Best Wantonness Poems
The voice of my eyes
Speaks silent words
A language to be heard
What does it say?
Oh baby, it’s telling you
Telling you to stay
The voice of my heart
Thundering through my chest
As your head lies on my breast
Oh baby, what does it say?
It’s telling you
Telling you to stay
The voice of my body
These words my arms speak
As I melt and go weak
In the heat of your night
In the cool of your day
What, oh what does it say?
Baby, oh baby
It’s begging you,
Asking you
It’s telling you to stay
Stay…
Let your doubts stop turning
Give in to this burning
Forget what’s wrong or right
And stay with me tonight
Stay just a little longer
You’ll leave a little stronger
Stay inside my fantasy
And feed on my ecstasy
Be naked heart and soul
Lose control and be made whole
Let caged desires free
Let wantonness just...BE
Oh taste and touch and feel,
Every wish in me come real
Oh baby, what do you say?
Let the world just melt away
To your paradise, I'm the way
Oh baby...right now...TODAY
Just
PLEASE
~*~ STAY ~*~
Eileen Manassian Ghali
Categories:
wantonness, desire,
Form:
Rhyme
He tills within the buzzard's flight
this cruel land he calls his home,
ewe and wether, milk and bucket,
broken spirit, ne'er to roam.
He's stuck for good, the laws of nature
guide him, be they right or wrong,
gone his hopes and his compassion,
save for the curlew's mournful song.
Courted by the country lasses,
love can't penetrate this soul,
pain and grief his only help meets,
daily toil his only goal.
Mother, father, gone to dust now,
confidants who'd calm his fears,
struggling with a heavy heart,
internalizing all his tears.
It's back to digging, discompacting
stones and boulders from the earth,
working 'til there's no more sun
in Wales, the cradle of his birth.
Striving against the elements
he stretches every nerve and bone,
every muscle, every sinew,
'til exhaustion brings him home.
Ne'er a smile adorns his visage,
there simply is no time for this,
haggard, careworn, slave to nature,
racked by weather's wantonness.
Two weeks gone, and there they find him,
chided by the wind and rain,
cadavered and condemned to fester,
never to be sad again.
*******
...dedicated to the Welsh poet R.S. Thomas
and his book, 'Song At The Year's Turning.'
Categories:
wantonness, nature,
Form:
Verse
As the sunlight permeates the fog
Revealing dust's debris
Sunbeams filter within the soul
Exposes faults carefree
As selfishness dances around
Critical nature unfolds
A little pride displays itself
That hateful spirit cold
Lasciviousness floats below
Displays lust's wantonness
Are these desires cleaned from the soul
Other thirsts thoughtlessness
Cleansed by sunlight's radiant beams
Variance swiftly exposed
Hatred, wrath and strife destroyed
To love quickly transposed
When touched by the master's swift hand
All character flaws cleansed
Why did not simple surrender
Happen sooner my friend
finis'
Categories:
wantonness, character,
Form:
Rhyme
Hollow man
Hollow man, an empty vessel,
lived life with vain abandon
Selfishness and carnal lust
were his constant companions
Happiness was sought, indulging
frantically in fleshly pleasures
Pain was his only reward instead
of priceless treasures.
Chasing worthless endeavors,
enticed by deluded aspirations
Followed the leanings of his foolish heart,
lead to altered expectations
He gulped down licentiously,
every drink that was in fashion
Spent his life in wantonness and
unbridled passions
He spiraled down, seduced into
debauchery's black hole
and wonders to himself, why there
is emptiness in his soul
He seared his innocent conscience,
rejected words heard so long ago
Truth remains even though despised,
you will reap what you sow
Now, he sits, disillusioned and alone,
staring into the cracked mirror
His bleary eyes beginning to see,
the truth ever clearer
Still, he ponders
if these consequences...
are part of destiny's plan...
it's hard to admit to himself,
his own bad choices...
created this...
hollow man.
April 10,2017
Categories:
wantonness, happiness, introspection, irony, longing,
Form:
Rhyme
Your eyes a dark archipelago
Mysterious then exotic drifting across
my shore;
I perceive their warmth inviting
While those lips blow a tangy flavour-
Irresistible, poised to reach for a kiss
Brewed by the kiln of summer’s
ember…
Carefully, my logic examines the
prospects
Between reason and wantonness,
As the fluid air spins amorously
And the evening grows too blind,
naked--
The waves within my navel dilate,
fluid as current's unknown motion...
I forget what happens next except, I
was
Drunk with the body- rhythm of something
untenably spontaneous;
Coasting on a body outside a bend
ebbing flowing through a belly and
tendon
Of a conniving sea.
Categories:
wantonness, romantic love,
Form:
Romanticism
Written February 28, 2025, For contest Sponsored by: Sara Jama
************************
On a planet
where kindness truly counts,
people's eyes widened as
the last petal fell.
