"resistless" poems
"Let us have love and more love, a love that melts all opposition, a love that conquers all foes, a love that sweeps away all barriers, a love that aboundeth in charity, large-heartedness, tolerance, and noble-striving, a love that triumphs over all obstacles, a boundless, resistless, sweeping love. Ah me!
Each one must be a sign of love, a sea of love, a centre of love, a sun of love, a star of love, a haven of love, a pearl of love, a palace of love, a mountain of love, a world of love, a universe of love.
Hast thou love? Then thy power is irresistible.
Hast thou sympathy? Then all the stars will sing thy praise!"
~ 'Abdu'l-Baha, Star of the West, VII:17, 19 January 1917, page 171
Feb 28, 2017
Feb 28, 2017 at 11:48 PM UTC
Uncharmable charmer
Of Bacchus and Mars
In the sounding rebounding
Abyss of the stars!
O ****** in armour,
Thine arrows unsling
In the brilliant resilient
First rays of the spring!
By the force of the fashion
Of love, when I broke
Through the shroud, through the cloud,
Through the storm, through the smoke,
To the mountain of passion
Volcanic that woke ---
By the rage of the mage
I invoke, I invoke!
By the midnight of madness: -
The lone-lying sea,
The swoon of the moon,
Your swoon into me,
The sentinel sadness
Of cliff-clinging pine,
That night of delight
You were mine, you were mine!
You were mine, O my saint,
My maiden, my mate,
By the might of the right
Of the night of our fate.
Though I fall, though I faint,
Though I char, though I choke,
By the hour of our power
I invoke, I invoke!
By the mystical union
Of fairy and faun,
Unspoken, unbroken -
The dust to the dawn! -
A secret communion
Unmeasured, unsung,
The listless, resistless,
Tumultuous tongue! -
O ****** in armour,
Thine arrows unsling,
In the brilliant resilient
First rays of the spring!
No Godhead could charm her,
But manhood awoke -
O fiery Valkyrie,
I invoke, I invoke!
4.7k
Love in my heart was a fresh tide flowing
Where the starlike sea gulls soar;
The sun was keen and the foam was blowing
High on the rocky shore.
But now in the dusk the tide is turning,
Lower the sea gulls soar,
And the waves that rose in resistless yearning
Are broken forevermore.
4.3k
A thousand Martyrs I have made,
All sacrific'd to my desire;
A thousand Beauties have betray'd,
That languish in resistless Fire.
The untam'd Heart to hand I brought,
And fixt the wild and wandring Thought.
I never vow'd nor sigh'd in vain
But both, thô false, were well receiv'd.
The Fair are pleas'd to give us pain,
And what they wish is soon believ'd.
And thô I talked of Wounds and Smart,
Loves Pleasures only toucht my Heart.
Alone the Glory and the Spoil
I always Laughing bore away;
The Triumphs, without Pain or Toil,
Without the Hell, the Heav'n of Joy.
And while I thus at random rove
Despise the Fools that whine for Love.
2.3k
There never was a face as fair as yours,
A heart as true, a love as pure and keen.
These things endure, if anything endures.
But, in this jungle, what high heaven immures
Us in its silence, the supreme serene
Crowning the dagoba, what destined die
Rings on the table, what resistless dart
Strike me I love you; can you satisfy
The hunger of my heart!
Nay; not in love, or faith, or hope is hidden
The drug that heals my life; I know too well
How all things lawful, and all things forbidden
Alike disclose no pearl upon the midden,
Offer no key to unlock the gate of Hell.
There is no escape from the eternal round,
No hope in love, or victory, or art.
There is no plumb-line long enough to sound
The abysses of my heart!
There no dawn breaks; no sunlight penetrates
Its blackness; no moon shines, nor any star.
For its own horror of itself creates
Malignant fate from all benignant fates,
Of its own spite drives its own angel afar.
Nay; this is the great import of the curse
That the whole world is sick, and not a part.
