Best Climaxes Poems
And so you dust the book that's me
right off the shelf called LOVERS
You have found the others not to
be as enthrallingly intense
caressing the gilded pages,
you take a moment to admire me
through the layer of dust
with eager fingers you try to pry my cover
I will not let you open me again
those lines of love and rhymes of passion
encrypted with your name
will no longer be available to be read
consider this book, archaic
Put me back on the shelf
for I'd rather gather dust
then be poured over
by your careless fingers...
fingers that have traced other lines
eyes that have viewed other plots than mine
Leave me alone
for my mysteries were beyond your understanding
a book not for the novice in love
but for the mature
the secure
read the other volumes
more slender than mine
less complicated
more frivolous
entertaining
devoid of depth of meaning
devoid of passionate climaxes
and intricate subplots
Come back to me
when you hold me as a sacred volume
of love and life
the only sacred writ to fit your needs
then I will open my covers
and let you devour
the secrets of my essence
the mysteries of your universe
you will need no other book
to live by
to learn by
to love by
except this unabridged volume
of poetry
that is
me.
Eileen Manassian
I was reminded of this poem that I posted on September 2016. I often look up my name on Google to see where my poetry as gone, and I'm so thrilled with my findings. My poems have found their way into books, blogs, school programs, internet educational and gaming sites, Instagram posts, Facebook posts, and as a Tattoo on someone's body! Someone has done a dramatic reading of this poem on Sound Cloud. I quite like it and thought I would share it with you. I have no idea who this person is, but I like what they've done with my work.
Here is the Sound Cloud Link: https://soundcloud.com/allouthelter/no-other-by-eileen-manassian-ghali
My original poem is found on this link: https://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/no_other_826957
and so you dust the book that's me
right off the shelf called LOVERS
You have found the others not to
be as enthrallingly intense
caressing the gilded pages,
you take a moment to admire me
through the layer of dust
with eager fingers you try to pry my cover
I will not let you open me again
those lines of love and rhymes of passion
encrypted with your name
will no longer be available to be read
consider this book, archaic
Put me back on the shelf
for I'd rather gather dust
then be poured over
by your careless fingers...
fingers that have traced other lines
eyes that have viewed other plots than mine
Leave me alone
for my mysteries were beyond your understanding
a book not for the novice in love
but for the mature
the secure
read the other volumes
more slender than mine
less complicated
more frivolous
entertaining
devoid of depth of meaning
devoid of passionate climaxes
and intricate subplots
Come back to me
when you hold me as a sacred volume
of love and life
the only sacred writ to fit your needs
then I will open my covers
and let you devour
the secrets of my essence
the mysteries of your universe
you will need no other book
to live by
to learn by
to love by
except this unabridged volume
of poetry
that is
me.
Eileen Manassian Ghali
.
Your written words roll off my tongue, and I savor the taste
Captivating my desires, with your nostalgic embrace
Your verses I desire, your poesies I crave
Your sensual phrases place me in a daze
Rhythmically in sync, steadying the pace
Melodies in motion, no need for haste
Intoxicated by the scent of your lyrical fragrance
My imagination climaxes from your melodic persuasion
Your hypnotic undertones send chills down my spine
It’s like poetic seduction when I read between your lines
Chiquita Chiamaka Baity
^^^cdi^^^
on the wisp of a dandelion seed
my wishes float endlessly
adrift from the confines of mind
my thoughts arise
with endless emotion
as my body shivers
with the same motion
as these dandelions
beneath the soft breath
of summer's exhale
as it whispers
gently upon them
my heart bleeds for you
with the same passion
as this sun
rising across the sky
it blushes
in the same tones
as my flesh
bared
beneath your touch
i watch
as the kiss
of morning
erupts
in blushed strokes
across this sky
i listen as the birds sing
short ballads of love
within the heated breaths
of summer's sighs
i sigh
as i close my eyes
beneath your touch
awakening in my mind
as it climaxes
with desires
adrift in the rift
of dandelion seeds
June 29, 2020
like the moon that hugs the sky at night.
