"raptures" poems
As the sun moves to the western horizon
Colors are skilfully blended in a palette
In an instant the sky becomes an exquisite canvas of art
Making even Van Gogh burn in jealousy
With the last glimmer of sunset
When the shadows chase the light,
The aerial folks fly back to their nests
Like black and white specks dotting the sky
With a dark drape stretched across the Earth’s face
The arrival of the night is a spectacular sight
Cicadas and crickets welcome her with their ceremonious band
And street lamps blink their eyes to catch a better view
While truant clouds still wander around aimless
The cerulean sky signals them to hurry
Stars slowly appear in the night sky
Like sequins stitched on to a blue brocade
The crescent moon smiles down
The empress of the night, proud and regal
She and her retinue keep guard over the slumbering Earth
The unpaid sentries of the night!
A gentle breeze makes a palanquin ride
Wafting in the scent of opening buds
The beauty of the night sends me to raptures
My heart exploding like foaming wine in a bottle
Yet I cannot but keep wondering
How many dark secrets
The night holds
Within her tenebrous folds!
May 10, 2017
May 10, 2017 at 12:52 PM UTC
The sunrise wakes the lark to sing,
The moonrise wakes the nightingale.
Come darkness, moonrise, every thing
That is so silent, sweet, and pale:
Come, so ye wake the nightingale.
Make haste to mount, thou wistful moon,
Make haste to wake the nightingale:
Let silence set the world in tune
To hearken to that wordless tale
Which warbles from the nightingale
O herald skylark, stay thy flight
One moment, for a nightingale
Floods us with sorrow and delight.
To-morrow thou shalt hoist the sail;
Leave us to-night the nightingale.
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in a taut black dress
you brush by me
you are
dark summer fruit simmering hot
a sopping estuary
i gather you into me
you cascade like an undulating cat
giggles like trembling gelatin
cherry kiss lips
agile muscle shifting
pleating like soft furs
against my thunderous chest
your tremulous tongue rupturing
like spiced chrysanthemums from heaven
i inhale your lavender breath
your saliva melts stormy mouth up-leaping
i eat your soul
and paradise ********
licking honey rainbows
filling my mouth a thousand times
and a thousand more
its never enough when some one has your heart
suffocate me in your drooling mouth
your body is my aviary
and hot house of man eating plants
i run to your teeth
beautiful cleavers gleaming
shivering with excitement
from your dragging bites
my blood languishing at your feet
have no regard for me
eat my love
i live to be swallowed by you
i hold you through the night
all dire raptures
dark in mystic paradise
tangled in your hair
may mourning never find us
torrid scorched from flames infernal
black candles uncrossing pasts
devils **** your adoring toy
kisses never ceasing
hot weather nostrils steaming
your flexed body writhes
a royal contortion
your heart cleaving
so that i may like a sun
consume your darkest edges
bitter chocolate so sweet
to fill griefs mouth with ecstasy
my heart aches like a siren of echoes
calling to you
shaking your gates down
you are a titanic gravity
and i'm forever tumbling
like eternal burning ashes through cobalt night
it is a steep decent into heavens arms
as i crumble
all smashing diamonds
and hissing flames
into open wounds weeping glitter
your chin jutting
throat stretched
while pulling the roots of your hair
exposing arteries pulsing
stuffing myself on your marrow
you plume like a volcanic moon
showering me with spooling stars
and butter **** kisses
ill turn you into my glistening little *****
all swollen tears for more
rituals of adoration
kisses like monsoon rains
i look up at your supple form
your haunches my temple
worshiping you
smothered in heavens jaws
you cascading pantie-less
in a taut black dress
Aug 22, 2017
Aug 22, 2017 at 1:36 PM UTC
Hence Cupid! with your cheating toys,
Your real griefs, and painted joys,
Your pleasure which itself destroys.
Lovers like men in fevers burn and rave,
And only what will injure them do crave.
Men's weakness makes love so severe,
They give him power by their fear,
And make the shackles which they wear.
Who to another does his heart submit,
Makes his own idol, and then worships it.
Him whose heart is all his own,
Peace and liberty does crown,
He apprehends no killing frown.
