"temptingly" poems
The king and queen cried
“Bless us! We cannot conceive!”
And “blessed” they were.
Their heir, a miracle, a vision of royalties.
And so a celebration was in order
(as is most pertinent in events such as princess births)
to adorn the little lamb with gifts.
“Gifts”.
Whether the blame lies here or there
our princess lamb heir stands the most to suffer
in cases such as forgotten friends.
Or unforgetful vengeance--
So spite screeched an everlasting “CURSE THEE TO DEATH ON THE ***** OF A SPINDLE!”
And with a turn of its heels shock
set in.
...shock
sinks
in.
The well-intentioned sprite attempts to soften the wolf’s blow on our little lamb heir--
Only a nap--
only it would seem such in the conjecture of events.
Now no longer is she princess baby heir then does a spindle come alive
X winters later!
(convenient, one might say--in all the land one’s but burned, temptingly locked away in the curious tower)
Insert fainting sounds.
Insert crowded gasps.
Insert “told you so!”
And the sheep follow our little lamb’s sleep.
One hundred year sleep.
Hair follicles sprout a slimy green, and not-so-royal fungi flourishes--
brash brambles tuck in the herd as if to say
“Sleep tight!
Don’t let the mites bite!”
But not our little lamb.
Reassuringly beautiful princess lamb heir keeps
like red wine.
She is only to be drank up from the
right cup--
a proper lamb.
Prince Lamb.
Whose worries consist of much different things than our lamb heir--
but for another ‘lore.
Our Prince Lamb dips, sips,
lips on lips
and she is awake!
Beautiful princess lamb knows exactly what to make
of all this?
The sheep herd rises,
and their “joyous” bleating reverberate
and penetrate
cold castle walls and break down the thorny cover.
And they lived happily
(and most originally)
ever after--
as sheep tend to do.
Oct 4, 2014
Oct 4, 2014 at 11:02 AM UTC
Violet, in her blue dress
Of fresh, giddy dreams,
Flounces under waves of wind;
Twirling and bowing
To dandelion greens.
Throwing caution to the breeze,
Unveils her heart
With envious ease;
A natural flirt, and temptingly close
To feathery pink mimosa groves.
Jun 24, 2010
Jun 24, 2010 at 4:56 PM UTC
Restless days,
torturous nights.
Thinking.
Always thinking.
Click, click, click,
always clicking over in my head.
Snap to one image,
snap to the holiday you gave me,
snap to the dinners and treats,
you temptingly placed before me.
Fading hopes,
nightmares rising in the daytime.
Thinking.
Always thinking.
Click, click, click,
I confide in you what happened.
Why I’m always cold when
you reach to touch me.
Why I always patiently wait
for you to want to touch me.
Why I always wish to say
something but I hardly whisper instead.
And how it broke us.
Lasting, loving smiles,
darkening gazes and empty silences.
Thinking.
Always thinking.
Click, click, click,
I shared as much as I could.
I gave you whatever was
left over, still mine, not theirs.
You fell for me, I know you did.
Showered me with silken kisses,
steamy nights,
in all my curves
you found something beautiful.
Me on top, you
lulled me with sweet words.
I was like no other.
Fanciful dreams,
a bruised and aching reality.
Thinking.
Always thinking.
Click, click, click,
You made me want you, so badly,
because you believed I was good.
You handed me golden platters of
worth, passion;
I could finally acknowledge the shape
confidence takes.
It walked beside me.
I was foolish to place this charge in you.
Click, click, click,
Snap.
You promised you would always
be there.
You phrased such blissful melodies.
You wanted to be with me through anything.
You said that.
Why did the tide turn?
How do you go on pretending,
deceiving yourself,
when you said those exact words.
I heard you.
I heard you every night onwards.
I don’t believe you wanted to lie to me,
but you did.
You tore those stitches out,
thread by thread.
When you walked away,
leaving me turning to stone
in the freezing night air.
It whipped me, beat me and still
you didn’t look back.
Only now can I go to sleep,
knowing I don’t have to see you
imprinted
behind my eyelids.
I don’t crave you anymore.
Is it the same for you now?
Aug 3, 2016
Aug 3, 2016 at 4:56 AM UTC
The line on the sand
A scar on the flat surface
A wound from a knife
Temptingly perfect
The idealist’s barrier
Asking to be crossed
Begging to be crossed
Whispering dark promises
Of god, glory, gold
Seductively calling
“Step across my idealist
There will be reward.”
And the cry goes
Unignored by cur’ous ear
That quickly slips pass
So willingly to
Forget the line they, themselves
Drew not to be toucheded
Then they hide the line
Filling it with their morals
All to prevent shame
they draw a new line
On the morality plain
The old forgotten
This new scratch is soon
Crossed as swiftly as the last.
