"tryst" poems
After dark, energies flow in manners that pleases them most
braided together in lust, two king cobras were seen spiraling up
when darkness like a camouflage sets in thickly around,you're
the marijuana of my mind, seeking far horizons of pleasure.
I willingly seek oblivion, when pink pointed goosebumps
like tarantula's love bites, results of mating time cruelty
infest all over my body's landscape, signatures of ecstasy.
I feel your lips become, moist, soft, honey from each drips
never enough,for me, is it possible to get inebriated more?
Your sighs and moans speak the vocabulary of a forgotten
ancient language love hurriedly resurrected for us from past,
brevity is the crux of that lingo of erupting jets of desire,
it teaches you to moan in fifty different tones in all;even more?
Your sharpened nails etch cave murals on my itching back
that has the searing taste of blood, in hot hot chilly red.
my taste buds of lust, begs for more and more of it.
You are the marijuana fueling my narcotic flights that land
in your misty land, enveloping my senses as a whole.
"The night is still young, hear what the darkness whispers"
I hear you speak like an oracle, on things about to happen.
Jan 8, 2016
Jan 8, 2016 at 11:50 AM UTC
*Time wanders away
Keeping a tryst with its destination
Till we realize we have missed ours
Trying to rewind the clock in vain
The balance of hours have depleted
Until we realize, time was not well spent*
Aug 31, 2014
Aug 31, 2014 at 12:04 AM UTC
*Life is my current lover.
I swig her ephemeral taste from my cupped hands
worried as the golden, shimmering liquid rushes through
creases and cracks in my jaded hands.
Her mood varies through my stages;
at times she is of doting temper and roseate kisses
but when love evades her, most often than not,
her calloused hands damage the pearly flesh in tender
places,
and discontent paints a surly mood as she digs her crimson
brush against the canvas of my self.
Life is my inconsistent lover,
sometimes doting but most often than not abusive.
So I vowed my eternal devotion to Death.
We escape under the dark canopy of starless wings;
a tryst.
I eat of the forbidden feasts in the Kingdom of Hades,
grains of scarlet pomegranates staining my chapped lips.
Death has promised me perpetuity.
But until Life decides to release me from her capricious temper,
I shall long for the wintry, rainy comfort of my drowsy affair.*
Apr 24, 2014
Apr 24, 2014 at 12:35 AM UTC
Gold crown of Olympus, hair crown and
Skin gown. First we throw our bodies at
One another. Heaping piles of human soup.
Bold maneuvers, hands and mouths and
Boy meets girl lying down, on top, intertwined.
Skittish moves on a tryst. Wet fingers of freshly
Tendered infinite decibel pleasure screams.
Streamers above a long rooting movement.
Overture of Aphrodite. Sparkling, glitter woman,
Legs pressed tightly to the chest,
Loose appendages intertwined. Intersticed dactyls
In rapture, soothing. Bodies build to one heart's beat.
Two muses fused together. If I wasn't afraid I'd wake you up
I'd slip on my shoes and make a tropical fruit fondue.
Stage two:
Ice cream lover's delight. Opus to brown sugar.
To swimming again, a pursed lurking of lips
In the academy of the pastoral commonwealth.
We eat at our stations of the sublime. Today which was
A day of discord- you nursed me back to the land of the living.
Stage three:
***
Stage four.
***
Stage five:
As we earn our pageantry to take
Stride on this Earth, and string a
Great bow of eager success among all of us,
You, me, them. While I continue to
Gaze at you. If not dinner, perhaps a
Cup of tea instead.
May 17, 2014
May 17, 2014 at 4:35 AM UTC
Olives, figs, dates and mastic, wyrd or oracles, fates and magic, wars and loves and all that’s tragic.
A Father’s lust, an Uncle’s hate, a puzzling labyrinth, through the gate,
A Cretan born, another covered, a starry symbol, placed in the cupboard,
Special place, where heroes meet him, mindless creature, murderous ******
South in winter, man below with a bull above, placed in the heavens by two father's love,
A strangeness here, the seat of trade, in forbidden tryst, a beast was made,
Man of blood, tortured soul, stalks the maze, that stalks the pole,
"Stranger still, this wild pattern, revolving Seventh, Circle of Saturn?"
Unholy corridors made of granites, trace out the movements of the planets!
Life of horror, a soul of pain, terrorizing, with no refrain,
Smells their fear, scents of sin, raging actions, threshing men;
“They call me Moloch! They call me Baal! Tear your body, festoon my hall!”
