Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
"lusciousness" poems
it was the Cubist who created the space and color that everywhere today assails our eyes in    uniform architecture and monotonous design; the various branches of modern art through tedious & exhaustive experiment      & research creating a massive cultural sinkhole whose banal discoveries unveil for all the sameness of form, line and color; Quote from Gorky's 'Camouflage', 1942: I like the heat; the tenderness; the edible; the lusciousness; the song of a single person in a bathtub full of water.                            I like Ucello, Grunewald, Ingres, the drawings and sketches for paintings    of Seurat and that man Pablo Picasso;                I measure all things by weight.                In text for MoMA, describing the 'Garden in Sochi' - series,                26 June 1942 I love Mougouch, Gorky's wife.                What about papa Cézanne; I like the wheat fields, the plow, the apricots, those flirts of the sun.    And bread above all. My lever is the purple; About 194 feet away from our house in Armenia on the road to the spring my father had a little garden with a few apple trees which had retired                              from giving fruit; this garden was identified as the _'Garden of Wish Fulfillment'_ often I had seen my mother and the other village women exposing their naked bosoms, taking the soft, dependable ******* in their hands & rubbing them on the rocks; above all this standing an enormous tree all bleached under the sun, rain & cold,  deprived of leaves. This was the Holy Tree [quoted in 1942] In text for MoMA, describing the 'Garden in Sochi' - series, 26 June 1942 I don't like that word 'finished'.     When something is finished, that means it's dead, doesn't it? I believe in everlastingness; I never finish a painting –   I just stop working on it for a while. I like painting because it's something I can never come to the end of; sometimes I paint a picture, then I paint it all out.    Sometimes I'm working on fifteen or twenty pictures at the same time; I do that       b/c I want to – b/c I change my    mind so often; The thing to do is      always to keep starting to paint;      never finishing the painting [quoted in 1948]
0
Aug 20, 2018
Aug 20, 2018 at 4:39 PM UTC
Արշիլ Գորկին, տանիքի այծերը
it was the Cubist who created the space and color that everywhere today assails our eyes in    uniform architecture and monotonous design; the various branches of modern art through tedious & exhaustive experiment      & research creating a massive cultural sinkhole whose banal discoveries unveil for all the sameness of form, line and color; Quote from Gorky's 'Camouflage', 1942: I like the heat; the tenderness; the edible; the lusciousness; the song of a single person in a bathtub full of water.                            I like Ucello, Grunewald, Ingres, the drawings and sketches for paintings    of Seurat and that man Pablo Picasso;                I measure all things by weight.                In text for MoMA, describing the 'Garden in Sochi' - series,                26 June 1942 I love Mougouch, Gorky's wife.                What about papa Cézanne; I like the wheat fields, the plow, the apricots, those flirts of the sun.    And bread above all. My lever is the purple; About 194 feet away from our house in Armenia on the road to the spring my father had a little garden with a few apple trees which had retired                              from giving fruit; this garden was identified as the _'Garden of Wish Fulfillment'_ often I had seen my mother and the other village women exposing their naked bosoms, taking the soft, dependable ******* in their hands & rubbing them on the rocks; above all this standing an enormous tree all bleached under the sun, rain & cold,  deprived of leaves. This was the Holy Tree [quoted in 1942] In text for MoMA, describing the 'Garden in Sochi' - series, 26 June 1942 I don't like that word 'finished'.     When something is finished, that means it's dead, doesn't it? I believe in everlastingness; I never finish a painting –   I just stop working on it for a while. I like painting because it's something I can never come to the end of; sometimes I paint a picture, then I paint it all out.    Sometimes I'm working on fifteen or twenty pictures at the same time; I do that       b/c I want to – b/c I change my    mind so often; The thing to do is      always to keep starting to paint;      never finishing the painting [quoted in 1948]
Continue reading...