More soul left behind
Until there’s nothing
Just a dark spot in shadows
On the moon’s dark side
Sep 20, 2010
Sep 20, 2010 at 11:56 AM UTC
*Those tender soft lips,
Ah, those heavenly hips.
One'd never tend to miss,
After along time of resist,
He said:
"Girl, I would grab you from the hips,
Those big, cherry lips, I'd widly kiss."
She nodded her head,
And grabbed him by the shirt,
In a ********* scrumptious dissmiss,
She'd whisper and temptingly hiss,
"Boy, Take it easy!"*
© copy right protected
Aug 8, 2015
Aug 8, 2015 at 11:32 AM UTC
To explore the garden of Eden, beautiful in it's innocence. To savour the prospect of sin. To gaze with adoration at fruit bursting with juice hanging, temptingly low inviting, asking to be plucked. To fight desire, to give in and be, forever lost.
Dec 30, 2013
Dec 30, 2013 at 6:18 PM UTC
Sara L Russell, 28/2/14, 00:30
Given time
the inner eye of memory sees with softer reverie,
as through a muslin curtain; softly veiled and far away -
and how temptingly tranquil seem the waters of the past.
Given time
lost minutes lengthen into hours, to long-remembered days,
lost words that needed saying fall like petals in the rain
Turning slowly in the air until they fade to dust at last.
Given time
a distant haunting melody's translated into sighs
birdsong at morning lilting like a glimmering of streams;
and moments of reflection spill too swiftly through our hands.
Given time
dry leaves fly through the chilly air and scatter in the sky
summer will have her finery returned from green to gold,
and snow will cover everything, like time's relentless sands.
Feb 27, 2014
Feb 27, 2014 at 7:37 PM UTC
Gift wrapped,
so softly,
she
wishes
the touch of her lips
to fall upon his deepest dreams .
Gilded,
so delicately,
she
wants
memories of her fingers
to join his own on naked skin .
Smoothly,
so wholly,
she
welcomes
thoughts of his arms
wrapped around her.
Beribboned,
so gently,
she
wafts
scents of her hair
into his every waking moment.
Spoken,
so temptingly,
she
whispers
words of her heart
to ease his longing
from afar.
Wantonly, she waits.
May 21, 2012
May 21, 2012 at 10:17 AM UTC
She flashed her carmine smile at me,
lips spread like two blooming crimson petals,
beauty mark perched in a temptingly kissable spot,
just above her immaculate lip line.
Her fang tooth flirtatiously turned inward
& made her look as if
always brewing intent to initiate adventure,
certain to be pleasurable but prohibited,
& most surely to provide
ample opportunities to escape trouble
after having taunted it.
This minor imperfection served as a reminder that
her beauty was still human,
or else I'd have believed that
she was the product of a profoundly, elaborate hallucination;
that I had not yet woken from an impeccable dream.
She roused me up from my stupor & seduced me into sojourns
through the city blocks that lined our teeming, little hometown.
We stood out as dreamers
in a land full of people with their heads down
like drones, working for their hive.
She kept me feeling alive,
& questioning the complacency of my surroundings
in a muted, Midwestern mecca
where you are taught to accept what you are told
& swallow down bland traditions & institutions
like cold oatmeal.
She made me wish I was a boy
so I could seize her by the perfect slopes of her
statuesque cheekbones & paint my timid, **** lips
with her carmine smile;
but to play in her paint would be to stain harsh red
across the flawless landscape
of our very intimate understanding
of one another.
& so I long for Carmine.
Aug 27, 2015
Aug 27, 2015 at 12:23 PM UTC
this time different,
the crafting, the words knitted,
care taken, no quips or easy rhymes,
metaphors few, but the stitching is yet
rhythmic, disciplined,
beholden to its construct
~~~
yesterday,
spoke of the more and the ever less,
and the alpha seas restorative,
today,
*the ****** quick and the ever still*
the beating of jumpsuit orange fabric, wind-whipped,
musical homage to the terrifying
silence of a battlefield,
your utility belt,
body parts and soul silences,
a composition of what was
and what will now never be
you were there
you are there
witness-combatant,
no denying the voyeured carnage
of a human self destructing,
or being destructed in a way
**********turned you on,
worse, temptingly familiar
the horror meets you, it recognizes, locates
its place within that is stored close by,
where you keep it just close enough to surface
for quick retrieval
you postulate, pose, clap hands to heads,
make groanings awful, rethinking fearful pictures
I don't believe in free will
I don't believe in free
I don't believe in will
there is good and there is no good
there is the quick and the still
the still comes fast and stays longer,
the quick lasts longer, the obvious now
always seconds of too long,
all implausibly undenied and factually reversed
I hang myself crudely,
my throat slit quick,
and the still images that follows
everlasting and unerasable,
no matter how quickly,
how often temples hard squeezed
I see the images,
the quick and the still
they won't let go of me
text me that you know,
exactly what I mean,
know what I know
Aug 20, 2014
Aug 20, 2014 at 11:27 PM UTC
She brought me such pleasure
Sole mate of my soul
Her touch I so treasure
Her pain I so loathe
True love of my journey
How long has it been
Time cannot measure
As pleasures transcends
I’ll break down the walls
To be where you roam
I can’t wait to taste
The seeds we have sown
As I wait watching
The stars for a sign
My grip it grows tighter
Across space and through time
Her voice soothingly echoes
Lucid charm of my dream
Her body lies temptingly
Wide open for me
Prohibited by conscience
Still the gods they do dare
Shrouded in mystery
Shadow lovers beware
...
