Best Subjugate 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
You possess me with those eyes of pyromania
a tidal wave of temptation thrashing into my need for euphoria
romanticized on appetite for agile reckoning of kiss ravishing, harnessing my hysteria,
plumed with lashes lent from love's wings, curling wet wishing
brows preened sexy mean, fur strip stiring me,
hypnotized by your hot umber rings
I learn how suspense stings
circles of crave unbuckling my brazen brandishing,
deep set on my desire I'm unraveling for the vixen fire, heart sweating,
born from the brown of beauty's sweetest warmth
eyes that bite and suck the stress
right out of my soul's duress,
for you I go forth...
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
You possess me with those eyes of eagle blue
you use a single glance my hesitancy to unglue
soaring in the sky of my sweetened fantasy
these blue crystal orbs foretell of ecstasy
But first...the hunt...looking for prey - it's true
it's you - the Eagle
brutally brave and fiercely famished
you glide on the wind of my desire
your wings ablaze with fire
your eyes fierce, Oh, how they pierce
again and again
my inner sanctum deep
their hue puts the sky to shame
demanding passion and cravings untame
they bore deep into me
slashing bonds of inhibition free
Our eyes speak
Brown and Blue
Me and You...
in your eyes the need to seize
in mine, the need to please
yours dominate
mine capitulate
yours subjugate
mine consummate,
your eyes speak...
mine respond...Bonded, we belong
Eagle and Dove
poetry love
Our eyes speak...
A Collaboration Made From The Quills Of Justin & Eileen
fat girl cries
big fat tears
splash
crash
down her chubby cheeks
down her pillar like neck
which was once
much like a swan
now gone
fat girl sighs
big fat sigh...
a heart groan of a sigh
from the empty place inside
where beauty's not allowed to reside
fat girl sleeps
a big fat sleep
time obliterated
memories conjugated
into happy streams
peaches and cream
all over her dreams
everything perfect...it seems
fat girl awakes
a big fat awakening...
life must go on
she lumbers to the mirror
stares at her big fat figure
rolls here and there
and though she acts
acts like they're not there
she's not allowed to forget
she's not there....
not yet
she exercises
torturous kilometers by
holding on to handles
beginning the treadmill
to help her say goodbye
to the fat girl
who is pretty on the inside
but unseen
unseen
people are so mean
she medicates
they fabricate
rules...
she must subjugate
the need
to drown her sorrows
to eat it all away
why is she alive
alive another day?
fat girl cries
bit fat tears
her big fat fears
grow though she shrinks
kilograms slip away
will it ever be OK?
will they love her for her mind?
will they ever be kind?
to the little girl inside
who tries to hide
fat girl cries
will you dry her eyes?
Eileen Manassian
Don’t think me fragile, quick to break
No, don’t ever make that mistake
My warrior spirit’s deep and strong
I can avenge when faced with wrong
I am the Warrior Princess
I gallop on the my mighty steed
Brandish my sword, fulfill my need
What my eyes crave, I swoop to take
No human dares this heart to break
I am the Warrior Princess
With mad abandon, I make love
With eagle talons, I’m no dove
I subjugate, and I command
Full surrender to each demand
I am the Warrior Princess
When you think me supple and weak
The fire in my eyes will speak
I play a role, capture your soul
I dominate not part but whole
I am the Warrior Princess
In my veins the power to rule
No man can play me for a fool
Yes, he may think my heart is won
But can you hold the blazing sun?
I am the Warrior Princess
My fierce passion, you cannot match
Your body from her bed I’ll snatch
Ravish you till I’ve had my fill
Might let you live, or...I might kill
FOR I’M THE WARRIOR PRINCESS!!