52
Removing the little lace dress with its white hem I place it back on its chair. The white hem radiates slightly enticing my naked boyhood once more With its lusciousness, a savannah of continuous beautiful evocation I sit naked and watch the little lace dress with its white hem See it become languorous and dreamlike I smell the exotic flora of its continued subtle seduction It ripples softly in a slight waft of air Like a breath blowing on a still pond I cannot resist it, I am the trance of its hypnosis Nothing intervenes, nor tries to prevent me As my fingers fall for its flirtations Once more I acquiesce to the most wanted desire Of the little lace dress with the white hem To caress the body of a fifteen year old boy To become a second skin I allow it to slide over me seducing my senses Realizing the counters of my thin syrup coloured form The words whisper again about my girls’ complexion About my long black hair, about the body I inhabit, the likeness of a girl I look once more in the mirror, they could be correct
0
Aug 13, 2012
Aug 13, 2012 at 3:09 PM UTC
The Seduction
At Vernal equinox, the Sun crosses over the plane of the Earth’s equator and equalises the night and the day. Then will the Emerald Dragon awaken from his hibernation beneath the earth. Rising in the jade forests of Ghizhou, this yin creature transforms the cold, dead land. Primal and powerful, he gathers the Qi; melts the mountain snows to ribbons of fire igniting the frosty hillsides to growth, fuses each thing with verdant energy, revives again the seed, renews the bulb, sprouting tender shoots juice-rich and sap-full Shy blossoms set to bloom and burst with fruit Fresh scented breezes ruffle foliage maiden ferns shiver with their thrill and ****** Grasses and reeds bedewed and beryline, murmuring and humming low and dulcet, dancing and swaying at the river’s edge. Roots of every tree draw deep from the earth Magnolia and Frangipani breathe and pant out fragrant honeyed lusciousness Spring sparks and quickens, kicks and is alive. © M.L.Emmett
0
Aug 16, 2016
Aug 16, 2016 at 5:38 AM UTC
Spring ~ The Element Wood
So, there's this fig In my fruitbowl, almost purple, Posing atop apples and a mango, Just being beautiful And begging to be touched. It bursts with promise; If I split it open - oh - Unmistakably labial lusciousness will spill out and I will have to **** my sticky fingers like an infant at the ****** tugging oh so gently with an eager, warm, wet tongue, Pursed lips pulsing where the juicy flesh meets dewy, fragrant skin. I bear witness to this fruit's fragile moment of sheer perfection, And my honest, overwhelming lust For tender flesh.
0
Oct 3, 2014
Oct 3, 2014 at 4:23 PM UTC
FIG
At Vernal equinox, the Sun crosses over the plane of the Earth’s equator and equalises the night and the day. Then will the Emerald Dragon awaken from his hibernation beneath the earth. Rising in the jade forests of Ghizhou, this yin creature transforms the cold, dead land. Primal and powerful, he gathers the Qi; melts the mountain snows to ribbons of fire igniting the frosty hillsides to growth, fuses each thing with verdant energy, revives again the seed, renews the bulb, sprouting tender shoots juice-rich and sap-full Shy blossoms set to bloom and burst with fruit Fresh scented breezes ruffle foliage maiden ferns shiver with their thrill and ****** Grasses and reeds bedewed and beryline, murmuring and humming low and dulcet, dancing and swaying at the river’s edge. Roots of every tree draw deep from the earth Magnolia and Frangipani breathe and pant out fragrant honeyed lusciousness Spring sparks and quickens, kicks and is alive. © M.L.Emmett
0
Aug 28, 2014
Aug 28, 2014 at 1:25 PM UTC
The Element Wood
kurukshetra grey but iridescent with the glory of all dreams combined some omphalos of lusciousness still pumps an umbilicus of sates to broadening skies, parhelion whims
0
Apr 2, 2013
Apr 2, 2013 at 11:41 PM UTC
beginning of a poem
Envisioning that fruitful destination Syncing her beats to each seconds Yearning for a scented authority’s presence Losing herself into a euphoric voltage Pandemonium of such motives Were always there..Always will be She knows them. She longs for them Every single time. Every single night Surreal substances start to charge up Making such explosions ready Playing with an amorous fire, already Expanding. Flaring. Urging. Settling Surreal shade transforms Into a crashing truculence Calling that raw paradise of an ecstasy’s cage Spreading between such lusciousness Contemplating that dash of her lustrous rage Shushing herself, oh so quietly She awaits..
0
May 11, 2017
May 11, 2017 at 11:07 AM UTC
Anticipation
I love how your clothing enfolds you, holds you disguises yet reveals you swaying curves, seductive the tempting promise of yes knowing what sweetness waits my body responds eager to the call of your lusciousness the sultry turn of your lips the rolling sway of your hips how you use your finger tips and when our bodies meet the explosiveness and heat for moments so complete pleasurable pain, so very sweet
0
Nov 17, 2010
Nov 17, 2010 at 8:14 AM UTC
Movement
Prometheus, the joker, he offered Zeus a choice of tributes: An egg, a chocolate covered With foil, the delicious covered With the inedible or Chicken wings; perhaps they were ribs, The unpalatable concealed Within the gratifying and Delectable. And, when given the same choice, I Choose the charming, the beguiling, The delightful exterior, With unappealing core, rather Than attempt to find that nugget, Hidden within its thin veneer And certainly worth the effort. I find lusciousness is much more Pleasurable.