In trepidation, to gatekeeper sent, a ****** start, for your punishment;
“I collect the hearts, I eat the eyes, I eat the liver, before he dies!”
Olives, figs, dates and mastic, wyrd or oracles, fates and magic, life and death and all that’s tragic.
Jun 9, 2016
Jun 9, 2016 at 11:48 PM UTC
She walks a narrow path,
over a valley filled with wrath.
One wrong turn,
and in the fire she's left to burn.
She always dreamt to stretch her wings, but never did fearing the stings.
She always wanted to soar high,
but feared the endless predators in the sky.
A smile she wears as the day goes by,
lets no one see the tear in her eye.
The pain in her heart goes un noticed by most,
though it rings from coast to coast.
Her voice no one ever heard,
not a single sentence or word.
No laughs of joy nor cries of pain,
all for herself to contain.
Lonely at times she gazes at the night sky, trying to catch any falling star that may go by.
Wishing for her misery to end,
wishing to enjoy life and its moments with a close one, a friend.
Laughs and cries to herself at times, putting down what she feels into rhymes.
Pushed around forever,
rarely allowed to pursue her own endeavour.
Her goals and dreams,
never morph to reality it seems.
For others she lives,
without thinking her everything she gives.
How long will this go on,
how long will she suffer from dusk to dawn?
All the injustice and spite,
will this continue to be her plight?
Why can't she be allowed,
to rise up and touch every cloud?
To laugh more and less to cry,
all set bounds and limits to defy.
To fight and to resist,
to deal with every twist and tryst.
To have an equal foot on every front,
no more to take the brunt.
Her eyes never to sparkle with remorseful tears,
to do away with all her worries and fears.
Her freedom to life and right to every joy, lets protect and not destroy.
To end her pitiful plight, and let her enjoy her life’s glorious flight...
Feb 16, 2015
Feb 16, 2015 at 11:05 AM UTC
Crawl to me on all fours, and fix me with those eyes.
Gleaming ivory in the pale darkness.
Suitored to alien mires, foreign environments of crawling dust and spires of simplistic grace.
That we move into.
That we move into as finger pads touch skin and lips and wet tongue tips that grace the very edge of taste itself.
The sonata of flesh has begun as we begin this symbiotic ballet that signifies the end, the start, but not the middle of our burning tryst.
which burns brightly in summer night heat, washing down the walls separating me from you and you from yourself.
Fix me with those eyes once more,
tilt the timer; make the moments slow
And the gas lit beam dance and grow
to our scaly sonata of flesh.
Played without violin
or cello
or trumpet noise
or flute.
But with arms,
and lips
and hair
and bust
and drums.
There are always drums; beating on through the night,
beating their primal rhythm as you crawl towards me,
on all fours, in that oroborus of lust;
symbiotic with itself,
reflecting off itself;
encased in itself.
Crawl to me on all fours
Crawl to me -
And taste of my being.
Nov 10, 2011
Nov 10, 2011 at 10:46 PM UTC
Like a captive, I capture rapture wrapping around stakes that matter
Joan of Arc battered
Also tattered but, easily dismissive
Refracted from fractured prominent phrases people play with
Distinctly persuasive and evasive, dressed boyishly attractive, lax stature, dawning armor crafted by absence as if asked about it-
I’m drifted
Protection is principle prerequisite, when fire is lit
I sort of implore your aorta before it’s incinerated to ashes
Dethatched as a habit, with swords or hatchets crafted to singe heartstrings that attached it
While I slash slick Rick as a quick fix,
To fend for pretend pretenses or presumed tricks,
I can’t quit
Cause I hit lips against hash spliffs fashioned with dashes of passion all while rationing fireball cinnamon sips
Martyr to avoidance
I gaze at fabled dazed gossipers galvanizing grips on gritty grapevines while licking warning labels through smoke haze on blurred lines
Capably unstable
Other eyes attending scandal circles able to shout lies and rekindle handed arguments on tables with locked smiles stay boxed in
Avidly amiable
Searching for counterparts when combusted or branded
Toying with matches loses meaning when rules reseed
Those vagabonds claim love is some all end hard bent to mend what the same above can’t comprehend.
Breaking boredom, I pillage pillows with night terrors
And ardent arsonists yearn for flames that churn, turn, liquefy and learn learned thoughts and smoldered feelings
Completely complacent
Melting in one another they are completing each other like two candles tryst true at a wedding day
However later the blaze is severed, smoke sears, and charred black wick stands alone for them.
Aggressive and progressive.
