Best Object Of Desire Poems
She was wonderful and powerful
My object of desire
Her smooth clean face so beautiful
The apple of my eye
My love she had an accident
She fell from up on high
I found her broken body there
'Twas lying on the ground
Now all I have's her memory
The songs we used to share
Oh how I miss that ipod
My heart it megahertz
I dream
Not because I need
The object of desire
I dream
Because the dream itself
Makes today more livable
The breaking seemed to happen so easily.
Childish giggles and a pretty new dress,
There were the seemingly innocent tickling games!
Then came "This will be our little secret" accompanied by zipper sounds
Licking lollipops, "Special" alone times...
his need pulling at her panties, that strange wetness.
She felt her mind splintering
The inner her went to distant places, attempting to save small bits of herself:
Why couldn't she separate the pleasure from the guilt?
That ironic cruelty of her body responding to his touch.
The wanting to be loved, mixed with that icky feeling!
She had thought him to be her light.
Loving him for paying attention to her.
He made her smile by listening to every word she said.
Then he made her his slave, his object of desire.
Told her "no one else will love you!" "You are a dirty dirty girl!"
Inexplicably as she got older his attention waned
making her wonder what was wrong with her
until one day he bought her little sister a pretty pink dress
She recognized that innocent giggle, that favourite uncle smile
Somehow she gathered up her shattered and screamed her sister free
for she knew, no little girl should ever again be a slave to his darkness
Within her broken she found their path to freedom
Because she knew that breaking happens oh so easily.
Her sister didn’t understand
Still for her that was better than okay,
her baby sister was safe
When she looks at her she wishes
“If only I had a big sister,
I too could have been spared!”
July 26th 2017
Incertitude
Who am I...?
Am I the first born son, emanating from a fire of passion?
Am I the long lost hope, rekindled, ravenous in the eyes of my forebears?
Am I the caressed cocoon, spun out of love and compassion?
Whose silken threads, entice and embellish the vain vanity of its wanton wearers?
Am I a prodding prodigy,
Aimed at excelling in every sphere ?
Am I, a porous sponge, meant to absorb every single human emotion, a mortal can bear?
Am I a doted upon enduring exemplar or a doomed ephemeral effigy?
Am I the mellow and musky mist, exuding from a bare bosom?
Am I the naive, reticent lover, imperfect, yet dearest to my beloved?
Am I the longing in her eyes, a hypnotic hum?
Am I mere an object of desire- usurped, used, seduced, shoved?
Would I be another mere mortal among the countless thriving throng?
Lashed by grief, aged by time, thwarted by fear and smitten by love?
Would I be a forgotten fable or a perennial song?
Would I be remembered as -
A peacock- proud of its plumage,
An Owl- sombre yet subtle , of a lettered lineage,
A nightingale-serenading a song touching the core ,
A mystic bird from an ancient lore,
or , a dove – cygnet soft , gentle sitting on an alcove?
Oh Time! Tarry! A little,
Before I transcend from this world to the other,
Hark ! I plead, solve this riddle.
Oh Wind! Carry away my doubts to the omniscient;
Rush against all odds, be it a mighty mountain or a rampant ridge.
Time is running, I dread to lose myself in this mystic maze,
Oh Almighty! Accept my venerations to you my liege,
Enlighten me , before my mortal remains is set ablaze.
-Saptarshi Mukherjee
The breaking seemed to happen so easily.
Childish giggles, a new pretty dress, seemingly innocent tickling games!
Then came "This will be our little secret" accompanied by zipper sounds
Licking lollipops, "Special" alone times...
Darkness pulling at her panties, that strange wetness.
Her shattered mind broken into segments.
Inner her went to distant places, attempting to save small bits of herself:
She couldn't separate the pleasure from the guilt.
That ironic cruelty of her body responding to his touch.
The wanting to be loved, mixed with that icky feeling!
She had thought him to be her light.
Loving him for paying attention to her.
He made her smile, listening to every word she said.
Then he made her his slave, his object of desire.
Told her "no one else will love you!" "You are a dirty dirty girl!"
Inexplicably as she got older his attention waned
She wondered what was wrong with her
Until one day he bought her little sister a pretty pink dress
She recognized that innocent giggle, that favourite uncle smile
Somehow she gathered up her shattered and screamed her sister free
For she knew, no little girl should ever again be a slave to his darkness
Beneath her pain she found their path to freedom
Because she knew that breaking is oh so easy.
BROKEN People
Big GIRLS Do Cry
Yellow Shoes in the DARKNESS
SLAVE
Beneath the SHATTERED
For Timothy's five word challenge.
