Best Sate Poems
Never ever shame a woman
for the fire in her soul
still your fear that you're unable
to give that which makes her whole
Never ever shame a woman
for the fierceness of her love
when she wants to subjugate you
she's an eagle, not your dove
Never ever shame a woman
for her raging burning need
to take in that which inflames her
bond and let her soul be freed
Never ever shame a woman
for insatiable desire
use your all to give and please her
be a man and stoke her fire
Never ever shame a woman
for her sensual appetite
primal cravings that possess her
give her reign at day or night
Never ever shame a woman
when she moans in ecstasy
do not force her into silence
let her voice her fantasy
Never ever shame a woman
for her wanton sultry way
thank the heavens that she's able
to bring passion into play
Never ever shame a woman
for the pleasure that she craves
be a man and strive to sate her
for this act her honor saves
Eileen Manassian
Categories:
sate, passion, women,
Form:
Quatrain
Introducing: Casarah Nance & Poet Destroyer
Scars of empty promises are darkened by your kiss.
Torturous touches are meant to soothe my pain.
It is without gain, without pleasure, beyond measure,
You are the puppet master, strung on dark days, a haze.
Specter of solitude, you confine me with your magnitude,
What purpose do I serve, is slavery what I deserve?
Tell me your intention, sate me with your perfection.
Shed a light into this soul starved sanctuary,
Come, whisper your words in my ear, complete me…
A sweet surrender to your call, a will of solitude
I lead the way, cutting strings attached to the light
Touching every breathing strand stressing yesterday
Giving you room to fall into my designated despair,
Adding, to your creeping gloom, I give and lend pouring pain,
the kind of pain, that begs for blades
Abhorring the taste of life, your flesh empowers my darkness
My intentions are nothing more, than a shadow bearing strength,
Smiling at your tears, caressing your lips,
Taking from the closure your soul seeks tonight
Blind! You will become to the misery, in this barren place
The pain of rigor mortise will blend against your pale skin
A slave without shackles,
I concur with pleasure to feed the hunger, you give
Forever, I am DARKNESS
~A Poet Destroyer collaboration~
Categories:
sate, adventure, dark, deep, depression,
Form:
Epic
The staticky-stars climax under intense blanket of Winter glow.
Your spouse can’t see your spirited green eyes that burn slow.
The friction of campfire sticks, the satiny slipperiness of moon.
Flames of blue, orange and red won’t be overcome too soon.
Pert rose petals, that once were goosebumpy and ice cold,
scintillate like fireworks until the grand finale’s loosed, uncontrolled.
Warm breath in a cold Winter’s steamy and a restless beast.
Lips lavish over late night feast, matches singe, sate increased.
Squirming under the leisurely complement of coals, coalescing,
Coolness of a blue lake vaingloriously countering, distressing.
A long midnight’s thrashing, sans pillory; the high beams foray.
Pillow talk, a sensuous squeeze, a high-diving elixir bouquet.
Ah those stars brilliantly glowing on a long Winter’s night!
Those limbs blush, rose petals crush, with unfettered light.