Conterminous with its own universe
the horror of my heart!
2.1k
A THOUSAND martyrs I have made,
All sacrificed to my desire,
A thousand beauties have betray'd
That languish in resistless fire:
The untamed heart to hand I brought,
And fix'd the wild and wand'ring thought.
I never vow'd nor sigh'd in vain,
But both, tho' false, were well received;
The fair are pleased to give us pain,
And what they wish is soon believed:
And tho' I talk'd of wounds and smart,
Love's pleasures only touch'd my heart.
Alone the glory and the spoil
I always laughing bore away;
The triumphs without pain or toil,
Without the hell the heaven of joy;
And while I thus at random rove
Despise the fools that whine for love.
2.1k
All-Conquering Death! by thy resistless pow’r,
Hope’s tow’ring plumage falls to rise no more!
Of scenes terrestrial how the glories fly,
Forget their splendors, and submit to die!
Who ere escap’d thee, but the saint of old
Beyond the flood in sacred annals told,
And the great sage, whom fiery coursers drew
To heav’n’s bright portals from Elisha’s view;
Wond’ring he gaz’d at the refulgent car,
Then snatch’d the mantle floating on the air.
From Death these only could exemption boast,
And without dying gain’d th’ immortal coast.
Not falling millions sate the tyrant’s mind,
Nor can the victor’s progress be confin’d.
But cease thy strife with Death, fond Nature, cease:
He leads the virtuous to the realms of peace;
His to conduct to the immortal plains,
Where heav’n’s Supreme in bliss and glory reigns.
There sits, illustrious Sir, thy beauteous spouse;
A gem-blaz’d circle beaming on her brows.
Hail’d with acclaim among the heav’nly choirs,
Her soul new-kindling with seraphic fires,
To notes divine she tunes the vocal strings,
While heav’n’s high concave with the music rings.
Virtue’s rewards can mortal pencil paint?
No—all descriptive arts, and eloquence are faint;
Nor canst thou, Oliver, assent refuse
To heav’nly tidings from the Afric muse.
As soon may change thy laws, eternal fate,
As the saint miss the glories I relate;
Or her Benevolence forgotten lie,
Which wip’d the trick’ling tear from Misry’s eye.
Whene’er the adverse winds were known to blow,
When loss to loss ensu’d, and woe to woe,
Calm and serene beneath her father’s hand
She sat resign’d to the divine command.
No longer then, great Sir, her death deplore,
And let us hear the mournful sigh no more,
Restrain the sorrow streaming from thine eye,
Be all thy future moments crown’d with joy!
Nor let thy wishes be to earth confin’d,
But soaring high pursue th’ unbodied mind.
Forgive the muse, forgive th’ advent’rous lays,
That fain thy soul to heav’nly scenes would raise.
2k
To say the least, I am lost and confused. Lost and confused in a city that is changing. A city that is growing. And I know it is, because I can feel it is.
Some days, sometimes even several times within the same day, I want to be at the center of the action. I want to be plugged into the social pipeline. A pipeline that leads straight from and directly to the gutter.
I think I just want fun. I know I want meaning. I think I know I want camaraderie. Friendship. Love?
At some points, I feel like all of this is pointless. It drags me down and creates a groove in which I neither fight to get out of, nor have to fight to continue on in. It's resistless and easy. It's not warm or cozy, but it becomes familiar and what's to be expected.
The lines between reality and imagination are ever-increasingly blurred to me. I do not know whether these people are pretending, or trying to hide, or pretending to try and hide who they are appearing to be. Are these walls really rotting and peeling or was it painted like this to look grunge?
I can no longer determine, cliche as it may be, if art imitates reality or vice versa. Is the music these people play directly resulting from and representative of them and their lives, or are they pursuing a highly regarded, in the hep world, a less fortunate and haggard lifestyle or "scene"?
Is the music and its energy a force, a presence, a power, an entity of its own? Inhabiting the body, possessing the mind, and flowing forth from the mouth of those without an identity of their own?
