"thirsts" poems
Ah yes, the magic of human touch,
Trusting to warm my soul's skin
Tis nature of loves connection, as such.
My body accepts, oh if you only knew
Like an honored guest, I grin
Anticipating the pleasures, one of the few.
Skin to skin, our bodies converse.
Uninhabited, my mind wander
Deep inside, my craving thirsts.
Artful hands sculpt with purpose
Lulling layers open, you're quite the artist
Soothing caress melt my body formless
I'm yours, silently, I surrender.
As my flesh cries out for more
Arching waves of splendor
Rewarded my senses sated.
With newfound clarity reborn
Mind, body and spirit replenished.
I thank you for your gift of touch.
Lovingly, I would return the favor,
as such.
Oct 19, 2015
Oct 19, 2015 at 11:34 PM UTC
My mind is abuzz,
Like a hummingbird does.
It can't be still,
And it was my will
To make everything so,
Because how will I know
The outer limits of my essence
Without spiritual lessons?
Self-taught, fear not,
Happiness is sought
Through a curious burn.
The lessons I learn
From engaging my mind,
Is that I am not blind
To tuning into frequencies,
And avoiding delinquencies
With each new experience,
Learning to control delerience.
My inner being thirsts
For a gift labeled a curse.
I want to break these chains,
Be more than insane.
I want to be free
To be the real me.
Every great individual
Has ideas that are sensational.
So say what you will,
I will have these spiritual spills,
That shakes where I dwell,
And brings me out of my shell.
I have the right to engage
With my mind, uncaged.
Hummingbirds die
If they are caged inside.
May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 9:26 PM UTC
She is a solemn wanderer,
A daughter of the road
The crunch of moving gravel
Is like balm upon her soul.
Each rambling, easy footstep,
Within each languid stride,
Keeps the poison thoughts
From taking root inside her mind.
Each footstep is a triumph
That pushes her along
Each gasping breath that fuels her
Is a lyric to her song.
At times she is a vagrant
When there is no place to go
When nothing feels familiar but
The stone that coats the road.
At times she is a traveler
That thirsts for foreign lands
Her mind drifts off to mountain sides,
Or golden sprawling sands.
And most times she’s a dreamer
Thinking of the day
She’ll let her restless, resolute legs
Take her far away.
In all, she is a wanderer,
A daughter of the road
Putting space between her thoughts
Upon the open road.
Jun 25, 2014
Jun 25, 2014 at 10:31 PM UTC
Brother, our young summers held us in a long chain like the phalanx of bronzed soldiers forward flung,
And the lion was skinned and hung out to dry like the sunned-fur of the beach at Marathon.
Brother, help me to dream again.
Brother, our yellowed days shook us like serried Hoplites of an atomic age,
Shoulder to shoulder, friction rubbed, all ranks split from the fissioned-flanks.
Brother, help me to dream again.
Storm-footed Titans of heat, dust, and irradiated wind pry from a ruptured Tartarus,
The flanks are an open pulse; the scorch-song thirsts for its sea-cooling to stone.
Brother, the lion lives that wears your skull around its mane.
Brother, dream of me again, of Persian arrows and lances,
And my fallen eyes instead of yours pouring in
With a sea of lavender water and mists
And summers of once-were.
Jun 8, 2019
Jun 8, 2019 at 8:59 PM UTC
I feel the selfishness beginning to sprout
Growing vast in a world already at stake
I can only see two hands reaching out
The right will give as the left will take
The world thirsts for the rush of greed
If we had it all we would still want more
We claim we care for the ones in need
When all of our riches feed off the poor
©
May 19, 2016
May 19, 2016 at 5:57 PM UTC
Dragonfly o Dragonfly
framed against a lazy summer sky,
you'll hover and ponder out yonder,
like an acrobat you fly.
You'll dance and dart, hover and peer,
Touching, stalking, feathered walking.
On pond shadows dark and near,
onto sunbeams sparkling clear.
Casting imaged reflections,
on a mirrored surface of life's crystal pond.
Where ever-diminishing dainty rippled circles,
disappear onto a distant misty shore beyond.
You'll ponder and peep,
through dark secrets your pond might keep,
captured images of animals & bees,
scented flowers & soft young trees.
About political boundary bursts,
and agonizing desert thirsts.
While strife-torn agony song is being sung,
at the scorching heat of the searing Sun.
Witnessing a climate change,
Industrial, Oil, Air & Waste pollution.
