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Best Spiritual Poems

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Don't stop! The most popular and best Spiritual poems are below this new poems list.

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SPIRITUAL AFFECTION by Trifiatis, Demetrios
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A spiritual walk by Griswold, John
A SPIRITUAL RAGE by Verma, Satish
A Spiritual Education by Kiser, M. L.

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The Best Spiritual Poems

Details | Spiritual Poem | |

Indian Ink

“Indian Accent”

Hear the whispers inside

Chanting from long ago
Echoes come and go
Losing time in a soft eternal glow

A beautiful and delicate autumn mountain scene
Dry blue eyes enchanting melodies!
Voices falling from the sky
Rising hymns release ancient demons that cling to the soul

The darkness dwells under gentle moonlight
Ancestors of the Spirit World,
Exposing Indian hands that weave native smoke into the air
Their spirits taunting burrows from the muddy Earth
Moccasin makers rise from underneath
Guardians of dream catchers
Smooth thread from the outer edge, bowing heads.
Luminous gems of ivory,
Chasing a florid kiss.

Through the winds of enchanted drums, voices cry out for rain.
The hollow chimes mesmerize  
An ancient rage begins to flare
Stale madness, 
The spears of the perfumed buffalo skin pierced my senses
Removing the veils that cover my eyes
The hands that cover my ears
Washing the scalp that bleeds on my face
They collect tears from memories of the past.

KINDRED IN EVERY WAY!

Raven silk braids, feathers fall from my hair.
Dancing in a horrid hallucination of Peyote,
Waking up from the “American Dream.”
Holding out my arms, I am free, I can fly.

I AM A BIRD!

By; PD

More great poems below...


Details | Spiritual Poem | |

THIS IS WHY I CAME

They came to the orphanage, I wasn't thinking too much;
Until they looked into my eyes, And I felt their touch.

An incredible connection, This kind of love I'd never seen;
Things were happening so fast, What does all this mean?

Adopted into the family, Thoughts of despair fled;
My Father's arm around me, I'll never forget what he said:

You have a hope and a future, You don't have to be afraid;
I've planned out everything, Preparing for this day.
Here's your new clothes, I'm giving you my name;
You belong to my family, Son, This is why I came!

One Sunday in church, I wasn't thinking too much;
Until I heard the preacher say, Everyone needs a crutch.

At first it didn't make sense, To think I was broken and lame;
My sins had separated me, I was a spiritual orphan in shame.

I bowed my head right then, Trusted Christ in my heart;
I wanted to belong to Jesus, And have a new start.

Adopted into the family, Thoughts of despair fled;
My Father's arm around me, I'll never forget what he said:

You have a hope and a future, You don't have to be afraid;
I've planned out everything, Preparing for this day.
Here's your new cloths, I'm giving you my name;
You belong to my family, Son; This is why I came!

60 years have now passed, I wasn't thinking too much;
Felt a strange pain in my chest, Grabbed hold of the hutch.

The ambulance came, They started working on me;
I was losing the fight, but I was so ready to be free.

Adopted into the family, Thoughts of despair fled;
My Father's arm around me, I'll never forget what he said:

You have a hope and a future, You don't have to be afraid;
I've planned out everything, Preparing for this day.
Here's your new cloths, I'm giving you my name;
You belong to my family, Son, This is why I came!

Sponsor:Kelly Deschler
Contest Name: Men Only 
Form: Ballad Poem
Date: 4-18-14

Details | Spiritual Poem | |

Ancient Warrior

I see the wrinkles in your suntanned brow,
You carried burdens then; you see them now.
You’ve heard the cries your people who in pain,
Have shed their tears two hundred years like rain. 

Your sad brown eyes, reflecting now the sky
I see the wings of eagles flying by
Beside you stands an Appaloosa mare
Her spirit one with you now over there.

You hear the drums, they bid you to come near,
Your spirit drawn the beats they ring so clear.
Song like prayers are chanted through the night,
Calling you come, and help them end their plight.  

You’ve heard sad cries and now stand at their side,
You join the prayers with both arms open wide,
United spirits sing until the dawn,
When in the fire’s flames a golden fawn.

Remembering a smile crosses your face,
When tribes were one with Mother Nature’s grace.
The lakes and streams flowing with waters clear,
Flow sadly now, the planet lives in fear.

The weightless feathers that adorn your head
Your tribes grey future weighed you down instead.
Now breathing deep you smell the winds of change
While here on earth your people rearrange.