As for me never pleading, fire forever fleets to streets between iron bars I built that cage in deep heat and seep dire dreams once desired
Suppose I’m a skeptic
Roasted or disconnected
Just jaded, just met you
Always over it too soon
Burnt but I’m amused.
I’m useful.
Jun 9, 2014
Jun 9, 2014 at 11:59 PM UTC
Warning and signals;
Are not enough.
For us to suffer less;
And Sleep at night,
At peace.
Your wind blows like a bullet train.
As it passed every town,
It leaves a devastating traced.
Roof's are like crumpled paper in the air.
Trees are like's matches sticks scattered in streets.
We are a country,
Of Hope,
And Happiness.
But in every tryst you visited,
You can't see a smiling face.
Broken Houses and families,
Is all that you can see.
for some of it's members and pieces,
Are still missing,
And not in place.
Bodies lies in streets.
Kids are crying,
Craving for some food to eat,
A place to sleep,
And a shelter for them to take a safe rest.
We will stand after this.
and clean the mess that you've left.
For tomorrow we all know,
That sun will shine in every heart,
Of every FILIPINO people that you've hurt.
Nov 11, 2013
Nov 11, 2013 at 7:35 AM UTC
Your father was raised in Panama. I can imagine him vividly... The floral silk shirt with velvety red cravat, tan leather loafers, waxed-to-perfection moustache, and a big cigar. It was the late sixties and he was beautiful. I've never seen a photo but I can tell by the way you talked about him. His joi de vivre oozed into your stories and I recognized it: the distilled essence of his elegance was passed to you, and you shared it with me.
We met by our mutual attraction for showing off... I wanted to be treated like a delicate porcelain treasure - you wanted a plastic toy with the price tag of an heirloom. Twenty five years my senior and you still hadn't learned your lesson about girls like me... I may have broken your heart, but you should've known a tryst between the free-spirited edge of seventeen and a businessman with dreams of Panama would burn out in the end, just like your father's cigar.
Jun 9, 2016
Jun 9, 2016 at 8:50 PM UTC
*How I wish to float upon your breast
Soft and placid as a glass lake, windless
Breathless
But to delve into valleys
Unexplored, keeper of buried treasures
I trek throughout, wandering
Aimless deliverance, unspoken promises
Intricacy of intimate embrace
I weave in my fingers, passion
Spill me, leave kisses like ghosts
Translucent memories
Moist with seduction
Delicious droplets of enticement
Proposing infatuation, falling from your lips
Illustrious little allures
Swim through me
Serpentine twisting contours
Wrap me in flesh, consumption
Stares, to reiterate a longing
Convey this truthfulness
Honeyed words of desire
Think not to deny yourself this moment
Make love to white whispers
Embedded in the mouth of temptation
Take no responsibility
Let movement be freely expressed
Body caressed
Comforting red embers
Of lustful flame
Spin tales of time and tryst
Inhale the sweeter aromas
Entwine with immaculacy
Reciprocate sensuality, a pair
Two
Two with a twist
And many other turns*
Aug 3, 2014
Aug 3, 2014 at 7:38 PM UTC
In the hours of cold morning mist
Come schizophrenia and creativity's loving tryst
Their offspring
Irrational thoughts of course insist
Madness is preferable to reality
Often desired and endlessly pursued
Come forth
The golden hours of light
The nebulous darkness
Cowers with weakness and fright
Irrational thoughts laughing insist
After much consideration
Madness is preferable to reality
But the night must have its say
Its arrival announced by the falling of the day
Naughty children
Irrational thoughts unyielding insist
Madness is preferable to reality
@ copyright Tammy M Darby October 21, 2018.
Oct 21, 2018
Oct 21, 2018 at 7:15 AM UTC
O Buddha, the gold vein of thy sermon of mercy ran through gloom-gorged, rocky hearts, and illumined their darkness.
Thou loftiest soarer of renunciation's skies, beneath thy God-lifted eyes, the kingdom of sense-comfort, the rivers of gross greed, the vast and lust-scorched deserts of desire, the tall trees of temporal ambition, the cactus plants of prickly world-worries—all melt into invisible smallness.
Buddha, the arc-light of thy sympathy sought to melt the hardness of cruel hearts. Once thou didst save a lamb by offering thyself in its stead.
Thy solemn thoughts still silently roam through the ether of minds, searching for ecstasy-tuned hearts. Seated beneath the banyan bodhi tree, thou didst make a solemn tryst with the Spirit:
"Beneath the banyan bough,
On the sacred seat I take this vow:
Let derma, bones, and fleeting flesh dissolve;
Until the mysteries of life I solve,
And receive the all-coveted Priceless Lore,
From this place I shall stir, never, nevermore."