With no workable cleanup program in site,
to warrant a solution.
Our planet's resources stretched,
to its limits by human misery & industry untold.
Life's habitats are disappearing,
the beginning of Earth end is nearing.
It is inevitable that soon, to soon,
after million a year, on life's crystal ponds so clear.
You'll too succumb to man's industrious endevours,
and for eternity disappear.
Andreas Strauss.16 June 2007
Nov 24, 2015
Nov 24, 2015 at 4:16 AM UTC
Touching her flesh
creates a fiction
that ignites
flames that burn
within my *****
my flesh thirsts
for her to quench
my desires.
Jul 2, 2019
Jul 2, 2019 at 8:42 PM UTC
My life is simple, humble pleasures
The girl I love, summer leisure
‘The Duke is dead’ the prime minister says
‘Your time has come, you must do your best’.
My heart grows large, my eyes turn red
One final kiss, I lose my breath
My mother weeps, my father stares
His parting words ‘you must do your best’.
We train for the task that lies ahead
Our tools of evil, our countries crest
Brothers forever, until the end
The sergeant says sternly ‘you must do your best’.
The foreign soil, our blood it thirsts
We do not falter, we march and curse
We face our destiny, we march abreast
My father’s voice follows me ‘you must do your best’.
The fight is hard, our spirit put to the test
Death follows us, we cannot rest
Our bravery triumphs, ‘oh how our country will be impressed’
We do our duty, we do our best.
But the victory is fleeting, our brothers fall
Staring eyes, cold skin, we loved them all
Our grief immense, we lay them to rest
They were the bravest, they did their best.
The darkness surrounds us, our souls to stone
They want to end us, to send us home
I raise my weapon; one man lay dead
I have taken, life most precious, I have done my best.
The war is over, the Duke avenged
We wander home, those who were left
return to crowds, they stand abreast
They thank us all, ‘You are the best!’
The war is over, still a battle I fight
My hands tremble, sleepless nights
I see his face, where his body rests
My heart is cold, no pride, but guilt instead ‘I did my duty, I did my best’.
My parents proud, my love distressed
My suffering is silent, put to them instead
They grieve for me, the boy that left
The Man, broken, who survived, who tried his best.
A fatherless son, sonless mother
A widowed wife, man’s lost brother
Their pride is poison, a shot to my chest
I confess my sins, they do their best.
My life was simple, now changed beyond measure
The girl my wife, our children treasures
‘The Duke is dead!’ she says to them
‘Your father went, he did his best’.
Sep 7, 2018
Sep 7, 2018 at 9:01 PM UTC
I leaned my aching head into the bottle,
Drinking it all in,
Your tongue thirsts for me,
You can't get my name off your lips,
Your hands wrap around my hips,
Telling strangers how beautiful I am,
I'll shove you away,
*******
At
His
Finest
May 4, 2015
May 4, 2015 at 7:58 PM UTC
Let me
Sleep on petals
Flown at papers
When my nights are autumn
And my mind
sheds all
That it grew
Through the day - my springs
I bloom
with feelings
And afternoons
have rained
Rainbows into me and
hues cascading out of me
Now I know what poetry is.
My roots forget
The taste of soil
they keep on digging,
No, love seeped too deep this time.
And my words dew too much
Emotions that
My leaves
now loathe sunlight.
And the birds have left
A home in me,
all empty
I am all alone,
Save me.
And you, like a wind
I feared all these years
Only to lift me up,my wilted verses
Are half dead,muses still breathing
Craving a death so bad
You blow , you blow
Against all my skin and swishing my hopes up
Making me see
The sky again and again.
Let these desires rest
Enough of throwing them at the clouds.
You go, another desert thirsts for life.
My poetry always foliages from memories anyway.
- Srijani Sarkar
Nov 16, 2017
Nov 16, 2017 at 6:56 AM UTC
I imagine you
ever blooming
ever radiant
ne'er had you budded
nor will you wilt
poise pristine
artful to the letter
my memories of you
shall ne'er
idle in memoriam
they are
crisp and clear as daybreak
the sight of you breaks me open
not the raging flow of magma
nor the rushing of a river
neither the shooting of a star
ne'er the passing of time itself
what flows from me is pure
as it must be to be worthy
of your charm and wit and passion
my veins pulse with imbibed inspiration
I drink you in like forests drink the universe
slow and gentle
patient and careful
deep thirsts masked by soft touch
lust of your form masked by song
for your beauty is lyric personified
you are desire's orchestra
a tempest of pleasure
a monolith of midnight
towering with grace
casting shadows that embrace
long, oh, long I wait
in the dark
of the folds of your flower
caressed by your mercy
your silken petals soothe me
as I dream
as I pine
for a taste sure to be sweeter
than the bitter chaste of loneliness...
