"luxuriousness" poems
**** I’ve been high since,
Since I was a kid,
I get lofty and light,
With the rest of them,
Granted my high was that due to elevation
And not escapism,
The Beech is the best place to go on a summer’s day
The weather like a warm blanket begs you to stay outside,
The branches crisscross across the sky,
Saving me from any toss,
Letting me think thoughts,
Of rushing from aerie heights,
I bend with The Beech,
And its soft coarse bows,
Match the gentle Maternal caress of the sweet summer breeze,
Beckon me into natural,
Seats, grown just for me,
As I have grown to be worthy of it
The clouds
Gentle behemoths
Meander beyond boundaries,
But never lose their lackadaisical luxuriousness
They’ve informed me
Today,
Today is the day for,
A climb,
I spider up the trunk and branches,
More mother’s ladder to father’s rays,
Even at the slight height,
I feel his tender gaze,
And embrace,
Protecting me from the ludicrous idea of failing,
Falling
Jun 24, 2018
Jun 24, 2018 at 12:14 AM UTC
There he was
With his black velvet heart
Smooth to touch, to feel, to love
Drawing me into that luxuriousness of this man
Something so soft, but so dark, so dark.
So I continued to be drawn by the softness, the richness
The dark eyes, dark hair, oh the lair
Once captured there was no escape
My heart forever was bound by his sultry all
No escape for whom we fall.
I shall never leave my cell
Of love that is lost and at great cost
Was my love was for him.
In my dreams he does come
But only with pain
To hurt me, break me over again
Oh the love that was lost at such a great cost.
I lost my heart to him and to him alone
My sweet innocent heart placed at his throne
Till death do us part was so very wrong
It simply did not last that long
But for him my mind does still roam.
To love again I will never impart
Because of his black velvet heart.
The End
Feb 15, 2020
Feb 15, 2020 at 2:45 PM UTC
Eyes along rose-aisle wanders and ponders,
eager to experience the explosive wonder,
amorous thunder in scentful embrace
elope with the trail of darkening banyan shade.
Reality with realmless ravishing painting
in a suave sensation surmises our surreality,
thoughts of past like thorns of Bengal rose
swim in sour and sweet wind of stormy candour.
At the dusk of divine splendour
wrapped in romantic lazy luxuriousness
I listlessly look at the blossoming spring,
an enchanting evening of thoughtful dreams,
radiant midst of melancholic screams
embraces the dark shade of bordering woods.
Oct 20, 2017
Oct 20, 2017 at 1:27 PM UTC