Long Forbidden fruit Poems
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The dancing flames lit up her hair
In shades of dark and light
She looked at me with longing eyes
That sparkled in the night.
I know, she said, what you desire
The fruit that longing seeks
She looked me straight into the eyes
I watched her burning cheeks.
I will give all and be your slave
As long as you are mine
We shall make love ‘til dawn is here
And drink the sweetest wine.
She threw herself into my arms
And kissed my waiting lips
I held her tight; could not resist
Her undulating hips.
Our passion’s fire burnt all night long
Each movement – tenderness
I wished this bliss we could prolong
Profound togetherness.
When morn’s first rays peered through the pane
Lace curtains etched our skin
A tapestry of silk domain
She was my Anne Boleyn.
But fantasies evaporate
When light is shed on them
Forbidden love seemed to berate
How tarnished was our gem.
One night we shared, but ne’er again
Could we pursue our lust
Her husband, he was my best friend
We’d violated trust.
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Co-write: Paul Callus & Carolyn Devonshire ~ Oct 2014
I had waited all day long
I had waited all night long
I had waited enough beyond enough.
I had waited basking in the
Euphoria of a dream in my dream
I had waited long enough
Forgetting that I am still waiting
I relish momentarily in our
Hobo’s day time out
I speak to myself of a day
To come off my dream.
I dream aloud to myself of a day
To maw the forbidden fruit.
I soliloquy only to my very self
Of the hour to taste the fruit of life.
Could it be when I will be forbidden
To eat of your forbidden fruit?
Could it be when your heart would
Have forge for itself another me?
Could it be then and when my seat
In your heart is crowned in lacuna ?
Or could it be when our souls must have
Soar very high to the stage above?
No, God forbid !
For on earth our love shall blossom.
Now, lets us loving unveil the veiled fruit
For I am still waiting but
For how long I know not.
Alayande Stephen. T
22ND April,2006
3.30pm
For the one my heart have waited for and
Still waiting for till this very moment.
Form:
You extend the juiciest of apples before my eyes
Imploring, "Come closer, love, and have a bite"
Eden is lost to us and it's too late for compromise
I'll not be tempted to savor forbidden fruit tonight
Your eyes flow with the passion you're needing
this last somber night we'll be sharing our bed
Saying no to you wounds my heart to bleeding
But I cannot give in, allowing it to rule my head
Your eyes burn in wildfires of your great want
But what they're not asking is for me to forgive
Memories of this night, in my dreams will haunt
until the time I close my eyes and no longer live
Your eyes search mine, hoping love is still there
How arduous a task for me to turn and look away
I'll leave quietly before sunrise, with you unaware
I whispered, "I still love you," while asleep you lay
As depression dominates your thoughts,
the weight of love's absence grows acute.
And while your stomach twists into knots:
love, morphs into the forbidden fruit.
Cringing inside, your life feels unfair,
drowning in your tears, you struggle to cope.
For suckling on the breasts of despair,
Reality has drained you of Hope.
When childhood memories include rape:
trust dissipates into nothingness.
And you find that you cannot escape
that feeling of utter emptiness.
Admonishing life, you curse your fate,
as the blade's keen edge scratches a path.
And self-abuse morphs into self-hate,
as cutting begins to calm your wrath.
Purging the hurt from your tortured soul,
starts with a tiny trickle of blood.
And then, as each cut exacts a toll,
crimson drops fuel a scarlet flood.
Purging the hurt from your tortured soul,
starts with a tiny trickle of blood.
And then, as these cuts exact their toll,
crimson drops fuel a scarlet flood.
Want my love
toss it away
made a mockery of
The emotions that was
Present,
Devalued pre-judging
Shallow spirit played you
Played yourself
Took for granted Gods gift
Stripped of your birthright
Stuck on a hamster wheel
Hamster wheel of toxicity
Sold your soul for
30 pieces Of sliver
Judas spirit in you
Divine pulled the plug,
Plug Connected to two souls
One soul lost
Other soul flee
Spiritual warfare
Simple to defeat
Pride & flesh knows best
Refuse Gods call
Free will the goal
Attached to entities
Spiritual attack; curses;
demons
False Queens felt so right
Jezebels felt so righteous
Queen turned to pillar of salt
Contracted with darkness
Self worth so low
You feel at home
Self esteem scarred
Wrong seems right
Settling seems best
Spirit step back
Free will remember
Selfish defeats blessing
Shallowness stir illusions
Ego caused delusions
Forbidden fruit life time dream
Trash was the treasure
Rare treasure missed
Missed opportunity
Manifesting your light back
Still dwell in filth
Living in the moment
Divine protects precious gem
Praying 50 nights straight
Sins 50 days straight
Flesh corrupted
Spirit detached
Spirit crying for clarity
Spirit and soul
weak suffocated
The murk inside
Spirit tuning for cleanse
Flesh disconnected
Flesh long for positivity
Flesh repent before the dome
So consume with blackness
Temple flee to the river
Initiate purification
Clutch on thee innocents
Pleads for clemency
River spill justice
Renews temple
Purity pulls awaking
Soul craves 23 psalm
Leads down the path of
righteousness,
Restores thy soul
Anointed thee head with oil
Surely goodness shall follow me
All thy life...
