Passionate Poetry

[yeishia]

Stay Close my Heart

Rumi

(translated by Andrew Harvey)

Stay close, my heart, to the one who knows your ways;
Come into the shade of the tree that allays has fresh flowers.
Don't stroll idly through the bazaar of the perfume-markers:
Stay in the shop of the sugar-seller.
If you don't find true balance, anyone can deceive you;
Anyone can trick out of a thing of straw,
And make you take it for gold
Don't squat with a bowl before every boiling pot;
In each pot on the fire you find very different things.
Not all sugarcanes have sugar, not all abysses a peak;
Not all eyes possess vision, not every sea is full of pearls.
O nightingale, with your voice of dark honey! Go on lamenting!
Only your drunken ecstasy can pierce the rock's hard heart!
Surrender yourself, and if you cannot be welcomes by the Friend,
Know that you are rebelling inwardly like a thread
That doesn't want to go through the needle's eye!
The awakened heart is a lamp; protect it by the him of your robe!
Hurry and get out of this wind, for the weather is bad.
And when you've left this storm, you will come to a fountain;
You'll find a Friend there who will always nourish your soul.
And with your soul always green, you'll grow into a tall tree
Flowering always with sweet light-fruit, whose growth is interior.​

 

[yeishia]

Alone

Lying, thinking
Last night
How to find my soul a home
Where water is not thirsty
And bread loaf is not stone
I came up with one thing
And I don't believe I'm wrong
That nobody,
But nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.

There are some millionaires
With money they can't use
Their wives run round like banshees
Their children sing the blues
They've got expensive doctors
To cure their hearts of stone.
But nobody
No, nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Now if you listen closely
I'll tell you what I know
Storm clouds are gathering
The wind is gonna blow
The race of man is suffering
And I can hear the moan,
'Cause nobody,
But nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.


Maya Angelou​

 

[Annisthyrienne]

Sara's Farewell

Sara's Farewell

I never held you in my arms.
I never saw you smile.
I can't succumb to your infant charms,
Or smell your diaper vile.
I never chucked you on the chin,
Or stuffed my ears 'gainst the howling din.

I never said goodbye.

Sometimes I look at other children,
And in them I see your eyes.
But when they run to another woman
Yelling 'Mommy!' my soul cries.
It's been many years since you came and left
And for many years I've been bereft......

It's time to say 'goodbye'.

Sara Michelle, my baby,
You will always be precious to me.
My firstborn child stolen too soon,
Yet memories to cherish and keep.
And when we meet in the Summerland,
I'll touch your sweet face with a trembling hand......

But, until then....

Goodbye


Sara Michelle
Stillborn October 25th 2:25pm
​

 

[yeishia]

Sara's Farewell
​

Exquisitely poignant thank you Thyri for trusting in me enough to place this here...

It shall be cherished always.​

​

 

[yeishia]

An Angel’s Crime


An angel tantalizes me with heaven's fire,

To covet a life just beyond my grasp.

Years paint the path of forbidden desire,

As his wings burn my skin.

Woe to you, forbidden Angel,

Oh blissful agony drown my cries,

Expose my soul’s ravenous despair,

Gratify me with your wings afire.

Audra Lillian Newton
​

 

[yeishia]

For My dark angel

We two.


Can you hear me?
I am whispering your name.
My mind has sung the praises of our love,
traveled our hopes and dreams as they were born.
You are my symbiotic other half.

You bring my life to joy.
Heartfelt pride and honor keep us strong.
As a woman, I guard the heart of a man;
Safe in my arms
As am I ... in his strong ones.

Submission is not a weakness
It is a strength, glorifying
the simple pleasure to be one with another;
To complete one another.
To be one single perfect entity.

Control given;
Soul awoken by one man.
Nurtured to grow and thrive
with love, sweet love;
In His power I am revived
As he is … in Mine.

L


​

 

[Last_Rider]

Thank you my Love, you have a gift for words

I can't speak to much, a lump has formed in my throat

 

[The_Spectre]

Looking around the lounge kind of gave this idea.