Categories:
sate, metaphor, sensual, winter,
Form:
Couplet
I that have seen such beauty
fallen beneath its gleam
rejected my life’s duty
to wade thus in its stream
Saturating me with love
bathed in moon’s reflection
naught more for me to dream of
drown me your affection
With our true hearts united
stare into love’s abyss
night dreams felt unrequited
are thus found with first kiss
Passion’s torch does scorch the sun
red molten flow in veins
as we two become as one
unbridled, fallen reins
Sacrosanct are our love nights
life’s sweet joys soar with you
without your touch, nothing’s right
next tryst now overdue
Stoke my love and lustful sate
lure me your siren song
wooing whirlwind perfect fate
where pulse and pleasures throng
We shall meet under moonlight
join true hearts in one fire
kiss in love’s sweet depths all night
meld into deep desire
We’ll sail ‘cross life’s open seas
explore each others’ shores
casting caution to the breeze
re-writing romance lores
Love’s paradise we’ll not miss
destiny sends us there
living life with blushing bliss
heaven for us to share
Rapture’s mine, your eyes starshine
your light does kiss my soul
intervention our’s Divine
in ecstasy extol
Robert Lindley and Susan Ashley
(a collaboration)
June 8, 2018
*Providence* - a manifestation of divine care or direction -
Poet’s Note: When my talented friend Robert, found and presented to me his lovely poem fragment, from long ago (the first stanza), and asked if I would be interested in writing a collaborative poem with him, I said ‘Yes’! In the moment of reading his tender words, I was inspired.. and honored and humbled, by his generous and kindhearted offer to finish this poem with him through our creative cooperation. It was my great pleasure and a tremendous poetic experience for me to create and write with Robert, a fine poet of such high caliber who just so happens to be my esteemed friend as well. Robert, you made my first collaboration a pure joy and our friendship and partnership in poetry is cherished.
Categories:
sate, desire, destiny, passion, true
Form:
Rhyme
To my terra of roots
my allegiance I vow
I wallow in your fruits
and to your flag I bow.
Dream not till wake of dawn
beaming sun light I wait
burst of glee of no bourn
the feels of the soul, sate.
Awe chills into my spine
as your Hymn in pride sung
for Home in peace I pine
and love never be swung.
How could my pen, you turn
in a fine rhyming word
as my quill longs to learn
inking with grace and verve.
Categories:
sate, africa, art, blessing, feelings,
Form:
Rhyme
I want to ride a zebra
and race the rays of radiance
through heat-waves’ sailing gradients -
a folly wild - a mood untamed
elated hands in bristled mane
unbridled veins uncorked champagne...
yes! elevate sedate heart rate
I WANT to ride a zebra
stripes yin yang oasis sweet and
whimsy rules a drumroll beat as
gallop sways euphoric roughness
crossing plains of dreamy lushness -
steed’s exotic tender toughness
pacing thrills in state of luscious...
yes! animate to sate my wait
I want to RIDE a zebra
savanna grass a grand expanse
a lion’s roar - hyena's rant
amuse myself with peril’s speed
adventure sows romantic’s seed... so
gestate date with fancy’s fate
YES! I want to ride a Z E B R A !
Categories:
sate, adventure, animal, dream, fantasy,
Form:
Rhyme
If I should reach out, will you take my hand,
and hold me ‘til I reach that promised land?
Will you stay with me after tears have dried,
and close these lids the moment I have died?
Might you remain for just a moment more,
shall I but falter, tumbling to earth’s floor?
While curled up gently sobbing on this floor,
my friend, will you still stroke my weary hand,
meet my eyes’ gaze, convince me there is more
to living, loving - feet upon this land?
My soul embraced the darkness when it died
as wells once full had emptied, nearly dried.
Within these walls where fountains had run dry,
my love had left me trembling on the floor
with haunted mem’ries; left alone to die.
Yet as I tried to swathe these bleeding hands,
I hoped and prayed that I might safely land
where love abides, for I believed in more.
Such fortitude I trusted would bring more
to sate a thirst that left lips parched and dry;
for in my dreams, I soared across this land,
not stumbling, falling, ever on the floor.
To Him I cried, and reached with heart and hand,
“Please show me, teach me. Speak, before I die.”
Though heartache lingers, Love has never died,
for long, dark paths contain some light; what’s more,
I now believe He lends a sturdy hand
when hope has gone and springs have all but dried.
He finds us crawling, spent, upon the floor;
provides a map, helps navigate this land.
I must admit, inspired thoughts would land
upon this heart, but frightened, each had died.
My soul kept getting trampled to the floor…
each time I gave, each time they took some more.
No longer will tears drown before they’ve dried;
I reach out swiftly, firmly grasp His hand…
And I will land in strong arms ever more!
