"solacing" poems
Fatima Latima
I had wished I had no gift of sight
That the worst I could endure is hear you speak
And not snapshot the footfall of your gradation
You may not be a thief
Nor **** daughter of the dayspring
But definitely my heart you stole
I speak of the daughter of Arabia
Aesthetically, she rocks
The queen of the pilgrim sands
And aeonian desert stones
Beyond the hijab
Artistically knead with consummate craft
Like the relics of Mecca
Blest by the prophet’s bones
The blessed
I see torches
Beaming with intelligence
Within those mascaras
Exquisitely trimmed and vibrant
A lulu class botany
She fixes a searching gaze
As she saunters close
And the stride and tread
Beats a drum entrancing
Soothed in her solacing spell
I give in, to her lullaby
She halts her perambulation
Stands magniloquent and stupefy
Like some pop diva magazine pose
Or Victorian secret shot
A tactical derangement of her gluteals
As she rests her palm in its cleft
I feel contractions, my dartos muscles
The blew of summertime
Gently beats her exceptional form
Her belt submerge her thigh crevice
Cleft by the sundered rift of fleshy fat
Built by the dainties and delicacies
Seasoned by the finest Arabian chef
As her silken dress slithers and gowns
Under the breeze bulging and blooming
Like a rose blossom or sunflower fore
As she bends down
To assuage the burlesque
The sun specula lilts her sensational
Her smile apologetic bids me stillness
I am caught staring
Guzzling down her scent and
Feasting on empty imaginations
Of What If that accentuate the mind and
Speed a hormone
And I pray I sin no more
Next time we meet and I see her again
For I am but a writer
Learning to use my pen and paper
And hope you but forgive
My linguistic impotence
When I make my confession
Employing too plain a language
When I say thus;
Her smile is classical
Her walk magical
Her beauty celestial
Her stride sensational
Her religion ethical
Her character spotless
And that leaves me breathless
And forgive if I step on broken toe
And try speak of the unspoken
Her ****** is sacred
Her being a type that dresses up
In the milliards of brutes dressing down
And shamelessly style it fashion
I must see a priest
One confession I ought to utter
And even vociferate abroad
For once I had fallen in love
With an Arabian Beautie
A ****** of Mecca.
Jun 18, 2012
Jun 18, 2012 at 9:12 AM UTC
Path less traveled, Path unknown.
Mountains, Sand, rocks and stone.
No water, vegetation so scarce.
Sun at its ugliest, sun so fierce.
In this wilderness I fear I'll get lost.
I dread I'll be ruined, I will exhaust.
Some say this road will never end;
More I travel, more it will extend.
Soothing sound tells me to continue;
Sun is yet to set, travel miles few.
The heat forces me into a slump.
Solacing sound gives goosebump.
Very soon the blazing sun will fade.
I search tree with hundred years of shade.
They say to give up in this dusty heat.
I seek Gardens with rivers underneath.
Nov 6, 2014
Nov 6, 2014 at 9:12 PM UTC
.
*mourning dove coos echo
across dawn’s dappled silence--
only these quiet pauses of breath
hush the dew droplets passive trickle
poignant traces of a solacing gravity
seep down through fogged portals,
cascading earthward from above
a symphony of pining pleas
from dew impearled wild feathers
a simple prayer of hope--
to be held
in breathless warmth,
in the amity .
of compassionate comfort,
nestled intimately
beneath another’s assuaging wing*
© wild is the wind
Feb 8, 2016
Feb 8, 2016 at 11:41 AM UTC
ADORN LIFE WITH TWO PRECIOUS JEWELS , READ AND TRAVEL !
FOR READING GIVES WISDOM TO THINK
WISDOM TEACHES ONE TO TRAVEL,
DEEP WITHIN .
SOLACING IN THE BEAUTY OF SELF-GROWTH , THROUGH A ROAD OF SELF REALISATION .
NO SHORTCUTS , NO PREPERATION .
