Long Bathe Poems
Long Bathe Poems. Below are the most popular long Bathe by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Bathe poems by poem length and keyword.
Hey baby. A world of endless awaking moments. With just you.
Come on baby, under gold dust and black-velvet sky. With just you.
Hey baby. Wave of ember flames, passionate eyes so sensuous,
I can't get enough being tangled, bare, wondrous high. With just you.
Fluttering butterflies arouses lambent ardent love affair,
flowering within me, baby, a lull comfort cry. With just you.
Hey baby, I dream of balmy rhythm breathes, the dawns yet to come,
numb kisses, great love, piece of fragment world left awry. With just you.
I crave not just a dream, but a life of forever, never death.
Bathe in sun's hypnotic spell before it hurries by. With just you.
9/11/2020
Dolcezza III
Your Beauty’s taught me lessons I'd not learn,
If I had shallowed in a wetter place,
And sought the fires that warm but do not burn –
I never would have gazed upon your face.
But I desired to breathe the fragrant fire,
And run like madmen do, from Here to There,
And bathe my hopes in hot pools of desire,
And press my lips into your jasmine hair.
No wonder I have seeded Life with deeds,
To form from humble clay a humble pot,
And run my fingers through the herbs and weeds,
To find out if you'd want what I have got.
I would again pursue you if I could,
But you are fled unto the Hazelwood.
Waking I wander where did those happy days go.
My New Year resolution is to shed those unnecessary thoughts.
My Comforter will guide me and wants this for me.
Patiently He answers my unspoken prayer.
And childlike I stomp them where they lie.
They will tantalize me no more as I crush them.
And I play with those toys in the dirt where i was free.
Mother calls me to dinner and washes my hands and face.
Tomorrow I will clean up the mess I left.
I need to rid myself of the filth.
I wear my past like new clothes that are stiff.
They need to be washed and dried and softened.
The doctor will have me lie on her couch and prattle.
She will take me to the cleaners and steam the past.
Sitting at the top of the stairs and listening.
With my tears running famously and glistening.
I hear the television and you slowly drink your beer.
Mom waitresses while father and his greed cracks another year.
Tomorrow I will clean up the mess I left.
I need to rid myself of the filth.
I hear you sing the song as I sit on the doctors couch.
Crying and wonder if it is my fault and the rope is lowered.
The strangers hand reach for me and they hold me tight.
Bathe me with whispers not to tell every night.
Michael McGregor Nursery Rhyme
Michael McGregor refused to bathe
His mother says: “You’ll be sorry!
A monster you’ll be when you awake!”
Michael thinks “Fun!” – a monster party!
Michael awakens all hairy and gross
Roars when he talks, slobbers and drools
Green teeth, foul breath, long toenail toes
No friend sits by him when he goes to school.
Michael plods home, tears in his eyes,
Looks in the mirror –horrific monster he spies
Jumps in the tub – leaves hairy mess
Sees Michael next morning – monster now put to rest!
3-12-21
Contest: Nursery Rhyme 2
Sponsor: Eve Roper
Based on poet's story for children - Michael Becomes a Monster.
My place of residence is where I receive all of my mail,
but my home is the endless wilderness trail.
If I didn't have these rescues who need me to care for them,
I would leave all of this behind, my possessions and apartment.
Every night I would fall asleep beneath a galaxy of stars,
to the sounds of chirping crickets and croaking toads and frogs,
and in the morning I would awake to a fantastic panoramic view,
never the same, always brand new,
and whenever my journey would venture close to an established town,
I might just wander off that trail and stick around,
for a few days in the comfort of some motel,
where I could bathe, charge my devices and sleep in a bed as well,
and treat myself to a suburb restaurant meal,
then maybe hang at a local pub and get familiar with the locals.
After a few days of that and all restocked on supplies,
until the next local established town arrives,
I would then head again back my home,
to my endless wilderness trail, free to wander and roam.
I would hike through out the northern region,
during the spring and summer season,
then hike my way down south during the fall and winter,
where the temperature is higher and noticeably warmer.
A new adventure and journey every single day.
Oh how I wish I could be living the rest of my life presently that way.
One thing is for sure, I will get there one day,
and finally be home all night and all day.
Love is a silent emotion,
invisible to open eyes.
But, I saw the naked soul
of her enigma -
my universal truth.
A pristine state of perfection.
As her 'silence' whispered to my soul
in a million ways -
I felt her pangs
As her spirit breathed my oxygen,
my heart forgot about gravity,
feeling immortal in every beat.
Now a small flame kindles in
her chocolate brown eyes -
hotter than wildfire.
I see beyond her invisible veil,
hiding her divinity, wrapped under,
her tanned bronze satin skin.
Smoother than a bed of feathers -
would to touch it, be a sin?
