Intoxicate me with the wine of Thy Love

"O Lord, intoxicate me with the wine
Of Thy Love.
Place the chains of Thy slavery on
My feet;
Make me empty of all but Thy love,
And in it destroy me and bring me
Back to life.
The hunger Thou has awakened culminates
In fulfillment."
Sufimaster Sheikh Abdullah Ansari

A Love Song from the North

A Love Song from the North

Tell me no more of thy love, papeeha*,
Wouldst thou recall to my heart, papeeha,
Dreams of delight that are gone,
When swift to my side came the feet of my lover
With stars of the dusk and the dawn?
I see the soft wings of the clouds on the river,
And jewelled with raindrops the mango-leaves quiver,
And tender boughs flower on the plain.....
But what is their beauty to me, papeeha,
Beauty of blossom and shower, papeeha,
That brings not my lover again?
Tell me no more of thy love, papeeha,
Wouldst thou revive in my heart, papeeha
Grief for the joy that is gone?
I hear the bright peacock in glimmering woodlands
Cry to its mate in the dawn;
I hear the black koel's slow, tremulous wooing,
And sweet in the gardens the calling and cooing
Of passionate bulbul and dove....
But what is their music to me, papeeha
Songs of their laughter and love, papeeha,
To me, forsaken of love?

-Sarojini Naidu

* The papeeha is a bird that wings into the northern plains of India in the mango season, and calls " 'Pi-kahan, Pi-kahan' - Where is my love?"

Abishag

I
She lay, and serving-men her lithe arms took,
And bound them round the withering old man,
And on him through the long sweet hours she lay,
And little fearful of his many years.

And many times she turned amidst his beard
Her face, as often as the night-owl screeched,
And all that was the night around them reached
Its feelers manifold of longing fears.

As they had been the sisters of the child
The stars trembled, and fragrance searched the room,
The curtain stirring sounded with a sign
Which drew her gentle glances after it.

But she clung close upon the dim old man,
And, by the night of nights not over-taken,
Upon the cooling of the King she lay
Maidenly, and lightly as a soul.

II
The King sate thinking out the empty day
Of deeds accomplished and untasted joys,
And of his favorite bitch that he had bredC
But with the evening Abishag was arched
Above him. His disheveled life lay bare,
Abandoned as diffamed coasts, beneath
The quiet constellation of her breasts.

But many times, as one in women skilled,
he through his eyebrows recognized the mouth
Unmoved, unkissed; and saw: the comet green
Of her desired reached not to where he lay.
He shivered. And he listened like a hound,
And sought himself in his remaining blood.

Rainer Maria Rilke

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An Indian Love Song

He

Lift up the veils that darken the delicate moon
of thy glory and grace,
Withhold not, O love, from the night
of my longing the joy of thy luminous face,
Give me a spear of the scented keora
guarding thy pinioned curls,
Or a silken thread from the fringes
that trouble the dream of thy glimmering pearls;
Faint grows my soul with thy tresses' perfume
and the song of thy anklets' caprice,
Revive me, I pray, with the magical nectar
that dwells in the flower of thy kiss.

She

How shall I yield to the voice of thy pleading,
how shall I grant thy prayer,
Or give thee a rose-red silken tassel,
a scented leaf from my hair?
Or fling in the flame of thy heart's desire the veils that cover my face,
Profane the law of my father's creed for a foe
of my father's race?
Thy kinsmen have broken our sacred altars and slaughtered our sacred kine,
The feud of old faiths and the blood of old battles sever thy people and mine.

He

What are the sins of my race, Beloved,
what are my people to thee?
And what are thy shrines, and kine and kindred,
what are thy gods to me?
Love recks not of feuds and bitter follies,
of stranger, comrade or kin,
Alike in his ear sound the temple bells
and the cry of the muezzin.
For Love shall cancel the ancient wrong
and conquer the ancient rage,
Redeem with his tears the memoried sorrow
that sullied a bygone age.

- Sarojini Naidu

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Desire

Desire

Where true Love burns Desire is Love's pure flame ;
It is the reflex of our earthly frame,
That takes its meaning from the nobler part,
And but translates the language of the heart.

- Samuel Taylor Coleridge

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There comes a warning like a spy

There comes a warning like a spy
A shorter breath of Day
A stealing that is not a stealth
And Summers are away

-Emily Dickinson

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Ecstasy

Ecstasy

Cover mine eyes, O my Love!
Mine eyes that are weary of bliss
As of light that is poignant and strong
O silence my lips with a kiss,
My lips that are weary of song!
Shelter my soul, O my love!
My soul is bent low with the pain
And the burden of love, like the grace
Of a flower that is smitten with rain:
O shelter my soul from thy face!