He feels no raptures which are joys diseased,
And is not much transported, but still pleased.
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I want to play your skin like a violin
Make beautiful music from your moans
As I tantalizingly pluck, pull, and manipulate your strings
Hit those notes and we can play all night long
Our little love song
Get lost in the raptures of our melodies
Entwining bodies
An instrumental of flesh
A rhythm of passion
I want to feel the symphony of your ******
Taste the *** of your concerto
Whole notes, quarter notes, half notes
Sixteenths
I want to hear you scream
When I play your skin
Like a violin.
Mar 21, 2014
Mar 21, 2014 at 7:23 AM UTC
I became Holmes, past knowing true:
In every sense, I'd seek for you.
Now, taking the cobbles consciously,
Sick, mad, of the essence of this construct,
Dismantling the ancien régime to see
That I am all your stains in concert -
I am made up of every last touch -
Originality's a lie, save in
The combination that you see - as such
It is unique, but I still cave in
At the dawn that nothing is my own,
And much like as if you were a coffee
I'd downed: I could not, for my life, disown
The five million senses cutting me
For the time, for every conscious cup
I'd take and take again: Why should I dull
And cut myself this way, a life made-up
Of such a tannin-full ideal?
My way as a writer is to fall
In love, in my eyes, in yours, in raptures,
In despair, in tough crowds, on God, to call
On my muse and survive the ruptures
Of worlds and heavens, both real and made,
And feel the rain upon my face, but Lord,
How often do I feel, and feel the raid,
Engaged by scent, blush, needle, salt, word?
All too much makes nothing, and I can't flee
To seek another cup: I must seek me.
Mar 28, 2023
Mar 28, 2023 at 12:58 PM UTC
Neptune's core collapses
Splintered diamonds descend in stabbing fashion
Sleepy knives pass silently through the night
Casting shadows in the caliginous moon light
Stitched spiderwebs glisten across autumn's equinox
Discordant thought raptures in a Gordian knot
The symmetry of entropy plots its course
The universe resets its clock
Jul 15, 2010
Jul 15, 2010 at 8:50 PM UTC
She sits there with her hair left flowing,
Staring out to the sea all knowing.
Singing till the last light breaks,
And darkness comes and claws and rapes.
Lamenting and sad her tears they fall,
Upon her tail and waist so subtle so small.
“Love me forever please the land of men,
For in the sea my heart is spent
Retell my tale but with a happy end,
Where my lover did not bow and bend.
To the whims of another lover,
Who raptures better beneath the bedcover
Whisper lover across the sea,
But stranded here my tail will keep me.
You had your chance to love and hold,
But to the sea my heart you sold."
A mermaid that now is not so little,
Damaged by a man so vain and fickle.
She languishes in perpetual beauty,
Never to forget her punishment and duty.
For if her tail does touch the ocean,
Her heart will falter from that accursed potion,
And to the sea she will fall prone,
And turn to nothing more than the seas soothing foam.
Dec 12, 2010
Dec 12, 2010 at 12:26 PM UTC
Now the golden Morn aloft
Waves her dew-bespangled wing,
With vermeil cheek and whisper soft
She wooes the tardy Spring:
Till April starts, and calls around
The sleeping fragrance from the ground,
And lightly o’er the living scene
Scatters his freshest, tenderest green.
New-born flocks, in rustic dance,
Frisking ply their feeble feet;
Forgetful of their wintry trance
The birds his presence greet:
But chief, the skylark warbles high
His trembling thrilling ecstasy;
And, lessening from the dazzled sight,
Melts into air and liquid light.
Yesterday the sullen year
Saw the snowy whirlwind fly;
Mute was the music of the air,
The herd stood drooping by:
Their raptures now that wildly flow
No yesterday nor morrow know;
’Tis Man alone that joy descries
With forward and reverted eyes.
Smiles on past Misfortune’s brow
Soft Reflection’s hand can trace,
And o’er the cheek of Sorrow throw
A melancholy grace;
While Hope prolongs our happier hour,
Or deepest shades, that dimly lour
And blacken round our weary way,
Gilds with a gleam of distant day.
