Long Fuelling Poems

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Night's Passion - 2

Come, my beloved, come into my arms,
I shall show you all my Vampyric charms,
I offer you a night of unbridled passion,
within this night, there is nothing I shall ration.

Our lips meet, your flame does ignite,
I shall make sure it burns right through the night,
come, my beloved, here we shall stand,
my lips fuelling your fire, as I hold your hand.

Your shapely body pressed up against mine,
you are a wonder, you sparkle and shine,
I open my eyes and gaze into your Soul,
to Love you tonight is my Vampyric goal.

My beloved, let me kiss your throat,
let me speak the words of a sonnet I wrote,
for you, my beloved, shine bright as the sun, 
you are my darkest dream and you have come.

Now walk with me, my beloved star,
We shall walk down our destination far,
But at the end of our Journey, in Vampyre fashion,
I shall show you Love within “Night's Passion.”


Vampire: Vampyre Love Poetry Series.
Form: Rhyme


Connect

Dreaming of you
Takes my breath away
I can almost feel your arms around me
Feel the passion in your every touch,
setting my skin alight, pumping fire through my veins

First gentle and slow
Then more urgent as ardor rises
You’re breath heavies
and your lips more forceful
as grappling hungry hands eagerly grope tender flesh 
Fulfilling an unending craving that aches to be sated
fuelling twin flames
So begins the eternal dance of seduction 

Every deep pleasure stroke 
pushing us forward to the apex of desire
And the blissful abyssal fall
into passions little death
Ahh the serenity that follows

Soo calm and at peace
in the cozy nest of your warm embrace
Listening to your deep breathing as I drift into slumber
I know I am home

10.07.21

When Death Calls

In a shroud  of darkness 
Her  stallion  neighs , leading death  to 
where death preys. 
As black as the night  as cruel  as the day 
Her aura speaking , in different  shades of 
grey 
Steadying her steed ,the stench  of fear 
she inhales,
A smile  so malicious , in comparison even 
Hades would pale.

In blood  soaked  linen she prowls  the 
streets  
Watching  and yearning  for hatred  to 
spill  free 
For blood to seek  blood  for vengeance to 
covet thee 
In the darkness  of the shadows  she 
patiently waits 
For when death calls, even fate  makes  
haste.

In the valley  of death, 
A golden gate is all that stands in the way
Of greedy wicked souls  and  judgement 
day
Peter's  gates seal shut And death stakes 
it's claim 
With a reign so great  even the Roman 
empire  of olde,  would  in fear,disappate.

It sends  forth its flails 
A sentence to forever serve,  
For  when a black  soul  is captured 
Only it's charred flesh remains unburnt.

Into the flesh of the damned  it  sinks it's 
ravenous teeth 
Untill  their black  hearts  
have no blood to bleed
Christened with the power of Hell's 
unrelenting Prince 
To the depths of the underworld each 
soul  is dragged  through  hell 's fire,  
forever to stay

Alas! Not even the most powerful  can 
conquer  death 
Their wretched lives full of  fear and hate 
Can  never compare  to their  gruesome 
fate 
They scream in agony, fuelling hell's 
vengeful fire with their pain 
Their burning bodies for all eternity  , in 
hell 's fire will remain.

No bad deed, remains hidden,  
no soul  left unturned. 
For when death stakes it's claim 
Time shudders and in the name of destiny  
you will  disappear. 
Once death's icy grips stain your foul soul 
You will learn that even an infant , 
suckling  on it's  mother's  breast,  is not a 
pure  soul.
Form:

Premium Member Free Will Vs Destiny

Free will whose
An egoic ruse
Please excuse
Offered clues

The mind body enigma
An outer form we call jiva
Inner layer soul or Atma 
All within God or Paramatma

This preamble in place
The line of inquiry we face
From our core at an easy pace
Truth recognised solely by His grace

We the jiva with senses external
Having narrow agendas ephemeral 
In joy & sorrow rotation cyclical
Live out a life tragicomical 

Our the thus delusion
In myriad of maya borne illusion
Egoic thought fuelling confusion
Mires us in stupor of stagnation

Freedom instant by thought cessation
Resting fear & desire agitation
In restful prayerful meditation 
Igniting within divine love bliss elation

However being bound by our own hand
Matrix of life yet we are yet to understand
We ask about free will before we can stand
The light within veiled by mundanity bland

So do we have free will ...
We indeed do if we are still
When divine love in our heart we instil 
As the elixir of bliss within overspills 

As for destiny
Of mind body entity
There is a blueprint but with no finality
Free will determining turbidity or serenity

When will we be free we hear ourself ask
In effortless stillness getting to the task
Is-ness of presence in joy does bask
Having discarded the ego mask

One day
Any day
Today
Hip hip hooray!