Thou symbol of sympathy, incarnation of mercy, give us thy determination, that we may seek truth as doggedly as thou didst. Bless us, that we may be awakened, like thee, to seek remedy for the sorrow-throbs of others as we seek it for ourselves.
From: Whispers from Eternity
A Book of Answered Prayers
1949 Edition
4.8k
Hellenic days of poetry,
From a land of myth,
In legend dwelled the child of Zeus,
Head of the gods,
Zeus created ******* child in tryst with mortal chick,
Alcemene was the name,
Hera, wife of Zeus got angry at his infidelity,
Alcemene expected two, twin boys were on the way,
One baby conceived of Zeus the other was a mortal's son,
Hera had a consultation with Lithia, goddess of childbirth,
Hera twisted Lithia to prevent the childrens birth,
Alcemene's legs were cross locked to stop the birth ocuring,
Zeus declared in oath, child of house of Perseus born that night,
To become High King in place of heracless,.
Hera made Eurytheus, arrive too soon in premature immaturity,
Athena, half -sister of Heracles,
Protector of Gods, tricked Hera into nursing child,
Known as Alcides,
Real name Heracles,
Hera nursed him out of pity,
Heracles gave Hera pain on suckling,
Milk sprayed the heavens,
Hence there created, The Milky Way.
By ladylivvi1
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
Aug 9, 2013
Aug 9, 2013 at 12:35 PM UTC
Lonely wanderings
Holding hands with the wind
Flying away to distant lands
Over the mountains and seas
So many questions does arise
A silent reprise of my music
None, but these ears are tuned
A braveheart’s sojourn unknown
Here for a tryst with soliloquy
Answers from the heart and soul
A new journey awaits the wanderer
Mar 2, 2015
Mar 2, 2015 at 10:50 PM UTC
Da Dum Da Dum - melodic sonnet beat,
Ten syllables on each and ev'ry line;
Enough to put the reader fast asleep,
And don't forget the **** thing has to rhyme.
Just fourteen lines exact, no more - no less,
To revel in some tantalising plot;
Two short quatrains endeavour to address,
And introduce the who, the where, the what.
Then just four lines to tell a second tale,
That wends and weaves on some tangential route,
To set the scene that leads to the unveil
As if the reader gives a flaming hoot!
A rhyming couplet finishes the tryst,
To hit them with that all important twist!
Jul 26, 2014
Jul 26, 2014 at 8:31 AM UTC
Years later
Bathsheba's psychiatrist
Was analysing the tryst
Between King David
And her.
It was no tryst
Said she.
What a slur.
He was a ******
And an opportunist.
An amoeba would concur
Said the psychiatrist
That a shower screen
And being more demure
Would have been
Quite spiritually enterprising.
You cannot expect
Kind David to desist
From objectifying your femurs
And a cracking pair of amethysts.
Don't treat me
Like some calculating
Hormone Exchange Unit
You sexist misogynist.
You are not fit
To analyse me.
You say your name's Freud
But you're wholly devoid
Of any insight
Of what is amiss
Or my troubles might be.
Not one piece of grit
Have you put in my oyster.
You obsequious churl
I'm a girl you don't mess with.
I could have you hung.
But instead she dismissed him
and booked an appointment
With a certain professor
Who went by the name of
Carl Gustav Jung.
May 23, 2014
May 23, 2014 at 11:27 AM UTC
calm and collect my thoughts
ethereal smoke twists upwards
indecipherable spirals winding
their way towards the moon
temporary existence
fleeting memories
my fingers grasp and hold nothing
a silly gesture - acted out
more so in a symbolic way
the ticking clock provides a
backdrop to this satisfied silence
as i take stock of my body
and file away the sensation
of skin on skin and desperate
moans for more
a midnight tryst held close
to my heart that's beating its
way out of my body and
finding its way into yours
with limited time to live this life
embrace it head on and hold me close
tell this dream to last forever
for a moment this special made real
could only be a fragment of
a sleeping mind
i never want to wake up
if time were to stop i'd be happy
knowing that this finite strand
of fine gold thread held high
by fate was made to last more
than the thin tendril of white
sighed out - brushed past my lips and into yours
Oct 29, 2012
Oct 29, 2012 at 9:32 PM UTC
Trust
And tryst
Don’t slit your wrist
As he lies
While you cry
Increase your meds and you’ll be fine
But trust
Whilst he lusts
After other *****
And he lies
While you cry
And give your heart and soul
Simply trying
To make him smile.