Tears slid silently through empty rooms,
I gasped for air,
staring blankly into
chasm of despair.
It's a worldwide struggle aimed
at protecting our
extraordinary ecosystems.
Both motivation and meanness
chip away at the heart
of our real worth.
leading us to falter
as we strive to create
a pathway to a lasting future.
Beasts and beings alike,
both broken and bound,
navigate this challenging
reality together.
The final flicker of
life appears before us,
we face a dreadful plunge
into darkness that
we are forced to endure
in s o l i t u d e.
We offer guidance that
no one will ever abandon.
Ancient guardians of
the land and the people
who inhabit it stand
watch over us.
Sadly, the harsh reality of
existence is beginning to settle in.
We have measured our value
against wantonness winding
our journey toward its conclusion.
The softly fading rustle
of the foliage has also faded.
There's a wonderful warmth and
a welcoming embrace felt
among all living beings.
In the darkness with my
eyelids tightly shut,
a gentle breeze of
goodwill sweeps it all away.
As delicate petals f a l l. . .
a tear rolls down.
This symbolizes the lives
of those irrevocably amended.
Disappointment is woven into society,
and standards are shattered.
Unspoken words linger,
in the corners of memory.
Shadows quietly drift
through broken spaces—
where death meets its apex,
in stillness and serenity.
The fragmented hush of
the sunset s i l e n c e,
where once screams echoed.
Categories:
wantonness, analogy, flower,
Form:
Free verse
swan song
.
you made my world bigger
then smaller
then so large
i did not know east from west
as i stood so alone
in the middle of desire
and that proverbial non-place…
wantonness
.
i showed you boats on the water
and vivid red roses
while you took me to the land of lincoln
and made me feel
the hope of craving
.
we touched grafted roses
with bougainvillea vines
entwined, inseparable
.
i often wonder where you are
breathing silently
some nights in pennsylvania
sitting alone in a wicker chair in spain
or typing mercurially at your
ergonomically contoured keyboard
in every province of canada
.
i know you like to dance by the water
on warm southern california nights
(you told me without meaning to)
.
yet when the doors of evening close
and lights are turned off
i can hear your breathing
musical, melodious, wonderfully
you
.
because of the desires
of your heart
your passion sounds sweeter
than the splashing cascades of
powerful water splashing, falling
in snoqualmie
.
laughter is easy with you
.
when my tongue glides
across your trembling belly
is it hopefulness, excitement, passion?
.
is it the wandering thoughts
of your mind
hoping the roadmap of your body
will lead to hills and valleys?
.
is it
where the combustion of craving
ignites into a flaming torch of admiration?
.
my wish, for you
is the rising of your
innermost desires will be
felt as comfort and consolation
.
so today may be regenerated
as a beginning
of wishes come true
.
©~tolbert~
Categories:
wantonness, desire, i love you,
Form:
Free verse
Written: October 25, 2023, For Craig Cornish Contest
-------------------------------------------
The world is wailing with wantonness
every time feelings and fists collide
crooning in the midst of the earthquake
akin to lamenting the demise of love
Watch as the world catches fire
screams will resound across the ether
an eternal chorus of shrieking, life is dead
All I view are fiery banners stop signs, and rage
In the quest for a break, shoes are static.
We bore witness to the disasters
the dreadful symptoms of spiritual demise
as in the empire of the Egyptian pharaohs
We elevate our sights instead of trusting
sensing a basis for praise toward God
some steel their souls to truth, omitting the warning signs.
Stop signs create a dilemma
Someone's whistle is blaring
shaped to ponder on the best action film
the scene where the hero tragically dies.
Categories:
wantonness, analogy, angst, bereavement, change,
Form:
Free verse
The Future
One’s future footprints in the sands of time,
To be enshrined for all to see in time.
A time period of shall and shall be,
Descriptive too of what again shall be.
A future view of such constant motion,
Of people, events, passion, emotion.
A planned assumption that is great or grave,
That a future parade of time must save.
A dream so enchanted for the future,
Not revealed—as one must learn the future.
A future hope for wantonness and wit,
To be resurrected now from Hell’s pit.
A vision of future epochs in time,
Now must our poets plan to set in rhyme.
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
(December 27, 2014) (Heroic Couplet)
Categories:
wantonness, allegory, change, future, imagery,
Form:
Heroic Couplet
The Past
One’s former footprints in the sands of time,
Engraved and set for all to see in kind.
A time period of was and had been,
And descriptive too of what might have been.
A former snapshot of motion frozen,
Of people or an event so chosen.
A historical fact so great or grave,
That the procession of time has so saved.
An enchanted dream one dreamt deep and well,
Which is gone and one now can only tell.
A past moment of wantonness and wit,
Dead now and buried so deep in a pit.
A wondrous parade of epochs in time,
Now bygone for poets to set in rhyme.