Still, where rosy Pleasure leads
See a kindred Grief pursue;
Behind the steps that Misery treads
Approaching Comfort view:
The hues of bliss more brightly glow
Chastised by sabler tints of woe,
And blended form, with artful strife,
The strength and harmony of life.
See the wretch that long has tost
On the thorny bed of pain,
At length repair his vigour lost,
And breathe and walk again:
The meanest floweret of the vale,
The simplest note that swells the gale,
The common sun, the air, the skies,
To him are opening Paradise.
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Who taught thee conflict with the pow’rs of night,
To vanquish satan in the fields of light?
Who strung thy feeble arms with might unknown,
How great thy conquest, and how bright thy crown!
War with each princedom, throne, and pow’r is o’er,
The scene is ended to return no more.
O could my muse thy seat on high behold,
How deckt with laurel, how enrich’d with gold!
O could she hear what praise thine harp employs,
How sweet thine anthems, how divine thy joys!
What heav’nly grandeur should exalt her strain!
What holy raptures in her numbers reign!
To sooth the troubles of the mind to peace,
To still the tumult of life’s tossing seas,
To ease the anguish of the parents heart,
What shall my sympathizing verse impart?
Where is the balm to heal so deep a wound?
Where shall a sov’reign remedy be found?
Look, gracious Spirit, from thine heav’nly bow’r,
And thy full joys into their bosoms pour;
The raging tempest of their grief control,
And spread the dawn of glory through the soul,
To eye the path the saint departed trod,
And trace him to the ***** of his God.
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What the Tide Knows
—a Sestina of one night shared with our sister moon
Night’s first blush leans low against the tide
that licks the sand; moonlight unhooks the darker seams of our skin.
The air stings sweet, crystalline breath of salt.
A feral moon, she leans close—silent, luminous, wet.
Her ******* dip the water; the water dips us—oh…slow pull
after slow pull—silk unraveling into constellations—we are, at last, bare
bare-foot, bare-hearted, bare-assed—every hush of fear laid bare;
satin chill a caress, sliding up shins, over knees, exploring the secret tide.
Between us, dampness trembles—a harp-chord plucked across our skin;
notes of brine flare and fade in the hush of moonlit salt
Desire itself echoes each pull she tightens—loosens—tightens again in the moon’s slow, intimate pull.
Night after night we bend to nature’s lust—its intimate pull
a deep, slow kiss—honey for dreams, our spirits once more bare
on a starlit shore that forgets and remembers the faithful tide
that knows each breast, each soft fold of skin
until our footprints shimmer, then vanish in a tidal pool of salt
while water’s slow tempo keeps time beneath our same bare-breasted, sister moon
Brine prisms drip between our thighs—soft, shimmering salt
as we sink into sand—breasts and breath—utterly bare;
above us, the hush of waves keeps time with the tide
while our sister, the ****** moon, unbuttons herself—O luminous moon,
her silver hand wandering, circling, stroking her own pale skin,
her gasps spilling down to embrace us oh so tight into one, shuddering, pull
Dawn’s silk-white wraps moon-bruised ******* gathering the last flecks of salt
that cling to lips—a hush of spent sighs riding every slow pull
of breath. Ocean-wet, sunrise-warmed, we rise wholly bare
beneath a sky tinted with our spent, satisfied sister moon,
and wade until cries of ecstasy between waves swell, matching the tide
washing footprints, sand, and shy shimmers from our glistening skin.