Hugs
So many hugs
Given all day around
And the only one missing out
Is me.​

 

[Daydream_weaver]

The Invitation by Oriah Mountain Dreamer

It doesn’t interest me
what you do for a living.
I want to know
what you ache for
and if you dare to dream
of meeting your heart’s longing.

It doesn’t interest me
how old you are.
I want to know
if you will risk
looking like a fool
for love
for your dream
for the adventure of being alive.


It doesn’t interest me
what planets are
squaring your moon...
I want to know
if you have touched
the centre of your own sorrow
if you have been opened
by life’s betrayals
or have become shrivelled and closed
from fear of further pain.


I want to know
if you can sit with pain
mine or your own
without moving to hide it
or fade it
or fix it.


I want to know
if you can be with joy
mine or your own
if you can dance with wildness
and let the ecstasy fill you
to the tips of your fingers and toes
without cautioning us
to be careful
to be realistic
to remember the limitations
of being human.


It doesn’t interest me
if the story you are telling me
is true.
I want to know if you can
disappoint another
to be true to yourself.
If you can bear
the accusation of betrayal
and not betray your own soul.
If you can be faithless
and therefore trustworthy.


I want to know if you can see Beauty
even when it is not pretty
every day.
And if you can source your own life
from its presence.


I want to know
if you can live with failure
yours and mine
and still stand at the edge of the lake
and shout to the silver of the full moon,
“Yes.”


It doesn’t interest me
to know where you live
or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up
after the night of grief and despair
weary and bruised to the bone
and do what needs to be done
to feed the children.


It doesn’t interest me
who you know
or how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand
in the centre of the fire
with me
and not shrink back.


It doesn’t interest me
where or what or with whom
you have studied.
I want to know
what sustains you
from the inside
when all else falls away.


I want to know
if you can be alone
with yourself
and if you truly like
the company you keep
in the empty moments.​

 

[yeishia]

I first read this and my heart broke, courage, love, buried alive, invisible.

It is a potent reminder of what could be...

Thank you Mr. Fish for sharing this.

Invisible

{for the love of my life}



I’m invisible.

You can see me,
But you can’t hear me.
You could if you wanted to,
But you choose not to.

I know you don’t hear me.
If you did
Then my life would be different.

You say you hear me
Sometimes you even do things for me

When I say you do things for me,
I really mean you do it for my type
You don’t do things specifically for me.

I am part of a group.
I have an illness.
Disabled you call us.

I hate my illness.

It’s easier to feel something for me when I am part of a group.
It’s easier to do something for me when I am part of a group.
It is easier to define us all as part of a group.

Labels.

But our group is made up of individuals.

Some of us cannot hear.
Some of us cannot see.
Some of us cannot walk.

We are not all the same.
To you we are all the same.

Disabled.

I hate my illness.

We are usually invisible.
Not always.

Sometimes we become visible,
But only for a short time.
Someone famous will become like us.
Someone cute will become like us.

But usually….

Invisible.

I hate my illness.

What is it about me that makes my life invisible?
My needs invisible?
My dreams invisible?

I have hopes, dreams and an imagination like everyone else.
My body doesn’t work the way it should, but my mind does.

It’s only my legs that don’t work.
Well, at the moment it’s only my legs.
It will get worse.

My brain is intact.
My imagination is intact.
My soul is intact.

Not that you care.

I’m invisible

I hate my illness

I think my type makes it uncomfortable for you.
You worry about mortgages,
Cars,
Furniture,
Private schools,
Holidays…

I worry about being able to get to the toilet.
I worry about getting out of bed.
I worry about being able to get out the front door.
I worry about not being able to spend time with my family.

A friend speaks to me.

Hey, we’re going shopping. What are you up to today?

What am I supposed to say?

Oh, maybe I’ll try to walk ten steps without collapsing with fatigue.

I might try to get a hundred metres down the street in my scooter…
Without pissing in my pants.

You know, the usual stuff.

Thanks for the call.
Have fun.
Seeya.

I hate my illness.

It’s not sexy, my illness.
It won’t end up neatly.
It will go on interminably.

People don’t like loose ends.
You can’t tick me off your ‘to do’ list.
I’ll still be there.

Ill

I hate my illness.

Charity and empathy are not accorded equally.