0
Mar 17, 2013
Mar 17, 2013 at 11:38 PM UTC
The Choice
The ****** and crinkle of tinsel-wrapped trinkets, The colour of the rainbow, caressing the cataracts Of milky sightless eyes. Trinkets that glisten and glimmer, Shining with promises of sweet delight. ****** aromas of vanilla and cinnamon, Forever false, forever deceitful. Molten chocolate, flowing and folding, Fills the mouth with its delectable lusciousness But it is nothing ashes. And these ashes fill the mind and body With doubts and fears and disgust, Crippling, desensitizing, Leaving the soul empty, a void. Still the wrappers build up around me.
0
Feb 18, 2012
Feb 18, 2012 at 12:50 PM UTC
Symphony of Sweets
I want to take you to the city and put your name in lights after spending the day seeing all the touristy sights I'll take you to a restaurant We'll have the finest meal music will be playing you'd pick lobster over veal I'd smile across the table watching you decide on cake instead of creme brulee and of course instead of pie there'd be women all around us beauty of all sorts and still my eyes stay on you for no other can compare none has your intense gaze your lovely sea blue eyes no lips can match your lusciousness to me you rise above We'd leave the restaurant I'd see it in your eyes disappointment for you thought it then I'd saved the real surprise We'd travel to a busy street and walking hand in hand I'd stop and kneel before you look into your eyes the lights would flash on behind me The message beaming bright I'd read to you a poem trying to sum up in mere words the reasons why I love you and want you in my life I'd ask you the question If you would be my wife I'd take you to the city together we'd see the sights we'd have a picnic in a park we'd find a tree casting shade and stare into the sky gazing at the clouds and watch families stroll by our hands clasped tight together we'd speak our dreams aloud the family that'd be ours someday of a life well lived, the love we'd give as night fell on the city, day fades away we'd find a restaurant to eat a meal and talk about our day I'd feel the box in my pocket and wait the moment would be right I'd thought and planned and knew tonight would be our night you ate the cake, instead of pie I watched you with a smile the world around us faded out reaching out to caress your face to feel your so soft skin the words I had prepared seemed so very thin we paid and leave into the night the stars shining high above I take your hand in mine and we slowly walk returning to where our day had begun the lights are out, the park is dark and then we see the glow, an island of light we reach the center, there's a fountain surrounded by a sea of candles the water burbles happily I kneel before you in this man made sea the light it dances on your skin and I know where to begin, with the love that I feel and how your love has helped me heal how I know my life is with you and with a question I stake it all be my love, my wife, my all
0
Sep 25, 2010
Sep 25, 2010 at 10:18 AM UTC
Sweetest Love
I want to take you to the city and put your name in lights after spending the day seeing all the touristy sights I'll take you to a restaurant We'll have the finest meal music will be playing you'd pick lobster over veal I'd smile across the table watching you decide on cake instead of creme brulee and of course instead of pie there'd be women all around us beauty of all sorts and still my eyes stay on you for no other can compare none has your intense gaze your lovely sea blue eyes no lips can match your lusciousness to me you rise above We'd leave the restaurant I'd see it in your eyes disappointment for you thought it then I'd saved the real surprise We'd travel to a busy street and walking hand in hand I'd stop and kneel before you look into your eyes the lights would flash on behind me The message beaming bright I'd read to you a poem trying to sum up in mere words the reasons why I love you and want you in my life I'd ask you the question If you would be my wife I'd take you to the city together we'd see the sights we'd have a picnic in a park we'd find a tree casting shade and stare into the sky gazing at the clouds and watch families stroll by our hands clasped tight together we'd speak our dreams aloud the family that'd be ours someday of a life well lived, the love we'd give as night fell on the city, day fades away we'd find a restaurant to eat a meal and talk about our day I'd feel the box in my pocket and wait the moment would be right I'd thought and planned and knew tonight would be our night you ate the cake, instead of pie I watched you with a smile the world around us faded out reaching out to caress your face to feel your so soft skin the words I had prepared seemed so very thin we paid and leave into the night the stars shining high above I take your hand in mine and we slowly walk returning to where our day had begun the lights are out, the park is dark and then we see the glow, an island of light we reach the center, there's a fountain surrounded by a sea of candles the water burbles happily I kneel before you in this man made sea the light it dances on your skin and I know where to begin, with the love that I feel and how your love has helped me heal how I know my life is with you and with a question I stake it all be my love, my wife, my all
Continue reading...
