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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Maid of Paradise

Maid of Paradise

We shall meet in cool and torchlit courtyards,
the silent precincts of night's sweet embrace
and bathe there in gentle fountains where clear
sparkling waters cleanse past's tainted trace.
A couch waits, draped with fine silks and linens,
dates and almonds rest upon a silver tray.
Before us a feast of new beginnings,
each choice placed like a jewel in the display.
Scents of jasmine and musk intoxicate us,
the stars anoint the bed where we will lie.
Your eyes are like the gates of seven heavens,
four basilisks stand ready to defy
mortality - and all time's hungry hunters
who would pursue us to this den of peace;
bring their pious rules here to confront us
and spoil the pleasure we have in our feast.
Your body like a slice of moonlight
falls softly on this torn and battered frame,
opens to me, lets our beings unite
to best the gods at fate, their chosen game.
The gentle night will hide and protect you
but when cruel dawn calls, bidding you depart
I will beg Cronos halt the sun and let you
forever be the houri of my heart.

Ian R. Thorpe

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The Kiss

Soon, yes soon, we'll have our chance, To embrace each other in love's dance. A dance which I'll take her hand and show, The love she's yet to know. And yes, we'll know it with that kiss, The first look of tender bliss. The hug and warm embrace will say it all, The fear and doubts we've had will fall, Fall from the precipice into the abyss, With that first sweet tender kiss. P. Bere

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To A Kiss

Humid seal of soft affections,
Tend'rest pledge of future bliss,
Dearest tie of young connections,
Love's first snow-drop, virgin kiss.

Speaking silence, dumb confession,
Passion's birth, and infants' play,
Dove-like fondness, chaste concession,
Glowing dawn of brighter day.

Sorrowing joy, adieu's last action,
Ling'ring lips, -- no more to join!
What words can ever speak affection
Thrilling and sincere as thine!

Robert Burns

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Lovesong

Lovesong


He loved her and she loved him
His kisses sucked out her whole past and future or tried to
He had no other appetite
She bit him she gnawed him she sucked
She wanted him complete inside her
Safe and sure forever and ever
Their little cries fluttered into the curtains

Her eyes wanted nothing to get away
Her looks nailed down his hands his wrists his elbows
He gripped her hard so that life
Should not drag her from that moment
He wanted all future to cease
He wanted to topple with his arms round her
Off that moment's brink and into nothing
Or everlasting or whatever there was

Her embrace was an immense press
To print him into her bones
His smiles were the garrets of a fairy palace
Where the real world would never come
Her smiles were spider bites
So he would lie still till she felt hungry
His words were occupying armies
Her laughs were an assassin's attempts
His looks were bullets daggers of revenge
His glances were ghosts in the corner with horrible secrets
His whispers were whips and jackboots
Her kisses were lawyers steadily writing
His caresses were the last hooks of a castaway
Her love-tricks were the grinding of locks
And their deep cries crawled over the floors
Like an animal dragging a great trap
His promises were the surgeon's gag
Her promises took the top off his skull
She would get a brooch made of it
His vows pulled out all her sinews
He showed her how to make a love-knot
Her vows put his eyes in formalin
At the back of her secret drawer
Their screams stuck in the wall

Their heads fell apart into sleep like the two halves
Of a lopped melon, but love is hard to stop

In their entwined sleep they exchanged arms and legs
In their dreams their brains took each other hostage

In the morning they wore each other's face


- Ted Hughes

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Give me a kisse,

Give me a kisse, and to that kisse a score;
Then to that twenty, adde a hundred more;
A thousand to that hundred; so kisse on,
To make that thousand up a million;
Treble that million, and when that is done,
Let's kisse afresh, as when we first begun.

Robert Herrick

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Take, O Take Those Lips Away

Take, O take, those lips away, That so sweetly were forsworn; And those eyes, the break of day, Lights that do mislead the morn; But my kisses bring again Bring again; Seals of love but sealed in vain, -Sealed in vain!

- William Shakespeare
from Measure for Measure

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Kisses Kept Are Wasted

Kisses kept are wasted; Love is to be tasted. There are some you love, I know; Be not loathe to tell them so. Lips go dry and eyes grow wet Waiting to be warmly met. Keep them not in waiting yet; Kisses kept are wasted.

Edmund Vance Cooke

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A Lover's Call XXVII

A Lover's Call XXVII

Where are you, my beloved? Are you in that little
Paradise, watering the flowers who look upon you
As infants
look upon the breast of their mothers?


Or are you in your chamber where the shrine of
Virtue has been placed in your honor, and upon
Which you offer my heart and soul as sacrifice?


Or amongst the books, seeking human knowledge,
While you are replete with heavenly wisdom?


Oh companion of my soul, where are you? Are you
Praying in the temple? Or calling Nature in the
Field, haven of your dreams?


Are you in the huts of the poor, consoling the
Broken-hearted with the sweetness of your soul, and
Filling their hands with your bounty?