We become as one, a shared pulse—wave after wave pressing into skin,
A sousing of honey and ocean on lips—sweet with salt,
as night’s last breaker swells, arches, cups—one unquenchable pull
before it raptures. We bloom wide, throats singing, utterly bare
of nothing but vision of her white-hot spasm, our sister moon,
dragging us under—flinging us back—gasping—embraced by the heaving tide
O sister moon,
embrace our last slow tide,
your gentle hand forever filling our dreams, forever caressing our skin
Sep 1, 2025
Sep 1, 2025 at 6:01 PM UTC
Find your identity
Not in your Suffering,
No, we survive trauma
But keep on living because
Someone loved us once
Told us we can achieve
Anything
Fail I may but there’s comfort
In the safe heaven of your warmth
Yes, you guide me to a path
Of self-discovery, until I
Realised my full potential
Grandmother’s prayer
Spirit rekindled
Arise
The entire universe is wrapped
Around your slender neck
which translates as; Woman you
Are so God **** Beautiful
God done made you,
Beautifully crafted in a raw material
Known as melanin with a heart of gold
And your eyes contains all the light
God used to make all humans
For the love of God, celebrate you
For you smile in the face of adversaries
You raise the bar and brake records
At the setting of the dawn, and if anyone
Should look down on you
Made you feel inconsequential
Do not curse
Know your identity
You are not your mistakes,
No, not even painful childhood
Memories can define you
Woman your fireflies heart
Raptures in brilliance
Constantly,
Which allows you
To never doubt your worth
You are ingrained with love
Yes, you are the best version of you
Even in difficult circumstance
I admire that bravery
Down your spine
Nov 19, 2017
Nov 19, 2017 at 12:59 AM UTC
She is silver-nitrate and coal.
An Egon Schiele painting
stretched on dream
and sullen sparking glances
tipped in gold.
It is starlight, burnt through a velvet field
that chains me here.
It is honey and hot wine
that haunts my sleep,
by the onomatopoeia
of obsession.
With a lunar caustic kiss
she hexed me.
Woven in her six-sided circle
those rubies in the
hollow of her neck
and fingers that shimmer
like ice.
The Sphinx of Eros.
That heathen curl.
Smoke to hide the ivory!
Spoke to lock the memory!
Caught in click clack shutters
by the silver foaming pond.
Froth from the chambers of
ebony rough hewn hearts.
O starlight!
That raptures me hungry
for bloodsoaked lips
red as fury!
And I sang;
O lord & commoner, I sang!
To the weepings of a sombre, sudden,
stinging violin,
in empty vinyl crackle
from music soaked in paint,
with a voice
like burning velvet.
Mar 27, 2012
Mar 27, 2012 at 1:51 AM UTC
Is life a story, is life magick dreaming to love?
I gazed up. “Standing below the elephantine magnolia,
the ground still bore Tuscany ochre from autumns last kiss.”
My eyes solivagant orbs fed on spring’s dews in mourning
──jewellery clinging opulently to her naked form.
Dawn chilled the breeze caressing her body as abscission
demanded she undressed her emerald gown of leaves.
Magenta and cream blooms sprang “loudly” seducing
─ blushing mauve crowned centres,
a population of endless figurines perched motionless on aching
naked branches.
Solomon’s seal burned white within me drunk impending suns arrows, opulent words of silver Verbus diablio kissed in a cauldron
of Magnolia words, a banquet for mortals that seek loves gold.
A lone spider echoed silence bearing the sigil of Jupiter’s
vermillion and white spun striations luffing on the breeze
warming. “Magnolia dressed the day ardent in perfumed
── glorious plumes that each set sail across waking skies.”
Ablaze I am luscious dreams wrapped in sweet nectar,
travelling limbic memories breathing deeply, held captive,
wanton within her labyrinths of silk caresses, petals whispering,
sweet love as she engulfs my last resolve.
In raptures white velvet gown my hem sweeps over gold russet
and brittle autumns words forged in winters need for warmth──mind leaves crunching beneath life’s changing seasons,
stitched I cling enamoured to mortal honeymoon summered fields.
I am the female of sapphire tears twisting, glittering melting ice shards, bequeathed of pained black stars travelled on passionate magick fires, breathed on melodious Roma nights.
Rested among the branches a mantel crucified- drunk once more,
a bloom held silent in time weeping, exploding fragrant in a coloured soul, a luffing flower creature to life──crowned
──to sun hope thorns.
©ASPAR (A Sol Poet Arnay Rumens)
Dec 9, 2018
Dec 9, 2018 at 6:17 AM UTC
Red rose pedals, lying on a bed of 100% Egyptian cotton; as we touch all hurts and pains are forgotten: on 100% Egyptian cotton.
