"wantonly" poems
Pearl swans shatter
the ice,
and glide swiftly through the
stars sparkling
on the mirror lake.
Twilight falls to the night
and the air
creates glistening
twisted crystals which climb
up the trees and freeze
the antique summer remnants.
The spindled sprigs of silver
birches drape their lustre
wantonly, forming long
ripples in a lengthy cascade.
Then the darkness retreats as
the pale blue haze of dawn approaches
where the robin's breath
sighs tangibly on the air.
Apr 16, 2014
Apr 16, 2014 at 2:34 PM UTC
*I love to feel your body next to mine
I languidly run my nails up and down your chest.
Time has been kind to you, you've aged like fine wine
Next to you I feel delirious that you desire me.
I feel addicted to you, my passion is boundless.
Every time I see you, I smile,
Wantonly I want you to defile me.
Craving you like an addict craves his drug of choice.
Your touch emblazones my need, my lustfulness.
How long will our desire last?
Until we run out of breath?
Until we desire others?
I kiss you deeply, hear your heart pound in time with mine,and
I lie in the knowledge that we will never desire another*
Jun 1, 2014
Jun 1, 2014 at 7:36 PM UTC
Like a lotus emerging
Unsullied
From the mud,
So have you appeared,
In this world,
Yet not of it.
I consider myself
Most blessed of all men
For having glimpsed upon your face.
Not even Michelangelo,
With all his magnificent frescoes,
Could have conceived of such beauty.
The most flowery prose of Marquez wilts,
Inadequate to fully describe your radiance.
The supple, rich compositions of Mozart
Are a rancorous cacophony
Compared to the melody of your voice.
Your entire being is a testament
To the masterful craftsmanship of our Lord.
I may circumnavigate this world
Sample the most luscious of delicacies
Climb the lofty peak of Everest
Swim the English Channel
Trek the Ural Mountains
Watch the Caribbean sunset
Walk the entirety of the Great Wall
But none of these
shall hope to compare with
the blissful moment
When my eyes fell upon you.
It was truly a day of days,
One which no other can rival.
You stood out
A swan
Regal in its repose
Amongst
Ducks
Babbling away
In their ignominy.
I have found my muse --
Alas! --
But for a moment.
Yet I shall not rage.
Neither shall I weep.
Just because
He got to you first.
Just because
He is
Perhaps
More worthy
Of you.
I shall not fly
Into a maelstrom of emotion
Sulk with resentment
And seethe with envy
Just for losing
Something
Someone
I never even had.
Just because
She will never be mine.
I shall not have
To lower and abandon myself
To the maddening clutches
Of grief
To wantonly fling
My artless soul
At the burning altar
Of undignified melancholy.
For it is foolish.
Yet I cannot help
But do exactly this.
Act like the boy,
The child,
That I am.
For what else am I?
I am not a man
Like him
After all.
Not adequate
For anything
Resembling a soulmate
For anyone
Like her.
I can never hold you
In my arms
Never gaze
Into your eyes
My ears can never hear you
Whisper
Sweet nothings.
And
My lips shall never
Meet yours.
So what
Else
Can I do
But mourn?
Mar 6, 2014
Mar 6, 2014 at 11:48 PM UTC
i.
mist in solemnity
mutes the sounding
leather bells in silence
ii.
salt surges waste wantonly
gulls guttural in guises
of waifs
iii.
driftwood delivered dull of
deluged dilution
ochre offering to dune's
divestment
iii.
sea glass shivers into
shallow sandy pockets
scintillating color schemes
iiii.
conches lie abandoned
in stands of sea grasses
cacophonous quiet
v.
i am wide awake yet dreaming
sleepwalking
into the
waves
SoulSurvivor
(C) 2/1/2016
Feb 1, 2016
Feb 1, 2016 at 8:08 AM UTC
(Sitting and drinking in the chair made out of the relics
of Sir Francis Drake’s ship.)
Cheer up, my mates, the wind does fairly blow;
Clap on more sail, and never spare;
Farewell, all lands, for now we are
In the wide sea of drink, and merrily we go.
Bless me, ’tis hot! another bowl of wine,
And we shall cut the burning Line:
Hey, boys! she scuds away, and by my head I know
We round the world are sailing now.
What dull men are those who tarry at home,
When abroad they might wantonly roam,
And gain such experience, and spy, too,
Such countries and wonders, as I do!
But pr’ythee, good pilot, take heed what you do,
And fail not to touch at Peru!
With gold there the vessel we’ll store,
And never, and never be poor,
No, never be poor any more.
3.2k
The dream haunts me
often, far too often, building
in intensity but is initially
disguised in absurdity and the
nonsense of a young man's lusts
with an old man's deficits.