Written by Brenda Meier-Hans 
10.21.2014
Giorgio A.V. Contest 
Iambic Pentameter 
1st place

Details | Spiritual Poem | |

I saw you yesterday

I saw you yesterday

I saw you yesterday, your features grinned,
some silken scarf was waving in the blue,
I thought of what the rains could not rescind;
our images, that in the fields imbue.

I saw tempestuous, around me shades,
the rain's persistence had engraved your name
upon the slate, around she formed cascades,
inviting flash amid the drops, and flame.

I saw flash yesterday, inside the rain,
how beautiful it was, her kiss of dew
your words became my sails on trip arcane 
the clouds, your messengers, 'mid skies to strew.

I sensed the crooked line reticulate,
the sulfur acrid smell and pale flame's hue,
transmuting to abderian road skate,
zigzagging on a water copper tube.

The flame transformed to runnel flowing laughs;
the rustling of droplets on the leaves,
combined the bright and shapely drawing graphs
with clouds to form above, celestial eaves.

I saw flash yesterday, my features grinned,
like silken scarf was waving in the blue,
I thought of what the rains could not rescind:
two images, amidst the fields imbue.

© G. V., 10-21-2013, All Rights Reserved
(Iambic pentameter)


Details | Spiritual Poem | |

Indian Girl

--Virginia Slim--

Different eyes, the same world 
Ancient skin, dirty Indian Girl 
Smokey, eyes, exotic raven hair 
---Now listen to  the colors, of transformation, 
On the day she was born, the wind blew in, 
A blessing ---her soul, fallen from the heavens
A  gorgeous puff of smoke, Miss Virginia Slim

Able to walk the world with an open mind, she twirls
Pocahontas, one of her many names. 
She carves, and climbs on trees, this little Indian Girl, 
Her feathers ride with the wind, against her red titian skin
Daughter of Chief Powhatan, a powerful tribal, red man 
Peace and love with the Indians of her Virginia Lands,

Many myths, many stories, maybe a mad woman, 
A new Christian, living sad poverty, a silent hero, 
Twisted tales, from savage green to ivory white religion
In her eyes, life never was about greed and skin
Her new look attained an altitude precision
Pocahontas tricked and captured, 
Set to sail another tribe, lands were taken over, 
Boat sailed out of Virginia Lands

Tribes acclaimed her to be wild and ambitious
"The naughty one," searching for admission
Native American child, before the princess, 
Her beautiful soul, a short auspicious beginning
Leaving her world, beautiful and fearless
Forgetting her roots-- From Mother Willow's Vision 
Pocahontas, the Indian Legend from, The Virginia Lands

by;PD

More great poems below...


Details | Spiritual Poem | |

Spring Fever

’Tis Spring (this is the real title, which I am unable to post this way in the title heading) Rejuvenate! ’Tis spring. Cruel winter’s lost its cling. We wake across this earth To welcome its rebirth. Give praise and with a joyful voice sing. ’Tis time of spring. Rejoice! Reverence with glad noise. In flowered meadows meet To dance with merry feet. Bring lutes, flutes, drums and resonant voice. Reflect. Again. . . ’tis spring. Robin’s on the wing. Lean upon a fruited tree. Hear the drone of honeybee. Breathe the bloom of lovely lilac sprig. ’Tis time. Reconcile. Greet each creature with a smile. As Christ for us bled tears To banish our worst fears, See everyone as God’s dear child. ’Tis season to re-grow. Heed nature’s lead below. Each gift you have to nourish Must be shared to flourish. Replenish bounties God did you bestow.

Details | Spiritual Poem | |

FINDING GOD

FINDING GOD My hungry heart and thirsty soul yearns for refill... Darkness and light roll then turn me up and down. Laughter and cries conjure caress my being in shrill. Gaping aghast to running rush caused a run-down! Yet, You my God comforted me 'neath water tides try. In trials and confusion, Your Sovereign a rock still. To shaky hope and weakness, Your grace empowers my will. The wilderness brings forth spring when I found yea... Hearing the sweetness of your voice in silence unfolds truth - healing wells of pains and woes... Heaven's breath by blossoms smell brought no shyness of searching... finding... knowing You more and more... Stars and moon shine along with my life's lamp shall bow in praise and worship, the deepest reverence I can offer. Thanking you until my life is done, my forever vow. As finding You, my God within labyrinths sets order... (c)Olive Eloisa 4:11am August 10. 2013 FIRST PLACE, GLORY TO GOD!!! CONTEST: FINDING GOD SPONSOR: Gale Angel Doyle Inspired by Biblical Verses: *Acts 17:27: That they should seek God, in the hope that they might feel their way toward him and find him. Yet he is actually not far from each one of us, **Matthew 7:8 = For everyone who asks receives, and the one who seeks finds, and to the one who knocks it will be opened. ***Jeremiah 33:3 - call to me and I will answer you, and will tell you great and hidden things that you have not known.