At least if you give money to people who suffer from a flood,
Or a bushfire,
Or an earthquake

Then there is an end.

There you go, here’s a hundred bucks and I hope it all gets better now.
Phew, now I can get on with my life.
Hey, have you tried that new restaurant….

No, my problem can’t solved with a ‘cheque and forget’ solution.
Our type is there all the time.
We…. linger.

You can’t just give us money and make it better.
For you, money heals everything, preferably quickly.
If it doesn’t, then maybe it’s too hard.

Great.

It’s a competition.
The starving children.
Tsunami victims.

Who is more deserving?
Are we less deserving?
Did we ask for it?

No.

The real problem is I will still be sick tomorrow.
And the day after that.
And the day after that....

Until I die.

You will have to keep spending money on me.

Until I die.

I hate my illness.

If I died I would be more visible.
For a while.

There would be a flurry of activity.
Of sympathy.
Maybe for a week.

If I was dying,
I would get some attention for a while.
A few months of attention...
And dying.

They could martyr themselves,
But know that there was an end in sight.

They wouldn’t always have to be pushing a wheelchair.
Or taking me to the toilet.
Or moving things out of my way.

Because in the end I would die.

How sad everyone would be.
That’s a shame.
I wish we could have done something.

Well, you bloody well could have.
You could have helped me…
While I was alive!

After I’m gone,
My husband and son might have some meals delivered to them.
They might get some invites to functions.
People might even feel sorry for them and ask them how they are coping.
There might even be offers to help them with the housework.

Good luck to them.

No one ever asked me.

I’m invisible

I hate myself for what I have become.
The disease has changed me.

I don’t feel sorry for people.
I don’t feel anything for anyone.
I feel like it’s not fair.

If you catch me at a really bad moment,
I will admit that I wish someone else had this illness,

Rather than me.

I have no empathy.
That’s what my counselor says.
That’s what my husband says.

But who has empathy for me?
I know it’s not anyone else’s fault.

But I hate them.

I hate them for not realizing that they are all just one accident or illness away from being like me.

From not being able to walk.
From not being able to get out of bed without a struggle.
From being afraid to be further than twenty metres from a toilet.

I have graduated from university.
I used to have a good job.
I used to be important in my job.

Now I rely on my family.
I rely on the government.
Lucky it’s my family and the government.
I couldn’t rely on anyone else.

I know that now.

It’s so different now that I’m ill.
I don’t move in the same circles.

Well, I guess I don’t move at all
(Boom boom – who says I can’t take a joke?)

Everyone finds me too difficult now.
They don’t tell me that.
It’s just that they’ve stopped calling since I became ill.
The phone calls stopped.
Even the visits stopped.

I’m not one of them anymore.

I’m disabled.

I guess I don’t know what I want them to do.
I guess I just wish I could walk.

I lash out at those who can
(Walk, that is).

My husband.
My son.
My friends.

It seems the closer they are to me,
The more I want to cause them pain.
It gives me some sort of power.
I can have an impact.

Be noticed.

I am not happy with myself.
I am not happy that I cannot move.
I am not happy that I feel worthless.
I am not happy that I’m dependant.

I am just not happy.

I don’t know why I do that.
Say terrible things.

He usually goes quiet then and looks around at anything but me.
Then he walks off slowly.
She doesn’t mean it, he probably thinks to himself,
She’s under stress and ill.

Fuck yes I mean it.
I would rather anyone else be sick rather than me.

Anyone.

I didn’t do anything to deserve it.
I know what I’m doing, but I can’t stop it.

I hate my illness.

I punish my son for the smallest things.
He gets everything given to him on a silver platter.
He gets everything he wants.
He can walk.
He has it too easy.
Spoilt brat.

I’m disabled.

He should know that.

Everyone should know that.

Why doesn’t anyone else understand?
Understand what I need?
Understand what I want?

They worry about irrelevant issues.
Not walking.
Now that’s a relevant issue.

Talking about your holiday while I’m sitting there busting to go to the toilet?
While my leg is twitching?
While I’m totally exhausted from the effort of getting from the car to the front door?

LISTEN UP!!

That’s…not… relevant.
That’s crap.

