endlessly in a sea of black
Sep 7, 2014
Sep 7, 2014 at 3:49 PM UTC
what i cant understand
is how people can write poetry about the flowers
or the sunshine
it just seems so irrelevant
when there are so many more beautiful things to write about
like your dainty, thin, long fingers
and the way your lips emit a tiny bit of air when you pronounce ‘th’ words
your towering, awkward, bony body
loosely, limply entwined in mine
that make up your gentle, comforting hugs
how melodic your voice is, almost lulling me to sleep
your contagious, animated smile
how you write as if embroidering the pages
gracefully, an art
and the words float mid-lines
reflecting how your thoughts float among the clouds
doolally detonations of enigmatic pure excitement
over the most extraneous of matters
your eyes, the captivating bluish-steel of a mid-winter night sky
their flare, and the way they light up when you maunder lovingly of such passions
alas perhaps, poetry about plants or the weather are just as beautiful
but i
would not know
for even the planet, and nature
and sheer beauty of life
seems pale
in prejudiced comparison to your radiance
and how bright you make
my insides feel
Mar 11, 2015
Mar 11, 2015 at 9:15 PM UTC
once more
layers of casing
are torn
papers culled
windows gleam
sheets smile
the cost is high
if not see
when to stop
can I find north
after all
I’d asked
so life’s paths
once veiled
in yesterday's grime
dispatched
to the winds
reveal
another vision
refreshing as
spring rain
seeking every fissure
quietly lodged boarders
not paying rent
evicted
as another corner
begs mastery
along with
a neater place
it dawns on me
atrophy
is the order
of things
vacate for a few
short paces
and face
it all again
wrenching me
from the lulling
status quo
of my stilted
blindness
Aug 28, 2018
Aug 28, 2018 at 6:49 AM UTC
*coloured flames and fireflies dance mischievously around our heads
to the tiny trumpetsong of bees Joyous songs of love lulling all in revery yet silent to
mere mortals as We only hear the hush of whispered sighs stood beneath the dappled canopy of
ancient fair oak spread As sweet twilight greets us again swathing our Ianthe in milky moonlight
as she rests upon a dew jewelled knoll still dreaming of fae Unaware of the cold (or the warmth
you hold in your heart for her) She smiles as you cover her shoulders with a elven~made
blanket of gossamer wisp whilst estivating toads blink wide in the coolness of hidden
mossy beds Gently,
sweep the droplet
of Au from her eye, Deva,
as we cough etheric dust from our lungs,
sparkles floating
in the paper-
lantern light
scattering across
the midnight sky,
illuminating fates,
as those fire-flies hearts
twinkle like falling stars unseen*
Nov 1, 2013
Nov 1, 2013 at 5:21 PM UTC
A lavender field
Grown in the dark of my room
Lulling me to sleep
Dec 4, 2015
Dec 4, 2015 at 11:46 PM UTC
Vibrations of steel block engines have been lulling me to sleep lately
Eyelids swaying up and down like the back and forth of seaweed on the ocean floor
I count yellow dashed lines like others count sheep
Feeling my consciousness slip away, I’m drowsy, I’m dreaming
I dream of a golden city
A golden bay along golden grass rooted in golden soil
Golden streets with golden stop lights
Golden cars parked in golden parking buildings
Gold Telephone towers powered by gold electrical cables
I begin noticing something strange about this city, as it shone so brightly with a golden sun setting as the city’s own back drop.
There were no inhabitants.
No pigeons.
No stray cats.
No dogs scavenging for spare scraps on starving stomachs
Business Men in suits are found littering streets all around the globe. These streets lay barren
Little girls playing hopscotch and jump-rope gone as if the city misplaced them all.
My stomach dropping as I drop to my knees
Panic attacks bring back memories of family and friends
The beautiful faces of girls I once loved, and ones I may never be able to
Questioning if reality was the dream
I am alone in a wonderful Jungle
It’s not easy to be alone in a City of Gold
Oct 21, 2012
Oct 21, 2012 at 11:41 PM UTC
There is something romantic
about
light
snowfall
on an early spring morning.
I just can't put my gloved finger on it...
It has something to do with
the final goodbye of Father Winter,
the last kiss
from
falling
flakes.
Perhaps it's the way
the birds still chase each other
despite the cold whip of the snow.
Maybe it's the way the daffodils look,
yellow dresses
powered
in
sparking
diamonds,
swaying
slowly to
Father's
lulling tune.
It has something to do with the way
the waking sun
pours
pink
light
onto the dreary eyed school children
Yes, there is something romantic
about a
light
snowfall
on an early spring morning.
But it's heartbreaking to
crumble
the fresh blanket,
or to watch it
melt
away.
Seeing the sun
beating
heat
onto frozen grass,
until the snow
sinks or
hides in shadows.
