Best Subaqueous Poems
Gliding hands dancing on your spine
Playing melodies in your hair
Soft kisses delights in making discoveries
I see your soul clearly
I seize your face gently reflections shine
within the mind softly brushing
deeply plays a tender loving tune
fluttering beats touching shades of sunshine
All I need is my other senses to feel you
Sensitive sensations tantalizing inside
Blood pumping passion mysteries unraveling
rose of this soul softly whispers a jewel
in this deep nile let the stars be my guide
sparkling brightly winking delight
Ripples in turquoise waters running deep
Transformation in the subaqueous light filtering through
Indulge in a colorful spectrum of joyous release
granting loves magic in a shower of confetti
sparking magic granting wishes rising from the dust
lips the rose petals touching kisses softly
warm enchanting dreams in your inner beauty
Come lay here by me
Gliding hands dancing on your chest
Playing melodies on your lips
Soft kisses delights in whispering echoes
true the wonders of this world
whispering winds blowing sweetly calling your name
ocean waves rising unfolds kisses paradise
You are a clear vision
All I need is heart and soul to understand you
Instinctive intensity penetrating inside
Firecrackers soaring passion tales unfolding
melting in the embers of your beauty
sparks fly behind the mirror gems
opening in the chambers a ball begins shimmering
lighting up walls warmly in the four chambers
igniting sparks burning red flames join
silver dancing blue hotly holding beautiful
hands joined under magic spells loving like you do
Shimmers in moon rising and sun setting
Circulation in the bloodstream honey lemon love
Lingers in the aftertaste
smoldering embers of blue red flames
Co written by Liam Mc Daid and Angeline lim
based on the song love me like you do
Music, Oh mysterious sprite!
Lift me to the seamless realms of delight.
Your ubiquitous presence I feel;
In the hum of crickets, in the silence of the stars,
In the falling cataracts, in the running streams,
You are there in the roaring sea breakers,
And under the swift wings of the wind.
Come as subtle vibes to saturate my being,
Winding your way through every sinew.
Enfold me in your rapturous hold,
Raising my soul to the magic of rhapsody.
Paint intangible pictures in silence,
Creating a sensation beyond the reach of words.
Let my soul savor the taste of ecstasy,
Daubing myriad hues on all ugly stains.
Land me in the sequestered pools of oases,
As the blistering sands leave burns on my soul
Oh Music! Come and fill me.
Soak me from foot to crown,
Like a falling drizzle,
Like a caressing soft wind,
Like a marauding sensation.
Drown me in the subaqueous quietude of the sea,
Levitating me through ether,
And lifting me up onto the borders of heaven!
Crystalline Winter Hollow
A camp fire against solid hollow black
Holds the cold and limited visibility
Hours come born without warning
Near to night, wild on the snow storm
A dim light draws us home vulnerable
It is a dot in the distance
Illusions of fireplace and warmth
A hunt for life between each snowflake
Moving on as the snow deepens under foot
Each step is sunken treasure subaqueous submerged
Cold and water take their risk in winters grip
The lake may not take the weight of passage
Camp fire is a long way off now
So is that dot of light called home
Frozen images are all that’s left
Hidden there on the distance, crystalline alone
It was a good spot.
A spot near the bus stop.
A spot where on many days the air was filled with aroma
of fruits and vegetables from tables set up in front of markets.
A spot where a poignant odor from the fish market stretched the nostrils.
There on that corner, that favorable spot of hers where she spread
her blanket
And on that blanket, her well-crafted beads and basket do
heavily employed.
There on that corner, that favorable spot where one would have
no need to have the nose of a bloodhound to pick up the different
smells of people.
There on that corner, that favorable spot she smelled mineral odors
from shipyard workers, whose boots and uniforms were stain by oil.
There on that corner, that favorable spot there were strong musty,
and repugnant smells from dislocated drifters.
There on that corner, that favorable spot, were dusty smells of
the sawdust and paper mill.
It was a good spot, a most favorable spot where her body and soul
ravished the distinctive odors, and the many loud and
indistinguishable voices that were subaqueous to the object of
the sounds of the street.
It was that spot on that corner that whispering winds spoke to her
about in her dream.
It was a dream that was sent to her by Hashtali-
Achafa.
On that corner, that most favorable spot she offered up her praise to
Hashtali-Achafa and hawk out notice of her goods.
And Hashtali-Achafa blessed her with prosperity.
Copyright 2017 Looking At The Light From The Bottom Of The Lake
Inspired by a character from the book Halona, copyrighted 2004
Music, Oh mysterious sprite!
Lift us to the seamless realms of delight
Your ubiquitous presence we feel;
In the hum of crickets
In the silence of the stars
In the falling cataracts
In the running streams
You are there in the roaring sea breakers
And under the swift wings of the wind
Come as subtle vibes to saturate our being,
Winding your way through every sinew
Enfold us in your rapturous hold,
Raising our souls to the magic of rhapsody
Paint intangible pictures in silence,
Creating a sensation beyond the reach of words
Let our souls savor the taste of ecstasy,
Daubing myriad hues on all ugly stains
Land us in the sequestered pools of oases,
As the blistering sands leave burns on our souls
Oh Music! Come and fill me
Soak me from foot to crown
Like a falling drizzle
Like a caressing soft wind
Like a marauding sensation
Drown me
In the subaqueous quietude of the sea
Levitate me through ether
And lift me up onto the borders of heaven
Luna’s image reflects on flat water;
she smiles at her likeness and ripples softly quiver.
Beneath the glinting surface another universe exists
where subaqueous creatures live, busy in their nests.
Moss shawls arm drape low on sitting cypress tree,
ungainly, with legs so short below her knees.
Yellow pollen gathers brightly, floating along the dock
forming lacy fabric, the moon’s evening frock;
oh, that I could be she waltzing on this liquid floor,
evermore a lover of the lake.
March 6, 2022