- Sarojini Naidu

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the woman shows in turning up her robe

She–the woman shows in turning up her robe
An object–the vulva–developed full and round,
In semblance like a cup turned upside down.
In placing thereupon your hand, you seem to feel
A well-formed bosom, springy, firm, and full.
In boring in your lance it gets well bitten,
And drawn in by a suction, as the breast is by a child.
And after having finished, if you wish to recommence,
You’ll find it flaming hot as any furnace.

- The Perfumed Garden

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springtime of Lovers has come

The springtime of Lovers has come,

that this dust bowl may become a garden;

the proclamation of heaven has come,

that the bird of the soul may rise in flight.

The sea becomes full of pearls,

the salt marsh becomes sweet as kauthar,

the stone becomes a ruby from the mine,

the body becomes wholly soul.

-Rumi

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I Love You

I love your lips when they're wet with wine
And red with a wild desire;
I love your eyes when the lovelight lies
Lit with a passionate fire.
I love your arms when the warm white flesh
Touches mine in a fond embrace;
I love your hari when the strands enmesh
Your kisses against my face.

-Ella Wheeler Wilcox
from I Love You

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Love and Lust

LOVE AND LUST

Each shall have a room, as they are distinct
As love is blind, lust has eyes wide open for its games
As love is day, lust is the night at the bar
As love speaks the truth, lust can just lay silent looking for the tasty froth
Love need not be beautiful but lust makes it a requisite
Love may abstain, but lust cannot
By its nature it thrives in banquets

Love is pure but lust goes to mud in all wild wrestling for what it desires
I can love you without lust
But you may not like it after all
I love and lust you

And in you
Love and lust shall
Hold hands, kiss tight, hiss all the night
Love and lust
The two becoming one
To both of us

So this union may last
This communion of souls

RIC S. BASTASA

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Entwined

Waiting for you
aches like eternity
Consuming me
silent nightly echoes
smothering my senses.
Seeking repose

I mitigate the urgency
in warm, flowering

Liquid flickering showers

Lathering lusty bubble

Remind me of you

Yearning

that it be you

Your hands,

Your sweet hands reach behind be

Embracing my breasts

Yes it is you

Lotion cooling and warming me all at once

Fingering tips barely touching

Bending me over

Locking your hips seeking me deeply

Pulling away

You turn me to you

Feather touch lips

Caress the tickling side of my breasts

Southward

Light tender teasing

Swelling warmth filling me

Aching burning lustful longing

Dampness fills me

Thrilling fingers dance my skin

Teasing my lips curve

Tongues entwine

In Impassioned embrace

Gently sucking, pulling at my nipples

Feathering my sides
little spider kisses over the softness
Probing within me

Fingers massaging my depths

Your dancing licks lavish liquid

Delight on my thrilled labia

My hips buckle

In delightful burning hunger

Take me

Your long fingers dive deeply within

Hungering the taste

Of my engorged femininity

Aching panting hunger

Barely able to breathe

Searching
Deeper.
Faster!
Harder!
Almost ……..

…the Edge

Take me

let me fly…

On edge
Wanting to fall

stars, heavenly stars

then you turn me

plunging your hardness into me

reminding me you have your own desires.

- opus125

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The Kiss

The Kiss

I hoped that he would love me,
And he has kissed my mouth,
But I am like a stricken bird
That cannot reach the south.
For though I know he loves me,
To-night my heart is sad;
His kiss was not so wonderful
As all the dreams I had.


Sara Teasdale

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The Poet's Love-Song

In noon-tide hours, O Love, secure and strong, I need thee not; mad dreams are mine to bind The world to my desire, and hold the wind A voiceless captive to my conquering song. I need thee not, I am content with these: Keep silence in thy soul, beyond the seas! But in the desolate hour of midnight, when An ectasy of starry silence sleeps And my soul hungers for thy voice, O then, Love, like the magic of wild melodies, Let thy soul answer mine across the seas.

- Sarojini Naidu

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A Simple Rose

A simple rose I have found
It's not the flower that grows from the ground,
Its beauty is one of such delight ...
This rose is soft to the touch in all its perfection.

The envy for all the flowers in this garden
Its fragrance will consume your every obsession.
This rose must be a gift, a gift from above
A gift from Heaven to show us love.

Every morning I wake to see its petals glisten
Its easy to see how one could be so smitten
If love was a rose it would shine so bright
Because all I need is this rose in my life.

- Kevan Mends

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The bond of love is not desire, but need

The bond of love is not desire, but need.

Desire fades; need with wisdom grows:

The need to be needed, and the need to need.

But why the need to need when one is freed

By needing less of that which comes and goes?

The bond of love is not desire, but need.

And why need to be needed? Why should one cede

What one might well enjoy for what one owes?