TRAVELING FROM THE UNREAL TO REAL , STRIVING THROUGH THE UNPREDICTABLE !
READING BETWEEN LIFE'S CHAPTERS AND LEARNING LESSONS FROM THE TRAVELS ,
TRAVELING THROUGH THE RIGHT PATH EACH LEADING THROUGH THE HEART .
TURNING THE JOURNEY OF LIFE INTO A BEAUTIFUL CHART .
A WANDERLUST TRAVEL FOR THE ULTIMATE GOAL ,
TRANSFORMING THE SELF INTO A ENLIGHTENED SOUL !
©Mrunalini.D.Nimbalkar
Feb 26, 2019
Feb 26, 2019 at 11:25 AM UTC
If only there were words
to the unspoken verses
when silence is the only sound
More than only
near paralyzing torn,
weary of searching endlessly
for what cannot be found
silence whispering poignantly
drowning out the midnight rain,
There is no more sorrow
in search of the lost
unstrummed guitar chords
Unwritten psalms
forever left unsung;
without amity,
woe betides an unfinished,
abandoned heart's song
Only a heart lonely knows,
there is no absolving darkness
whispering of screaming silence
by night and by day:
"all things must steal away"
not to be thought of wanderings end
as a velvety-crimson rosebud
shamelessly withers brown
Swirling eddies stir
a black swan of loneliness
swimming within the flood
of raven river waters'
silently eclipsing
its pitch black flow
Muted pleas silent as pity
blowin' in the fleeting windsong,
speaking in beckoning salutations
singing in sweetly beseeching tongues
Like the hush of a pensive soul,
once touched by another, moved
like a bedrock marrowed mountain
left stifled, stranded and wondering,
feeling an awkward silence
when the leaves come falling down
There are no misbegotten promises
cast lightly in the moonlight’s restless spell;
there is no solacing stillness
when silence is the only sound...
Mar 11, 2017
Mar 11, 2017 at 8:46 PM UTC
I came close to sight of a place once called Home.
I know in the crevices, our hearts beat together.
In the grass where we rolled,
in the trees where we climbed,
on the roads that we walked,
and, once, made art upon,
in the water we ran through,
and swam in,
and, once, dunked each other into, and, once, poured over each other,
on the coach where we laid,
whispering solacing words to keep ourselves refreshed,
In the kitchen where you worked hard to accomplish and I worked hard to distract,
on the floor where we rested at the edge of a day,
In the snow which we absorbed through cotton clothing and malleable minds,
Through the flowers where we ran, skipped, and took a few resplendent bluets or chaste anemones,
Yes - Even under the blankets where our love echoed
the sheets and reverberated back to
ourselves in a transient moment,
By the fire we would build before a cool summer night (which we then gazed at the heavens above)
but, under the clouds we watched and the stars we mapped.
In these crevices our hearts beat.
That is why, as you can see, our hearts beat poorly now:
They still beat in all of those crevices.
And as I got closer and closer to approaching your house, sitting next to a driver who looked upon me realizing (but probably not understanding why) that I was in a mental breakdown,
and I whispered love words to you through a foggy glass window,
A panic knocked the air from my lungs and a fear knocked me flat on my back,
-until, that is, we turned opposing roads and retreated back,
my tail beneath my leg.
And now that my chance is gone, I long to see home again.
So, and it is, so my heart can feel at ease and rest once more.
My dearest desire, my rambunctious "Fish"
(If you recall that story)
Does your heart still beat alongside mine?
Are the tears that stain your face, dripping onto the floor, forming just as quick as mine?
Are the hours passing as slowly for you as for me?
Do you miss home?
Oct 31, 2011
Oct 31, 2011 at 11:27 PM UTC
Of ways unknown, my lascivious desire
What formed of a spark has churned to a fire
And from that birth comes its reverence
And my eyes towards you can find it's preference
You, prodigious in strength, cause me to flake
And my weak heart you'll gregariously take
Abhorred by all and all that I know
Is that I'm destined to traverse here alone
Yet, I stand on ankles to ascertain your directions
To feed my inherent need for your affections
O Heart! O Head! You strive to appease
And your solacing way turns men to fleas
Lust, dripping slow, being rain on my skin
is the closest way I have to letting you in.