Details | Spiritual Poem | |

On every tenth of June

On every tenth of June
 
The sea waves splash upon the moors for years 
and shadows draw along the walls festoons
unspoken verse, conceived on silent piers,
the advent of our loneliness attunes.
 
That day of June remained our only fair
and minds' ascension to the astral reign,
blooms' multitude and fragrances’ affair
a purple thistle on the field and rain.
 
Remember me, a windy song and laugh,
our holding hands and young, the Summer’s call,
we celebrated then, upon the wharf
and acanthine of solitude's dance hall.
 
On every tenth of June my eyes embrace,
above the summer moors, your lines of face.
 
© G. Venetopoulos, 06-14-2013, All rights reserved
(English Sonnet)


Details | Spiritual Poem | |

Three Hundred

Three Hundred

The wraiths were ringing dead wrought bells
while closely passed the shady shapes
of woods in dusk, where red indwells
communion made from ghostly grapes.

He ran amidst the winds and passed
across the side where grapevines grew,
it was her presence that amassed
small leaves and droplets of fog's dew.

Inside the winds' lone strings accord,
his Bell full-face, was dropped along
the streamlets and horizon's board,
untamed his scopes, they don't belong.

The Astral Chords! He knew this debt;
the skies demand and kill and draw,
the darkened paths his thought beget,
rose thorny droplets on his brow.

Persephone shall be his wed,
subsiding dew the mist regales,
the stringing roar that reaches red,
his greatest bride resigns his trails.

Shall be the threading of winds' howls,
her plea arises from the shades,
homecoming queen from astral halls,
he harks the northern swashing blades.

Ablution's her enjoining black
"Enfold me in the rising dawn
enfold your sadness in the dark
with magistral the curtains drawn".

Acute of wounds she heals and mends
the asphalt of the mists awaits
pristine her bridal thorns amends
while passing through the Hades gates.

Three hundred reasons drew the drapes,
three hundred strings of diligence;
The winds regaled the bride's agape,
his celebration to commence.

© 10-14-2013, George Venetopoulos
(Iambic Tetrameter - Epic)

Three Hundred = 300 Kilometers per hour. The final speed a super-bike of 1,000cc engine is able to outreach.

Details | Spiritual Poem | |

And This Rain

And This Rain

Your verse became a misty trip to distant links
maybe the reason of sun's dodging was false,
affection left behind the borderlines and brinks
reminds of your ethereal, betrothal pulse.

Our time is still, with eyes to shine, conceived,
so is your company, outside my car to stray,
a fog rescinds while slowly falls, two souls bereaved,
the arbor trees in dusky light, remote sway.

The nightly breeze becomes your touch upon my face,
conducts unknown my course to steady effuse,
our steadfast floats upon the brines that dreams encase,
a summer song of longing stills and souls' bemuse.

How many sentiments a railroad trip ascribes
beyond horizon's borderlines and faded strings,
caressing touch of fingertips by airy brides,
- your Sunday advent will become a bird that sings.

Perchance you are bending softly on my scriptures,
inside a car of an expatriating train,
while I recall on Storrow Drive, your nightly features,
- as we have missed our dreamy summer and this rain.

© 10/9/2011, G. Venetopoulos All rights reseved

Details | Spiritual Poem | |

WE'RE STILL WE

Just because we're not together
Doesn't mean we're far apart
You may no longer see me
Cause I'm hidden in your heart
I am the warmth in your sunrise
The breeze dancing in your hair
Don't think for even a moment
That I'm gone, no longer there

I'm singing through that sparrow
My fragrance is in the rose
My shade is under the big oak
I'm in the poem you just composed
I still see you in the moonlight
Tell all your secrets to me
I'm closer than you can imagine
Never alone, girl we're still we

*A father on his deathbed pens this poem to his daughter to encourage her when he's gone, to remind her that he will never really leave her!