like a flower uncut that scents the garden bright
a rare one of a kind number
the warm embrace of slumber
i wake you hard
with full regard
skin on skin to the bone,
the grind, the screaming moan,
climaxes like dominos fall
rapid and jaw dropping
catch breath
whisper in the dark
the euphoria of a notion
(i hear you think
"the time has passed long enough
time enough
I shall not wait
a minute longer
I need my breath to run
fast and hard
I need to try to catch this air
but I don't want to"
in a deep base i link)
reply
whisper in your heart
"comme un arc de ciel
like a rainbow
tu touches mon coeur
you touch my heart
danse avec moi comme des cygnes sur un lac
dance with me like swans on a lake"
a melody in the language of romance
serenade the sweet taste of light
like the moon that hugs the sky at night
bonne nuit ma chérie, en pensant à toi,
que ta nuit soit calme et douce. dors bien.
The monsoonal matriarch cradles her pregnant belly
Delirious with life giving blood from the womb of all nature’s gifts
As she lays distended, expectant and grey
Upon the craggy summits
Her breath billows above the bloated forests
Nurturing ominous notes as she sweeps through the trees
Like the phantom of the opera
Tuning her timbre, yet masking her desire
And now
Her contralto; it begins…
Her song breathes across the valley in rhythmical sheets
A symphonic auditorium of liquid splendour
Inciting a libretto of Lyre birds to concert in the mist
A monsoonal medley
Enticing insects to assemble in an ensemble
Their raucous chorus imploring the humid madness
Through a cacophonous chorale
Teasing the tempo from the maestro
As the crescendo climaxes to thunderous applause
Her encore; a sweeping army of waterfalls
Advance upon the sodden valley
Roaring to deafness over
Exploding banks and streams that gouge and tear
And then
It all stops
To a breath of drops…
Leonora Galinta’s contest: Rainy Days
12 September 2014
The monsoonal matriarch cradles her pregnant belly
Delirious with life giving blood from the womb of all nature’s gifts
As she lays distended, expectant and grey
Upon the craggy summits
Her breath billows above the bloated forests
Nurturing ominous notes as she sweeps through the trees
Like the phantom of the opera
Tuning her timbre, yet masking her desire
And now
Her contralto; it begins…
Her song breathes across the valley in rhythmical sheets
A symphonic auditorium of liquid splendour
Inciting a libretto of Lyre birds to concert in the mist
A monsoonal medley
Enticing insects to assemble in an ensemble
Their raucous chorus imploring the humid madness
Through a cacophonous chorale
Teasing the tempo from the maestro
As the crescendo climaxes to thunderous applause
Her encore; a sweeping army of waterfalls
Advance upon the sodden valley
Roaring to deafness over
Exploding banks and streams that gouge and tear
And then
It all stops
To a breath of drops…
Leonora Galinta’s contest: Rainy Days
12 September 2014
The ocean journey ends
gathering at the shore.
An undulating sea climaxes
onto the sandy beach
depositing tangles of
seaweed, debris and shells.
Rocky sea caves reverberate
booms of incoming waves
while the incessant cries of
seagulls squawk as they
compete with pelicans for food.
Sea breezes whip up
salty sprays, like diamond
rivulets that splash
skyward toward the sunlight.
A wild symphony of
nature, unchanged by the
passage of time.
Written on 2/1/2016
amongst the trellis
woven in green
thorny vines
a splash of crimson
peeks through
is this delicate rose
a symbol of love?
incipient desire
begins to flourish
within the depths of lust
allured by touch
velvet skin blushes red
through gentle stokes
passion drops
beads of moisture
beneath soft folds
a quenched thirst
climaxes
through ecstasy
then blossoms full
yet love's thorns
can pierce the heart
bleed it dry
until it withers
and dies
or becomes
hard pressed
in mind's book
as it fades to black...
June 25, 2019
A Summer Flower- Poetry Contest
sponsored by Dear Heart
Let's meditate & get high tell these physical bodies goodbye explore the universe time and space become closer than we have ever come face-to-face
Feel my emotions and my energy force we've never been this deep its par for the course let's understand each other's fears and spiritual minds trust and believe there's climaxes of all kinds
Let go and release meet me in the 5th dimension that's when our bodies don't matter because our spirits are in suspension I see your goals and aspirations too I truly get it now my twin flame and I are now one not two
Jinxy we riding the same wave 96Hz with her knowledge she a flirt 528 day by day we keep our Bluetooth connected that way
Once them spirits touch it's a whole different ball game and that's when your ex go from ol boy to what's his name
The view is one of rare and ineffable beauty
as our plane passes over the Himalayas.