The need to be needed, and the need to need

Are longings of the sower for the seed,

And the seed for the sower, who whistles as he sows.

The bond of love is not desire, but need.

Love is longing, by dint of death decreed,

The beauty and the terror life bestows,

The need to be needed, and the need to need

Embedded in one’s being, as indeed,

Being needs Creation, which it once chose.

The bond of love is not desire, but need:

The need to be needed, and the need to need.

- Nicholas Gordon

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Polinate the nectar of my vineyard

Rejoice in my
Swelling henna clusters
Delight in the allure of
Wine rubies that blossom
from almond to rose

alight softly
the sweet grapes hardening
‘neath diaphanous silk laced pastel.
Slip them free
for your delight

The transcendental touch
of your scented beard
rests tender on
the milled softness
of my navel.

Savor my talents
Yearn for me, caress
with slowly rising tempo
my firming aching apples
and let me drink of your fountain

delight in my wine.
Remove the dancing silks
and sip beneath the
diaphanous chalwar.
Sup on my sweetness.

Excite the satin ocean
writhing above
your aching virility
Be swallowed in the refreshing
dew of my moistening flower.


Your shimmering delight
Opens my nectar
In dancing tender
creaming peach intoxication.
Taste me, desire me,

I Surrender to every
exquisite wave of
silken sensitivity.
Fill me with your
Milken soul.

Pleasure in my delight
Taste of me as I
taste your silken touch.
Fill me with eyes
Of desperate desire

Souls as one,
remind me we are forever!
Pull me closer
and pollinate the
nectar of my vineyard.
- opus125

A Rajput Love Song

A Rajput Love Song

(Parvati at her lattice) O Love! were you a basil-wreath to twine among my tresses,
A jewelled clasp of shining gold to bind around my sleeve,
O Love! were you the keora's soul that haunts my silken raiment,
A bright, vermilion tassel in the girdles that I weave;
O Love! were you the scented fan that lies upon my pillow,
A sandal lute, or silver lamp that burns before my shrine,
Why should I fear the jealous dawn that spreads with cruel laughter,
Sad veils of separation between your face and mine?

Haste, O wild-bee hours, to the gardens of the sun set!
Fly, wild-parrot day, to the orchards of the west! Come, O tender night, with your sweet, consoling darkness, And bring me my Beloved to the shelter of my breast!

(Amar Singh in the saddle) O Love! were you the hooded hawk upon my hand
that flutters,
Its collar-band of gleaming bells atinkle as I ride,
O Love! were you a turban-spray or floating heron-feather, The radiant, swift, unconquered sword that swingeth at my side;

O Love! were you a shield against the arrows of my foemen,
An amulet of jade against the perils of the way,
How should the drum-beats of the dawn divide me from your bosom,
Or the union of the midnight be ended with the day?

Haste, O wild-deer hours, to the meadows of the sunset! Fly, wild stallion day, to the pastures of the west!
Come, O tranquil night, with your soft, consenting darkness, And bear me to the fragrance of my Beloved's breast!

-Sarojini Naidu

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Autumn Song

Autumn Song

Like a joy on the heart of a sorrow, The sunset hangs on a cloud; A golden storm of glittering sheaves, Of fair and frail and fluttering leaves, The wild wind blows in a cloud. Hark to a voice that is calling To my heart in the voice of the wind: My heart is weary and sad and alone, For its dreams like the fluttering leaves have gone, And why should I stay behind?

- Sarojini Naidu

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Arabian Beauty

Ah for the throes of a heart sorely wounded!
Ah for the throes of a heart sorely wounded!
Ah for the eyes that have smit me with madness!
Gently she moved in the calmness of beauty,
Moved as the bough to the light breeze of morning.
Dazzled my eyes as they gazed, till before me
All was a mist and confusion of figures.
Ne’er had I sought her, and ne’er had she sought me;
Fated the love, and the hour, and the meeting!
There I beheld her, as she and her damsels
Paced ’twixt the temple and outer enclosure:
Damsels the fairest, the loveliest, the gentlest,
Passing like slow-wending heifers at evening,
Ever surrounding with courtly observance
Her whom they honour, the peerless of women.
Then to a handmaid, the youngest, she whispered:
"’Omar is near; let us mar his devotions.
Cross on his path that he needs may observe us;
Give him a signal, my sister, demurely."
"Signals I gave, but he marked not or heeded,"
Answered the damsel, and hasted to meet me. p. 359
Ah for that night by the vale of the sand-hills!
Ah for the dawn when in silence we parted!
He who the morn may awake to her kisses
Drinks from the cup of the blessed in heaven!

- Omar

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the best time to know yourself is when you are in love

LOVE
Do you know that the best time to know yourself is when you are in
love? You discover feelings you never knew you had: the heights of
jealousy, passion, anger, and affection.