Date: 11-11-14

Details | Spiritual Poem | |

Eternal Soul

The soul's forever—
As an eternal spirit.
Leaves this mortal coil . . . 
	 Again to the spirit world 
And home to Heaven’s Kingdom!

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved, 
Schoeningen, Germany (November 7, 2014)
(Tanka poetic format) 

Details | Spiritual Poem | |

Behind These Red Brick Walls

I remember living quietly inside these red brick walls,
a soul, wandering alone through those dark, empty halls,
this is the place where I used to rest my weary head,
now you, another poetic heart, are dreaming here instead.

I was just a poet, a soul like you, so do not be afraid,
this is where I once lived, and this is where I stayed,
I want to whisper my secrets to you, late after midnight,
just hear my faded words, and I will remain out of sight.

There was a lonesome time when I wrote poetry, too,
now I am here, to be your muse and inspire you,
100 years ago, I lived on the other side, only now,
I dwell just behind these red brick walls, somehow.





(A sequel to my poem, "These Red Brick Walls")



Details | Spiritual Poem | |

The mist around the boulder

The mist around the boulder

She kept her staring eyes beyond the ridge and orange skylines,
where sun descended crowning bells, and dithering mauve thistles;
it was the time the shadows fell upon the fragrant grapevines,
while blue was spreading from the east and winds in branches whistled.

The dark of night embrace'd her form, espouse'd her thought and breathing,
how lonesome was the specter of this shortened time and order
when bold the blades of memories return'd and beam'd unsheathing,
granite became his thought, and hers, the mist around the boulder.

The dark of night embrace'd him, then, and wraiths, above, surpass'd him
across the Acheronian stills where shadowed lifted billows,
bestowed on him armorial vows and her betrothal bracing
of orchard blooms and stalwart deeds among the astral meadows.

© 2015-02-19, Georgios Venetopoulos, All rights reserved
(Iambic decapentasyllabic verse)

Sponsor: gautami phookan
Contest Name: I THINK OF YOU
Deadline: 3/13/2015


Details | Spiritual Poem | |

God's Strength, God's Word, God's Love

 trijan refrain 

The heart half full means something’s wrong -
the Spirit’s flame burns low.
When emptied, broken, we are strong
refilled, and ready so -
God’s strength can fix a heart gone dull
our selfish contents He can cull.
       God’s strength restores
       God’s strength restores
each day to keep our mark on full. 

The heart half full means needs may go
unmet by God’s own grace.
We’re called to let our fellows know
that they can win this race.
God’s Word abounds with help each day,
it must be read to find the Way.
       God’s Word abounds
       God’s Word abounds
to fill the empty hearts who stray.

The heart half full calls us to prayer,
it’s time to take a break.
Engaged with work, no time to spare
another’s thirst to slake.
God’s love pours forth when we look up
and ask for wisdom in our cup. 
       God’s love pours forth
       God’s love pours forth
enough to share, our neighbors sup.

written by Reason A. Poteet
posted September 19, 2014
for Giorgio's Structured Verse, Iambic Forms II contest

**I realize this is a combination of iambic verse in tetrameter, trimeter, and dimeter but that is the requirement for a trijan refrain, a variable line length. If it does not meet the rules of your contest, I will understand.

Details | Spiritual Poem | |

The sea-waves touch


The sea-waves touch your open palms;
along the shore, blue waters bid
when stormy sea henceforth becalms,
and tide engulfs what skies forbid.

When solemn eyes their oaths avow
and roses beckon on your dream,
reach out and find his drifting prow
aboard your trip's perpetual stream.

Cause thoughts, like boats, may drift amiss;
for those who lived in old realms,
eternal love's confession is,
the touch of sea, upon the palms.

Cause those beloved, forever pledge
since prior times,
and search those loves on skyline's edge
who kissed their eyes.

© G.V. 12.08.2013 All rights reserved
(Iambic tetrameter)
(first draft)

Details | Spiritual Poem | |

Laughing Moon


Laughing Moon

Our seaward route defines the night's mistrust,
recites untruths, upon the waters' wakes,
the brines transmit inside the breeze my past,
with demons transferring my last mistakes.

They are my ocean pals! From dark sea depths
they jump and dance inducted like buffoons,
and holding violins or brass trumpets,
they gallivant around with looney tunes.

Meanwhile the stars, elusive, send their spark,
my pals embark on boats with wooden laughs,
discerning critics of our ghostly barque,
where waxen maids regale on moon's behalf.

Some lovely group! Night's theater folklore,
with drunk musicians and chords distuned,
who awkward smile with swollen lips to yore,
in front of a half-hidden laughing moon.