Mountains, enveloped in dense forests
embroidered with meandering rivers and streams
exude the soothing radiance of green.
The sky is a panoramic show of clouds
appearing in myriad forms:
layers of vapor surging forth;
fluffy balls floating around
or nestling against mountain peaks;
a goddess majestically looking down;
and soon,
a lion looming through the mist.
All at once, the show climaxes:
it's clouds and only clouds crowding the scene.
They look like mountains of snow outshining
the real snowy peaks they now hide;
as they hide everything else: even the blue sky
peeping out through chinks.
Karma walks the many roads
forks at paths of diversion
with signposts trivia directions
She rests at home in herself
multiple voices finding congruence
convenes unravels gathers lose threads
Wholesome gentle nothingness ensues
from inside where streams of consciousness
flow from wetlands and delta to sources and spring
Markers show the way forward
through olive plantations and citrus’s scent
as she licks her lips glows and remains
The kiss of life firmly on her forehead
third eye forming a wondrous triangle
with bright almond eyes and desire
Passionate moments reflect in her fortune
as an amber amulet rises once more and again
when she in-and exhales sweat vapours of love
A myriad of past roundabouts has finally
squared circular transcendent motions
of miraculous moons and one wheel of life
Seeds have been sown and roots have grounded
Anima and Animus are quivering in anticipation
as Karma’s soulmate settles the shivering mountain
Karmus has appeared on the horizon for the feast of
two crescents all in one and one in all forever
when climaxes mount under a star-studded sky
31st August
Intertwining our words. Our thoughts lay between sheets.
Conscience climaxes ; your wisdom erupts within me.
Absorbing your awareness, I conceive your insight.
Impregnating my understanding with your brilliant mind.
Growing inside my thoughts are the visions we share.
I bare the lovechild of our poetic love affair.
Dear Lady,
I heard you say that you still trust President Trump
to do almost as good a job as he says he is doing,
despite all the lies,
because "they all do that",
just say whatever the audience of the moment
would most like to hear.
Really?
I believe Abraham Lincoln,
our first Republican President,
would be surprised to hear his Gettysburg Address
was "telling them what they want to hear"
in his best cheerleader,
go, fight, win voice.
And it seems to me that Thomas Jefferson,
one of the PreRepublican forefather type Presidents,
would object to hear his rather specific name-calling
Declaration of Independence from plutocratic,
and perhaps greedy, and maybe slightly cynical, Elitists,
was just telling the good King what he really wanted to hear.
But regardless of whether our quality standards for Presidential integrity
should reasonably be expected to go up,
now that we're into our 40th-something incarnation of this Office,
or reasonably be expected to go down
after the first two or three, or sixteen,
or whatever
back in ancient integrity times,
when the premillennial pubic person was worth his/her word
in trust repaid.
How can you trust a President
who is significantly less sure of your right to health and climate care giving
and receiving
for yourself
and for our multiculturing grandkids,
than was the former President?
How is that going in a direction that you
and your healthy extended pro-life family,
your tribe,
neighborhood militia,
or paranoid klan,
or whatever
you continue to trust
as some direction that could be good enough
for those you love the most?
Health,
like racism
and sexism,
does not optimally arrive in individual-portioned packages;
they only sustain resilient climaxes
on interdependent through empty and bereft social scales
of qualities for cooperative wealth v WinLose competing pathologies.
Still Listening
Your Democratic HealthAsWealth Advocate
In both hands I cup her breasts
With my lips her neck caress
A nibble or two upon each ear
What she holds in her hand makes my intentions clear
Softly I massage the small of her back
Then like kneading bread her buttocks attack
I inhale the aroma of her estrogen
Her moans and her purrs beg me to begin
With eyes still closed she guides me in
Hands on my hips control motion
Our bodies have now merged into one
In the bedroom window peeks the morning sun
Covers are kicked off tumbling to the floor
Bodies are gyrating a little bit more
She clutches the pillows in tightly clenched fists
The sun burns off the morning mist
The climaxes are both synchronized
I see swollen pupils in her blue eyes
We enfold each other in exhausted arms
For five more minutes before the morning alarms