Oct 18, 2022
Oct 18, 2022 at 10:37 PM UTC
I'm not quite sure why I feel this way
Why in my bed, my legs feel tired
In my head, my heart feels numb
Why my lips feel dry without gin passing through them.
Chapped and sore, my patience like my lips thirsts
for a numbing draft of spirit to quench.
Spirit is exactly what I need
to instill charm into this hopeless mind.
If only charm poured as easily as gin
from the bottle so green with envy
and malice and wickedness.
Heavy, silver liquid within.
I hope I'm drunk
because if this is what sober is like,
I don't want to be sober -
Better pour myself another glass.
Onto the old slice of lime.
Apr 30, 2015
Apr 30, 2015 at 1:42 PM UTC
There's a place in her mind
where he can not reach,
no matter how deep
his longing goes.
Her form lies with his
but her closed eyes are
drinking in worlds
he never could,
no matter how much
he thirsts.
She's breathing in
ethereal elements
his lungs will never know,
because she is his dreamer.
May 26, 2015
May 26, 2015 at 11:29 AM UTC
I want to descent the well,
I want to climb the walls of Granada,
To gaze at the heart graved
By the dark stylus of waters.
The wounded child moaned
With a crown of frost.
Ponds, cisterns and fountains
Raised their swords in the air.
Ay what fury of love, what a wounding edge,
what nocturnal murmurs, what white deaths!
What deserts of light went destroying
the sand-dunes of dawn!
The child was alone
Wth the sleeping town in his throat.
A fountain that rises from dream
guarded him from thirsts of seaweed.
The child and his agony face to face,
Were two green entangled showers.
The child stretched on the ground
his agony bent on itself.
I want to descent the well,
I want to die my death by mouthfuls,
I want to fill my heart with moss,
To see the one wounded by water.
2.5k
It simmers inside like a *** set to boil, this roiling bubbling never ending restlessness. Like a rabbit in the forest, seeming content for a time, yet never letting down the guard. Always alert, always watching, always ready to run. Fight or flight a way of life, there is no life without this strife. Content to be and sit and relax, claw my eyes out like angry cats. Punching holes in walls with fists, and screaming into pillow fits. Drinking drowning all it out, for false release and sultry pout. Use them up and toss them out, not what you were talking about. You knew you needed something there, to make this life seem somewhat fair. Nothing going right at all, this anger eating feed it’s call. growing green monstrosity threatening lives all around me with negativity. Bringing darkness to the light the shadowed soul of fight or flight. The angry red and growing pain is searing every dried up vein. Till nothing left but this monster, blinded slave to all it’s incurred. Anger never served it's master, turns the tables shackles of disaster, and satisfaction never gained by feeding what it thirsts in vain this rain of destruction all around never makes a life abound. The monster growing stronger still will hunger more and never filled and feed it though you might and try it will never ends until you die.
Unless you take a sword of light and fight it with nobility and tell it truth and peace and love and right it with humility. It can be beat, it can be killed, it does not have to win. Surrender anger to the Lord, and turn back from your sin.
Jul 21, 2019
Jul 21, 2019 at 5:16 PM UTC
In the dunes, the dust raises a dirge
echoing in the nooks of Qardu:
prophet of the pasts, a ghoul
who led an arc on to the mountain
singed by the daystar where now,
men cut their hands to quench infant-thirsts.
And outraged women wail into the nights.
All for this? All for this? The anguished
song in the valley in an archaic tongue
that the Spirit stands surveying
that called out a fire off a bush, leading
a nation out of wilderness. Now, who
delight in murdering children.
The emperor of the world, is busy playing ball
offering the slaughtered heads to Quetzalcoatl,
and a beating heart plucked out
of a terrified infidel does not move him
as much as the stench of oil. Black
is the song of despair whispering in the smoke
blighting the reign of K'inich Ajaw,
all for this, Marya, all for this?
And the chief of Angles is dismayed, the
spoils of crusades blow back as young men
disappear from your homes, emerging
as butchers in black baying for slaughter,
journeying to the worlds end with
Gilgamesh along the Tigris.