He says I’m not useless.
He says my son and he need me.
He says they love me.

They must like pushing wheelchairs around then.
Loading scooters into the back of the car.
Fetching.
Carrying.

Doing everything….

I don’t believe it.
I think they do it because they feel it’s their duty.
Or worse, because they feel sorry for me.

I don’t want anyone to feel sorry for me.

I want my legs back.
That’s what I want.

Nothing will make me happy unless I get my legs back.
But I’ll never get my legs back.

I hate my illness.

I get interaction when I fight with my husband and my son.
When I criticize them.
No one else listens to me – they have to.

It makes me feel good.

I don’t have to think about myself.
Pointing out faults in them evens up the balance for me.
They are not so perfect and happy and I’m not so….
…. useless.

I hate my illness.

I often think about dying.
All the time actually.
I think about it especially when I drink.
I drink a lot now.
To forget.

What’s the point of living?

My husband says that the talk of dying is wrong.
He won’t even discuss it.
He says they need me.
He says they love me.
He says that a lot.

I’m sure he’s just saying that to make me feel better.

Or because he feels he has to.
How could someone need a woman that can’t walk?
That can’t stand?
That can’t do anything?

My family would be better off without me.

As for the others, they wouldn’t even notice.

I’m invisible.

Fish_Tales.

​

 

[Fish_Tales]

Pleasure Yeishia

I can't even read it now - to be honest.

It makes me sad.

But it's true.

So it had to be said.

 

[yeishia]

Pleasure Yeishia

I can't even read it now - to be honest.

It makes me sad.

But it's true.

So it had to be said.

It did...

 

[Fish_Tales]

It did...

That's why I'm glad you posted it.

You get it.

 

[yeishia]

Lifemate Call

My lifemate calls,
He nears the end.
He sees the red.
His life will rend.

He takes my hand,
He steals my heart.
My blood I give,
Of this, I part.

This man he needs,
His life, I fill.
My heart I give,
To keep his will.

I heed his touch.
He answers me.
I feel his strength
He knows he's free.

My blood I give,
To keep his soul.
He claims my life.
This is my role.

My lifemate calls,
To him, I go.
For love of life,
His heart is whole.

So near the end,
He answers me.
I take his hand,
I set him free.

This man he loves,
His life, his mate.
I know not how,
His love, I rate.

He waits my call.
He answers me.
I love this man,
I've set him free.

Sandy S.



​

 

[yeishia]

Touch Me

I saw you on a hilltop
the setting sun painting beams of light
across the sky
and along your every curve
A cool breeze rising from the ocean below
teased and tousled your hair
spirits danced through each silky strand
You looked so wild, so beautiful
a young mustang on the open meadow
untamed, unencumbered
your beauty radiating
with passion
in the sensual moment
you were one with the waning sun and the wind
they brought you pleasure
and exhilarated your senses
I could see the joy
overflow from your being
You ran your fingers through your hair
slowly slid your hands along your body
to delight in the energy flowing through you
The sight of you aroused me beyond belief
I could smell the passion in your soul
I had to be closer
but a shifting wind betrayed my presence
In surprise you bolted away
I couldn't let you slip away
I wanted you
so I gave chase
I knew not if your flight
was of fright or play
but as I got closer
the flames of desire grew inside
But you were not so easily caught
you gracefully lengthened your stride
as you cut uphill and down
over the rolling grassy hills
through the brush and down to sands
set aglow in the evening sun
I followed as fast as I could
hoping to stay close
or that you might give me
a chance to gain
My heart pounded in my chest
my steps beat against the Earth
drums of desire beseeching you
I both cursed and praised you
cursing the distance kept between us
praising the beauty of your body in motion
and the teasing glances sent back my way

The golden sand cooling
in the day's last glimpse across the water
came to my aid and slowed your stride
the distance between us closed
You ran onto the sand at the water's edge
where a wave tripped you up
you tumbled down into the soft wetness below
I reached you before you could arise
my final step stopped me to straddle over you

You laid there, panting
your chest heaving up and down
your eyes, windows to the fire within
I would not fight the instinct in my body