Mar 2, 2015
Mar 2, 2015 at 7:10 AM UTC
She brought me such pleasure
True mate of my soul
Her touch I so treasure
Her pain I so loathe…
As I wait watching
The stars for a sign
My grip it grows tighter
Across space in lost time…
Her voice soothingly echoes
Lucid charm of my dream
Her body lies temptingly
Wide open for me…
The world may prohibit
Still the gods they do dare
Desire of my soul
Sweet magic we share…
Jul 15, 2013
Jul 15, 2013 at 8:27 PM UTC
Curiosity killed the cat, is that so?
Yet the cat has still eight lives at hand
Day after day I pounce mindfully into the almost fantastical battlefield they created
That is so cunningly masked as it polar opposite
An endless field of love they advertise so temptingly
Yes eight lives with eyes newborn
That forever preserve my immortal memory-
Lessons learnt. Morals understood. Choices made
My feline eyes see in my darkness
Their glow shines a constant glowing light exposing your disguises
Yes, my transient companions
I see you
May 6, 2013
May 6, 2013 at 1:04 PM UTC
Beauty for a moment is found in cherry lips and the curve of hips,
Hidden in youth, seeming more lasting than in truth.
Beauty for a while can be found within a smile,
Temptingly genuine, but nothing one should trust in.
Beauty for this life should be in the heart of a husband or wife,
Lasting and faithful, and, of the earthly, the most stable.
Beauty for eternity is only ours through the blood of the One most Holy,
Given to those who believe in a Spirit that will never leave.
Put your trust in beauty...how long it will last is yours to choose.
Feb 9, 2011
Feb 9, 2011 at 8:08 PM UTC
The bones of my resolve
crumble porously,
muscles slackened
by stealthy Spirit-Flu
creeping into my psyche
when my guard is down,
leaving behind only
a molten mass
feverish and limp,
juicy veins squeezed
dry of life-force..
Sleep's finger-crook
beckons temptingly
offering blessed escape
temporary at best
from sickness of the soul.
Eileen Auger
March 21, 2008
Apr 25, 2014
Apr 25, 2014 at 8:44 PM UTC
Gift wrapped,
so softly,
she
wishes
the touch of her lips
to fall upon his deepest dreams .
Gilded,
so delicately,
she
wants
memories of her fingers
to join his own on naked skin .
Smoothly,
so wholly,
she
welcomes
thoughts of his arms
wrapped around her.
Beribboned,
so temptingly,
she
wafts
scents of her hair
into his every waking moment.
Spoken,
so softly,
she
whispers
words of her heart
to ease his longing
from afar.
Wantonly,
she waits.
Oct 17, 2012
Oct 17, 2012 at 3:12 PM UTC
She is but honey where pure, perfect passion races
Flowing in all the right satisfyingly sensual places
Somewhere between the slippery sheets digress
A sumptuous tease in a temptingly playful caress
I drip my hands slowly down her bare naked chest
Salty sweet, a delightfully tasty, slow sticky treat
She is the liquid, languid on my wandering tongue
Rolling around in her mouth as she's stung
Hers is the pleasure in the warmth of her heat
Warm flowing honey on milky white flesh
Sep 25, 2014
Sep 25, 2014 at 12:22 PM UTC
Listening to lapping waves
licking the curving shore
reminds me of your arms
leaves me longing for more.
If I could have one wish
on this very night
I would make love to you
until early morning's light.
I would lay beside you
trace every single plain
of your taunt shape
leave you calling my name.
Make you squirm
with sweating palms you'd clench the sheet
loving you long
make you complete.
Temptingly tease you
until you could take no more
drive you crazy
make you beg and implore.
Come way down
to bring you pleasure
throw open wide
sweet lover's treasure.
Leave you shaking
yet passion unabated
but physically
completely sated.
Nov 29, 2012
Nov 29, 2012 at 2:18 PM UTC
I have never encountered nature
In something so human
I have never encountered bark that
Sees with the glassy clarity of an eye
I have never wanted to touch the fog
So badly with my lips that I thirst.
