Best Enslaves Poems
A soul unites with a vessel. With no preconceived notion of what lies ahead.
A soul, upon arrival is molded by senses, by experiences, by emotions.
A soul is innately adept at navigating the treacherous and tumultuous upheaval
created by conscious thought.
For if not.........
A soul becomes lost
A lost soul acts within a vessel ,yet remains unattached, unaware, and unbalanced
A lost soul can not process its own feelings, its own reality, its own existence
A lost soul has no sense of direction, no sense of reason, no sense of purpose
It clings only to the will to press onward
For if not............
A soul becomes trapped
A trapped soul is bound to its vessel. One entity caged within another.
A trapped soul dwells in circles on that which enslaves it. Unwilling, unable
A trapped soul withers, and weakens, and wonders.............and near its end it hopes
And in this hope the shackles that bind need be unbreakable
For if not..................
A soul becomes free
A free soul is independent of its vessel.Unrestricted, unencumbered and in control
A free soul molds that which lies before it, reaching beyond comprehension.
A free soul has found itself. It does not gain understanding, it is understanding. It
does not seek purpose, it is purpose. I does not fear life, It is life.
For if not...........
A soul becomes irrelevant
I’ll not be the mask of your madness
I’ll not be the whip of your demands
I’ll not be the drug of your habit
I’ll not be the dough in your hands
I’ll not be the doll that’s your play thing
I’ll not be the container of your need
I’ll not be the victim of your anger
I’ll not be the object of your greed
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I’ll the bread that he feeds on
I’ll be the water that he drinks
I’ll be the cloud that he walks on
I’ll be the thoughts that he thinks
I’ll be the tent that he dwells in
I’ll be the heaven that he dreams
I’ll be the angel that he wants
I’ll be the sparkle in his stream
I'll be the star that he follows
I'll be the sun’s warmth on his chest
I'll be the moon that allures him
I'll be the treasure of his quest
I'll be the fairy of his woodland
I'll be the seductress of his need
I'll be the breast that he lies on
I'll be the dogma of his creed
I’ll be the honey that he savors
I’ll be the dessert that he craves
I’ll be the sea that he dips in
I’ll be the virgin he enslaves
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I would have been all that to you
I gladly would have made you king
But you gave all that to another
Now you must taste my bitter sting
You must watch his hands caress me
You must see his mouth devour
You must hear my sighs of pleasure
You must curse the betrayal hour
Eileen Manassian Ghali
My strides left shallow imprints 'pon a sandy shore
Gulls cried out in alarm and swarmed cornflower skies
My thoughts turned to Avalon of King Arthur's lore
while dawn broke as an amber yoke in morn's sunrise
I shielded my eyes from the sea's shimmering waves
sauntering restlessly with a sorrowful soul
mourning my aggrieved heart, a heart that love enslaves
My grief spills in the shallows of this rocky shoal
Salty breeze, please chase away my tears of despair
Tell me how to heal or in anguish I shall die
Wounded by pillaged love, my emotions laid bare
I walk this shore, begging my ache to mollify
My footprints 'pon the sand and hope submerged in doubt
I plead for a flood of faith to end passion's drought
October 1, 2022
2022 Marathon Mile 15
Sponsored by Mark Toney
*Writing helps us through anything.
Oh, the ocean is calling me
Collecting the shells at the sea
Watching the curling, rolling waves,
wash away pain that enslaves
My dreams are on horizon there
I will make them come true with care
This is my chance, footprints behind
Left just like the shells I find
I am as simple as the sea shell
I can be fragile, just as well
But, strong enough, not left broken
From the ocean that has spoken
Heidi Sands
6/26/24
8 syllables
(C)opyright
Tiny wavelets on the pool today, a gentle
breeze and raindrops fall with a rhythmic
pitter patter. The ducks and wildfowl pay
no heed, around the sedge bob and feed.
The Heron standing as if frozen, his
cunning eye a prey has chosen. And the
elegant Swan glides, the Cormorant
beneath the water slides. And the grey
clouds float on by on this quiet day at the
pool, the reeds sway and insects hide away,
dry wings are required to survive. The Otter
on its back dines on an unlucky Crayfish,
seems well at ease with his surrounds, and
the Water Vole enters a hole to the squeak
of hungry mouths. In the centre of the pool
a love dance, two Crested Grebes court,
ducking, bobbing, all magic to the eye. All
this beauty in the pitter patter, life goes on
it does not matter. Nature gives in many
ways, and as always this heart enslaves.