But he’ll destroy you
All the while.
Jul 14, 2018
Jul 14, 2018 at 4:10 PM UTC
Through the veil of the cool mist
my eyes met yours and made a tryst
a promise that our hearts will blend
and our love shall last till the end
over the hills you disappear
and in my dreams reappear
O my delicate snow white rose
ensconced in my poems and prose
O my delicate snow white rose
emanates from my heart a cadence
that resonates with your heavenly fragrance
All the barriers I shall break
My life I shall put on stake
Until I merge with you one day
To be with you forever I pray
From my life please don't vanish
let our love never diminish
petals of your love I shall always cherish
O my delicate snow white rose
Aug 7, 2014
Aug 7, 2014 at 6:01 AM UTC
Her serene face, lovely sleepy moon,
framed by long tresses of dark curly clouds
on which he traces pelagic memories
remains focused on his, for a while,
then,
her eyes, lovely restless beetles, sweetly
buzz around his eager lips, swollen with desire.
Closer she comes, he loves that coquettish look
on her face, how cheeky, the moves she make
as if she is game for the tryst, right now
whatever it takes from her part. it's clear.
How love makes a simple maiden, daring!
Dark beetles bring him memories of pollen,
mingled scents that cover her body head to toe,
now her lips are on his, exploring gently its contours
when teeth and swirling tongue too join in,
the cravings of unbridled horses of amour
they both come to be aware, when eyes involuntarily close.
When the red eyed embers of love turn to flames,
love boils in their cauldron, they rediscover passion,
as if they are green horns, once again in the enchanted woods
in this land of cupid, where the love rules are hurriedly rewritten.
Apr 2, 2014
Apr 2, 2014 at 7:30 AM UTC
A List.
The Gist of which
U Missed.
On a Tryst.
While we Kissed
You fled Bliss
And for This
I am ******
Hiss.
Jul 19, 2014
Jul 19, 2014 at 2:02 AM UTC
1.
On a nameless planet, in ferment we first met,
eons ago, tiny microbes, evolving we were still,
yet love a flickering light, bound us together.
As two galaxies were merging fiercely then,
to turn us and our nameless pang,to worthless dust
there wasn't any time left for a future together.
In a microbial kiss pathos ruled,we melted as one,
promised to remember this tryst, imprinted so deep
wherever in cosmos we would meet in future
in whatever form we may be at that juncture.
2.
This morning at the Metro that pang did revisit,
seeing you gazing at me in goosebumps I stood,
two galaxies within, I sensed were closing to to merge,
coming to my senses again I find you've vanished
a microbe, you are in the air that every minute I breathe.
We will conquer time, go beyond, love has power infinite,
the encounters in flashes would intimate our impending union.
Jan 27, 2016
Jan 27, 2016 at 7:33 AM UTC
Against these turbid turquoise skies
The light and luminous balloons
Dip and drift like satin moons,
Drift like silken butterflies;
Reel with every windy gust,
Rise and reel like dancing girls,
Float like strange transparent pearls,
Fall and float like silver dust.
Now to the low leaves they cling,
Each with coy fantastic pose,
Each a petal of a rose
Straining at a gossamer string.
Then to the tall trees they climb,
Like thin globes of amethyst,
Wandering opals keeping tryst
With the rubies of the lime.
3k
In my yard stands a tree
tall and sturdy
lone like a hermit,
regal like an empress
her roots dug deep
her branches touching the heavens
peeking behind the skies veil
She has a coy dalliance with the Wind
Sometimes he comes tickling
her tender parts, whispering
sweet nothings in her ear
Overall she is still
Still....................
like waters without ripples
She stands upright
brooding over the saga of struggle
from a sapling to a towering giant
Indeed a tryst with destiny!
Under the summer sky
braving the smarting beams
she remained uncomplaining.
Below the thundering clouds
bearing a thousand needle ******
she stayed nonchalant.
When the wind swept across
bending her branches in all directions
she stood on firm feet unwavering.
She tells a tale of struggle and survival
She had stood there before I was born
Now she displays every scar and every stripe
on her knotted bark as a proud trophy
Sometimes I feel her pain
when wet and dripping in pouring rain
or scorched in the sun’s fiery rage
Yet she holds an umbrella over all
who come to her in sun and rain
Jul 21, 2017
Jul 21, 2017 at 9:10 AM UTC