Soon all that is left of the morning snowfall
is the crisp breeze
and the odd sense of mourning
among the spring daffodils.
Mar 26, 2014
Mar 26, 2014 at 11:02 PM UTC
The Most Exciting Part About The Night,
Was Watching The Milliliters Of The IV Bag,
Count Down From 1000,
Blood Staining My Right Arm,
A Glassy Stare Fogging My Own Vision,
The Bitter Taste Of ***** And Dissapointment,
Was Lodged In The Back Of My Throat,
Thirst Coating The Roof Of My Mouth,
My Body Weak,
The Rhythmic Clicking Of Machines Relaxing,
Almost--Peaceful,
Black Clawing At The Sides Of My Eyes,
Whispering A Lulling Language--Sleep My Friend,
Doctors Poking At My Abdomen,
Nurses Pushing Fluids Through My Veins,
Dyes, Potassium, Water, And Many Medicines,
X-Rays And CAT Scans Went By In A Blur,
As I Slowly Regained My Body
Dec 1, 2012
Dec 1, 2012 at 12:34 PM UTC
I could trace patterns in your skin,
erase it like sand and start drawing again.
My hands would never get tired,
they would chase the sun and moon away.
Caressing you to sleep is a productive use of time,
muscle-memory repeating the designs of infatuation.
Lulling you into dreams with my fingers,
then waking you when the light creeps up the sheets.
Fingertips replaced with lips,
space between bodies closing,
skin is so addictive, especially yours.
Apr 24, 2014
Apr 24, 2014 at 10:40 PM UTC
lulling comfort of uninterrupted sleep subsides
replaced with an involuntary state of sedation
the emergence of an all too familiar presence
paralyzed by the force of a lingering sensation
choking internalized fear
timeless inaudible cries for help
unknown visitor condemning you to an everlasting silence
physical horror encroached the night
a lone passenger aboard an eternal voyage
bound for relief from this crippling fear of uncontrollable stillness
remaining prisoner to this petrified state
concrete walls of stirring madness
hallucinations of strange alien formations
faceless entities strike infinite fear
in the core foundation of sleep tonight.
Feb 1, 2015
Feb 1, 2015 at 7:13 PM UTC
If I ever had a pedal harp
You'd be the first
I'd play it to
You'd be the first
To hear me pluck
My harp strings
May your heart strings
Play the finest melody ever
And may your life always be
The most surreal orchestra
I hope you don't leave here
May the Fairies dry your tears
And wipe your pretty blue eyes
If I ever had a viola or a violin
You would be the first to hear it
And I would teach you how to play it too
But since I don't have those instruments
All I can play for you is the piano
And I admit, I am not that good at it
If I ever wished a million wishes
And all of them came true
I would share them all with you
You are the world's greatest Dad
And I love you
And so does God and all of His Angels and Fairies
I hope you awaken to bluebells kissed with dew
And fields full of blooming flowers
And red crimson sunsets
Overlooking the beautiful ocean
That I talk about in my poems
Surrounded by palm trees
And gritty sand
And sandy seashells
Breezes tasting like coconuts and salt
I hope you awaken to sunrays
Glistening on the forest floor
And shining across that sequestered path
Take my hand and walk with me
And I'll wish you the sweetest of dreams
Dancing ferns, and lacy-green palms
Waltzing Fairies, and flying birds
Adorable Flamingoes
Mossy islands
And beautiful waterfalls
Bubbling creeks
And tall, tall mountains
Like the finest patchwork quilt
Singing rills
Sparkling snowflakes
And beautiful ocean treasures
All of it I'd wish in your dreams
The song of the pedal harp lulling you to sleep
Along with the majestic songs of the double bass
I love you, Dad and always will
~Marian~
Jul 23, 2013
Jul 23, 2013 at 9:24 PM UTC
The most beautiful hour in L.A.
is 3 A.M., when,
petals
of lavender
peep through
wooden blinds,
lulling restless minds
laid on Egyptian
Cotton candy
clouds amuse me.
Because as I close my eyes,
I realize,
that here,
there is no starry night
because this beautiful haze
is light pollution.
But pollutions' hue calms
a city mind.
Like sirens quell
eager ears,
And liquor tickles
tantalized tongues,
And words flow
from numb knuckles,
And insomnia wets
drying eyes,
I,
am struck,
that this lavender haze
helps me see
that too much
is always what I need.
Aug 20, 2014
Aug 20, 2014 at 2:28 PM UTC
Aprils fresh teardrops
Brings a placid and lulling
Sensual melody
Apr 29, 2014
Apr 29, 2014 at 3:30 PM UTC
With this sky so black I must travel through the valley of thorns
With no light to guide my way
Pain, misery and I must travel alone
Beasts wait for me to die from hunger and isolation
I'm weak from my mind laying siege to my positive place
I give up and lay down waiting for these thorns to consume me like the others who have failed to cross this chasm of eternal nothing.