Despite death’s grasp, Love’s well will never dry,
And crawling floors oft guides us to His hand.
Categories:
sate, courage, depression, faith, loss,
Form:
Sestina
This Medusa had no power to turn us into stone
but when she ran aground over Poseidon's throne
his anger stirred, and into the sea the crew was flung.
On a raft urgently built of salvaged timbers we clung.
A hundred and more escaped before the frigate sunk
and after four days adrift, our number had shrunk.
With naught but salted sea to sate our massive thirst
I vowed not to give in. I swore I'd not be the first
to yield to temptation and drink myself to death
though feverish from the intensity of the sun's breath.
On the eighth day, hunger turned men into savages,
feasting on flesh in a moment of rapacious ravages.
Bloated bodies bobbled like apples off Africa's coast.
I contemplated my fate to become what I dreaded most-
being tossed off the raft, into a shark's clamping jaws.
To survive, no one had agreed to abide by man's laws.
I'll not forget the look of fear in the eyes of others,
sailors who once proudly called themselves 'brothers.'
Each of us clutched and clawed for an inch of the raft.
The feeble ones cackled as though they'd gone daft.
Arms and legs entangled among the living and dead,
as an alabaster corpse pillowed a sun-blistered head.
The demented swam away, flailing arms in roiling waves
until they perished in the depths of their turbid graves.
Alas the day, two weeks in, a ship sighted on the horizon.
Fifteen survivors with charred skin, lean and wizened
rescued from death's grip in a morbid human experience.
Men who'd given up on hoping for a timely deliverance,
their bodies emaciated, and their clothing, threadbare,
destined to relive the catastrophe in gruesome nightmare.
August 4th 2022
2022 Marathon mile 11 Contest
Sponsor: Mark Toney
NOTE: In June 1816, the French frigate Medusa, ran aground off the coast of Senegal. Because of a shortage of lifeboats, some 150 survivors embarked on a raft and were decimated by starvation during a 13-day ordeal, which descended into murder and cannibalism. Only a handful remained when they were rescued at sea.
Categories:
sate, death, sea,
Form:
Narrative
In his bed she lies in wait.
For when he returns he will surely sate.
The time in the shower was just a tease.
No time to savor.....no time to please.
In his bed she envisions how he looked lathered in soap.
The smile he gave her when she went for a grope.
His mouth seeking hers for and amazing kiss.
The mounting pleasure..... turning quickly to bliss.
In his bed she tingles from head to toe.
From wanting him so bad, but he had to go.
An hour of yearning will seem like forever.
A blush reddens her cheeks as she imagines them together.
In his bed her fingers start to roam.
Finding her pleasure points, she lets out a groan.
For it's his lips and hands that she craves with desire.
Just the thought of his touch makes her perspire.
In his bed she anticipates his welcoming return.
Full of alluring charm that will certainly make her insides churn.
The smell and taste of him will awaken each and every sense.
Driving her to the brink of desire, each time getting more intense.
In his bed she hears him call out her name.
"Oh Darling........I'm going to drive you insane!"
The quivering begins for she knows he is right.
There will be no sleep 'in his bed' on this particular night.
........................................................................................
Categories:
sate, lost love, passion, time,
Form:
Rhyme
I am immeasurably honoured to have been invited to collaborate with as fine a poet as Robert Lindley. Our first collaborative process has been very quick, very instinctive and very natural. Thank you, Robert, for a very rewarding joint venture.
As I Plot Just One More Day
A collaboration with Robert Lindley
11th October 2018
Desperate as the waking at blackest dawn
I seek only moments within eternity,
for the day upon me is long
and I do not ponder its end.
Forever the blackened door beckoned
in tones of promising delights
who can know what lies in its beyond
perhaps a cure for the world's pains
I walk halls leading to its hurts
echoes that resounded as if playing
with no malice, future screams at my hesitation
as I plot just one more day
as I hide my lusts just one more day.