I huddle on this packed earth
Making the decision of life or wonder
I skim freshly fallen needles near me
too afraid to grasp them
I drink water that is not fog and long
To jump into the mist that hovers.
I hold back as if there were a poison
Dripping as sap from each tree
The needles so fine and sharp
Gleam menacingly in filtered light
The mist without air poised temptingly
Ready to choke me at the first breath.
Helpless I rest with the decay
Hoping the sun will raise a new day
Burn off the mist that so enthralls me
Dry up the sap that bleeds from the trees
Sweep away the glinting needles
With a breath of air
Replacing the moon that so knowingly
Winks from above the trees.
Mar 17, 2014
Mar 17, 2014 at 9:53 PM UTC
The leaves are floating
sliding off your skin
The orange and reddish colors
perfectly match your hair
your eyes stand out more
their blue color so frail
yet so temptingly wild
I know you hate this season
but oh how it loves you
Sep 17, 2014
Sep 17, 2014 at 9:48 PM UTC
Let me tell you about him
He is so temptingly gorgeous
I linger to stay in his arms
Let me sing about his voice
A chorus about the way he’s laughter brights the whole room
I can even write a poem about his scorching brown eyes
An own verse for that smile that can melt the moon and bring the sun to his feet
We can talk about the dreamy boy that might be a illusion
You can only touch for a moment cause it will disappear
Something you taste once and then never again
A pleasure of heaven life gives you for a instant
If it wasn’t for my letters he will fade in time
But it will be a sin not to give the privilege of eternity to such a pretty soul
Apr 1, 2019
Apr 1, 2019 at 8:28 PM UTC
Don't throw
your love away,
I heard her say
one day.
She was sitting in a chair
with moonlight in her hair,
brushing her fingers
through the long locks
giving me looks.
I give no love away;
I spend it wisely,
I replied
(although I knew
I lied).
Real love is not
to be wasted,
she said
with a slight toss
of her head,
then went and lay
on the bed, and lying
back down on the bed,
indicated I lay
beside her
if I dare
or if cared to;
(I hesitated
what to do).
I won't bite,
she said.
I took in
the nightdress
she wore:
a dull red.
Not what I heard,
I told her.
She smiled
(the kind of smile
to drive me wild).
Well come try;
don't be shy,
she uttered
looking at me
temptingly
(silly me).
Do I dare?
(the T.S. Eliot poem
came to mind).
Come on,
she said,
don't keep me
waiting alone.
I stood looking at her
lying there:
do I dare to
eat a peach?
Or **** her fruits?
Taste my ware,
she said
with a slight shake
of her head.
Not sure,
I replied.
She lay back
and sighed:
don't throw
your love away,
I heard her say,
let me be
your testing ground.
I gazed at her
taking in her soft fruits,
but made no sound.
Nov 19, 2016
Nov 19, 2016 at 4:49 AM UTC
I like how one minute I'll be laughing
And then you'll kiss me
Passion floods between our lips
And you pull my body
Temptingly close to yours
And things aren't so funny anymore
May 25, 2014
May 25, 2014 at 1:45 AM UTC
You are the chills that make traveling down my spine its hobby
when your breath slides itself temptingly down the pattern of my sweating neck
and both of our names become a slurred chorus of too-close puffy lips and rolled back eyes and soft writhing hips being spoken over each other with more crescendo each time and louder and louder and you know my fingernails have always thirsted for your skin and my tongue has always pleaded to be a part of you and
my breaths have refused to do anything else than inhale your exhales.
The windows of your car are perspiring like us and I think the temperature is rising high enough for everything to explode.
I think this moment was always meant to happen.
Jan 22, 2014
Jan 22, 2014 at 2:21 AM UTC
It's the strangest thing.
You're across the room and I am relaxed but aware.
You're near me and I can talk and think, but I can't really focus.
Then you're close, and it's all I am aware of.
We're stood on the underground, talking confidently
Playing our game of flirting
And then the doors open and people pour on
Gently encouraging our bodies closer together.
He voluntarily moves closer, his face an inch from mine
And my mind numbs.
I can feel his arm against mine,
His breath on my face,
Our legs slightly entwined from the crowding,
And I freeze, both nervous and electrified
Aware of how easily I could embrace him
Aware of how much I want to.
The moment passes and my heart slows
But my body is more aware of his presence
Of how near to me he stands every so often
His face so temptingly close to mine.
I am so unsure of how he feels that I go over all the things that prove he likes me;
him placing gum in my mouth, avoiding my open hand
his eagerness to see me even when it's inconvenient
his intimate smile when I make him happy
his infectious laugh when I say something funny
his reference to our inside jokes
his snapchat showing that I am his favourite
But most of all his ignorance to my personal space
A space I want him in.
I count the minutes until you will invade it again.
May 24, 2015
May 24, 2015 at 7:07 PM UTC