My eyes become heavy in waiting for someone to pass by who has the strength to pick me up and bring me to the other side
As my eyes close I see a red light too far to reach and too far to speak in the distance. Eerie yet beautiful lulling me towards it. So different so strange to this Valley of thorns.
I push myself up with all the pain and aching. All these thorns injecting into my palms and feet. I see only red as I stumble and fall towards this object.
Everything feels wet and tacky. I'm getting closer. I scream in pain as I reach for it. Something sharp and bold pierces my fleshy fingers.
I grab hold and my pain subsides. These colors I see disappear. I do not feel misery or isolation. I found the other side of the valley of thorns. That is the funny part, there is no other side. Only this thing to protect me from the thorns.
Just like that I found you, a Rose, in this Valley of Thorns.
Feb 13, 2017
Feb 13, 2017 at 7:32 PM UTC
His body lost temperature as he pressed himself against the chest of hers, seducing her with his love.
With his sleepy **** voice, he hums her romantic morning lullabies.
The gray walls of the room soon embosomed with gleaming hearts of their beauteous lust and speedy soft breaths, leaving nothing more but powder blushes of crimson on her flowery cheeks in the springtime dawn.
The honeyed lust in the veins lit the bodies of two lovers like candles into eternal flames of romance.
Under the chocolate brown duvets,
Milky fragrances of the tea dances along the bare hands of two lovers,
while he serves breakfast on bed to her in an old-fashioned way.
Bleak morning mist tango around the vitreous skins of scratched windows,
as fat hummingbirds' tinkling giggles paint beyond the nature's smiley meadows,
sending a major abundance of lovable freedom and glee to the people.
In the bathtub,
Velvety calyx of dreamlover rose flows smoothly through the silk water.
They shower each other and let warmth grasp their naked body.
He kissed her dancing soul of chasms out
and tie uncountable amount of butterfly knots to her pancake stomach.
His abilities of heart possessions had captured the universe's breath.
*Nothing has changed since day number one, everything is iridescent.
Everything is swimming in a magical pool of scarred perfections.*
As the sun sets to the west,
The undarkened nightfall sings lulling melodies and let its harmonic fire burn the skies.
The shadows of their love whirl out unstoppable romance that vanished away void hopes and pain.
The lover's spirits echo and echo into spring gorges and dashing rivers,
Feeding darkness with lucent fragments of light.
Oh they were only two humans in love...
Or only a size of two negligible lovedust in the mystical galaxies...
But their endless love never fails to deluge the world with drizzling tears.
A facile spark of romance can be an amazing set of fireworks that creates indiscernible fruitful happiness.
Who in the world could resist this unpredictable power of their spingtime love?
Sep 16, 2013
Sep 16, 2013 at 10:28 AM UTC
Intensely, I traced his steps until he met
my eyes, the only gaze I welcome
with a reflection
of light, grey and hue of
excruciating colors—to serve
his mightiness in the forlorn night—
through the fields and the city,
everyone is following him.
Their mouth agape in the sight of
his face peering at his brides—in weeping, in despair, in all forms of wrath—hope and madness.
The moon creeps in the black of the night—with his voice lulling as a whisper, faint like a finger softly lingering its hands on the piano—
through the perilous scheme of the midnight dawn.
He then wept with his brides and kneeled down in front of me.
His linen gown and fur coat covering his silver body and his eyes shriek with only a weeping melody.
He faced me and my heart sank at the sight of him,
“My bride, how come you are facing such a horrible nightmare?”
He said and held my hand,
“Artemia, I am broken by the man whom I love so dearly. I faced death, inferiority, dreamless sleep, and my heart crawled out of my body,”
“Darling, you are a bride of the moon and a man will only love you if they get blinded by the light, and such us, we are the daughters of the night. A man who is in love with the moon, is out there waiting for you.”
He then walked away, faced another midnight with his bride gleaming with hope in the forlorn night, with the light, grey and hue of excruciating colors.
There, I saw how he turns into the god of the night.
Jan 23, 2021
Jan 23, 2021 at 11:02 PM UTC
i found myself last night whispering your name under the shield of my duvet, willing myself to pronounce every syllable of your name to the darkness of my room. i looked up to the plastic stars on my ceilings, remainders of the childhood i once had, and said it:
“yoon. jeong. han”
every syllable clear and true.
and it occurred to me,
how beautiful your name was.
“yoon” — the moon and the whistles of the wind, lulling me into dreamland.