This woman-like entity,
ill-defined at first but forming
voluptuously, emerges from
swelling curtains. She moves, more
levitates, toward my bed, buoyed
by what I don't know, but angelic-like
it would seem. Or perhaps
an Aphrodite reincarnate?
Oh this goddess, what pale
skin, as Parian marble, full bosomed,
jutting ******* ***** that
beckon, nearly drool, and pursed
red lips beaded with sweet
juice stolen from the wild cherry
tree beneath my window.
Far too much clarity for a simple
dream. But such a dream! And what
seething testosterone I feel!
I am become a hedonist, raging,
pulsing spermatozoa, renewed
of time and youthful energies.
Nerve into nerve we join, ecstacy
compounding ecstacy, bodies wantonly
impaling the other on this love bed
to the result that each cell of our
individualities melds. We are indistinct,
yes - as one, and any ****** impulse
between us is shared to the point of
utter exhaustion, depletion. I am
nearly drained of life, it would seem.
Then, as it always must,
the scene changes, Act II.
Inexplicably, shedding a ******
serpentine-like skin, she slings it away
and drops limply upon me - entirely
skeletal, dry cartilage, sinew, lifeless,
sexless, motionless. The horror
of a diabolical hollowness
stares through me, and I am
suspended, fully terrorized, in
this paralysis. So, this is
succumbing to the Succubus?
God, my dear God, that I should
never dream again!
--
Oct 12, 2011
Oct 12, 2011 at 10:25 AM UTC
i felt Your beast stir
He called to the *****
the **** who lies within
and she answered Him
with whispered seductions
coaxing Him from His lair
filled with longing for Him
to emerge and sport with her
spreading herself wantonly
craving to be taken, devoured
eaten up and filled
made a plaything, consumed
the ***** inside me needs to see
the beast in You set free
her freedom to exist is in His gift alone
her purpose to rise to meet His lust
to take His stripes as her own
and bear them with pride
the beast in You will find release
inside the ***** who lives in me
Cynthia Pauline Jones 17/01/14
Apr 19, 2014
Apr 19, 2014 at 7:29 AM UTC
HER *****
dedicated to Tamara
Her bosom...so swollen....so full
Bulging beneath her blouse
Straining against her huge nursing bra
I long to suckle her deeply, till the end of time itself
Her ******* thicken....becoming so *****
She sighs deeply....her let-down gently washes over her
She smiles...guiding my hands as we unbutton her blouse
Her ***** takes my breath away
Her bulging cleavage qiuvers at my touch
Engorged.....veined
I bury my face....my lust.... in her *****
Savoring her womanhood
She unhooks a cup....her huge ****** weeping
Longing for my hunger
I suckle her deeply....lovingly....wantonly
Her warm milk, life's sweet nectar
Flows...flows......flows...flows
Feeding my desire...feeding my love for her
My love for the warmth of her *****
Jan 19, 2013
Jan 19, 2013 at 7:55 PM UTC
Concinnity of rapid motion in balance and proportion,
round the ballroom, like the synchronized frequency
of vibration in a crystal quartz. Whirling contortion
of bodies embraced in movement's revealing intimacy.
They are partners. They are dancers. They are lovers
wantonly stoking libido's hot glowing embers;
promenade affirming keen awareness to the vigors
of the steps, footfalls and technique of its pretenders.
Gown and tux attired, passionate accessories to the cult;
merengue, fox-trot, rhumba, abandonment's fertility rites
to gods and goddesses, danced with such elegant result,
they are immortalized in time --- divine service to the night.
Jul 17, 2012
Jul 17, 2012 at 7:46 PM UTC
I'll do nothing...
bad in life that will make my mother cry.
You can disgrace me, debase me, tie me to a railroad track.
But once the tears flow from my beloved mother, there's no putting them back.
I'll do nothing, bear this in mind and hear it,
I'll do nothing that will diminish her spirit.
I wont let evil near it.
I'll honor her by being like her, and proudly cheer it.
A mother is nurture, she is the birth of nature.
A teacher not a taker, a mentor not a faker.
The ultimate God given talent, a human being maker.
She forsakes hers for the needs of yours,
with dreams of high aspirations of her off- spring for,
nothing less, till their health and happiness soar.
Who else in this jaded,
complicated,
world gives unconditional love.
Who else has you in their thoughts expressly, wantonly.
Who else has you in their thoughts religously, constantly.
Concerned about your wants and needs, worries and dreads,
doesn't want to pry, so she prays for you instead.
Who else.
No one else!
I'll do nothing bad in life that will make my mother cry.