Tonight I’m in my element
I sense the power surging
To place of imminence
Taking control
I will whisper my demands
Into your soul
You will be transformed, Woman
I will make you
The Mistress of the Night
I start my transformation
By visiting your lips
I cherry stain them
I enable them to turn seductress
With a smile to beguile, I grace you
You will part them to whisper
Words that will render him weak
Helpless at your feet
I will bless your lips
Tonight I’m in my element
I will tangle my beauty in your hair
Leaving my essence in it
The virgin softness of silk
The scent of summer dreams
The strength of the bonds of love
The flowing movements of liquid passion
His hands will feel my presence
Drawn to these tresses
I will move them
To touch and caress
And at my height of domination
His hands will tug and pull
His lips taste the strands
Inhaling me…
Listen, I am Desire
I Speak
I am in my element
Let me caress your form, woman
Your skin I will soak with my wine
Spilling myself all over you
To make you sweet to his taste
His tongue will be filled with me
As his mouth takes you in and travels
To those places where I lead
For I know your form well
And what pleases you
With essence that inebrites
Your navel will hold him for a while
Until I move him to taste inside
Cherry sweetness of my smile
Opened wide
I am in my element
I am Desire
I speak
Woman,
I have visited and ravished you
You still quiver from my touch
I've empowered you
Made you a goddess
A Goddess of love
A Passion Queen
Conquer him and subjugate
For I am Desire
I demand it
Remember my name
You will cry it out in ecstasy
When you come into your glory
When I am fulfilled
I will quietly leave
Like a soft evening breeze
Until I visit you again
I now kiss your lips
Where his taste still lingers.
Eileen Manassian
This thing called love, oh, tell me what it means!
Is it what breathes and lives in gilded dreams?
Is it the searing burn of hungry kiss?
Or languid afterglow of passion’s bliss?
This thing called love, is it like stormy sea?
A pounding of confines, till it runs free?
Is love a need that one must satiate?
A craving to indulge, to subjugate?
Define this love, now tell me, what you know!
Is it a tiny seed that time will grow?
Is love serene and tranquil like a prayer?
Perhaps a savage warrior on a dare?
This thing called love you think you can define
You pick your words and string them line by line
To fit your world, your needs, your safety net
but what you give to it, that’s what you’ll get
I know of love; I’ll let you have a look
It’s all of these, yet undefined by book
The essence of a life, it’s a desire
to be engulfed by love’s consuming fire
It is to me obsession’s jealous flame
Baptized by fire, your life is not the same
it is to live or die for whom you love
To burn in hell for love or soar above
Eileen Manassian
December 13, 2018
12:25 am
Weakness
It is said that he was weak because he would not
conform, could not subjugate his will, would not
let them imprison his mind, cage his spirit. Weak
because he stood alone and not with the milling
mob. Weak, because he would not speak the
words they desired to hear. Weak, because he
smiled when others wept, laughed when others
wailed, stood tall when others bent beneath the
toil of life.
They prayed for him to come to his senses and
become as they. He, though he didn’t pray as
they, desired the same for them. He knew that
there was no strength in the coalition of the crowd,
no truth in the mumbling of old truths, no love
in the demands of unconditional love.
He appreciated their prayers, they did not so
much appreciate his. He would listen as the
sound of the choir filtered through the air and
caressed the trees and wonder why the
vibration stopped when the hymn ended,
why the sermon stopped when the preacher’s
voice stopped echoing in the apse.
He would sing the song in silence as he walked
the village roads, roll the preacher’s words over
in his mind, smile at soaring hawks and old
barn cats, straighten a fence, remove a stone,
bid good-day to those who thought him weak.
He was not rich nor was he poor, neither wise
nor foolish, he just was. And so he shared his
weakness with all who thought themselves
strong, his loneliness with the friendless,
his thoughts with those who sought to teach him,
his spirit with those who allowed their spirit to be
caged.
It is said that he was weak by those who never
dared to share his weakness.
John G. Lawless//10/15/2014
Submitted to Verlena Walker contest
My shortcomings are overwhelming; however, my strengths are defeating them!
What makes a girl?
Is it not “sugar and spice and all things nice”?
What makes a woman? Oh…all that and so much more
A woman is made of sugar…sweet to the taste
Spice…Oh…she can burn your tongue and soul
All things nice? Hmmmm…
Things….let me define them for you...
The warmth of her body
The warmth of her soul
Her nurturing heart
How she makes a man whole
Her soft curvy form
Her luscious sweet lips
Her pillowy bosom
Her curvaceous hips
Her eyes that can speak
In many a way
Her hands that massage
All the worries away
Strength that bears
The pain of giving birth
How she puts herself down
To give you more worth
She is wispy and dreamy
Ethereal, unreal
Sent from above
To make a man feel
She is a seductress
Who can be a friend
She is the strong one
On whom to depend
Who can define her?
She is beyond all this…
The mystery of life
Is contained in her kiss!!!
Now…..For the glimpse of her other side!! I’m posting an old poem of mine,
Warrior Princess. Yes, women can HUNT as well! Read them and Weep.
