Best Passionpassion Poems
the indelible scent of ecstasy filled their auras
with the fragrance of lovemaking spent and
aroused passion anxious to be tasted then
devoured…skin forged on skin…a magical collaboration
of need satisfying need…moments when love
takes you far beyond reality…no limits…
no borders…nothing refused… your physical surrender
a mere formality as flesh seeks flesh…
frolicking taste-buds unlocking rivers of dreams whose
surge simply washes away the pain of loveless
droughts past …in a heartbeat forever forgotten
all resistance simply ripped away as
flame licks ice as if it were candy… mouths drawn to loins
scented by eucalyptus that once inhaled becomes
unforgettable and forevermore addictive as
the taste of warm summer honey cloaks the soul
the strength of passion is found in its gentleness
the luxury of being touched so deeply…so intimately
your soul is turned inside out…eager to respond
the relentless tongue victoriously plays hide and seek
as a master…once found you beg for the mercy of more
you are never the same again…ever…as if a thirsty
sea lay within your soul and its tide is forever restless
paradise found …over and over…emptiness abandoned
as if a decree by the gods of love…two scents becoming
one..the air you breathe forever shared…the promise of
forever scratched on your skin as if you were a trophy
Irish ST PADDY'S DAY 2010
If only she could hear that which I cannot express.
Such peace and comfort she brings every night
she lays her head apon my chest.
Within my arms i clasp onto a extension of my heart.
the chill comes apon me even in the warmth of the sun.
From every second were apart.
And I understand that which is never said.
A kiss befor I leave clings to the soul.
As passion and my thoughts remain in that bed .
I cannot see another within her eyes.
Togather we have found the answer.
To all are former bitter goobyes.
And from broken hearts we found repair.
Meeting in distant confines.
To strangers who found another inwhich to share.
Numbers do seperate us yet still.
The direction seems clear.
As passion takes over every sense of free will.
And i like a fool have become a constant clown.
Two fools when the other is around.
As my life befor seems as only a blur
I reflect apon every second.
caught in a constant state of yerning for her
Touched by words not witholding passion
Caressing sweet thoughts, where the light of passion flickers in the recess
of a mind once doused dorment feelings
embers ignite a language that heightens senses
Steaming up views with articulating prose
Enchantment growing with each line
They say what lies behind us, and what lies before us are tiny matters
compared to what lies within us.
The glowing passion is but a reflection of our inner fire stoked by excitement of the new.
It is awe, but another day of doing of non pleasure.
For the pleasurable is not of reach.
Yet, it is the unforbidden fruit of my work that yearns to speel out on
these pages of creation, of which I cannot reach.
For colored sketches would send them to their plot.
And I am but a loser in this untriumph novel of life.
No Nobleman to coo my nights of need.
Many of empty goblets to hide the night that is not to be spent.
So be it.
But then the pleasurable passion of a Nobleman nor a position of wealth
was never what it hast been said to be.
For is it just a dream within my imagination.
Yet I am but a boy?.
Neah, in thus life of passion and woos?.
It is that of the late nineteenth century yet I have been placed in a sixteenth century mind.
Awe, but thee is a Goblet and thou is a sward of time.
And to appease the sweet mind of thine innocents is to cut my own throat, for it is to be
pleasurable to abe beyond thus world of wretched time.
Awe, for the severed flesh beneath my chin is but a mere sting as the liquid of red
brilliance begins to seep.
For as I lie here in the warmth of my blood chills run through my body.
I begin to soil myself in a sense of my final satisfaction in thus life.
And as my sights fail I was to take a final glance at the greenery outside my window.
At last I have fallen fast asleep for a final time never to awaken.
How I shall miss my Goblet.
Copyright@3-2010 MaryM.McShirley/Kilker
It’s scary the things I feel for you
its amazing what I want to do with you
cant wait to have you all to myself
cant believe you chose me and no one else
its been a journey of discovery
a mission of mystery
with every step an affirmation
of our love and dedication
my heart still beats only for you
my passion ablaze and it’s still just for you
the days has been glorious
the nights of passion amorous
Brown straight with no signs of bounce
Thinner than paper eyes look astound
Taking a mirror I always turn around
Cheering my soul a new passion found
The gift of natural hair I treasure most
Comb always in hand to flow and frost
Creating new styles with no exhaust
Embellish each strand dark complex lost
Fervor deep inside to excel in the art
Everyday play with them as if anew start
The beauty of result brightens the heart
Many feel unusual it being a passion part
I cherish it as I love to stroll and beautify
Increases my patience in life to again try
Passion implicitly gave lessons to touch sky
Live simple yet in style...think high!
Shiny and Red, heels 5 inches tall
Feeling sexy, strutting by
Straps to tease, she caught his eye
Legs like chiffon, silky and smooth
Takes him back to that winter mood
Cobbled pavements, street cafes, Paris was beautiful
Encountering the mystery of her
As the rain poured her insatiable passion flowed
Her embraces soft and hard, her scent, her touch, her voice, her all
Shiny and Red, heels 5 inches tall
Feeling sexy, strutting by
Memories now of a distant sigh
The air from his voice dries her tears
As he lets the words ‘I Love You’ caress her ears
Thirty years and more they’ve shared together
The passion as sensual still resides
Her embraces soft, her scent, her touch, her voice, her all
For him there is no other
Passion through years does grow anew,
when tangled, are emotions, soft.