“jeong” — a masculine edge.
and finally, the concluding “han” that returns it into its original softness.
clean milky way.
i’ve never expected to fall for a boy with your name. but i’ve always been fascinated with the universe and all the bright lights surrounding our blue planet. so i guess, it is only fitting for me to fall for a boy whose name means “clean milky way”
so i whispered your name over and over into the night.
yoon jeonghan.
yoon jeonghan.
yoon jeonghan.
until the taste of it becomes as familiar as the quiet.
and i swear, i saw the plastic stars on the ceiling growing brighter with every syllable.
i whispered and whispered until i fell into morpheus’ charm, and awoke with a new realization:
your name is my favorite sound.
Feb 15, 2018
Feb 15, 2018 at 3:33 PM UTC
To earth.....
we fell
still and always
our footfalls together
mingle, entwined
our steps walk
the vastness of
time
To sea.....
sinking we swim
drowsily dream, lulling under
salty sea air breathes our lungs
Water weaves of dreams - bright distant sails
calmly blues, red rains
of willawaw gales
To air.....
deep the breaths
beat our hearts - to deepen
Expanding empty spaces - fully lunged our love
contracting smothered, small - undone
To fire.....
passion seeks it's flame,
billows the burning blue
We seek ever close, not to touch
lest we are consumed
by love
Aug 30, 2012
Aug 30, 2012 at 11:56 AM UTC
I wonder where I'll be when you come for me
Will you steal me away in the dead of the night
Or will you send me a message before you arrive
Will there ever be a right time
Or would I embrace you like I've been waiting for this moment my whole life
Will I get a chance to say goodbye
Would it be rushed with loud cries
Or would I leave with a life fulfilled
In the arms of my love
And a smile on my face
I wonder if it would be painful
Sudden in the breeze on the concrete outside
The distant sound of sirens lulling me away
Or patiently savouring me slowly from the inside
One ***** at a time
A pinch of clips on my fingers, my heart beeping me out
Would it be panicked and rushed
Would I try to escape and run
Desperate to evade your advances
Then hopelessly succumb
Would I remember God
Would I call for him in that moment
Would I ask Him to save me
Or let you take me
So He can keep me safely in his gardens
I'd like to think I won't be afraid
I've always known it would happen
Yet I can feel fear choking me at just the thought
But if that's of the process or the destination
I guess I'll have to wait
Until it's my time to go
Jun 17, 2017
Jun 17, 2017 at 8:12 AM UTC
A voter’s pair of eyes
Must see through the lulling guise of:
Envy, desire, uncontrolled lust.
Greed does not bluff,
Ego’s fueled flames
Burn everyone's trust.
Censored is shame,
Constant the need for more stuff!
Ruining relations, while nations go bust.
Confronted, greed has nothing to say,
Actions from the master of so many slaves
PFL
Jun 11, 2016
Jun 11, 2016 at 3:38 PM UTC
it turns out
Mother Nature is
just as indecisive
as the rest of us
it seemed that
she had finished
with her winter
her day-long frosts
and biting winds
no longer the need
to cocoon oneself
in protective layers
when venturing out
for nothing more than
a bottle of milk
of down-stuffed coats
and twice-wrapped scarves
woollen hats
and thermal socks
it felt like
we had moved on
our spring had arrived
just in time
we could enjoy
the brisk early mornings
despite their chill
safe in the knowledge
that the gentle touch
of afternoon warmth
would shortly follow
the biggest setback
to be expected
was an intermittent
morning-to-evening downpour
dampening our anticipation
though only temporarily
of any plans we had made
until the puddles were dry
or had drained away
it may have been
a false start
but i'm loathe to say
we were tricked
or call it
an outright lie
those brightened days
were a welcome change
enjoyed by all
we were simply
carried away by
the primaveral allusions
lulling us enough
to forget the cold
and its significance
catching us unprepared
and exposed
like those delicate flowers
so recently bloomed
buried for now
beneath this weight
of snow
Mar 10, 2023
Mar 10, 2023 at 11:29 AM UTC
I don't wear makeup.
I don't want to.
I don't want a pretty face,
Smiling and nodding,
Lulling you into a false sense of security.
Children are being ****** out by their own parents!
People are being murdered by the officials meant to protect them!
There are people so scared of their emotions they would rather die than confront them!
And you're ****** because I don't meet the beauty standards you adopted from our society?
Everyone is being forced to say sorry
And smile
And giggle
To make themselves and others believe that the superficial problems they face are dire
And that when they solve that they've accomplished something
And that everyone is just swell.
Not me.
I'm more blessed than I'll ever know
More fortunate than I'll ever appreciate and I'll do my best to save everyone,
To fix what is wrong.
So if I become over zealous
And ***** up my face
And disturb you
And force you to reconstruct your worldview
I'm not apologizing
And if you hope to take solace on beauty afterwards
To seek comfort on the familiar
My face still won't be made up
Oct 22, 2014
Oct 22, 2014 at 9:23 PM UTC