Decadent as the lust of gloomiest noon
I am immersed in the consummation
and overpowered in the contest, yet hopeful
that still I may embrace eternity's devious charm.
Never ending cycles eat into a wanton soul
they are all too familiar
and their boredom becomes a chain
a rasp in my dying breath
I hear its rhythm and each echo speaks
O' that parade of desires hides deep within
as the dark expands its borders
as I plot just one more day
as I hide my lusts just one more day.
Dire as the languishing at darkening dusk
I seek an eternity of moments
to sate my lust and to quell my rage,
to forgive and to be forgiven.
Categories:
sate, death, desire,
Form:
Free verse
Last Dance by Darren White
Oh be my heart for me when it stops beating,
My lungs to breathe thin air still far too chill,
My feet to dance the world while I’m still living
As they still want but now no longer will.
Be my two arms and tug me in our tango—
Flamenco palo, wrap your wings around
My lithe frame, chant me our concluding canto
With all the strength in us you somehow found.
Oh sit with me and reminisce those dances…
Pure, perfect passion, smile and lift your head,
Observe illuminated skies above you…
We meet again, we’ll waltz soon in Atlantis.
With you here, there is nothing that I dread,
Do not be sad, this is not an adieu.
May I Have This Dance?
My heart beats a steady rhythm
Gale winds won't take my breath
Your feet on top of mine can dance all ebullient
And if your arms get tired, mine will hold your weight
No wings here-I am mortal
Let our spirits of freedom sate
And soar across the heavens, through the Milky Way
You are a bright lit candle-the flame will not go out
For I am keeper of the lighthouse
Scribing every nuance
Your words shine so, mi Estrella
Living words that sing and sway
Sometimes rhyming, artful placing
Every syllable is etched to stay
So, light the path of your life’s passions
Each word a heartfelt view
Dance for everyone to follow-learn the beauty that is you.
Categories:
sate, appreciation,
Form:
Free verse
As I Plot Just One More Day
Desperate as the waking at blackest dawn
I seek only moments within eternity,
for the day upon me is long
and I do not ponder its end
Forever that blackened door beckoned
in tones of promising delights
who can know what lies in its beyond
perhaps a cure for the world's pains
I walk halls leading to its hurts
echoes that resounded as if playing
with no malice, future screams at my hesitation
as I plot just one more day
as I hide my lusts just one more day
Decadent as the lust of gloomiest noon
I am immersed in the consummation
and overpowered in the contest, yet hopeful
that still I may embrace eternity's devious charm
Never ending cycles eat into a wanton soul
they are all too familiar
and their boredom becomes a chain
a rasp in my dying breath
I hear its rhythm and each echo speaks
O' that parade of desires hides deep within
as the dark expands its borders
as I plot just one more day
as I hide my lusts just one more day
Dire as the languishing at darkening dusk
I seek an eternity of moments
to sate my lust and quell my rage,
to forgive and to be forgiven
A Robert Lindley and Lawrence Sharp collaboration
10-11-2018
Poetry Note-
I am very pleased to have found a new and fantastic writing partner
that presents fantastic free verse poetry in its top form. This our first collaboration was a true pleasure and great joy to create. We both found ourselves in tune, as we worked to present this dark free verse poetry, that depicts the darker side of this world, past wayward youthful experiences and a look at what even today our youth face in this unforgiving and to oft deceptive, corrupt and tempting world that rewards darkness, and giving in to wanton desires.
The magnificent verses my writing partner contributed to the creation of this piece sincerely awe me- as I am learning of the depths, beauty, great and high artistic value in creating and reading free verse poetry, Both my thanks and my appreciation come from a sincere and very appreciative heart.
Categories:
sate, appreciation, art, dark, deep,
Form:
Free verse
Knowing She Sees How Deeply She Is Missed
(Tribute To That Greatest Of Love, A Mother's)
Blue-cold morns rising to light a fire
mother, cooked on wood stove truly ancient.