You are God's spirit everywhere;
You are stronger than the ages.


Do you have memory of the day we met, when the halo of
You spirit surrounded us, and the Angels of Love
Floated about, singing the praise of the soul's deed?


Do you recollect our sitting in the shade of the
Branches, sheltering ourselves from Humanity, as the ribs
Protect the divine secret of the heart from injury?


Remember you the trails and forest we walked, with hands
Joined, and our heads leaning against each other, as if
We were hiding ourselves within ourselves?


Recall you the hour I bade you farewell,
And the Maritime kiss you placed on my lips?
That kiss taught me that joining of lips in Love
Reveals heavenly secrets which the tongue cannot utter!


That kiss was introduction to a great sigh,
Like the Almighty's breath that turned earth into man.


That sigh led my way into the spiritual world,
Announcing the glory of my soul; and there
It shall perpetuate until again we meet.


I remember when you kissed me and kissed me,
With tears coursing your cheeks, and you said,
"Earthly bodies must often separate for earthly purpose,
And must live apart impelled by worldly intent.


"But the spirit remains joined safely in the hands of
Love, until death arrives and takes joined souls to God.


"Go, my beloved; Love has chosen you her delegate;
Over her, for she is Beauty who offers to her follower
The cup of the sweetness of life.
As for my own empty arms, your love shall remain my
Comforting groom; you memory, my Eternal wedding."


Where are you now, my other self? Are you awake in
The silence of the night? Let the clean breeze convey
To you my heart's every beat and affection.


Are you fondling my face in your memory? That image
Is no longer my own, for Sorrow has dropped his
Shadow on my happy countenance of the past.


Sobs have withered my eyes which reflected your beauty
And dried my lips which you sweetened with kisses.


Where are you, my beloved? Do you hear my weeping
From beyond the ocean? Do you understand my need?
Do you know the greatness of my patience?


Is there any spirit in the air capable of conveying
To you the breath of this dying youth? Is there any
Secret communication between angels that will carry to
You my complaint?


Where are you, my beautiful star? The obscurity of life
Has cast me upon its bosom; sorrow has conquered me.


Sail your smile into the air; it will reach and enliven me!
Breathe your fragrance into the air; it will sustain me!


Where are you, me beloved?
Oh, how great is Love!
And how little am I!

Khalil Gibran

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She walks in beauty

She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellow'd to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade more, one ray less,
Had half impair'd the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling place.

And on that cheek, and o'er that brow
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!

Lord Byron (1788-1824)

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Seeing Your Face

I swear, since seeing Your face,

the whole world is fraud and fantasy

The garden is bewildered as to what is leaf

or blossom. The distracted birds

can't distinguish the birdseed from the snare.



A house of love with no limits,

a presence more beautiful than venus or the moon,

a beauty whose image fills the mirror of the heart.

- Mevlana Jalaluddin Rumi
The Divani Shamsi Tabriz XV

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Sensual Garden

I laid me down upon a bank,
Where Love lay sleeping;
I heard among the rushes dank
Weeping, weeping.

Then I went to the heath and the wild,
To the thistles and thorns of the waste;
And they told me how they were beguiled,
Driven out, and compelled to the chaste.

I went to the Garden of Love,
And saw what I never had seen;
A Chapel was built in the midst,
Where I used to play on the green.

And the gates of this Chapel were shut
And "Thou shalt not," writ over the door;
So I turned to the Garden of Love
That so many sweet flowers bore.

And I saw it was filled with graves,
And tombstones where flowers should be;
And priests in black gowns were walking their rounds,
And binding with briars my joys and desires.


- Wiliam Blake
'Songs of Innocence and Experience'

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Love Thee

Love Thee

I love thee, as I love the calm
Of sweet, star-lighted hours!
I love thee, as I love the balm
Of early jes'mine flow'rs.
I love thee, as I love the last
Rich smile of fading day,
Which lingereth, like the look we cast,
On rapture pass'd away.
I love thee as I love the tone
Of some soft-breathing flute
Whose soul is wak'd for me alone,
When all beside is mute.

I love thee as I love the first
Young violet of the spring;
Or the pale lily, April-nurs'd,
To scented blossoming.
I love thee, as I love the full,
Clear gushings of the song,
Which lonely--sad--and beautiful--
At night-fall floats along,
Pour'd by the bul-bul forth to greet
The hours of rest and dew;
When melody and moonlight meet
To blend their charm, and hue.
I love thee, as the glad bird loves
The freedom of its wing,
On which delightedly it moves
In wildest wandering.

I love thee as I love the swell,
And hush, of some low strain,
Which bringeth, by its gentle spell,
The past to life again.
Such is the feeling which from thee
Nought earthly can allure:
'Tis ever link'd to all I see
Of gifted--high--and pure!

- Eliza Acton, 1799-1859

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