Arrows of anger pierce my heart with their hate...one spark on the tip sets a nuclear blaze
Lost in a homicidal haze I'm looking for love
I'm surrounded by ravens...Where are the doves?
Now I twist and I turn
I'm playing the fool...as you fiddle I burn
Shooting arrows of anger my need is like Nero
I turn into a hellion and I used to be a hero
Halos turn into horns
Sweet love turns to sour scorn
Decaying in the darkness...blasphemous babies get born
With silent invisible needles and threads...sowing and reaping my soul into death
My blood starts to boil as I kick in the door
I'm playing the fool...as you fiddle I burn
Shooting arrows of anger the poison's too strong
Distorting what's right and deluting what's wrong
Satan sings his sad songs for junkies forced to listen
With his thousand string fiddles he enslaves and enlists them
Doing his bidding...running riot through Rome
Forging into forever now I'm gone like a ghost
Can't see the fire in this sea of smoke
I'm playing the fool...as you fiddle I burn
God raise up the shield for a day of defense...
shooting their arrows they just won't relent
Time to repent as they ruthlessly attack...for devils and demons there's no turning back
Lord take it back I don't want it anymore
Even the score and make the tide soon turn
Cause the devil's a fool...as You fiddle he burns
My mind traveled in Casablanca
to witness a tale of love.
Heart that yearns, desiderata,
pleads to heaven up above.
Give me one more chance for loving.
Quench the drought of this crave,
for I so longed of having
the heart that once absconded.
I've seen princess Anastasia
proving her rights for crown,
heading her way to Russia
amidst darkness of the dawn.
Her mind was blur like fleeting
but her beauty was overflowing.
Her charm like a stream was oozing,
sending waves of sting
Capricorn hereunder
could you tell me what's the matter?
For my heart gravely falters,
tame the shakes and all the shivers.
I toured the avenues of her soul
and plunged my heart in her dungeon.
Her beauty I so adore
enslaves me like a pigeon.
But freedom I detest
for paradise is her fortress.
Her fairest skin like milk
shines so bright to light the darkness.
"Love is an untamed force. When we try to control it, it destroys us. When we try to imprison it, it enslaves us. When we try to understand it, it leaves us feeling lost and confused. — Paulo Coelho
When first I'd peered into his dark brooding eyes
there was an undercurrent, fathoms deep pulling me in.
A storm brewed inside of me and each time we met
I submitted to my desires and he to his, without regret.
To have denied it would have destroyed us.
He was never mine for the taking
but it was only for him that my heart ached.
We shared a passion, unrestrained— untamed.
We loved with wild abandon.
There was lightning between us.
Thunder roared in my head with each deepened kiss.
I heard it in his breathless sighs—
felt it when his fingertips danced across my skin.
It was a serenade of lovers that we sang together
as if each time was a renewal, an awakening of Spring.
Time rushed in months—years spilled in an hourglass.
The feast is still as sweet, the passion as strong.
We'll not be deprived the love we savor with wild abandon
nor the silent whispers to each other's hearts.
Goodbye
The pen is alone, even with me
Writing is a frown,
Written upside down
And yet we escape with others’ words,
And our own,
From this life into reality
From misery to what?
Sometimes love, often hate
We await our fleeing
For the reality that isn’t
From their reality that is
Books and poems save us
Reality enslaves us
Poetry can free us
Allow my thoughts to fly
And me with them
Into our goodbye
Goodbye
drifting in a zestless world of hypocrisy,
aching to dispel the lunacy
echoing with distorted imageries,
held in a bastille of utter carnage;
I’m abundantly devoted to
breaking free from what enslaves me.
acquire
wading through the necrotizing tenor
that binds me,
steadfastly drawing near, while
teetering on the confines of
my perilous mind and altruistic heart—
prodigiously culminating.
Taking back what the enemy stole.