Written June 1st 2016
Straight rows of soft chairs, larval eyes stare blank
Absorbed by glowing colors on the wall
Their jaws slack, fetid whiff, unwashed and dank
Arrested minds the blue screen does enthrall
Their horticulture, growing docile strains
Indulge the twisted whims our lords conceive
The whores to culture, placid in their chains
Reclining prostrate, ready to believe
Our nation’s spirit sinking to expire
Omniscient demigods behind the screen
Transmuting our light to synthetic ire
Red, white, and blue bows to red, blue and green
Unconscious fulcrum, force you can’t deny
Black keys in gray hands of the puppet priest
Subliminal, no chance to wonder why
Clandestine reins pulled taut, they lead the beast
Imbue the symbol with gilt qualities
Admire how they conspire, our life rewired
Such dazzling tricks to blind the polity
In breaded, cheap amusements, we are mired
Our brave new virtual reality
With hidden craft, untruth is overlayed
Eclipsed sun darkens to totality
Beneath benighted noon we walk as day
Predicted, instinct’s base reaction known
To tidal waves of violence and sex
Minds titillated by distraction’s bone
From our Media-Government Complex
Our internecine hatreds stoked, inflamed
Creating and enhancing the divide
True culprits are protected, victims blamed
Incessant war, the great rift yawning wide
Unseemly freedoms have been made taboo
Renouncing power, most don’t even grieve
Relieved to give up guns and money too
Behind red tape and laws lurk skulking thieves
Resounding echoes, our once great New World
Through wavelengths, diodes, context redefined
Cold software guiding social plots unfurled
Far colder people fine-tune the hive mind
Inheritors of might presume the role
Unburdened by the ballast of remorse
Their dark ascent to power and control
Soul-searing wind as you climb to the source
Some zealots hold that this is Satan’s world
Each object of desire imbued with blight
Much clearer when the plan becomes unfurled
So glaring it becomes they have the right
This morbid monolith, our freedom’s bane
Temptation steals your breath, you’d best beware
Choose reason in a world that’s gone insane
Reclaim your only soul and say a prayer
© Thomas W. Quigley
7/17/16
Mostly Iambic Pentameter
She's a down to earth angel, with a heavenly grace...
She has a big heart, that is full of space...
She is the chase that keeps you on pace...
She's more than you could ever want,
Because she's more than just a face!
She earns your respect, right from the start,
Because she is always ready to play her part...
She makes you think twice, because she is smart...
The object of desire,
Because of the fire in her heart!
She is the object of all your desires,
And a look inside of her soul is required...
She is the spark that lights the fire,
Because she has a smile
That would make the sun retire!
Her most attractive quality is between her ears,
Because she is wise beyond her years...
Her mind makes her more beautiful than her peers...
She inspires a thousand words,
Because she deserves the praise and the cheers!
Joi is the word, created by God, to be heard,
To describe the perfect ingredients, that God stirred
Together To Get Her perfected, before he could stop
Perfecting her; Top to bottom and bottom to top.
The object of desire, 'cuz her body is the fire
That makes the sun jealous and want to retire.
Required to be nothing more than what she is,
Which is what she is, 'cuz she is meant to be bliss.
Miss Perfect Ten or Miss Perfect Eleven,
With legs looking like the stairway to heaven.
She would make you want to take the stress off her chest,
And confess to wanting to take the rest off her chest.
But, her best quality is possibly between her ears!
The prettiest amongst her peers...the prettiest for years.
Full lips, with pretty teeth, that make a pretty smile.
I would walk a mile to get next to her, and her unique style.
Dance to the depths delight
Swirling in sun blue light
Pick then the perfect line
On point as in Ondine
Twirl and fall to this far
So know now who you are
Lone in waves once content
To life's lyrics well spent
Your song sounding still right
Wet whirls glow in the night
couplet 10 lines 53 words
11/13/22
Ondine is a ballet play
about a water nymph who
is the object of desire
of a young prince
Color pencil illustration
by G. Gaul
by Michaelw1two
Intonate a spirited debate,
explore the subtlety of doubt;
compassionately seal one’s conjugation,
inspire pairing’s deity;
self-survivals issue mute,
its sequella, each by chance deter;
question quandary’s quenching quick,
empyreal reality’s oddity.
Convoke, thoughts sum in totality,
reveal in this your fears;
coetaneous mindsets mimic those,
all secrecy, please set free;
excitatory, proves that probe,
it profiles everyone sincere;
solipsism, revealed fantasy,
each life, reflecting in soul confrere.
Partisan secrecy, in hide laid bare,
admits its failing bent;
bluster slurries thrive,
behind thin veil, truths foment lament;
taciturnly, on wings of change,
ideal belief, impulsion illuminates;
diabrotic, one’s choice of drink,
inscience, engineered ab initio.