I descend upon you, kiss your lips
with passionate, open mouthed kisses
Your energy that kept us apart
now entwined us together
Your arms pull me in tight
our kisses only briefly ceasing
for urgent gasps of breath
we frantically tear the fabric
form the other
whenever there was any space
between our exhilarated bodies
paying no mind that we might ever need
our clothing again

Lips, tongues and hands
explore
in a passionate journey
into the depths of each other's pleasure
I enter you and we become one
One with each other
in the rhythms and cycles of the wild
One with the crashing waves
that roll and roar
in their quest for completion
One with the expanding heavens
our joy grows
unbounded as the universe
One with the moonlight, the shadows
that bathe our body
Our dance takes us deeper
into the wet sand
from the earth to the heavens
we release a cry
that echoes in the night
with the beating heart of ecstasy
We breathe, we linger
our kisses become slower, deeper
a salty spray from white caps
cools the fever
looking into your eyes
I feel the embrace of your soul
I feel so full of you
After a long, lingering kiss
you slowly arose
the sand still clinging to you
wanting you back in it's embrace
The moonlight and ocean wind
danced in your long hair
You smiled and laughed
and melted my heart
You started to playful trot
across the sand
I quickly followed . . .[​

/FONT]

David S. Bell




*****************
​

 

[yeishia]

Flight

Take me to my place far away,
Let me ride on the wings of a dove.
Take me to the ends of the world,
Let me experience the fullness of love.

As i feel the mastery of Your whip,
And the sweet pleasure of pain,
My mind begins its inner journey,
While the body, my Master tames.

Deeper and deeper, my heart will soar.
A world that alone is mine.
To find my comfort, and search my soul,
A sanctuary, with no essence of time.

I will glide over flowered meadows,
To the falls and the enchanted lake.
Sometimes diving into the jeweled waters,
The choice is mine to take.

Then there is my cave of discovery,
At the end is a very bright light.
I put one foot in front of the other,
To the cave opening, that i may take flight.

With one foot stepping into the light,
I suddenly begin to fall.
Through clouds of love, sadness and fear,
With my voice i can not call.

As i near the bottom, fearing crash,
Strong arms surround and protect me.
Sadness will cease, along with fear,
As you kiss away tears, so i can see.

As you kiss the last tear away,
In your arms we begin to glide.
Surrounded by only our sweet love,
Is where i wish to humbly abide.

What is this sanctuary, that searches my soul?
What is this comforting place?
It can only be shared with my Master.
This wonderful journey is my…….subspace.



Cameron​

 

[yeishia]

The Voice Of Dominance

Come a little closer,
As I whisper in your ear,
Kneel before me sweet one,
This voice you shall hear.

The voice that wraps around,
A warmth that will invade,
Touching your mind so deep,
This voice shall never fade.

The ecstasy of darkness,
Begins to swirl around,
As once again you find,
Ever deeply bound,

Deeper to my underworld,
Only you and I exist,
Letting go so easily,
No reason to resist

The magick and the gifts,
I will bestow to you.
When you do desire deeply,
Your heart surrenders true.

Reaching out my hand,
I gently caress your face,
A rush of powerful energy,
Surges through with grace,

As you find yourself dissolving,
In a different time and place,
Melting to my touch,
As your mind becomes erased.

Come a little closer,
As I whisper in your ear,
Obedience and subservience,
Is all your mind can hear.

This is the voice you crave,
The dominant pull,
As you naturally react,
In submission full,

Feel the warming smoothness,
Sweet deviance abounds,
Pulling you ever deeper,
As my power completely surrounds,

Your body and your mind,
The deepest inner core,
Caging, binding deeper,
Your soul aching for more.

Breathe in deep,
This dominant allure,
My presence here with you,
Powerfully sure

Of my control and guidance,
Is where you crave to be,
The addiction to my voice,
You become a part of me.

Drinking you in,
Taking what is mine.
Worthy you must be,
Such as finest wine.

Feed my dominant soul,
And pleasure you will feel,
As I torment your mind,
With sensations so real.

Come a little closer,
Your flesh can hear my voice.
The warmth of my whispers,
Have given you no choice.