Leaning over as she lathers
My long wavy-hair
Rubbing my temples
Softly telling me
How much she cares
Feeling the hot air of her
Eager lips
Blowing on my nape
Kissing me gently
I can't escape
Her lavender scent
the feeling much to great
She presses on
Oh give me more
Please don't stop
My hair standing up
In delightfulness
My lips trembling
Her fullness enslaves me
Sweet surrender
my one and only love
Death, Hell and the Grave Defeated
"I will ransom them from the power of the grave ; I will redeem them from death. Where, O death, are your plagues? Where, O grave, is your destruction?" Hos 13:14 NIV
Death, hell and the grave
Were defeated at the cross,
Although Christ's life appeared a failure;
No possible gain just loss.
This is where death lost its victory;
Resurrection made possible.
Just as Christ was resurrected;
Called forth by God’s heavenly angel.
Christ raised not a hand to resist
The evil powers at his side.
Without His total surrender,
Death’s grave would forever reside.
The cross was perceived as failure,
But it was victory instead.
For that was the world's perception
Of our Savior’s bloodshed.
Death, hell and the grave
Have been defeated for some time.
Although death persists,
The righteous find their Spring time.
Christ will soon come
To call them from their graves;
Take them home to heaven;
Where sin no more enslaves.
Poem featured in Maureen's book entitled, Easter Poems
Copyright © Maureen LeFanue 2009-2012
www.maureenlefanue.com
Black and white
two beautiful shadows in the night
I am waiting on mine
in my window, I wait for thee
once the clock strikes one am
then two, then three
I feel a deep rush within
like a wave hitting the sand
where are you?
I am waiting
the thought of your lips
so close to mine
wrapping me, in a bind
your love
your spirit of love
enslaves me in secret chains
nowhere to leave to
but wait here for you
in my window, I wait for thee
the cold, old house creeks
the hush of my sleeping dwellers
I dare not speak your name
into existence
until I see your form
creeping, slowly
toward me, boldly
like a lion stalking its prey
circling my heart, ready to pounce
covertly crawling your body
onto my woven nest of wool and feathers
you whisper, "How I have missed the taste of you"
my body has ached for such familiarity
waiting with the moon
for you to return to me
in my window, I waited for thee
Silent solitude no more
my window is my lovers door
hold me in such tender embrace
no second of tonight
available to waste
his hands trace my body
like a painter with his brush
the moon casts a silver glow
over our warm naked bodies
fingertips graze my lips
gently, as if glass that can break
"pull my hair" I tell him
all my waiting, I want him to give me
all that I can take
every winter kiss
he plants on my back feels
like frostbite
the clock strikes 5 beats
too soon
as we watch the silent moon
shine over our love
in the window I waited for thee
Migrate into the darkness
from this cold dark mansion
only to return tomorrow
a warm kiss to keep you warm
into the night in which you came for me
midnight madness will strike again
tomorrow, in my window, I wait for Love...
A storm is brewing.
Heavy water laden clouds rise thickly,
the darkening sun plunges quickly
behind deep purple mountains,
hiding the gentle moonlight
that normally lights my erratic way.
I meander absentminded
around a maze of mountain paths,
suffering a terrible purgatory.
For the storm is raging outside and inside of me.
Outside electric serpents flash across the dark skies.
Inside is an aching heart of old desires.
No tears flow as I think of you.
Foul fog screens my feelings,
suffocates righteous repentance,
murders my murky sinful soul.
Deep inside me
emotions mingle, then surge,
and dissipate in thin air.
By midnight the summer storm
has already well and truly broken.
Ophidian lightning blaze in the dark skies,
Crashing thunder booms and echoes.
Rain falls in heavy drops.
I am well and truly soaked.
Water, the sign of redemption enslaves me,
but I am not baptized anew,
instead I wallow in self pity.
There is no hope for me,
or is there? Let the storm decide!
Goddess from heaven
with a top of golden;
Descended like an omen
to brighten the minds of men.
She sings deeply well;
She dances like an angel;
She acts like it's real
and casts away her spell.
Her beauty that enslaves
enthralls the heart that craves;
Her body that gyrates
stirs the drowsy spirits.
Her sweet smile with spell
is filed with deep meaning;
Only the rightful hearts may tell
what lies deep within.
But it's her flipping hair
That sends all eyes to snare
Like her name on a paper
That blows up her ember
I wish I lived in her time
So she might remember me
Her faded memory
Struck the heart of sympathy
But the legend of her smile
Still lives in memory
For her glorious divine
Is a track in history
February 24, 2023