They sing for me! Hoarse sounds, guitars' slack strings,
brass horns, vociferous trombones and lyres;
my joker pals in airy jumps they sing,
transmitting brassy, foolish laughs and tears.

And dancing they absorb my stare and thought,
with anchor amulets that neck-chains hold
away they glide, like seaport prayers besought,
upon magnificent of seas to voyage bold.

Saluting me, a dancer higher jumps
('mid pandemonium tunes - on marble delf!)
and as the  laughing chorus plays paeans,
avaunt he sails resembling myself.

© 01-03-2012, G. Venetopoulos, All rights reserved
(Iambic Pentameter)


Details | Spiritual Poem | |

Soul mates solace

When my final shadows cling on desperately
Where I fight formidable battles
to merely hold the light
I send you loving vibrations
and soul sustenance
Deep from the cathedral
of one heart to another
where today no choirs sing
nor symphonies play
Yet it is here where we meet
in spiritual solace
here to surrender 
and exchange inestimable treasures
recollecting memories 
like unopened letters
Galaxies are stretched
over chronicles of shared history
Nebula birthing stars
will be exposed
in forth-coming conversations
bringing short-lived fulfillment to you
Hungry to feast
now will be the time
to approve your blood art vision
and with my own haunting surrender
as dappled shades ink stain your chest
I will reside with you and share, mesmerised 
pens - by branding
as this will be your written reams to me
your artist's pallet or brushed canvas
no need for words
and yet creating
mysterious magical moments
Bitter-sweet the music
that dances taut guitar strings
but now blood approved
please go kick your heel up
return to your laughter
and ride on the breeze
for not all are lost
change not
for I am with you always
to love, listen and comfort as one
with you in me and I in you
as masterpiece

Details | Spiritual Poem | |

Judge Not

The congregation eyed him skeptically
     Long hair, a beard and sandals on his feet
Beyond his exterior they’d not see
     This rambler had just come in from the street

He blessed himself with the sign of the cross
     And joined fully in each hymn that was sung
It was soon apparent it was their loss
     When he greeted God with a gentle tongue

“Lord, You sent Your Son to roam on this earth
     His hair was long and to some seemed unkempt
And when He preached, insults were often hurled
     But He was not repelled by their contempt

“And so, Lord, I seek forgiveness for these
     Who cannot see beyond the clothes I wear
I’ll not be put down by those I displease
     I ask for forgiveness, make them aware

“That Your Son sported sandals and a beard
     I ask You judge them not as they judge me”
When the mass ended, the man disappeared
     At heaven’s gate his name’s on the marquis

Some of the congregation dwell below
     But the homeless man now sits by God’s side
For he had chosen love’s path to follow
     Appearances he did never deride



*For Jared's "At First Glance" Contest

Details | Spiritual Poem | |

Enlighten Me

"Haiku of enlightenment"

all explanations 
a perceptive, world of green
mocking the land

summoned bird calls
tantra and morality 
zestful garden-----------------  in waiting 

by;pd

Details | Spiritual Poem | |

Dark Grace


The asphalt of the ghost, deserted town is old and split,
my thoughts it claims upon the edges of sky's foreign moons,
I saw redemptive souls emerging from the depths of wit,
designs that winters form with interlaced on walls, festoons.

The Mistral blows (my soul), new paths defines and ridges crowns,
inside the dreams embeds the windy drawls and teenage years,
my mind foresees, its state to evolute and be renown,
while my December eyes become, reflectors of cold's tears.

Along those roads, deserted towns become a threaded toy,
of Mistral calls, a song abandoned in a bard's old tale,
unerringly be whistled by the ghosts and gusts' decoy.
alike the blowing winds (my soul), stand tall, in their assail.

She drifts in Mists! A cotton fog and mystery's versed text,
upon a sculptured bark, her promised vision I inhale,
Was I so handsome in her eyes, dimension thus convex,
a splashing wave upon her wharf and she, the night's dark veil?

I saw her form surpassing voices' amplitude and fast
on skyward billows of adjoining rains thenceforth to glide,
was pre-designed and coarse the destiny her beauty passed,
in emptiness wind-gates that led to naught, in fog to hide.

Befallen Angels then transformed time's masquerade to wings,
I saw my soul to stare at the buffoon's dark colored face
Inside the winds, a marionette he was without the strings,
- oh, her aphotic eyes that stared in me, and her dark grace!