Come a little closer,
As I whisper in your ear,
Kneel before me sweet one,
This voice you shall hear.

The voice that wraps around,
A warmth that will invade,
Touching your mind so deep,
This voice shall never fade.
​

​

teyah​

 

[LoveCraver]

So True!​

Have I Ever?

Have I ever told you
that if I sit really still and silent,
sometimes. I like to think
I can hear your heart beating
in time with mine?

Have I ever told you
that when I watch you speak to me
through lines and cords,
and bytes and ram,
I imagine
your voice,
whispering into my ear?

Have I ever told you
that I wait out each day
in anticipation,
wanting
only an hour or two,
just a second in space and time,
to feel close to you?

Have I ever told you
that there has been times,
when I ached for you,
ached for you so badly,
that the emotions overwhelmed me..
and so I sat and cried?

Have I ever told you
that sometimes,
I will reach out,
touching your name
on this cold screen before me,
wishing
I could reach in
and pull you to me?

Have I ever told you
that after the first time I heard
the sound of your voice,
thousands of miles away,
I sat up all night,
turning the conversation over and over
in my mind,
examining it,
like some newly discovered species of flower?

Have I ever told you
that I would give everything up,
just for one night
to be able to lay near you,
to feel your chest rise and fall
with each breath you take,
just to know that you are real?

Have I ever told you
that I dream of you often,
I dream of you reaching out
and touching my hand,
simply to let me know
that you are there,
and everything is okay?

Have I ever told you,
have I still yet to tell you . . .
that I love you?

Ravenz23​

I really like this
Beautiful poem

 

[yeishia]

Love Lies Bleeding

You call it, Love lies bleeding - so you may,
Though the red Flower, not prostrate, only droops,
As we have seen it here from day to day,
From month to month, life passing not away:
A flower how rich in sadness! Even thus stoops,
(Sentient by Grecian sculpture's marvellous power)
Thus leans, with hanging brow and body bent
Earthward in uncomplaining languishment
The dying Gladiator. So, sad Flower!
('T is Fancy guides me willing to be led,
Though by a slender thread,)
So drooped Adonis bathed in sanguine dew
Of his death-wound, when he from innocent air
The gentlest breath of resignation drew;
While Venus in a passion of despair
Rent, weeping over him, her golden hair
Spangled with drops of that celestial shower.
She suffered, as Immortals sometimes do;
But pangs more lasting far, that Lover knew
Who first, weighed down by scorn, in some lone bower
Did press this semblance of unpitied smart
Into the service of his constant heart,
His own dejection, downcast Flower! could share
With thine, and gave the mournful name which thou wilt ever bear.

by William Wordsworth

Fill your paper with
the breathings of your heart.
-~William Wordsworth ~

​

 

[yeishia]

I really like this
Beautiful poem

Thank you I thought so too ..it was almost as if the words had been crafted from my own thoughts and heart

 

[yeishia]

Callmetim, thank you for allowing me to add this to my collection, it resonated so deeply with me...

I am looking for a photo to do it the justice it so richly deserves.

As I had walked the path that was so worn
The same I frequented when oft forlorn

It was Her.

Towering redwoods along the rocky hills overshadowed the crisp, cool morning
My joyless dyad spotting the footprints I left yesterday
The soil red-brown, only wilderness surrounding my well-beaten path
This daily walk, a stroll which took minutes or hours
Was always without escort or encounter
It was my time to hurt, doubt, hate, envy, curse, loathe
And was a path traveled best alone

... yet it was Her.

Skin as pale as moonlight, yet more enchanting
Wavy hair white not from age, yet entirely ravishing
Waifish that she could float away with a mere whisper, yet powerful
Ethereal wrappings encompassing her entire flesh, yet all-together real
Those eyes ... ocean deep, chocolate eyes without equal

She was Love.

Instantly, my teeth clenched and nostrils flared
I ran full force as she stopped walking, watching, waiting
Grabbing Her by the throat I tossed her backwards
Her frail form forced firmly upon the icy stone
My unrelenting Atlas grip would be a death too easy for the bitch
Loosening and held up under her chin, toes inches from the ground

Love does not struggle.