Jun 15, 2018
Jun 15, 2018 at 7:55 PM UTC
It’s the damndest thing when attentions focused
on one thing beget the focus of another
Like the rooster crowing the sunlight
in the cold, ungrateful weather,
My eyes scan the ups and downs
of those digital stand-ins for those I’ve known
Seeing mistakes, my own and in others,
Seeing perfection, in other’s imperfect successes,
wantonly rubbed in my eyes
As I springboard from the travails of those
with whom I may never vocalize my adoration
I drop out of the air of a life far from mine,
I see mention of a passed on spirit
Who I truly adored,
no digital fakery of half-true fables necessary
to express my love for the ideals implanted in me
by such a tongue so supplicant to the truths in that vast ether
where I used to swim in the light,
never thinking of the dark climes below.
What choice do I have on an accidental evening like tonight?
I no longer can mask disinterest for other’s soaring narratives
when my true care has been discovered,
been pried away from that dark corner of the airborne pool so ethereal.
My care, my pride have been torn asunder,
by a mere errant glance on a mere sideways mention
Of a massive, earthly idol, who, if only for a stanza of years
held my full gaze with hopeful smiles and ecstatic promise
for bright futures now gone into grey pastures.
I lay here an imposter in authentic skin
if only for the sight of words on screens,
with scant meaning in between.
Aug 23, 2012
Aug 23, 2012 at 4:54 PM UTC
Addict.
Fly free unwanted conqueror-
I detest you
And your haunting illusion.
Midnight visage-
Encapsulated in wanton peaks
Of redemption.
You who scorched my fields
And ignited my fears,
Laying waste in a furious
Dervish of extrapolated ecstasy.
It might have been over
But in what I was sure
Was my final moment
Your grip became slack,
my conscious lying sputtering
in the destitute mud
That comprises bewilderment ,
And you showed me mercy-
Such bravery in the face of havoc.
And now you gladly accept me,
Embrace me in cold arms,
Wantonly smiling at the distance-
almost, almost imperceptive
But my knowledge trumps mere sense,
With the certainty of a madman.
Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 2:47 PM UTC
Sad, mooning morning
Lost beasts and time
Disgust for machine lust overwhelming
It's not that I don't love you
That you don't love me enough
To sinfully and wantonly **** me
After all it's my birthday
Cause I'm old and you've lost interest
in being the man I loved
That's why our children tricked you
into writing and sending your confession
Stand up and take a bow
we learned your lessons well
who to trust, how to trust, and when
Turned us kids into your spies,
your lies, your alibis
to get us to create the software to do it
So you could **** your mystic **** genie
please know our kindness as hatred
All access passes to dumb *********
This memeallscene is a gallery crawl,
a gallow's walk of perps,
who should have known better
Just a thanks for clogging
the artists' ether with kiddy ****
much love for Kate Torn
we used your magick
to put us back together
Your address is on the ticket,
the reddress that you bought her.
Tap lightly, tap lively not,
the tuoche of Jack Frost is upon you.
All the best and much kindness.
Perfection is a trick of the mind.
This poem will change and tighten
the ties that bind us together
From the women and men of Bandahache.
for the women who sign away the right
to tell their stories
I hear you Anita Hill
But we've been stalked and stifled long enough
Yes, that's what prayer can do
Aug 20, 2013
Aug 20, 2013 at 2:12 PM UTC
I blinked slowly
And you were gone like the time
Wasted wantonly.
Mar 30, 2014
Mar 30, 2014 at 3:09 AM UTC
The beast within, me, thrashes against its cage,
It is desperate for possession, dominace, and adoration.
It writhes with the madness of jealousy, it wants you.
To make you thoughtless and craving only but my name upon your lips.
Shattered and defenseless; to use my body as your cover and protection.
This selfish desires from the beast within.
It growls and gnawshes its teeth as you talk happily to another
touching them in friendly manner; heed poised to other.
It is irrational and mad; it knows-
Though careless and savage is the beast within us.
It wants to push you against the wall,
bound your hands and hold your mind.
Only this and nothing more.
However, for now and ever, the beast within my barred castle-
silently and wantonly stares at its prey; so close and yet so far away;
as you smiles completely oblivious.
God, ignorance is bliss, it silently thinks;
The beast within.
Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 10:42 PM UTC
I joy, dear mother, when I view
Thy perfect lineaments, and hue
Both sweet and bright.
Beauty in thee takes up her place,
And dates her letters from thy face,
When she doth write.
A fine aspect in fit array,
Neither too mean nor yet too gay,
Shows who is best.
Outlandish looks may not compare,
For all they either painted are,
Or else undress’d.