77
I can't force myself to understand How the world could contain such sinful beauty. A smear of curvy tan Framed by black waves Two specks of blue And maybe, Just maybe, A shade of... Magenta? Such lusciousness is dipped and coated In kindness and love With a dash of humor And a pinch of brilliance. I wish this demoness Would wrap herself around me Embrace my flaws With her perfection.
0
May 16, 2011
May 16, 2011 at 6:49 PM UTC
Sinful beauty
Walking through the tall grass Through barely veiled eyes I spy, my prey I watch hungrily, waiting to make my move studying you, biding my time Passionately aware of the hunger residing deep inside. I feel you, every inch, every pore - you will be mine. From my lair, I contemplate your sweet surrender Anticipating your lusciousness, my desire for you barely restrained, it permeates my being - Edging closer, I proceed with determined steps and with a nimble burst of speed I move forward. In the choreography of life and death, the hunter becomes the hunted I am pursued as I pursue Predicting our fate, a sonata of potency, passion and purpose. We succumb to the little deaths that make this pursuit worthwhile. Stealthily I walk off victorious and satiated.
0
May 3, 2012
May 3, 2012 at 7:06 PM UTC
The Tigress
Maybe I expected too much, A kiss with such passion it’d make me fall in love, It would sweep me off my feet with its dialogue in tongue, It would be every and anything I had thought it was. It would be perfect. Tilted head, parted lips, Lusciousness and sweet glances, A stroke to my cheek, A gaze into my eyes, Only to reach disappointment, I slowly died inside.
0
Mar 9, 2015
Mar 9, 2015 at 5:00 AM UTC
A Devastating First Kiss
This is Another Version Trampled Lusciousness No one Told me Of A paradisal Ether Where one Can talk Through Black mirror A symbol Of neck Pain Artificial Light Stuttered Communication A message Received A naked Body Or Satire All transferred Via satellite To my Jeans
0
Jan 22, 2016
Jan 22, 2016 at 6:01 AM UTC
#Untitled
Pour your feelings And fill her glass Until it brims over Languidly drooling Along the curves Euphoric bubbles Rises up From the core Popping into Endless fireworks Bottled up For the special moment Reason to celebrate With a clink Drowning in there Midst of lusciousness Incoherent meanings Soul’s ramblings Prefect occasion To let go of inhibitions And get drunk on love Cheers from the heart In a stupor Finding the perfect rhythm
0
Feb 10, 2015
Feb 10, 2015 at 8:56 AM UTC
Reason to Celebrate
Abstract thoughts See the world through a full glass of red wine is to see the globe through blood dripping from the galaxy as chalices of the wine of those who paid the ultimate price for our folly. When goblets fall and spill their lusciousness we forget the fallen and start a new war simply because someone must die to keep the carousel going around and around if not the world will fall into an abyss drifting in cold nothingness, surrounded by beer foam and the stink of a pub Sunday morning before the cleaners come with cleaning products that smell of industrial perfume that is toxic and gives people cancer; excessive cleanliness kills, the red wine numbs the mind and blood run down the drain.