Thereunto, the future blind is placed,
upon censorious dais;
nonconscious essence, laced within,
every minds object of desire;
imperatives, those of nature’s own,
establish trust in broad ideas;
jeu d’espirit, exemplify these,
opposition, inflates derisory odds.
Absquatulate, this lividity,
living’s frisson spiraling enmity;
distensioned life, holds this stress,
future’s truth remains unmet;
positioned concept challenged all,
its touch does one enumerate;
propositus, friend by friend employ,
mind, most precious entity.
Jan. 2010
Had I never known the heat of sensual fire
From a woman consumed with sexual need
Whose object of desire in the darkest hours
For pleasure and gratification - was me
I would never quite realize how empty and cold
Are your reasons for a passionless life
That kindness, compassion and trust - alone
Are insufficient qualities for a wife
Fear of having to reciprocate
Unwanted proclivities in exchange
Could never extinguish the primal lust
Of a woman’s pheromones enraged
There were wanton impatient lovers
Who’ve met me at the door
Overwhelmed with awaiting my presence
Made love to me right there on the floor
Their motives were often deep inner need
But just as often the simple desire to please
A woman’s innate need for lovin’
Could never be stifled or contained
Nature’s demand for intimate mating
Would overrule any reason to abstain
But you leave me caressing my pillow
Clueless and careless that sex has refrained
Days on end with no kissin’ or huggin’
Endless months without releasing the strain
Only a damaged psyche
In deep emotional pain
Or inherited cold-blood
Coursing through chilly veins…
Could explain.
Claims of excessive carnal demands
While seldom if never met
Are the excuse for withholding affection
But don’t explain the willful neglect
To give and share lovin’
Til the end of our days
With the spouse you had beget
Whatever sexuality issues
Is not alone your lover’s blame
You mislead yourself most of all
To believe our deceased romance
Attaches no fault to your name
Once-in-a-life-love sacrificed
After all, the greatest shame.
Iger
Love speaks no other language besides its own
Blind to faults of the object of desire
Deaf to subtle warnings or loud protestations
Love sees only blue skies and beauty featuring
When cupid shoots his arrow, dipped in a potion of love
None can dissuade unless the arrow is broken!
~*~
Drugs come in all shapes and sizes
But the essence is the same
Providing a something we feel lacking;
A hit of pleasure and fulfillment
In instant gratification.
The problem then becomes one
Of cascading cause and effect
As the short cut route
Undermines self-esteem
As we know in our hearts
We are a thief, living a lie.
The drug expresses in the extreme
This paradox of being and desire
Giving us what we want, but leaving us empty;
Widening the lack we started with
Until it is a moat filled with only self-loathing.
The wisdom to be learned
Is always a matter of perspective.
The soul after all
Yearns to be a master not a slave,
And that which is beyond grasp
Is by definition unable to be bound.
This is the perspective we need to be free.
Perhaps emptiness is just a given
And our desire to fill it it’s natural expression,
And in our confusion we mistake
The object of desire with its fulfillment.
We may live a lifetime
Thinking we are attached to the nouns of our existence
All the people, places and things we know and love
When we are really just attached to living.
(12/17/24)
viewing an object of desire
immersion in materiality
losing ourself therein
slave to the senses
lustful passions rising
our thirst keeps deepening
correspondent to indulgence
poised yet as an animated thought
heart awaiting actual fulfilment
wherefrom we gradually shift
our attention into the void
smiling at the descent
of consciousness
self serving
looking within
through foggy vision
mind offers specious logic
to placate our feel good factor
in alignment with our belief system
that we may carelessly dismiss
the root cause of ego craving
as deep dark delusion
owing to our stupor
stagnating in mind body
at Guna Tamas and Rajas
self blocking the Satva impulse
call of love divine in our heart
beckoning us in earnest
to meld head therein
in tranquil bliss
no judgment
rather recognition
of what is as is within
rising and ebbing emotions
having roots in our lower mind
which we then simply transmute
by allowing divine magnetism
to gently steer energies
into pathways of love
ever present within
our glowing heart
03-February-2021
Are you looking for someone to inspire?
Do you fancy being one’s object of desire?
Do you want to be the spark that sets my world on fire?
In other words, would you like to be my Muse?
There’s a vacancy on my pedestal
For someone more divine than terrestrial;
Or someone like you—almost celestial.
How about it—would you like to be my Muse?
Chorus
You could be the entity that brings out my creativity,
Give nuance and subtlety to the rhymes in my poetry,
And bridge my melody with polyphonic harmony.
You could light the fuse that sparks my art with tints and hues.
Together we could never lose… if you’d only be my Muse.
In return for being my inspiration
You’ll have my devotion and veneration,
And be named in all my dedications.
If you’d be my beloved Muse.