Contrary to our nature
Self centred wavers it.
If so induced to save, support
Tis by a good spirit.
As when my own bashfulness
Girl, brave voiced stood up to.
If so enticed by your angel?
That lost-looking child, you!
______________
The heroine dresses herself with pleasure,
makes bed, and awaits her beloved
_________________
Wearing bashfulness, concealed joy,
Nigh impatient, blushing, no less coy,
Lips quivering in excitement
To embrace ultimate moment,
Feet ready to break into dance,
Bed to door and back O to prance,
Her bosom pulsating to be one
With beau in climaxing union,
Spread hast she a bed sheet of silk,
And prepared some saffron-mixed milk,
The bouquet of her keen body
For long more than ready
To be cherished by her Love
Longs to get too moist to move,
Ready, rain of seed to receive
O on this long-awaited eve.
_______________________
Natya Shastra| 03.02.2025 | Free verse, emotions, romance, awaiting
Note: This is third of Ashta-Nayikas, eight heroine types, as classified in a Sanskrit treatise on performing arts in Bharata’s Natya-Shastra. The state (avastha) of the eight romantic heroines widely themed in Indian paintings, literature, sculpture, classical dance forms and music. Vasaka-sajja is the third of the eight such heroines depicted here in poetic form.
Lost in this moment
my emotions mixed
I am red with rage
Green with envy
yellow as a coward
white with Dread
pink from bashfulness
as I sit here confused
in a mixture of colors
Well reserved person
adorned as meek and gentle
with slight bashfulness
As you guys probably have already noticed I like to talk about sax.Unfortunately as you might know in reality People hide their true desires as society still sees it as some sort of taboo and that is what led to creation of me.I share desires without being shamed or feeling embarrassed since there are no boundaries and guilt that is why I flirt and leave my bashfulness aside.Great sax happens when you let it occur naturally.Let's quit these mind games and do it in real!Raining cum on each other is bullshhitt isn't it??My People call me harami for being into sax stuff at a young age.Do you think that's a bad thing??I just Love how(DON SUPARI)thinks that he can cheat on me and get away with it.I know this game better than he does because I used to be a CAKE in the PAST and now I am pastry...Abad Ur Rehman...
Warped tree, kinked man
Today, I will not argue with Walter on Facebook or Twitter.
I was reading poems from my last collection and was surprised
to find an internal rhythm.
To my horror, I find Walter has unfriended me my friendly thoughts
burned into insignificance.
When I had a motorbike, I often visited the crooked tree
I said:” you look better today, my friend.”
The roots of the tree curled in bashfulness.
At the entrance of the village, an old olive tree they came with an axe
wanted to cut it down, replace it with a signpost.
I protested, so did the other villagers.
The tree is perhaps 500 years old, and we are not
brutish settlers.
But someday, people with no sense of beauty will axe it.
Winter paints a canvas of souvenirs,
its white steering the mind
to recall the lilac saffron fields
that yield to goldenrod….
unfurled pods, sundrenched and swollen
which release their pollen in passion pink.
We stopped to think, took it all in our stride.
Bliss and bashfulness coincided
with sentimental steps in depths of emotion.
We sprinted to catch butterfly moments;
so potent were those lackadaisical days.
A magical and mystical sunray haze,
unlimited by whimsicality.
Ice-cream stands, sticky hands,
and beads of sweat on brows;
all of them licked, somehow.
Kisses so sugar laden, a street haven,
and wayfarers who wished
for just a bit of what we shared.
In silence we now bathe in evocation
a colorful creation
where love abounds…today, and every day,
I hope we find it and remember.
Sun-kissed autumn
colorful shimmering reflection
closing season of woodland romance
hand in hand they dance
whirling and twirling
in a tango dance
pure levels of vibrating frequency
enchanted by naked beauty
the blushing of red hue
the shyness of oranges
bashfulness of gold's glance
green remained neutral
not wanting to be free
dancing in the autumn breeze
with the other leaves.
We are the Ignudi
unclothed, ebullient and energetic,
we lean and lunge, twist and turn
impervious to the imposition of ignominious imposters,
we are an expression of immortal youth
the athletes and auditors of God's court
unbound by banality or bashfulness
we listen and leer at those who stare
looking for secrets in this sacred ceiling,
in our faces you'll see the feelings
of primal awareness unadulterated by apprehension...
J.A.B.
The maids danced in the floral field.
So pretty were they in the sun.
Their bashfulness was slow to yield.
The maids danced in the floral field
With happiness while church bells pealed.
That happy day was filled with fun.
The maids danced in the floral field.
So pretty were they in the sun.
-----------------------------------------------
1/24/2017
Contest - January 2019, Week 2,
Any Form, Any Theme
Sponsor - Brian Strand
1st place win
He spoke,
He spoke in ways I’d never heard before,
Bashfulness clustered around “ma’am” and “sir.”
I thought I knew a lot about him, till he taught me more,
Which was great, at first–Spanish class had become a bore–
his Bosnian sweetness an enticing lure–
he spoke in ways I’d never heard before.
Soon every night I would find him at the door of my mind,
I’d pull him in, mind rushing, face blushing,
as he spoke in ways I’d never heard before.
With his hair, with his smile, but, above all, speech, I didn’t think that I’d let him go out the door again
because thoughts of him would never be a bore,
I thought I knew a lot about him, till he taught me more,
I could never hear his voice enough, till new words bore down hard—”visiting,” “girlfriend,” a nameless “her.”
He spoke in ways I’d never heard before.
I thought I knew a lot about him, till he taught me more.
the fire encircled me
n i was melting
away into a vanishing mass
burnt into ashes, then
wake up like like a phoenix later
i knew i slept like a baby
her persistent warmth,the
enthusiasm of the youth the
loving enquires n the innocent
bashfulness awoke me
up from the deep slumber
the sun has come on
shining brightly
on top of our heads,looking unto her
my eyes blurred
and the tears of joy rolled down the cheeks
i could feel her emotions ,her thoughts now
clairvoyance
HAIKU #12,098-13,000.................................................ME, MYSELF, AND YOU
2B or not 2B
Not one to be complacent
My pen takes over
Serendipity -
Me and you with stern hand
Served simple abundance
So we face twilight
Me and you sans bashfulness
Decked stage lead actors.
*
Love that once Was
When I met her she was spring flower and pretty
as the zephyr undulating gently through a field of
tulips. But there was no denying I was September
and set in my bachelor way, and my bashfulness
stopped me from approaching her.
Twenty- six years later and she is slim and pretty
in a waxy way, in her eyes I read unhappiness life
was harder than she had imagined her husband had
left her for France, leaving her with two children
and a small grocery shop.
We drank some wine, she cried because she too
had been too shy and she still loved me. I told her
loved her too, but I was not true it was her youth
I had loved and the newness of her aroma, but it
was too late and I left her to the memories.
if my shyness was a loquacious
heartbeat helping me to live,
would you give it a gentle massage
to help keep it alive
accentuation in certain aspects can
be so ridiculously overblown
so much so that the expressive inside
is often overlooked
if my bashfulness was an extrovert
helping me to express myself,
would you rub its belly to break up
the stressed flatulence
exclamatory undertones can have
such absurd overtones
so much so that the pathway to God's
Blessing almost always goes unnoticed
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