The sun rises...between your thighs; I'm completely mesmerized.
I open up my wings to you...all the forbidden things we do.
Suspended animation as we fuse into one, My universe raptures your sun...on 100% Egyptian cotton.
Red roses pedals an all is forgotten...like honey to the bee, nectar so sweet; The juice of lust has become our treat.
I open up my mind to this, I've tasted the forbidden fruit, on 100% Egyptian cotton...where all time is forgotten...
Red rose pedals dripping with sweat and the sweet taste of passion.
Dripping like morning dew, as I fuse my likeness inside of you.
You drink from the well-wine so sweet...I pull from your treasures; delightful treats.
Strong yet tender, hard yet soft, wet and dry; My wings are open and we fly.
Up and down, in and out, around the sun, beneath the moon, together as one; We come not soon.
Emerged together, like rain in June...on 100% Egyptian cotton, with red rose pedals, where all time is forgotten.
I lost my love.
I found my passion.
I lost my pureness it erupted in your ashes...resurrected from the grave.
Your love drew me and made me slave, I yield to this sin...
Got my passion and lost my friend on 100% Egyptian cotton red roses where all is forgotten.
Aug 8, 2013
Aug 8, 2013 at 12:47 AM UTC
The
cyclones are cellophane
saran raptures, and
gale forced smiles in the rain
that comes after a dead-end starts
with a grave intuition.
Out of the blue,
a sky you knew would be safe
as sun-strokes-
of genius,
proof
that love had
a heart...
you found
mars
That's you
wishing where stars
don't fall
they just hang
in the black hole
dark...
Oct 21, 2011
Oct 21, 2011 at 10:00 AM UTC
Midst wizened trees the ancient word
Blows through ears that strive to have heard
The magic medley of the land
The stirring Spring gestates her garland
Dribbling music to the bards
We are the bards. Long time ago
We dwelled and swelled in Nature's glow
We lived, felt Love, but now we go
Searching for rainbow, to and fro
Our path takes us high and low
To truth, which raptures us in throe
The torch of truth be ours to hold
In streams of dreams and fires of gold
Sat brooding in desire and woe
Feb 3, 2017
Feb 3, 2017 at 11:35 AM UTC
There was a message there for a second
But then state farm came in like a good neighbor and broke my train of thought
And that was beautiful in its’ own right
Like paint mixing to brown
As words only confuse everything
And emotions are like real gods
I bring you to the ends of our own expressible thought
on the edge of a cliff that cannot be crossed
a cliff and an asymptote
that is never perceived
Real Gods are in the pudding,
in relations between lines
in laws given and unbending
objective, quantifiable, and beyond my description
they are in the unending study and toil of the labors of love
a thought
but not in religion
unless you think about it like that
which you are always free to do
because sometimes the only way to show the inexpressibility
of life, nature and all is
is in raptures of revelation
Sep 7, 2014
Sep 7, 2014 at 6:34 PM UTC
Yes,
I saw time stand still
in a fraction
of a second...peace
Saw it happen
as one touched another
in affection...peace
Caught the essence
as Jesus
fed the mulitude
and a mother's smile
nurtured
her child...peace
Yes,
I saw time stand still
as the bright summer moon rested
on a chimney top
and laughter
ruled the night...peace
Felt temporal illusions
vanish before a portrait
by Rembrant
capturing the subject's
inner spiritual psyche
as inspired men
cast off
their heavy macho ways
and hugged...peace
Yes,
I saw time stand still
as smiles lit the darkness
and tears
washed away sins...peace...peace...peace
A revision
Nov 8, 2015
Nov 8, 2015 at 1:20 PM UTC
Pleasing primordial instincts: to blame
Odious constructed mores, or simply
Raptures dwelling within?
Numbing sensations cry out to
Omnipresent nicotine screens;
Gargoyles perch on the ridges
Retching earthly filth and heavenly blessings
Across my fragile conscience.
Paradox in the words I speak,
Harboring images I dare not peek; perpetually ashamed by
Yearnings to please the body and punish the mind.