Aug 21, 2014
Aug 21, 2014 at 5:51 PM UTC
Your toothbrush still has the paste on it
The plate shattered in fragments of you
The glass still has your lip stain on
This bed I'm sleeping in still smells of you
Lying to myself that you'll comeback
Leaving him and crying and knocking on the door begging to come in
But hey, who am I kidding..
*Put the car in reverse as you slipped into neutral
A gear must've rusted; I trust the machine busted
because things became mechanical, to be truthful
Major malfunction--our junction ceased to be lusted
by my soul's circuits and tired wires proved to be liars
I thought I knew what I wanted, but I was wrong
My cogs, guts and screws became loose in the mire
of our muddled love, where I did no belong*
What worth is living when everything ran rampant silhouettes of you
Running through these polaroids on the wall
I did get out, but it's you everywhere I go
You have etched this fire in my heart
When it burns when we're in love
And when it burns my soul
To ashes remnants of you
Trying my best to get out
I knew you were trouble from the start
But my heart's like a glass thirsts for that lust
Now broken brittled into pieces
Fragments no longer could be fitted
*Puzzle pieces and Polaroids for the incinerator
A conflagration consuming our condition
where you fail to see what I fail to do
I may be coldly pieced together, but I'm no traitor*
***My love was just another raggedy rendition,
But your eyes are the demons haunting you***
Jan 27, 2015
Jan 27, 2015 at 11:54 AM UTC
Far from the world, O Lord, I flee,
From strife and tumult far;
From scenes where Satan wages still
His most successful war.
The calm retreat, the silent shade,
With prayer and praise agree;
And seem, by Thy sweet bounty made,
For those who follow Thee.
There if Thy Spirit touch the soul,
And grace her mean abode,
Oh, with what peace, and joy, and love,
She communes with her God!
There like the nightingale she pours
Her solitary lays;
Nor asks a witness of her song,
Nor thirsts for human praise.
Author and Guardian of my life,
Sweet source of light Divine,
And, -- all harmonious names in one, --
My Saviour! Thou art mine.
What thanks I owe Thee, and what love,
A boundless, endless store,
Shall echo through the realms above,
When time shall be no more.
2.1k
I am Janus, born and lived of two faces.
One, a tragic Hero; who loved for all and forsook fame for honor.
A paragon whose powers and skills remained dormant, forgotten.
Created from a darkness so black that light could only ever be the way forward.
He, so loving the world and resigned to protect; would fall at the strength of his own sword to keep the Villain at bay.
His other face, the frightening Villain; he thirsts for the unparalleled fear in the eyes of the unprepared masses, who wide awaken their darkest fear before their very eyes, at his presence.
Forged from the evil of a holy goodness ripped too sweetly from his purpose, and with much foreknowledge of the searing light;
He merely wishes to satiate his amusement, by enslaving the Hero to defend against his endless onslaught.
I am Janus, cloven in two;
Heart and Soul, Mind and Body.
Apr 19, 2013
Apr 19, 2013 at 1:50 PM UTC
Global Extinction
The fires you start will come back and burn you.
The idiots are in charge and they deny the truth.
Enjoy the sunshine whilst remaining blind to the drought.
We as a species deserve to be dying out, no doubt.
When the waters rise and the lives disappear,
You will turn around and ask to hear,
But it will be too late to make a change.
The end is nigh, if things stay the same.
The sun is nice, until it is not.
The sea’s will rise and the land it will go.
The bats have all died because it is getting too hot.
Welcome to your inferno.
No fossil fuels left for you to dig, you dig?
You will be left on your little island, surrounded by what you did.
Emptying the ground for oil and gas.
The life they have, the life they must have.
The gas has taken the future and all the president can do is laugh.
I guess he knows that money talks.
The silent majority will rise and tear down your new wall.
Protest against the murderers, they **** the planet while I write verse,
To tell a tale of man-kinds fail; the words will never be heard.
Extinction Rebellion;
Our future wails.
No more extinction! No more contradictions.
No more self-punctured nails.
Once upon a time a clean air act was written as a promise.
No take backs, set in stone, the lies beat the Hell out of being honest.
The Earth is empty, it’s elementary. If you eat until it is all gone,
You will get a nice tan from a hundred degree sun.
Speaking like a hurricane, tornado range,
It’s climate change.
The amazon is nearly gone, because Mr. Amazon is number 1.
The Earth is first, humanity thirsts,
I see no saviour fighting for our Earth.
All that remains is a scorched planet.
Just one more degree and we have all had it.