The Warrior Princess
Don’t think me fragile, quick to break
No, don’t ever make that mistake
My warrior spirit’s deep and strong
I can avenge when faced with wrong
I am the Warrior Princess
I gallop on my mighty steed
Brandish my sword, fulfill my need
What my eyes crave, I swoop to take
No human dares this heart to break
I’m the Warrior Princess
With mad abandon, I make love
With eagle talons, I’m no dove
I subjugate, and I command
Full surrender to each demand
I’m the Warrior Princess
When you think me supple and weak
The fire in my eyes will speak
I play a role, capture your soul
I dominate not part but whole
I am the Warrior Princess
In my veins the power to rule
No man can play me for a fool
Yes, he may think my heart is won
But can you hold the blazing sun?
I’m the Warrior Princess
My fierce passion, you cannot match
Your body from her bed I’ll snatch
Ravish you till I’ve had my fill
Might let you live or I might kill
FOR I’M THE WARRIOR PRINCESS
Eileen Manassian Ghali
You can never DEFINE a woman!
** What’s Torn **
What’s been torn off or away may be
a recurring theme — of dreams or memory —
that nags, popping up unexpectedly
to recall or, for dear losses, again grieve…
The things thieved
from life — as divinely conceied,
like the Amazon forest’s trees —
don’t leave, but remain in a spectral reality…
What’s been torn away
may similarly refuse to leave —
like my calve, cut from my body, will scream,
sending phantom pain in suffered agonies…
What was seized from me on that mournful day,
— sculpted by dancing ballet for a decade,
stayed as I went from anestesized to awake
into a daytime nightmare without any escape…
When life sends us to dire places,
where hopelessness would subjugate us,
God will guard our souls and grace us
with a strength: resounding to the soul…
Left ragged, like having my health fail
in reaching goals, I will feel my heart wail
near breaking, but I refuse to let my faith pale
…believing the prayers of heaven will entail
blessings to help all God’s children prevail.
—————————
((c) s.y..eslinger 3/2024
**an addition to “On Phantom Pain” poem still in progress at this time
Tenderness
Of one
Living in
Heartfelt
Surge
Of a kiss
Lifting
Her eyes
Up to see
Him softly
Open
His mouth
Towards
Hers, sending
Chills
Throughout
Her body
She opens
Hers To greet
His tender
Lips
Laying on
One another
Now
Subjugate
To one
Another
With love
Tenderness
Of their
Kiss
Russell Sivey
I have hushed voices in my head
they say the things I’ve always said
they echo loudly thus keeping me
from finding my own calm poetry.
I need respite from all of this
can’t even find my happiness
I know he’s crying hiding pain
haunting me again and again.
Torturing me they suffocate
my joy I’ve lost and subjugate
a thousand voices so unclear
escaping reality and their fear.
A few sweet things keep me sane
I return to them again and again
to drink their joy and to taste
the essence of them but in haste.
Fearing majesty just might go
and back to hell my soul to sow
the thoughts that fuel my misery
swallow me whole indiscriminately.
I have these voices in my head
from all the things I’ve ever said
funny though there does still reign
joyous feelings in my heart remain.
(click the pic for a preview of my upcoming book!)
The stranger is strange, pariah, leper sounds offbeat,
Neither truculent, nor relevant, all destined to encounter the doomed relic;
The bizarre outlander, alien to stimulate the instant pulse-beats!
The uninvited hobnobber, one despises to welcome in routine frolic.
The stranger is unsolicited, the object of latent fear,
As strange may be the ways of the unbidden ones' intentional cares!
The stranger is unfaithful: weird to tranquility, comfort and cheer,
For the sceptical one, we become anxious by a mere fateful encounter!
The stanger lies in our conscience; in a distant land in paradoxical disguise.
Masquerade, the image generates an uncanny fear to sigh!
Sounds delinquent to subjugate the wires of prudent conscience!
Nonetheless, cogitates as usurper of peace; an ineffable parti pris.
Self-centred, they are loquacious, spell bound like con stars;
Babbles from the masks, camouflages as the epitomes of pretenders.
Unknown, unfamiliar, stirs alarms not to mingle, to be away, to be cautious.
In disguise, comes the alleged stanger to ruin ones' peace to shudder and shatter.
But the most alarming of all preconceived archetypes, are the strangers:
Who lingers on, as routine friends and well wishers,
On whom we doted on, are the real dear strangers,
Who by feigning friends, acted quisling, an obvious stranger!