Respect is held, with trust, aloft.
Seeing more beyond, to value.
Your eyes held mine, that's how I knew,
what became of the years that fly.
They were stepping stones , as whereby,
our years together, passion grew.
Mere words can not give justice to,
the joy in our life's adventures.
From that first kiss when love matures.
George, you are my passion renewed.
Inspired for the Linda Marie's contest, PASSION PIT
Placement: 3rd
Like the flicker of shadows from a candle's light
Having like for whats willing isn't near what passion cites
The unwilling linger in a shadow'd state
While prizes from passion's work eminate
from those who are only satisfied, when sacraficed
And from that, the passion of those is right
Loveliness
caught me staring
vivid emerald eyes stared back
unblinking
asking the unasked
touching my soul
deeply
saying she understood
approved
of this visual tête-à-tête
Meandering stream
rippling surface current
beneath antediluvian oak
laden with vibrant green leaves
nature's awning
a blanket spread
impending lovers
cool gentle zephyr
unable
twin passion to impede
My trembling hand she took
to her breast
natural crimson lips touched
my bone dry mouth
lingered there
tasting of jasmine sachet
tentative tongue
scorched mine
set off
simultaneous sighs
We have some time
whispered mouth against my ear
hot against passion spent
tangled skirt
twisted pants strewn
hodgepodge
here and there
I knew not words
to answer
Old am I now
life lived did survive
never forgot
nameless girl
ancient oak
summer days of love
tender and good
jasmine smells
memory haunted by her words
We have some time
My greatest passion is living life to the fullest,
straining every last bit of worthwhile from time
that I have left on God’s green earth.
From the very moment of birth,
grasping the thing which feeds you the most,
which gives you the most enjoyment and satisfaction,
which leaves more of you behind than that which is lost.
That to which you know you were born.
---My thing of passion is genealogy,
probably the dullest thing that could ever be.
Except to one born of my legacy.
I’ll leave behind a history of my family.
Back to 1700 is as far as I can see.
But even that much means so very much to me.
Your passion has not to be something great,
something which will turn the world.
It only has to be you, what you are, what you do.
So posterity may say “Yes that was he.”
And He will say “Well done, my good and faithful servant.”
© Jul 20 2010 For Amy’s “deepest passion” contest
He says they’re perfect, though I anticipate disaster
A lover’s loss becomes a lowly patron’s cherub
This hand that he holds isn’t ever enough
So he searches for his ultimate completion
She sighs as she ponders, her mind runs erratically
Reminiscing the days elapsed
Adoration in her eyes, passion thrashing in her soul
She searches for his heart gone askew
A demanding presence disturbs his mind
With thoughts of her and her delicate heart
Her lingering passion flickers fervently now
As the truth is growing shamefully valid
The thoughts he must convey swim in his mind
Yet not one word dares pass through his mouth
Her tears must fall to reveal the blank reality
Still she defies her trembling lips
Not one word said, no move has been made
An aspiration is destroyed, yet a desire obeyed
He clasps her hand and holds her close
She swallows hard trying to moisten her throat
A passionate kiss upon her trembling lips
A covenant repaired through numerous hardships
What Is Poetry
I ask myself,is poetry the rhyme of two
words or the meaning of the overall poem
,the passion in my voice,with the poem of
my choice,The mood I feel? Who can tell me?
My poetry is a unknwn Mystery
All these questipns whirling inside my head
I realize poetry is mre than rhyming of 2 or3
Words, poetry can be high as the sky
Deeper than the ocean or as shallow as a
concieted person
I live,breathe,poetry my peom have
passion my peotry can be happy,sad
,or tragic MY POEMS IS EVERLASTING
Poetry lives inside of me its the air I breathe
I AM POETRY I ANSWERED MY QUESTION FOR
ME.
I WAS BORN A POET THIS IS ME!!
The beautiful world of books
Has long been my passion
Reading a super fiction
Hiding in corners and nooks
Romance an all time favourite
Soft tears it always brings
My heart sometimes sings
As I long to savour it
Classic tragedy comes next
With Othello, Macbeth and Hamlet
Into every castle and chalet
Though the dialect is complex
Flying with fairies and goblins
Forgetting all but neverland
Merryweather and her magic wand
And the caravan of the Bedouins
The sacred passion of reading
Opens a whole new world
Where new ideas gets unfurled
And life takes a whole new meaning
thrusting
pounding
sweating
intensity
long strokes of passion from me
wetness
jubilation
unlock your pleasure be free
skin on skin
again and again
feel it
take it
hurried breaths of exctasy
sensations
pulsations
deep deep inside of you
feel my rhythm
who you with
wanted the best
this is it
cant stop
wont stop
screams of passion it aint funny
feel the juices just all runny
no where to hide
legs spread so wide
blow your mind
get it from behind
cant let you fall
put u on the wall
slow it down speed it up
in your head is it too much
up and and down
round and round
in and out
you scream
i shout
still aint done
now its really begun
collapse to floor
want more and more
aint going no where
5 in the morning still dont care
no words just speechless
shakin
quivering
just wanna be your best
a dream come true
catch your breath
round two..............................