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
(December 25, 2014) (Heroic Couplet)
Categories:
wantonness, allegory, change, imagery, journey,
Form:
Heroic Couplet
THE TEMPLE PROSTITUTE
The God came to me in the guise of a stranger
His gold body scent was of great sublimity
His arms were marble pillars, and his embrace
Melted the whole world on my belly.
He tuned me to the refinement of my own nature -
Pitched me so exquisitely I fell from heaven -
Totally vanquished, till I remembered
All there was of paradise, and the number seven.
He has the unfolding of centuries since
To worship me as a goddess divine,
But they couldn’t build churches fast enough
To deny our union in the votive shrine.
The salt of humble pilgrims for my wantonness
I, who had everything but blessedness.
(c) Rosemarie Rowley
From IN MEMORY OF HER (2008)
Categories:
wantonness, body, creation, fantasy, forgiveness,
Form:
Sonnet
A sweet disorder in the dress kindles
In clothes a wantonness; a stole about
The shoulders thrown, a fine distraction; an
ErrIng Lace, which here and there enthralls the
Crimson Vest; a cuff neglectful, ribbons
Flow confusedly: a winning wave (note)
In the tempestuous petticoat: a
Careless shoe-string, in whose tie I see a
Wild civility: does more bewitch me,
Than Art when too precise in ev'ry part.
Categories:
wantonness, humorous, math,
Form:
Free verse
He tills within the buzzard's flight
this cruel land he calls his home,
ewe and wether, milk and bucket,
broken spirit, ne'er to roam.
He's stuck for good, the laws of nature
guide him, be they right or wrong,
gone his hopes and his compassion,
save for the curlew's mournful song.
Courted by the country lasses,
love can't penetrate this soul,
pain and grief his only help meets,
daily toil his only goal.
Mother, father, gone to dust now,
confidants who'd calm his fears,
struggling with a heavy heart,
internalizing all his tears.
It's back to digging, discompacting
stones and boulders from the earth,
working 'til there's no more sun
in Wales, the cradle of his birth.
Striving against the elements
he stretches every nerve and bone,
every muscle, every sinew,
'til exhaustion brings him home.
Ne'er a smile adorns his visage,
there simply is no time for this,
haggard, careworn, slave to nature,
racked by weather's wantonness.
Two weeks gone, and there they find him,
chided by the wind and rain,
cadavered and condemned to fester,
never to be sad again.
*******
...dedicated to the Welsh poet R.S. Thomas
and his book, 'Song At The Year's Turning.'
Categories:
wantonness, dedication, writing,
Form:
Verse
Money is better than barter
Money is better than share
Money takes you further than you dare
Though hands, not money built my walls
Hands put together materials to paint my hall
Metals I dug came before all.
I fell in love with my money
Though the kitchen fire was lit by my honey
Her hands weaved into mine ever-ready
My family was all of four
For our morning bread, my wife rolled the nightly dough
By mid-morning I was always rolling in dough.
My pockets filled with money
Heart heaving heavy with pleasure
But my real heart had slipped into my belly
Pick pockets saw my rich resources
Bankers saw my various bulges
All overlooked my face coloured by insatiable desires.
Hope is real not just a hypothesis
Family is special but not essential
Beyond my reach was whomsoever I thought special
My hands guide me to the alchemist's hole
To unearth facts I crawl into their safe-hole
Here my soul and heart turned to pure gold.
Pickpockets, bankers, wife and relatives all lived till very old
My money was in their hold
They forgot me eventually but not too soon
I came one day as a mendicant to their door
They were ready for an ordinary life like before
Their look of wantonness I had to ignore.
I will lie to be buried not burnt
I will not rise again penny-wise
With me I will entomb money-culture's vice.
Categories:
wantonness, betrayal, funny, how i
Form:
Narrative
He tills within the buzzard's flight
this cruel land he calls his home,
ewe and wether, milk and bucket,
broken spirit, ne'er to roam.
He's stuck for good, the laws of nature
guide him, be they right or wrong,
gone his hopes and his compassion,
save for the curlew's mournful song.
Courted by the country lasses,
love can't penetrate this soul,
pain and grief his only helpmeets,
daily toil his only goal.
Mother, father, gone to dust now,
confidants who'd calm his fears,
struggling with a heavy heart,
internalizing all his tears.
It's back to digging, discompacting
stones and boulders from the earth,
working 'til there's no more sun
in Wales, the cradle of his birth.
Striving 'gainst the elements
he stretches every nerve and bone,
every muscle, every sinew,
'til exhaustion brings him home.
Ne'er a smile adorns his visage,
there simply is no time for this,
haggard, careworn, slave to nature,
racked by weather's wantonness.
Two weeks gone, and there they find him,
chided by the wind and rain,
cadavered and condemned to fester,
never to be sad again.
Categories:
wantonness, nature, tribute,
Form:
Verse