'Hold!' sometimes left us dumbfounded with their insensible fickle deeds;
Even when the unknown stanger might spare and stand by us in awful needs!
When our intimate ones deny to wink at the distress;
While busy in spilling the beans, our woes go unnoticed by the feigned well-wishers.
Indeed! They are the untagged apparent strangers, fugitives in our trials.
Beware of those strangers, whom we adore as near and dear ones, 'bosom friends,'
the agnates and cognates, to entitle the crown, “an actual stranger" who elopes in tmes of miseries!
All Rights Reserved © Silpika Kalita
My man is Bluebeard
On this holiday for two
And I don't want to go
To spend every hour asleep or awake
With him
His voice controlling every action
every movement moment.
I will be caught in the might
of his King Kong grip
Alternately controlling
then beseeching
The needy man child
desperate to be loved
that makes this monstrous He
That must subjugate and control the She
To leave nothing to chance
In this the field of love
To hold and crush in his hot hand
the fragile wilting bloom
Content with that death
for ownership is all.
You possess me with those eyes of pyromania
a tidal wave of temptation thrashing into my need for euphoria
romanticized on appetite for agile reckoning of kiss ravishing, harnessing my hysteria,
plumed with lashes lent from love's wings, curling wet wishing
brows preened sexy mean, fur strip stiring me,
hypnotized by your hot umber rings
I learn how suspense stings
circles of crave unbuckling my brazen brandishing,
deep set on my desire I'm unraveling for the vixen fire, heart sweating,
born from the brown of beauty's sweetest warmth
eyes that bite and suck the stress
right out of my soul's duress,
for you I go forth...
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
You possess me with those eyes of eagle blue
you use a single glance my hesitancy to unglue
soaring in the sky of my sweetened fantasy
these blue crystal orbs foretell of ecstasy
But first...the hunt...looking for prey - it's true
it's you - the eagle
brutally brave and fiercely famished
you glide on the wind of my desire
your wings ablaze with fire
your eyes fierce, Oh how they pierce
again and again
my inner sanctum deep
their hue puts the sky to shame
demanding passion and cravings untame
they bore deep into me
slashing bonds of inhibition free
Our eyes speak
Brown and Blue
Me and You...
in your eyes the need to seize
in mine, the need to please
yours dominate
mine capitulate
yours subjugate
mine consummate,
your eyes speak...
mine respond...Bonded, we belong
Eagle and Dove
poetry love
Our eyes speak...
A Collaboration Made From The Quills Of Justin & Eileen
Peace is though difficult
Yet not impossible to uphold,
All the kings of the states
Must remain self-concerned,
Without poking noses
Into the affairs of others,
Curbing cupidity
To expand the territories,
Subjugate the nations of the world,
Enforce the so-called personal visions,
And put the humanity
Into new-fangled trials.
All the weapons
Latest, conventional or primitive,
Precious or utterly worthless,
Nuclear or less potential
Made of common explosives,
Be spoiled,
Be thrown into the deep waters
Of the unexplored seas,
Wherefrom no devilish character
Could ransack them back.
When some is killed
Neither Hindu, nor Muslim,
Neither Christian nor Jew is killed,
But a man: a child of Adam and Eve,
The same red substance
Pours out of his injured ragged body,
And it pains me.
All the weapon producing units,
And the blood spattering gadgets:
The tanks and cannons,
Mortars or machines guns,
The armadas
With the squadrons of fighter-jets,
Submarines that navigate
Secretly chase the nautical targets,
Catapults and all the missiles launching frames,
Be thrown into furnaces
To be remodelled and redesigned
Into of the earth moving machinery,
Instead of the appliances
Colouring the Earth red.
All the medals or symbols
Of chivalry be taken back,
Combatants and men
With the crowned shoulders,
And medalled chests,
Who often move in the battle-fields
Puffed with the martial pride,
Imparting, rendering
No service to humanity
Be employed to plough the lands,
Plant the gardens,
Make the dams and reservoirs of water,
Feed the cattle and get them milked on time,
Engaged them
To perform some rewarding assignments.
Upon the earth,
There must not be a single
Blood-claiming weapon;
If men are incensed
And fight is unavoidable,
They must fight with knives and rapiers,
Swords and shields made of gossamer,
All the time heeding
Lest they should break;
And all inhabitants of the world
At least once a day must trim their nails,
Lest when they are indignant
And resentful should scratch
The skin of fellow beings or their own.