It’s up to you to be master or slave to them. Committing into a relationship entails a lot of hard work to keep it because love is an act of the will, to live for
another, to give oneself to meet the needs of another.
Opening up your heart means making room for love, patience, understanding, and sacrifice.
Loving a person is like holding sand in your hand. Held loosely,
with an open hand, the sand remains where it is.

The minute you close your hand and squeeze tightly to hold on,
the sand trickles through your fingers. You may hold on to some
of it, but most will be spilled.
Loving a person is like that. Held loosely, with respect and freedom
for the other person, it is likely to remain intact. But hold too
tightly, too possessively, and the relationship slips away and is
lost. You never lose by loving. You always lose by holding back.
Destiny is not a matter of chance; it is a matter of choice. It is not
a something to be waited for; it is something to be achieved.

-Candy Lee Rebollos

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Beauty

And a poet said, "Speak to us of Beauty."
Where shall you seek beauty, and how shall you find her unless she herself be your way and your guide?
And how shall you speak of her except she be the weaver of your speech?
The aggrieved and the injured say, "Beauty is kind and gentle. Like a young mother half-shy of her own glory she walks among us."
And the passionate say, "Nay, beauty is a thing of might and dread. Like the tempest she shakes the earth beneath us and the sky above us."
The tired and the weary say, "beauty is of soft whisperings.
She speaks in our spirit.
Her voice yields to our silences like a faint light that quivers in fear of the shadow."
But the restless say, "We have heard her shouting among the mountains, And with her cries came the sound of hoofs, and the beating of wings and the roaring of lions."
At night the watchmen of the city say, "Beauty shall rise with the dawn from the east."
And at noontide the toilers and the wayfarers say, "we have seen her leaning over the earth from the windows of the sunset."
In winter say the snow-bound, "She shall come with the spring leaping upon the hills."
And in the summer heat the reapers say, "We have seen her dancing with the autumn leaves, and we saw a drift of snow in her hair."
All these things have you said of beauty.
Yet in truth you spoke not of her but of needs unsatisfied, And beauty is not a need but an ecstasy.
It is not a mouth thirsting nor an empty hand stretched forth, But rather a heart enflamed and a soul enchanted.
It is not the image you would see nor the song you would hear, But rather an image you see though you close your eyes and a song you hear though you shut your ears.
It is not the sap within the furrowed bark, nor a wing attached to a claw, But rather a garden forever in bloom and a flock of angels for ever in flight.
People of Orphalese, beauty is life when life unveils her holy face.
But you are life and you are the veil. Beauty is eternity gazing at itself in a mirror.
But you are eternity and you are the mirror.

Khalil Gibran

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The kiss

TO these I turn, in these I trust—
Brother Lead and Sister Steel.
To his blind power I make appeal,
I guard her beauty clean from rust.

He spins and burns and loves the air,
And splits a skull to win my praise;
But up the nobly marching days
She glitters naked, cold and fair.

Sweet Sister, grant your soldier this:
That in good fury he may feel
The body where he sets his heel
Quail from your downward darting kiss.

- Siegfried Sassoon

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I dare not reckon up the nights

I can count the days until I see you dear.
but the days only.
I dare not reckon up the nights and hours
I shall be lonely.

But when at last I meet you, dearest heart.
How can it chear me?
Desire has power to turn me into stone
when you come near me.

I give my heart the lie against my will -
Seem not to see you.
Glance aside quickly if i meet you eye -
Love you and flee you.

- Lesbia Hartford

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Absence

Absence

Goodnight, my love, for I have dreamed
of thee
In waking dreams, until my soul is lost—
Is lost in passion’s wide and shoreless sea,
Where, like a ship, unruddered, it is tost
Hither and thither at the wild waves’ will.
There is no potent Master’s voice to still
This newer, more tempestuous Galilee!

The stormy petrels of my fancy fly
In warning course cross the darkening green,
And, like a frightened bird, my heart doth cry
And seek to find some rock of rest between
The threatening sky and the restless wave.
It is not length of life that grief doth crave,
But only calm and peace in which to die.

Here let me rest upon this single hope,
For oh, my wings are weary of the wind,
And with its stress no more may strive or cope.
One cry has dulled mine ears, mine eyes are blind,-
Would that o’er all intervening space,
I might fly forth and see thee face to face.
I fly; I search, but, love, in gloom I grope.

Fly home, far bird, unto thy waiting nest;
Spread thy strong wings above wind-swept sea.
Beat the grim breeze with thy unruffled breast
Until thou sittest wing to wing with me.
Then, let the past bring up its tales of wrong;
We shall chant low our sweet connubial song,
Till storm and doubt and past no more shall be!
-
Paul Lawrence Dunbar

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