Polar bears drown, forest fires.
When the power ends and the planes are all downed,
We will be climbing the trees to get higher.
The tsunami will set us free,
By wiping out man’s technology.
Welcome to another ice age.
Man will walk alone one day.
The last man on Earth will have his say,
But nobody will ever hear him again.
For too long now we have all stood still,
By driving pollution through our hearts.
We have all become so ill.
This is how the evil starts…
(C)2019 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Jul 18, 2019
Jul 18, 2019 at 11:13 AM UTC
He knows what lies below.
This is where it all began: here
Beneath the bubbling sludge and ******* mud.
This is the home brew, the cocooning grounds.
His sturdy boots trudge through,
Hefting questions and glasses askew.
Somewhere to the side a fat swamp prince
Composes bog rhymes in ribbit meter.
Each squelching step sets a buzzing bunch
Of crystal dragons zipping away to
Slick peridot pontoons. A loon swoons
The expeditioner with a sobbing cry. He
Has said goodbye to reservations, to the
Long-dead preservation rights. He slogs through
The buzzing night. Yellow daggers clench
Between scaly steeltrap snappers and stones
With eyes blink in languid surprise, unnoticed.
He is lost, dying, unsure of his quest. He needs a
Cure. He knows it lies here, in the beginning place.
Their faces haunt his deathly guts and crush
His straining heart with need - need for the solution.
Need to survive, to prolong his life - alone!
So alone: the last. If only he could rest.
His nostrils quiver with the homesick stench
Of tails becoming legs and nipping lips sprouting
Sticky tongues. The answer, he is here for the
Only answer. Something below, below, down
In the dredges of history - in the slime of
Centuries, rotless and preserved. He will find it:
Some link, some closer thing he can revive
And test and rest as bedrock for his life.
A foot sticks in the overfriendly tar. No,
He will not pause. He has come too far.
In the birthing grime, some hungry memory wakes.
It knows what lies above, it thirsts to cease it.
It reaches, roils, pulls, rips with smelly squish-fingers -
Thirsting and thirsting to slake. It longs to reveal
To show, to make known to the traveler.
(All he has searched for is found here, it knows,
Organized and close. Held and safe below)
It reaches, grabs - thirsty - presses him into
A false step. A slip. A skritching clipboard
Of statistics curses in rustling indignance
As it flutters to the mud above a splattered head.
Science-frozen lungs fill with dread -
With life-giving peat. (It will show him) He ***** in
And burbles out a scream. (what he wants, show him)
This is where it begins, (this is his dream!) where it ends.
Now he knows what lies below. He lies - curled -
Quenched from growth. The eyes of unnoticed
Stones blink in surprise. Soaring swamp lyrics
Rise, a loon swoons with a sobbing cry.
He curls in peace and drifts alone
Now he knows what lies below.
Sep 30, 2010
Sep 30, 2010 at 7:10 PM UTC
Beware the ugly woman who thirsts for admiration;
She's apt to take up the violin with zeal,
Or keep a parrot as a sign of independence.
Her envious heart makes treacherous her words
To pretty women with their petty self-idolatry.
Did Marie Currie suffer meekly the debutante?
Was "Little Women" a Louisa May ambiguity?
The ugly woman burns monopoly on praise,
Like coals shimmering in a furnace,
A night without neon unthinkable.
Aug 14, 2014
Aug 14, 2014 at 11:25 AM UTC
*
The two elegant bulging tissues;
my thought is on female issues;
Everyone loves it; nurture it;
One touch on its ******
It becomes beautiful;
so adorable; so attractive;
No muscles; No hassles
All Nerves ending
at the breast;
The essence of life;
Milk of love
It is emptying from her;
The milk is in drops;
Drops down to the
Thirsts of babies in and around
The milk of life; The milk of love
A child is thirsting for milk......
Crying for milk
Milk is genius
Milk is white,
Like an empty sky.......
When it comes to ****
all eyes lead to the ******
which is the center
of areola of sensation;
the aroma of human
life and love..
I am fortunate to sip milk drops
from my mother’s ******* .........
*
By Williamsji Maveli
Email:williams
Jan 20, 2013
Jan 20, 2013 at 12:03 AM UTC
My orbs sought yours
Amidst the same old crowd
Waiting to connect
To create a sound so loud
An instant glee
This soul thirsts for
Just one look at me
I won't need more.
Nov 3, 2014
Nov 3, 2014 at 7:56 AM UTC