Her fruitful lips of blissful nectar,
are an eternal passage,
covered in ethereal dew,
awaiting my soul with promises
for unseen paradisaical passion -
a taste would leave one intoxicated.
The mind pleads with time to be kind,
for the heart to remain patient -
for distance to not become an adversary.
Because,
nothing could define her elegance,
in any form of artistry;
a poet has no vocabulary,
a musician without a beat to his melody,
a painter without control in his masterstroke.
Her aroma is a rare scent from petals,
my hands could never fathom to blossom.
Her love is like the sun rays of a new dawn,
forever, ascending my heart with warmth.
I am her cloudless sky, for her glory to shine,
the ripples in her deep ocean -
for her to bathe within me.
In my quest to be within her embrace,
I shall keep the vampires from her door,
slay the demons who bring her darkness.
Face Satan in his satanic seas.
Be the whirlwind in her storm,
releasing her from chains of uncertainty.
Once, I gazed at the stars,
wondering where you were.
My musings writing about your arrival.
You appeared to end all seeking,
filling my hollowness with endearment -
became the last drop of my ink.
A chill of Autumn in the air
and spider’s webs are everywhere
these delicate exquisite works of art
such beauty and joy fills my heart
Old Man’s beard has just appeared
weaving its way through blackberry bushes
loved that name when I was small
to touch ~ so furry
to see ~ enthralled
Blackberries plump and succulent
awaiting to be picked
evoking memories of Mum’s fruit crumbles
blackberries and apples mixed
Sloes ~ a rich dark purple fruit
ripe and ready to bathe in Gin
patiently waiting
sloes luxuriating
tempted to taste
but must not haste
for to sip a Sloe Gin on a cold winters night
leaves a feeling of warmth
and another ~ well I might...
Written 12th September 2020
Contest COMPLETELY YOUR CHOICE 8
Sponsor Brian Strand
FIRST PLACE
He then told him he put a fresh set of clothes
On his backpack, turned around and didn’t look back.
So he put on his new clothes and out the door he went
Thinking that this man was heaven sent.
As he walked a mile down the road
He felt guilty that he didn’t thank him properly
For being so kind to a man in need.
He ran back to the farm house and knocked at the door
To be greeted by someone he had never saw.
“I am looking for the farmer who owns this place!”
That would be me ! What can I do for you?
He said : no ! that can not be ! It was a younger
Man, not as elderly with a beard and shoulder length hair.
He gave me dinner and invited me in, let me bathe
And to have a good nights sleep, then gave
Me these clothes and breakfast to eat.
I don’t see how here you could have stayed
When my wife and I were in another county far away.
But there has been stories going around
About someone helping people when their luck was down.
As he said that - the strangers back pack fell
to the ground ,and he heard a clatter.
The man looked at him and asked what was the matter.
He opened his backpack and a wooden name plate fell to the ground
And broke in three- when he looked he could not believe what he saw.
The three parts said : J.CHRIST-HIS-SON
And a cross and rosary laid alongside with a note with one word.
HOPE
Now who could this man have been ?
Concealed by a bramble bush,
Fixated to her tight swathe.
She takes a little look around,
Then peels off her clothes to bathe.
Standing there with just a pink panty,
The small of back had perfect dimples.
She hesitated for a while in the cool breeze,
That kissed her skin to form goose pimples.
Hugging herself, she dipped a toe in the water,
Then performs a shivery dance.
My eyes made love to her beauty,
My body succumbed to their romance.
She turned to the side as if walking a tight rope,
And skimmed the water surface with her foot.
I saw her perky mountainous breasts,
And almost let out a coyote’s crying woof.
A goddess, a picture, and artists dream,
Every man’s vision of heavenly thighs.
I stood unblinkabley mesmerised,
Thinking “Thank you for my bramble bush disguise.”
This is how I met my second wife, Jane, by the way
And love her with the same passion as that very day
I found out later that she was the sister of Glen
Who is my close Imaginary friend
*I think I killed the end for you all :-)
Our Valentine of Love
Your tender smile, my fleeting glance,
Warm eyes that meet to touch the soul,
Your beating heart, my breathless breath,
Our deepened sense of something whole.
Our need to please and give of self,
To share all things of mind and heart
With openness and sweet surrender,
Each of the whole becomes a part.
Your touch of closeness and of warmth,
My radiance of inner glow,
Bathe in light of endless aura...
Our current charged with endless flow.
To feel each other's joy and pain,
Two beating hearts, as one, to care.
And of the thoughts that words can't speak,
Two open souls, in silence, share.
To show our love through word and song
Is at its best, mere child’s play,
In contrast to the silent prose
Our hearts and souls, through love, convey.
Sandra M. Haight
~2nd Place~
Premier Contest: Sweet Valentine
Sponsor: Nayda Ivette Negron
Judged: 02/01/2018