She out of sweetest of love's truest desire
provided nourishing food so patient.
Not asking praise for her unselfish deeds
washing dirty clothes in an old wash-pan.
By love's examples she planted new seeds
windy-flames of reliance such did fan.
Now time, with its many decades have flown
beloved mom, passed on to her reward.
We, her thriving huge brood, are now all grown,
feel her love and know why she worked so hard.
Knowing she sees how deeply she is missed
we thank her, each beloved face she kissed.
Robert J. Lindley, 8-11-2017
SONNET, (Tribute to our mother and to mothers everywhere, THAT SACRIFICE WITH THE DEEPEST OF UNSELFISH LOVE FOR THEIR CHILDREN)
------
I started this poem back in May, 2017. I finished the last two verses this morn.
Hesitant to post because I feel it is not worthy enough but alas (!), I also know with my meager writing talent , I can do no better.
Thus, with my wife's prodding, I post and pray it is deem worthy as a tribute by all that read and love ever so dearly their own wonderful and loving mothers!
Beauty That Rivals The Red Rose
He the gardener she the rose
She was only flower he chose
Days he gave her his very best
Under moonlight glow they both rest.
With great care he keeps her from harm
Always enamored by her charm
Whenever she mentions her thirst
Sate her needs, he is always first.
At dawn's first calling she wakes up
Her petals with his hands he cups
With true love, admiring her grace
This dark world together they face.
His life for her beauty so fair.
Together, love's beauty they share.
Robert J. Lindley, 8-10-2017
Cyhydedd Fer Sonnet,
8 syllable lines
.. a. a. b. b. . . c. c. d. d. . . e. e. f. f. . . g. g
Syllables Per Line: 8 8 8 8 0 8 8 8 8 0 8 8 8 8 0 8 8
Total # Syllables: 112
Total # Words: 88
Categories:
sate, devotion, love, romance, rose,
Form:
Sonnet
Here we are again in the center of the desert
Don't know how we came to know a second chance
drowning in a drought of inspiration
thirsty still we both know that we can dance
timid and a tiny bit off of balance
my hands are shaking, heart is heavy beating
I look into the endless sky of your eyes
here and now there is no more retreating
Sands of time are shifting all around us
shards of absence seem to disappear
possibilities are promises in the breeze
and i'm complete now that you're here
You're the water to sate my starving senses
The master of mirage, you take me home
The desert is not as desolate at it used to be
now that I know I am not alone
Here are again in a second chance of romance
and the sands sing a slow song as we dance
Categories:
sate, for him, longing, love,
Form:
Lyric
I dreamed that I stood in a valley, and amid sighs,
For happy lovers passed two by two where I stood;
And I dreamed my lost love came stealthily out of the wood
With her cloud-pale eyelids falling on dream-dimmed eyes.
William Butler Yeats
Notions had gathered inside my head;
a wanderlust that refused to be denied.
Within my mind, the need of love was bred,
burned in tongues of fire that torched a hole
inside my heart and seared my soul.
I sought the finest wine from the valley floor,
to sate my thirst when he'd stand at my side.
I climbed heathered hills; crossing streams
Down twisting paths I ambled, taking wrong turns
until I found the enchanting vision in my dreams,
and feasted on the fruit of my heart's desire.
But too soon he slipped from my arms.
Left behind were his vespers in passion's embers,
and fading echoes of his whispered words.
Time rushed through years like sifting sand
but the fire he kindled has not died.
I remember the gentle touch of his hand,
and sweet moments of devotion we stole.
Now, with feeble steps I remain in pursuit
of memories we made long ago in the valley.
I hear his voice in the wind, and I cannot refute
that love's flame still burns within my soul.
An interpretation of ''The Song of Wandering Aengus,"
by William Butler Yeats.
Categories:
sate, love,
Form:
Rhyme