© G.V. 10-02-2013 All rights reserved
(Iambic Heptameter - Quatorzain)

Details | Spiritual Poem | |

The Stork - Iambic pentameter -

The Stork

The ship arrived surrounded by the dew,
his past she carried on her seaward tracks,
across-the-board, the skyline turned up dark,
- a stork he was, comradely to her crew.

(Thus, curious, he stood upon the moors,
projecting epitome of their rejoice,
and stern, the sea-waves' hum repressed their voice,
enduring memory the dusk allures.)

A clever stork, with harbors in cahoot,
side-gazed for the sunken to discern,
while apt, the sea-men deftness and concern,
applied the coloring of nightly soot.

The dusk abraded, then, the ship's details,
the numbness of the gray was still; she stared
as his persistent, learning eyes had paired
with mind's perseverance, head-ropes and brails.

The boats quizzical, around him tripp'd,
loose wooden cradle-coffins-like, astray,
companions lost beyond the clouds' array,
as signalizing waves, on moorings whipp'd.

( Their sacrosanct ascent designed the stairs,
for spotless angels to walk upon the blue,
like then, the stork recited what was true,
- a dark night ship, for his bird-story cares.

And then they fled to skies - two passing glows
that cut through distances, in ardent Spring
a song for wanderers, harmonic link,
- pure emeralds the shoreline-noon bestows. )

What foolishness of storks invites the ship,
stray souls to marry in his darkened phase,
meanwhile three smoking ebon-funnels praise
our wraiths' long flight on everlasting trip?

© G. Venetopoulos, 09/25/2012, All rights reserved
(Iambic Pentameter)

The poem has never entered a contest before.

Sponsor: gautami phookan
Contest Name: One of your best 

Details | Spiritual Poem | |

These Red Brick Walls

These red brick walls have stood for nearly 100 years,
they have seen and absorbed happiness and tears,
if these walls could talk, just imagine what they could say,
a lifetime of cherished memories have not faded away.

I wonder, if 100 years from now, will I still be around,
maybe a part of my secrets will be waiting to be found,
my written words are embedded in the room where I slept,
all of those midnight thoughts and dreams will be here kept.

The window that brought new inspirations into my soul,
and the closed door that opened to my heart's empty hole,
from the wooden boards of the floor and up to the ceiling,
these walls of red bricks hold secrets that need revealing.


Details | Spiritual Poem | |

Eternal Breath

I think about you, every single day,
Since from me, you were taken away,
Your absence has left my world cold,
Now I am alone, with no hand to hold.

I wish that I could bring you home,
So that your soul, shall need not roam,
I hope that you were given white wings,
To fly amongst, where the angel sings.

Within my heart, your eternal breath,
Shall now linger on, even after death,
My love for you shall never cease,
So, may you always rest in peace.







Written by: Kelly Deschler  

Gautami Phookan's contest - The Poet III

_______________________________________
For Gail Angel Doyle's contest - "Eternal Breath"

Details | Spiritual Poem | |

Seduction's Abduction


I begin as a covet, dulcet demure
pure in play, unbound to a dogma or tablature, a luscious lure,
I find that nerve of passion's verve nestled 'neath narcissistic comfiture
a covey of tingles taunting the ambition you serve, swift and swill I swerve,
in you I introduce a tempo of truth trailing a kiss along your spine's curve
a persuasion of perversion purring patiently in almighty allure,
reaching your pinnacle pulse I assure,

Entwining myself around your libido with nibbling nurture
binding you to the alter of painstaking pleasure I relieve with analgesic swelter
hoodwinking your will with a delicate dominance I am the prima donna capture,
embellishing the envisage of eros, I burnish organs keen with aphrodisiac welter
you become a devout captive to me, the divine dominator,
I am the matador confronting your impulsive power
the target of your sexual tremor,
spear tipped with warm vigor
into you I pound a wonder,
vice and virtue surrender
to principle superior in passionate plunder, for you become the conquer's lover,
taking my spirit from specter to flesh victor,

I will make a woman the vessel of volcanic velvet,
revolutionize female thighs, simmering the sighs in eyes,
make the wrap of a man's arms a hearth of healing heat soul felt,
his tongue a torch pinging with paced pause within mouths magnetized, 

A coup de tat taken to your Shangrila,
weaknesses my wayfaring, strengths the servants of my junta
my sweet magic of mayhem laid upon your lithesome lips, the coup de grace -

J.A.B.