I don't know who I am. I know who I am to myself, as when I'm alone. But I do not know who I am to be or who I am to others. I have always found myself being drawn to mystics, magic, and power. But this is dangerous, weird, odd, foreign stuff. This is not stuff to be dealt with lightly nor to be done out in the light. It is shameful and secret and dark.
I am afraid. I am afraid of myself. I am afraid of the power I may possess, and I am afraid of the power that may possess me.
Jan 26, 2013
Jan 26, 2013 at 6:06 PM UTC
T h o u
Blowest into
My soul from above
A soft resistless
F l a m e of
L o v e
✒ ℐamil Hussain
Oct 28, 2016
Oct 28, 2016 at 12:38 PM UTC
LESBIA! since far from you I’ve rang’d,
Our souls with fond affection glow not;
You say, ’tis I, not you, have chang’d,
I’d tell you why,—but yet I know not.
Your polish’d brow no cares have crost;
And Lesbia! we are not much older,
Since, trembling, first my heart I lost,
Or told my love, with hope grown bolder.
Sixteen was then our utmost age,
Two years have lingering pass’d away, love!
And now new thoughts our minds engage,
At least, I feel disposed to stray, love!
“Tis I that am alone to blame,
I, that am guilty of love’s treason;
Since your sweet breast is still the same,
Caprice must be my only reason.
I do not, love! suspect your truth,
With jealous doubt my ***** heaves not;
Warm was the passion of my youth,
One trace of dark deceit it leaves not.
No, no, my flame was not pretended;
For, oh! I lov’d you most sincerely;
And though our dream at last is ended
My ***** still esteems you dearly.
No more we meet in yonder bowers;
Absence has made me prone to roving;
But older, firmer hearts than ours
Have found monotony in loving.
Your cheek’s soft bloom is unimpair’d,
New beauties, still, are daily bright’ning,
Your eye, for conquest beams prepar’d,
The forge of love’s resistless lightning.
Arm’d thus, to make their bosoms bleed,
Many will throng, to sigh like me, love!
More constant they may prove, indeed;
Fonder, alas! they ne’er can be, love!
1.2k
We must march, my darling
over there beyond the seas
up the mountains steep,
the world we seize.
So impatient, so young
fresh and strong,
full of pride.
We take up the task eternal,
All the past we leave behind;
not for us the tame enjoyment,
piercing deep primal need.
Till the sound of
far, far off
the day-break call.
Yet a passing hour I yield to you, as we go
Oh resistless, restless
Oh beloved
Oh my breast aches with tender love
I am rapt! with love
Delicate mistress,
starry mistress,
fanged and warlike mistress,
we must never yield or falter,
on and on,
moving yet and never stopping
All the pulses of the world
Falling in, they beat for us,
steady moving
Never must you be divided
Holding together, move united
Sweet silent lovers, you may sleep.
My soul and body,
curious with dreams,
wandering amid the shadows with the apparitions
All the dazzling days
all the mystic nights
Has the night descended? Do the sleepers sleep, the blanket on the ground?
have they locked and bolted the doors?
Was the road of late so toilsome?
Jan 19, 2010
Jan 19, 2010 at 5:59 PM UTC
I first scoped your ***
the glare of a gaze
moving up your chest
so clear, my thoughts could touch your *******
My heart pulsated
as with rhythmic muse
like a sonata created
within shades of midnight blue.
The appeal of your pose
enticing, like fire red diamonds
you burn my soul
giving me new strange desires.
Your lust of naked pipe dreams
henna in your hair
touched by falling sunbeams
how it flared.
I stared, resistless
like a moth burned by light
your hips paralyzed me
at first sight.
I'm caught in a haze
your beauty with complexity
got me caressing you, finessing you
out of your satin white *******
Your naval exposed in this place
and from the heat you perspire
sultry, exotic of taste
as I take you ever so higher.