Nov 4, 2011
Nov 4, 2011 at 11:58 AM UTC
Never familiar with pain or heartache until the universe decided it was time that you learn
From the mellow mornings accompanied by the solacing scent of pancakes from the kitchen
Where the most pleasant dynamic was once known to exist
To hardly being able to make it out of bed by noon
Through your most dreaded midnight breakdowns, you analyzed all misfortune, deep in thought
Restlessness recited its hymns, your demons listened attentively
Pain painted the way you saw the world
You let them feed off of your insecurities and take advantage of your vulnerability
They hypnotized you with persuasion
With a promise to provide you with the attention your soul so desperately sought
Misled about a thousand times, you were left with nothing more than a burning desire for clarity in your own emotional instability
Digging , scouring, attempting to grasp any sense of your own identity you might still recognize
As you were forced to lock away all the bittersweet memories
And were simply implemented to accept gods choice
You realized that there may never be justice
It may forever have left you scarred
But those who’ve walked with you will understand the inescapable reality of abandonment
You may have ultimately shattered and left shards to cut those who tried to get near you but that was growth in the midst of all the flame
And the garden that was so wonderfully planted stayed in it’s place without any glue, or tape, or honey to crystallize
And your flowers continued to bloom with stems cut and roots torn.
-g.s
Jan 21, 2019
Jan 21, 2019 at 1:07 AM UTC
There are advantages
To isolation of romance
And anything regarding emotion
But at the end of the day
Despite the thought of freedom
And repetitive reflections of past discomfort
It is challenging to lay alone
Slowly becoming accustomed to a bed to yourself
Realizing the new space and profound independence
But I will always miss the warmth of a body
There is something captivating about flesh on flesh
Body on body, enveloping each other in balmy breaths
Tangling legs like tired shoe laces
Wrapping tightly, pushing away the thought of anything else
There is something peaceful about that
Though cold sheets are refreshing
Warm bodies are reassuring
There is something about the way it feels
The way their chest rises when they breathe
Not even realizing how you have memorized how it elevates
There is nothing more tranquil
I know that living it up and being free is wonderful
Never taking the risk of heartbreak is solacing
Doing what you please, when you please is disentangling
Absence of amour is sometimes divine
But every craves affection intermittently
Even if they do not admit to it
Jan 22, 2015
Jan 22, 2015 at 10:13 PM UTC
In the deepest recesses of surreal imaginings,
Issireen awaits to appear in lucid dream
--with a headdress made of a jade of
ivory green upon her spirituous head
of purposeful crystalline.
The only gateway to attain the pure excesses
of her beam, and all that she possesses
is the gleaming illumined stream.
To float on by the mysterious ringing spheres
one by one, finding balance in your curious thinking years,
will gently make ripples where there once were none,
and in the hereafter they make still or remove your weighty tears.
The sole visionary can stir a pool of serenity into chaotic
energies --asymmetries of colors, forms and densities;
which reveal aerie little faces which are reflections of dull
or intense entities. But if you try to seize the intangible wakes
caused by the faerie fins that race --*like wings in the wind
of other realities*-they will glide thru your fingers like solacing
rain, casually and without pain.
Motion begets motion here, with a sweet gentle touch, as the
oceans of thought first do retreat before the inevitable rush.
Upon your arrival, Issireen can then emerge materialized full
into ethereal space with her hind wings draped over her uniquely
featured legs --outspread across the landscape.
She will be drawn beyond compare. When her immortal image
begins to take shape, a dreamer could naught but feel, but stare. Her eyes will seem to reveal raging complex colors, within
the borders of the iris is the reel of the engaging onyx shutters --into which you will then be the one drawn, drawn into those inescapable eyes. Drawn into the back of beyond -where tranquility lies unsurpassed in it's attribute.