The tongue of the serpent speaks
Of forbidden fruit and lust
And the fruit of the tree is plucked
For the hand of man is weak
One bite of the apple sweet
And man is naked tossed
In a world of grief and loss
Where the hissing serpent creeps –
The serpent’s in the trees
And he crawls on Mother Earth
At the dawning of the birth
Of the devil and his deeds
And the devil sows his seeds
In the garden where he sleeps
While the woman wails and weeps
At the secrets that he keeps –
Beware the song of the snake
And the serpent in the grass
Who coils and hisses and laughs
As the judgement day awaits –
When the tongue of the serpent speaks
The heart of man despairs
For evil is in the air
And the hand of man is weak
In the mist of the journey’s penultimate mile,
at the edge of the fading fulcrum of future obscure,
at the door-step of dusk the sunset swansong resonates
for the forlorn essence silhouetted in confounding stillness.
The twirling threads of turmoil entwined seamless
with the cleaved cloud of the swarming storm of strife,
ravage the unwary horizon halcyon once,
challenging the chameleon of self-transformation.
The shards of the splintered sky in galvanized gale,
sway on the dismal crest of the curled cloud of dismay,
the remnant rays of sanguinity sense still swathe
the highway of hope in the chaotic journey.
As the twilight time is tinged by the spent sun,
sinking within the strata of the discontent dust,
with the cornucopia of the longing life unlived,
the Rubicon is reached walking the last mile.
The defining moments at the unsupervised stop sign,
design the innate paradigm of emotional epitome.
Awareness assures that the die is not yet cast,
crossing the conscience line would defy self-actualization.
The inner torment driving to self-destruction,
or the enticement of the forbidden fruit,
the sinful exploits activated by the transgression of
the decree of the unseen law maker, the absolute.
Stopping at the sign stimulates the spiritual sensitivity,
ameliorates the pain of existential predicament profound,
saves the psyche from the clasp of soul’s dark night,
unfurling within uncertainty mayhem the divine leitmotif.
on the threshold of tomorrow
through countless sighs
i wait for you
stranded in the pools of fate
as the seconds fall grounded
like tears of all my yesterdays
in the swells of invisible ink
you shimmer in the shadows of thoughts
beneath the lambent light of this full moon
as it looms in the obscurity of clouds
on the flickers of trailing stars,
i wish for the contour of your lips
to brush against mine
my spirit is a forbidden fruit,
i lie prostrate,
perturbed by pitter, patter
of raindrops bleeding through
the windows of my soul -
only you can kill the silence
if only you were a falling star,
gravity would carry you into my hands,
we would illuminate like wild fires,
but in the deception of dawn
all that would remain is stardust -
me whispering your name
so i remain cursed
by yesterday's today, languishing
in the shadows of your ghost.
Collaboration with Sandra Adams
Silent One
6 October 2019
There's some urge in me that makes me want to dance. Dance the dizzying spin
of childhood again until I fall still, mimicking the lifeless on the grass and laugh
with the scent of dirt and air and life. No fear
of the unclean. Or the co-mingling scent of alcohol-laden
sweat or the lingering eyes of intoxicated men.
No music but the wind. This simple want is simple enough
to mend. So the un-doing must be my vice. But it's unwanted
and I'm thinking twice. What the heart wants is wild. Primal.
Behavior is not a spontaneous thing,
but a learned reaction. Like the fear of being seen
for too far gone and past the customary
stretch. I've been afraid. But nobody wins
without starting the race for the long-haul
even if it turns out to be a short spin. Nobody knows
and that's the thing
and the irony about what we know. If you want to taste the fruit
you might have to risk falling from the tree. It's the anecdote
of craving for the wild. And we all do.
So there's that cliche "passion for adventure".
I want to feed it what it craves and watch it spring up forbidden fruit
undeterred. Uncontrollable. Bloom into a raging obsession
that's dangerous. But it's a dangerous game,
and it's all about the novelty of a thing. That's how I know the game
is still wild. Right alongside our securities and self-inflicted
responsibilities that take front seat to the natural methods
we make to survive.
And there's suburban housewives,
and seven o'clock dinners
in the bigger houses for the biggest winners.
But we're never really cultured because culture's a lie.
We're just reprimanded too many times and the sameness
is weeded out through the television lines telling us stories
about the difference that coordinates the violence.
But people have to have their vices.
A way to let out the wild hoping for ways that appear tame,
if we give them a proper name just like our actions in the dark.
Or the things we want to do when nobody's watching,
and so we learn pretend games instead
until the feeling is dead.
Or expressed or repressed. And sometimes we joke about
the urges.
But it only gives the wild a different name.
I am crazy, there is no doubt
For desires exist far beyond my dominion
Who would not like a bite of the forbidden fruit
Or for that matter some chocolate mousse
If only I had a love in my arms
Who felt as I
As be both stared up into the nights timeless sky
Would not the heavens be a beautiful place
For the two of us… one day long away?
I must return from whence I came
I retreat defeated back into history
Far away and long ago
Bitter sweet memories of loves past
Prevent the spring of coming to full bloom
I must as always go on a regime
Of feelings enclosed
Inside a box of dark dreams
I may be a fallen angel
But alas you are the fool