**** in your own right
from head to toe
beautiful, everything fine
you should know-
you move me like strong ****
floating, intoxicated, choking
on the pearl of your seas
the dynamics, motion, dreams.
Your lips are of honey
tantalizing my mind
and your walk is all to me something
when you come by.
Silver moons at your feet
as I penetrate your garden
potent, you reek
the scent of aromatic blossoms.
Digging deep between your thighs
I can make lava flow
seismic reactions
till your soul rise.
I can bring you to ******
in this *** love, wet
****** positions
till ******* your brain affects.
Let me explore your mind
the distance to the size
till fluid flows down your legs
like the Niagara Falls.
I'll make you weak,
your body hot
like saffron... take flight
as I lick your thighs tonight.
Your ******* turgid
like grapes from the vine
I can be your dream lover
and each emotion define.
In the ****
me and you
foreplay on your ********
as ****** movements come in rhythms.
Do you feel me
I can see us clearly
me bouncing your pretty ***
in the moonlight.
Every deep stroke
poetry I wrote
pushing with intensity
till you moan.
This passion is strong
in and out till dawn
all around till you ***
call my name thereof.
You're fine, no lie
your form inviting
I can't stop writing
these seductive lines.
Your fingers outline my chest
the strength, virility
your submission demands
with each caress.
She is of regal beauty
Nefertiti of sunlight shades
and nights of seduction
only perfects her way.
Jul 26, 2020
Jul 26, 2020 at 7:00 PM UTC
Like resistless air torn by a bullet
Life unmasked itself in a baby
innocent, playful, illiterate...
for half a second or so,
and ran!
Past Mother who, amazed by your giggles,
called you mon âme!
Past father; arriving home
to say goodnight,
and a quick wave before bed.
Past school days and holidays,
taught to eat books and ***** information
lost through thorough knowledge!
Aye! Aye! Black cats and red eyed bats.
Past the lustbird who made love
to your left ear and slammed the other
shut!
Life passed your very black hair and set it white.
Seems like the bullet hit sharp in your chest.
And now a baby cries bald..
Jun 5, 2018
Jun 5, 2018 at 4:22 PM UTC
that's just how it works
It hurts, and you get away with it
and my heart will keep breaking for you
in the night
in the morning
over and over again
and I'll smell a phantom smell of the balm of your breath
on my very own
my tragedy, I suppose
and I'll miss it
I will miss the evil that I laid down to sleep with,
the impenitent sinner that I
never went too long without locking hands with;
the behemothing horror in the strength of his
not the blameless kind of might,
not for honor, not for virtue;
the kind of strength you can only misuse
and even so, I'll thread through those buried-in-weight benches,
through cold jurers, kooks, and voles
let my little voice sound from the stand in the tribunal -
- and I'm not sure what will happen, but
when it does, I'm sure you'll know
that's just how it works
It hurts, and you get away with it
and they seem to want to watch me
while I watch you do it all
all of the things you'll say - no words to me,
just a momentary gaze my way
so the imagination can run wild
and take a good clawed hold of me for the next month and a mile
and my heart will keep breaking, and
because I'll want to get closer,
I'll dovetail my hands
and I'll bleed all my noise
right there on the stand
and it will show in my voice
that I'm blind to the dance
a mote in the sun; a thing in the sand
I still hope that they'll see you
as clawed as you are,
the odd provocant you are,
stimulated by commotion
but the resistless tendency
is as good as a gun
the pause
the balm of your breath
the ghost of a second where I cry,
cornered,
and you lunge
so I'll see a phantom smile
in the way you snarl at me
and my heart will keep breaking for you
in the night
in the morning
over and over again
that's just how it works
and you get away with it
don't you?
will you get away with it, again?
threading,
like through the seats
of that little white chapel
those buried-in-weight benches
of cold jurers,
kooks,
and voles
I'm not sure what will happen, but
when it does, I'm sure you'll know
Oct 20, 2021
Oct 20, 2021 at 7:48 PM UTC