"I suppose Love is patient," snarling to my prey
My white-knuckled fist took the hunting knife now unsheathed
The blade's thirst for blood to be quenched
Her stomach stabbed without warrant
Each crimson incision darker than the last
Amplified by the purity of her creamy skin
Twisting, tearing, slashing, slicing
What little scraps she wore slid off in tatters
A bleeding, bruised, beaten bare body for I alone to slaughter
Two tender tears trickled touchingly down Her blood splattered cheeks

Love weeps at hate.

Insulted, I cry out amidst my own tears, those of joyous revenge
"I've cried enough for Love to last a millennia!"
My hand arcs up and stabs effortlessly into each eye
Gouging, grinding, gutting the sockets clean
Bloody waves with dotted white chunks flow freely
Splashing my face with the stench of iron
Hot liquid boiling off my raging body
Her limp body dumped into the pool of death below it

Love does not fight, for it is kind.

"... and now, Love, it is indeed blind"
Smirking slyly while wiping my blood smeared brow
Kneeling along side not in worship but for leverage
Two hands seizing the blood-slickened blade
Full-forced penetrations into any pure white I see
"Why?" I ask innocently as Her body is mutilated
"Why?" I cry out in tears of a soul in absolute pain
"WHY?" I straddle her chest, the dagger tossed down
"ANSWER ME!" I demand with hands closing her throat

Love speaks when it wants, never when Man needs.

A voice that haunts my dreams speaks
Her tone without sign of malice
Speech that would cause my body to tremble

"Love conquers all."

I am left alone once again on my knees
No sign of struggle, no stains on my body
The stone as grey as it was each day I passed it
My hands shaking violently as I stare into the palms
No trace of blood to be seen
"I cannot conquer Love" as I realize my fate
"I cannot live this out each day" as I reason my only option
"I cannot live" as I scoured for the dagger
I lunge for it as if my life depended on it
For my life did, yet for its end
The battle-weakened hands place the point at my chest
My still-beating heart pushing out onto the razor tip
The small pain on my flesh
Will soon end the intense pain within the pulsating organ beneath
"May my soul now know peace," I whisper
The trees all watch and say nothing
The stone stands strong and proud too stoic to provide sympathy
The dirt eagerly waiting to catch my body
My eyes attempt to close by cannot from the streams dotting the soil below
My lips pursed together tightly
My muscles tense, trembling without hope
I deeply inhale my last breath through my nostrils

"Love yourself."

Her hand bares no weight on my shoulder yet forces me to drop the blade
A warmth radiates my body as no raging fire could
Grief guilty hands cover my eyes as I sob uncontrollably

"To deny love inwardly, is to prevent love externally."

I place my hand upon Her own only to touch my own shoulder
Spinning around there is no trace of Her
No witness of my attempt to banish Love from the world

My remaining hours kneeling there recounting the events
Watching the shadows grow tall and the skies painted orange

I loved who I was in that moment.

Every fault.

Every gift.

Every thought.

Every action.

I fell in love with myself that day. Others have loved me ever since.
​

​

Callmetim
​

 

[yeishia]

I adore this poem...

Love’s Philosophy

Percy Bysshe Shelley

The fountains mingle with the river
And the rivers with the ocean,
The winds of heaven mix for ever
With a sweet emotion;
Nothing in the world is single;
All things by a law divine
In one spirit meet and mingle.
Why not I with thine?—

See the mountains kiss high heaven
And the waves clasp one another;
No sister-flower would be forgiven
If it disdained its brother;
And the sunlight clasps the earth
And the moonbeams kiss the sea:
What is all this sweet work worth
If thou kiss not me?


​

 

[yeishia]

A gift from... DesEsseintes.

The Sun Rising

BUSY old fool, unruly Sun,
Why dost thou thus,
Through windows, and through curtains, call on us ?
Must to thy motions lovers' seasons run ?
Saucy pedantic wretch, go chide
Late school-boys and sour prentices,
Go tell court-huntsmen that the king will ride,
Call country ants to harvest offices ;
Love, all alike, no season knows nor clime,
Nor hours, days, months, which are the rags of time.