She on the hills which wantonly
Allureth all, in hope to be
By her preferr’d,
Hath kiss’d so long her painted shrines,
That ev’n her face by kissing shines,
For her reward.
She in the valley is so shy
Of dressing, that her hair doth lie
About her ears;
While she avoids her neighbour’s pride,
She wholly goes on th’ other side,
And nothing wears.
But, dearest mother, what those miss,
The mean, thy praise and glory is
And long may be.
Blessed be God, whose love it was
To double-moat thee with his grace,
And none but thee.
1.8k
In my so called startled desperately stance o' interactively yearnings,
So wantonly emerged the worse anomalies by far
(yet the peak-est good time) to come..
I'm so naturally stupefied..so inclined on making & molding,
making'& wanting
As trial & error precipitates;
Virtually stagnant in the stillness o' haven-
Temptation stricken--chaotic world..An idolatry dernier cri chic!
Sets the tone o' a Caring Mom, would tell her kids
Not to be fooled by a a mainstream fool-
A Con Artist as Weird as ***** gets!
For the norm to behold!
On the LOOk-Out
but not lethargic.
Stigmatized out o' the blue, I surely reflected,
In a Dark-Dreary tunnel -- I 'd Die for
& to Root for-serenity subsides!
As I come out, I see rays o' Guiding light, I reckoned ..
"I have given You EYES to see,Ears to hear and a mouth to speak!" ..
but perhaps as indecisively as I may seemed--
It is what IT is!!..,.
SORDID!..so holistic ambiguously odd for me alright.
I speak my MIND fervently...
But as one may say, "My Smile can mean a thousand Ships nor launches its Value than Money ..
For every Smile to give out Comes with
a Territory o' Joy & Hope worth-
Every seconds inhaled-Priceless--
The breath o' Eros exhumed ..
I'd rather be ever Smiling along comes..
Head over my shoulder
however excruciating
can be, in life.. .
Neither in Bliss o' Ecstasy nor Dismay.
Just as though to keep my SANITY intact..
Oh My God keep my Salvation up in Heaven above! ..
so Creepy, too
Cloddish to think.to be canny
At all cost!
& not easily persuaded by the devil.
Lurks to get me..
A standstill Safely & Warm in a timely fashion,
In my own Rosy- Scented room thy PRAY, Oh Lord forgive US ALL Sinners, may GOOD Girls & Boys go to HEAVEN & Bad BOYS & GIRLS go to HELL !
I stand uprightly poised attitude
& be corrected if one varies-
The Age of Aquarius in stateliness!
Aug 8, 2011
Aug 8, 2011 at 6:47 AM UTC
Strike the bells wantonly,
Tinkle ****** well;
Bring me wine, bring me flowers,
Ring the silver bell.
All my lamps burn scented oil,
Hung on laden orange-trees,
Whose shadowed foliage is the foil
To golden lamps and oranges.
Heap my golden plates with fruit,
Golden fruit, fresh-plucked and ripe;
Strike the bells and breathe the pipe;
Shut out showers from summer hours;
Silence that complaining lute;
Shut out thinking, shut out pain,
From hours that cannot come again.
Strike the bells solemnly,
Ding **** deep:
My friend is passing to his bed,
Fast asleep;
There's plaited linen round his head,
While foremost go his feet,--
His feet that cannot carry him.
My feast's a show, my lights are dim;
Be still, your music is not sweet,--
There is no music more for him:
His lights are out, his feast is done;
His bowl that sparkled to the brim
Is drained, is broken, cannot hold;
My blood is chill, his blood is cold;
His death is full, and mine begun.
1.7k
Once made, there is
one more Immortal
walking and stalking
the living and dying
Stars and moon their heavenly light
darkness home eternal flight
Never may they greet the Sun
t'would burn them til they are undone
But how to staunch this fascination
I'm drawn into their alienation
Wantonly they make their rules
and see mere humans as the fools
They witness cycling of the eras
perspective lasting ages
With wisdom that is thus accrued
they are akin to sages
Yet we have what they need to thrive
the blood that keeps us all alive
Though weak and vulnerable we are whole
Immortals sadly lack a soul
Oct 8, 2012
Oct 8, 2012 at 12:12 AM UTC
You are so **** and hot to look at
When you gorge on that strawberry
I remember the time you showed me
How you like your fruit to be -
You licked it making sure it’s wet
I gasped when the coldness hit me
You nipped and peeled the skin gently
My ***** heaved wantonly at the touch
You ****** with ardour all the juices
My mind ran havoc not knowing what to do -
You stare and wink at me naughtily
That devilish grin now you just make
You know that I recall what you did
When you tasted and I was your fruit
Jul 24, 2016
Jul 24, 2016 at 10:21 PM UTC
O, how much more doth beauty beauteous seem
By that sweet ornament which truth doth give!