0
Feb 3, 2017
Feb 3, 2017 at 6:54 AM UTC
abstraction
His words were red But I couldn’t understand Why he was so cold And distant like the horizon His smile used to light a room An entire room, that is. Until the water took him away Just as the tide would Think of a warm kitten And with that you’ll find His beautiful hair With my fingers, intertwined. Like roses I could smell His scent from a far He was always near Even if we’re apart His kisses were so sweet Like melted chocolate I never missed a chance To taste such lusciousness His eyes as deep as pools I just drowned in There wasn’t any sense in swimming When they were just so suffocating But of course he never failed To love me so much Eventually it faded But always remained Together we may have failed Just as lovers do He’ll always be in my heart No matter what
0
Apr 13, 2014
Apr 13, 2014 at 9:49 PM UTC
Our failure
From the ***** of God, multitudes of visions cascade In to the peripheries of consciousness Epiphanies herded in to magnificent parade Fulsome in all their lusciousness Which God it is is not always clear But the form of her Beauty is sharp and sure The enchantment grows as she dances ever near Consists in her blessing perfect care, cure Bursting out of the hinterlands of repressed psyche She, spirited, splendid, dances Sweeter than peaches or lychee In enamouring trances      O form of forms, your beauty sharp      I honour you on lofty harp
0
Feb 16, 2017
Feb 16, 2017 at 9:08 AM UTC
Form Of Forms
I, maim’d with your wholesomeness, with your heavenly mien. Long the soiree of fallen touches, can not a single palm suffice to feel It comes to mind, the time after the first, we’ve met again. With your smile, your warmest gaze, Had I thought you to be beyond my visage. There you were, touches away. Upon your moon, the loveliest garb of them all, ‘The array of a thousand rubies’ And patently I could not ignore the art varnished over your feet. I knew it too well, The ‘Platinum Guild Stiletto’...by the known Stuart Weitzman A fair woman in her element, who can contest..? I approached, with the slim’st valor I had hoped to fade... If not now, what chance is there after… This now could not have ever been soothsaid. Just a night, a man, and a woman. What may win me this love shall win me eternity… From this farthest gape to the eyes of span, to caress or so graze your lovest parts To touch you Evictus, have I unraveled the origin of touch To taste you Evictus, have I not made one the savour and the desire, the lusciousness and the duende My love , my sweet’st potion of desire This love shan't ever fold for I knowst it true. As this great span held by wonder. Let us pour our lusted parts into the rivers of outness dreams And see without scope the collateral beauty within ourselves I can nevermore gamble your precious heart for mere jewels and riches If ever, I could not bear for our limbs to never interwove in the midst of our coitus Whenas day is born it'll be still, we will be still- in romance and forth in the tombs of ecstasy
0
Nov 13, 2017
Nov 13, 2017 at 10:25 AM UTC
Volaré
I, maim’d with your wholesomeness, with your heavenly mien. Long the soiree of fallen touches, can not a single palm suffice to feel It comes to mind, the time after the first, we’ve met again. With your smile, your warmest gaze, Had I thought you to be beyond my visage. There you were, touches away. Upon your moon, the loveliest garb of them all, ‘The array of a thousand rubies’ And patently I could not ignore the art varnished over your feet. I knew it too well, The ‘Platinum Guild Stiletto’...by the known Stuart Weitzman A fair woman in her element, who can contest..? I approached, with the slim’st valor I had hoped to fade... If not now, what chance is there after… This now could not have ever been soothsaid. Just a night, a man, and a woman. What may win me this love shall win me eternity… From this farthest gape to the eyes of span, to caress or so graze your lovest parts To touch you Evictus, have I unraveled the origin of touch To taste you Evictus, have I not made one the savour and the desire, the lusciousness and the duende My love , my sweet’st potion of desire This love shan't ever fold for I knowst it true. As this great span held by wonder. Let us pour our lusted parts into the rivers of outness dreams And see without scope the collateral beauty within ourselves I can nevermore gamble your precious heart for mere jewels and riches If ever, I could not bear for our limbs to never interwove in the midst of our coitus Whenas day is born it'll be still, we will be still- in romance and forth in the tombs of ecstasy
Continue reading...
27
Two prayers One said on the Mount Called the Lord’s Prayer The other said in the Garden of Gethsemane That was simply God calling out to his God. You see, man had to learn how to pray That is why we have the Lord’s Prayer. But man also needed a perfect example of what prayer looks like. Thus, the Garden of Gethsemane. In the Garden of Gethsemane, Jesus sweat blood. His forehead began the sacrifice which the rest of his body would later. When the crown of thorns was placed on top of his head. In the Lord’s Prayer, Jesus said to forgive. In the Garden of Gethsemane, Jesus was forgiveness. In the Lord’s Prayer, Jesus said thy Kingdom come. In the Garden of Gethsemane, he is bringing forth the Kingdom. I wonder how the height of the mountain Could compare with the cool lusciousness of the garden. As he stepped in the Garden, he stepped on his own blood. The footing was slippery The footing was messy The footing was not at all like the Mount Where rocks provided sturdy footing. But in order to get to the Cross, he had to get to the Garden. Because the Garden was where he would be arrested Not just in the Mount where he would be a Teacher. In the Garden, Jesus was a wanted man. Wanted by man, because of his claims to be God. But also wanted by man, because he is the Son of God.
0
Mar 6, 2019
Mar 6, 2019 at 3:25 PM UTC
Jesus was wanted by man