Thy beams so reverend, and strong
Why shouldst thou think ?
I could eclipse and cloud them with a wink,
But that I would not lose her sight so long.
If her eyes have not blinded thine,
Look, and to-morrow late tell me,
Whether both th' Indias of spice and mine
Be where thou left'st them, or lie here with me.
Ask for those kings whom thou saw'st yesterday,
And thou shalt hear, "All here in one bed lay."

She's all states, and all princes I ;
Nothing else is ;
Princes do but play us ; compared to this,
All honour's mimic, all wealth alchemy.
Thou, Sun, art half as happy as we,
In that the world's contracted thus ;
Thine age asks ease, and since thy duties be
To warm the world, that's done in warming us.
Shine here to us, and thou art everywhere ;
This bed thy center is, these walls thy sphere.

john Donne

​

 

[DesEsseintes]

Bride and Groom Lie Hidden for Three Days By Ted Hughes

She gives him his eyes, she found them
Among some rubble, among some beetles

He gives her her skin
He just seemed to pull it down out of the air and lay it over her
She weeps with fearfulness and astonishment

She has found his hands for him, and fitted them freshly at the wrists
They are amazed at themselves, they go feeling all over her

He has assembled her spine, he cleaned each piece carefully
And sets them in perfect order
A superhuman puzzle but he is inspired
She leans back twisting this way and that, using it and laughing
Incredulous

Now she has brought his feet, she is connecting them
So that his whole body lights up

And he has fashioned her new hips
With all fittings complete and with newly wound coils, all shiningly oiled
He is polishing every part, he himself can hardly believe it

They keep taking each other to the sun, they find they can easily
To test each new thing at each new step

And now she smoothes over him the plates of his skull
So that the joints are invisible

And now he connects her throat, her breasts and the pit of her stomach
With a single wire

She gives him his teeth, tying the the roots to the centrepin of his body

He sets the little circlets on her fingertips

She stitches his body here and there with steely purple silk

He oils the delicate cogs of her mouth

She inlays with deep cut scrolls the nape of his neck

He sinks into place the inside of her thighs

So, gasping with joy, with cries of wonderment
Like two gods of mud
Sprawling in the dirt, but with infinite care
They bring each other to perfection.​

 

[DesEsseintes]

Et in Arcadia Ego​

For Katy


'For he on honey-dew hath fed,
And drunk the milk of Paradise.'
'Kubla Khan', Samuel Taylor Coleridge


For early humans, things without a flaw,
Were holy, to be feared. In Egypt still,
To symbolise the nature of this life,
An imperfection, subtly woven in
To every carpet, tells us that the joy
And tragedy of life are but one word.

But since that Sunday evening, just one word
I never thought to hear has ripped that flaw
From the threads of my life; and all the joy
I thought had disappeared is with me still.
Two souls who swore off love now find that in
A mutual passion beats the heart of life.

It is as though the dullness of a life
Grown dark, where mere contentment was the word,
Now glows a sudden gold. I know that in
Whatever life I have, no future flaw
Shall mar the glory of that look, which still
Tears through my mind in terrifying joy.

As though the Gods themselves shared in out joy
And, jealously, desired to share our life.
The wonder of a deer, held frozen still
Whilst you and I gazed back without a word -
Such endless snapshots, flowing without flaw,
Now held in silent patterns deep within.

In Oxford, where we walked together in
That Eden once again restored to joy -
Like rocks which, without moving, cause the flaw
Which splits the river in twin streams; so life
Slowed round us: stopped. Without a single word.
Some shadow of that moment lives there still.

One day my life will cease, my heart grow still,
And all this silent glory held within
Shall burst across the world - my flesh made Word
To wake a thousand millions starved of joy.
To tell the truth we learned together: life
If lived as we have lived, can have no flaw.​

A sestina written for my wife some years ago, long before we were married. As I explained at the time:

'The form is as draconian as I could choose - perhaps because I do not trust myself to write about such matters more freely. Then again, if I was trying to lock away my emotions, in this poem or at any other time with you, I have failed miserably. Words fail me - or rather, I fail them. But I had to write something.'

Pace the title of the thread, I am not sure if this counts as poetry, particularly given some of the timeless examples quoted above. But it is certainly passionate.