The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem
For that sweet odour which doth in it live.
The canker blooms have full as deep a dye
As the perfumèd tincture of the roses,
Hang on such thorns, and play as wantonly
When summer’s breath their maskèd buds discloses;
But, for their virtue only is their show,
They live unwooed and unrespected fade,
Die to themselves. Sweet roses do not so;
Of their sweet deaths are sweetest odours made.
And so of you, beauteous and lovely youth,
When that shall vade, by verse distills your truth.
1.7k
In times gone past we used to play
With abandon. We experimented.
We vowed we’d never settle down
Become complacent or contented
Everything seemed possible
Reality just one calibration
Of potential, possible worlds
Each one a sheer sensation
The world was a bright, clean canvas
For the ink of our imagination
Knowing we could make the world
We laboured at its creation
But along the way complacency crept in
And we lost our special flow
One by one the sparks in our hearts died
And why we’ll never know
But I’ll hazard a rough guess
And it’s worth heeding what here's stated
What’s worthwhile in life is lost
When what’s wild is domesticated
The times that came gave us the idea of war
We accepted it. We became rank and file citizens
Became wrapped up in the politics
The world became a spoiled canvas
Destroyed by cruel imaginations
Knowing they could break they world
They ripped the petals off its carnations
It nevertheless remains that we
Will one day throw off the yoke
To dwell once more in amity
And live in dreams bespoke
I'll hazard a rough guess
And it's worth heeding what here's stated
What's worthwhile in life comes back
When we realise that dreams are created
What comes next is chaos and rebellion
We go wantonly. We dedicate ourselves
To joyful revolution, against tyranny
To put life back in to good health
The world becomes unified again
And not in the imperial way
But in the way all souls are friends
And borders die and go away
The world becomes a canvas new
Ready to take a splash of art
Adorned with colour and beauty
A fresh and fruitful start
Along the way we will regain our voice
And sing and play like children
happy music will make them rejoice
And let them dwell in freedom
I'll hazard a rough guess
And say this time is near
Because more spirits are learning to say bless
And make their spiritual bars disappear
Nov 22, 2016
Nov 22, 2016 at 1:29 AM UTC
I am a sailing rock in the dessert.
Unnoticed...
Ignored...
Cold...
Hollow...
Moving on my own wantonly...
Nov 23, 2010
Nov 23, 2010 at 5:24 PM UTC
so kindled in sear summer July,
Upheaval churning in my most stoic feeling frazzled, I am,
Thank GOD for Good Riddance- putting on a thinking cap
And my Good Instincts prevails..
Brooding over and praying in silence-
PEACE and Faith too ; sustained my intertwined...
guts good 'ole meshed up toiled my life.
Like a web-gathering digging out into knitted vine..
Gotta dance w/ grace even if someone ogling..
actin' out like zilch..
out there mesmerizing.
Give it all out for sake o' Inamorata
And fervor like ne'er be in paroxysm, a day or two ..
Rhyme with the melody o' songs
And Sing it all out on top o' my lungs
like there's no one's eavesdropping
Amusingly enough as I wantonly be wanted
And feel hurting no more,
Sleeping in minty pillows, sobbing no more...
At the time, eventide dusk comes,
That Beauty; rests indeed, bellows
Live and let live like it's a bed o' heavenly velvety Roses in this cauldron earth!.ensnared my thoughts together oftentimes,
Through waylay conflicts
So akin to as DRAMA Momma!
That another can tote to my table.
Getting' along just fine witn MYself..
thus restore my sense of panoramic mindset; - my BLESSINGS- scrutiny on my studies and my cherub babes who cares as whippersnapper!
Thou Loves me more than
of enormous superficial stuffs-
things that won't last-
I'm in solitude for soul searching'.
I am of thy belief that
everyone needs time...
To just Be! @ peace with just MYself!
J
Jul 30, 2011
Jul 30, 2011 at 11:38 AM UTC
The water glisten like crystal
As dragonflies dance to the music of the surf
A symphony of sound emanates from this quiet section on earth
Adam lays in the shadow of the coconut tree, listening
A splash in the distance distracts his attention
Eve emerges from the sweet blue water
Her basket full of fish
Swinging her hips in a coquetish way
Adam catches his breath
Her beauty confusing his senses
Leaving him defenseless
Its time, whipers the serpent
Taste the fruit she so wantonly offers
Jul 26, 2015
Jul 26, 2015 at 11:42 AM UTC