Jan 2, 2016
Jan 2, 2016 at 11:54 PM UTC
together
a man and woman
can do
things any one wouldn't imagine.
they could pretend as lovers,
and secretly in their dark minds
plan to rob,
all that are
fascinating in each other,
so that their mutual jealousy
will subdue for the time being.
life gets complex
in each passing day
we are aware.
we had been bitter rivals,
now every other hour
you call me in between.
you research on weather
which i also know, alarmingly changes.
the Psunami relief work
they undertook in 2005
in Kerala coast
is still incomplete!
people suffer
who cares?
human lives are more at risk
than ever;
that's my current work
commissioned by the government.
(would any one listen to the findings?
i doubt)
cynicism is rampant
but no one complains;
as if it is a luxury
of the privileged!
we meet here
in the middle ground
many mistook us as man and wife
families have become
imagined places where
things would happen like clock work;
but fail to keep up with the expectations.
individuals get exasperated as families begin to stifle.
i love your new dress
all i propose to do is
slowly undress you
like in that absurd play we acted, disjointed scenes
but the audience was in raptures.
free from physical ******* of clothes,
let's take a dip in this hot springs,
i will wash you with my hands, lovingly.
the water treatment,
the caresses of elements
our burning hearts will
get tranquilized.
we can put on our dresses
and go back
as rivals as
we were.
Jan 30, 2012
Jan 30, 2012 at 2:05 AM UTC
Orange 4 squared room,
Purring of Cat
a Dripping White Spoon
Is this a Yellowing Moon
Floating Upon oceans
With it's Glowing Swoon
Dashing Ones Palette
with Grape Fruit Juice
Bitterly sweet
Like raptures beneath Moon
forcing ones cerebral Ecstasy
To begin begging for
Beginners Tune
The ocean Now a Purring white satin
Basque in beauty
Rotating its symmetrical fashion.
Apr 22, 2013
Apr 22, 2013 at 12:05 AM UTC
Your hands have been crafted
by a rare and delicate melody.
One that sweeps me completely and raptures my affection,
Such charming beauty you possess my love.
I bring my disgraceful lips
to your merciless fingers,
that left imprints on my neck earlier.
Your demeanor is that of a white swan
sparkling in an illusory lake.
As I step inside deep water to try
to reach your magnificent being.
It's not the flames of indifference that burn my soul,
rather your casual wit and coy smiles.
Pretentious laughter as if you actually care.
The lake is now suffocating my lungs.
The cool waves strike my weeping skin,
so opposite to your firing touch.
This is what you wanted from the very beginning my love.
Now, don't bestow me your unreachable pity.
In my dying moments, even your shadow did not grace me with its presence.
Now that I am completely lost in your maze,
I want to ask you in this haze.
Are you now joyous my love?
Are you now satisfied?
Are you celebrating the fortune of my perish?
You don't have any blood on your hands,
I have killed myself over this love.
You are still the white swan, mesmerizing all with your innocence.
And I am here at the bottom of the lake,
Drowning in helpless awareness, unaware of the extent of your cruelty.
The warm blue hues silently shut my eyes,
gifting me more peace than you ever could.
The real misfortune is that even in my last breath, I could only take your name.
I have only ever known your love.
I have only ever known your cruelty.
I don't mind the loneliness.
I don't mind the helplessness.
I just craved belongingness.
I just wish that the white swan herself would have drained me of life by kissing my lips.
When the light of life was finally replaced by miserable darkness, all I could do was reach out to hold your hand.
Nov 24, 2024
Nov 24, 2024 at 8:23 AM UTC
About Soho we went before the light;
We went, unresting six, craving new fun,
New scenes, new raptures, for the fevered night
Of rollicking laughter, drink and song, was done.
The vault was void, but for the dawn's great star
That shed upon our path its silver flame,
When La Paloma on a low guitar
Abruptly from a darkened casement came--
Harlem! All else shut out, I saw the hall,
And you in your red shoulder sash come dancing
With Val against me languid by the wall,
Your burning coffee-colored eyes keen glancing
Aslant at mine, proud in your golden glory!
I loved you, Cuban girl, fond sweet Diory.
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