Hear all the sounds that were never mute, see the banners outstretched
but never torn -instruments playing, stars that shoot, and lights that are forever on.
Nov 13, 2014
Nov 13, 2014 at 2:01 PM UTC
The words fell like sugar cubes
That nana adds to her tea
In abundance ;captivating with a perennial charm
Blending in as they found snug in its arms.
And to me, it is strange yet satiating
An endless rhapsody.
Then I wonder,
What if our words to one another were also melded,
With the right proportion of sweetness?
There will be no war ,no weapons the only option
Just words.
As solacing as nana's tea;
Sometimes I wonder.
Jan 4, 2018
Jan 4, 2018 at 8:19 AM UTC
Sitting here with nothing on my mind
Lightning struck through me and there I was
It was absolutely nothing on my mind!
Should've been the one bursting these crackers.
Then it struck me like it always does.
Solacing through the darkness
Pushing everyone off
Laughing in tears with a heart full of ache
Fireworks filling in the core
Bursting in the joy of splintering
I know what it is
I sure as hell know what it will be
Just let me cry.
Just let me mourn me.
It is me right here with a soul so dead searching for a tomb.
Yet I'm alive
Yet I'm alive.
Mar 19, 2020
Mar 19, 2020 at 7:53 AM UTC
DARK WATERS
In these dark waters come the drawn dreams
up from my frozen heart the water glitters spring
I hold on standing tall in the dusk of hope
I listen from distance the songs of the birds
the songs of frogs that are all in love,
I dreamed of the battle of love
I dream that one day my prince will find me
Year's had passed in silence in the midnight moon
I see an old scarecrow out of my window
standing alone in a corn field in weird hollows lonely
while the ravens sleep making dreams,
I see in the loss of days’ women planting seeds
singing songs of ancient times
Old poets come to my mind like King Solomon and King David
While wild geese write a line
Flapping across the sky,
while the old moon shines so bright in the night
to celebrate a New Year
A poetess write in the tingling of the night the last verses
''Oh, ' full moon you seen everything that this old life brings
Solacing my forty-eight years to pass to my forty-nine
let this poetess of who I am keep on writing my death bed.
Poetic Judy Emery © 2015
The Queen Of Darken Dreams Poetic Lilly Emery
Feb 28, 2017
Feb 28, 2017 at 4:36 PM UTC
There’s no one for me
But the love I share with thee
When I peep your light bright delight
When I stare into your fiery striking eyes
You take me to another time
You make me want to fly
On a first-class flight to your paradise
Bask in your immaculate passionate majesty
Relax into the soft cosmic rhythm
Of your dopacetic majestic body
Lapse into your starry solacing ardor
Take in the way you sparkle
Like the unconquerable March stars
Float in your boat of strong, engrossing emotions
Fill my resplendent romantic poetry flow in your soul
As you fold me in your globe
Envelop me in your cold potion
Overflowing with machoness
Shower me with your high-spiritedness
Provide me endless seamless tenderness
Take over my cosmos
Love me the most
Keep me close to you and never let go
Let me slosh on a dose of your dopeness
Feel you forever in my vessel and never reject
Your extra delectable and unattackable flex
‘Cause it’s all I need in this lifetime to treasure
Jun 22, 2022
Jun 22, 2022 at 6:44 PM UTC
His rich, mellifluous smoothness is
Exceedingly sweet, slick, and poetic
Pure, perennial, and ethereal
His distinctly delectable smell
Lingers ever so seamlessly
On my magnificent delicate neck
In the warm solacing Saturday morning
I take immaculate satisfaction
In the brightness and delightfulness
Of his metallic masculine flesh
Coalescing with my soft, pleasant flesh
I am highly mesmerized by
His gleaming essential dreaminess
How he arouses my inner world
Sketches his infinitely alluring art
On the fresh heavenly pages
Of my beating heart
May 14, 2022
May 14, 2022 at 6:05 PM UTC