12-September-2020
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member 'her Last Time'

Fuelling a need 
that lay dormant
her intro into the world of sex 
was rough and 
unsophisticated

her first time fairy tale
turned into a nightmare
it was nothing
compared to the books she's read 

that stranger scarred her
made her  look for sex instead of love
blinded by a supposed search of her fairytale 

all the men she attracted
somehow fell short
after their first encounter
without them being aware 
they were weighed 
and found wanting

deep down, she could not understand 
that the contentment she chased 
were somehow getting lost in between the sheets 

every time she felt a little worse
and yet she continued
in that cycle 
because it’s the only thing she knew

even though 
that was never part of her destiny

*inspired by a close friend’s suggestion. 
Not a personal write but someone out there might be fighting this demon* 

14092012


Locus Classicus

Art is the kingly snow-cap on learning's height;
It forms as great minds enter saturation range.
It's a crowning beam that shines to truly show,
That the lettered brain has finally come of age. 

Artistic flair is the finest of divine human skills.
It's the life-giving power in the Creator's mouth
That formed solid originals from old airy chills,
Naming in full naught arbitrary west and south.  

Art is the queened stroke behind true science. 
Her restless instinct and wild wandering signs 
Are the sole philosophy fuelling erudite minds;
Man’s only spark that all prudent reason binds.

And fine poetry is the most knowing of earth's arts,
Far mightier than sibling genres beneath our stars. 
Nifty verse gets brighter as every lower sister blurs,
To show the path as the initial dark's oblivion starts. 

Sublime art is thus the neglected locus classicus;
And to spurn poetry is to adore ignorance's curse.
Form: Didactic

Premium Member What Makes Me Smile

Little things and tiny moments make me smile,
Adding an extra sheen to my profile.
As I watch nature and look all around,
Umpteen reasons are for me to the peaks of joy mound.

As I hear a bird on a bough sing a merry song,
Enchanting me all the morning long,
Butterflies of joy escape winging from me,
And I too turn a butterfly, my mind flying in glee.

A clear sky with fluffy clouds lights up in me a smile
Fuelling me with the energy to start the day in style. 
Sipping a cup of steaming tea early in the morn,
Makes me warm as basking in the mild beams of the rising sun.

I smile as I see flowers in my garden nodding in breeze,
And feel the gentle wind on me as it comes to tease,
It's joy watching summer on tip-toe, nudging its way,
And children in open spaces busy with their play.

Pleasure it's meeting by sheer chance a long- lost friend,
On an arduous journey that seems to have no end,
And knowing that my family is eager to see me win,
Sticking to me unfailingly through thick and thin. 

I smile when I receive a warm hug from my partner,
At an unexpected moment with his eyes glowing in desire.
And when I hear the incoherent prattle of my grandchild,
As she displays her toys with a face gleaming in pride.

Smilingly I listen to my favourite song played on repeat
Sure, its sweet melody makes my heart go upbeat,
Summer rains and sprawling fields of wild flower,
Are sweet enough to leave me bathed in smiles’ shower.

The assurance that God is on my side in every strife
Makes me smile, even when I combat the adversities of life.
Of all, lending a helping hand to the ones who ail
And seeing their faces light up gives me a reason to smile.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member A to Z of Power of Poetry

Ancestral echoes in crumbling stone, 
Ballad of battles bravely fought and known.
Civilizations carved in shifting sand,
Dawning inspiration, a poet's helping hand.
Each era's eye, a fresh interpretation,
Fiery passion fuelling creation.
Gleaming verses, wisdom's gentle rain, 
Hidden emotions penned with piercing strain.
Immortal truths in rhythmic cadence flow, 
Journeys of language, where feelings softly grow.
Kindred spirits by poems intertwined, 
Longing for answers in the poet's mind.
Memories whispered, secrets yet untold, 
Mysticism's mantle, stories yet unfold.
Nature's whispers in a poet's soul, 
Open interpretations, stories yet to grow.
Passion's plume, a prolific writer's might, 
Questioning the muse, bathed in gentle light.
Rare moments captured, or crafted with care, 
Secrets of creation, a burden to bear.
Symphonies sung of sorrow and of sin, 
Timeless tapestries, where humanity can win.
Unveiling realities, ever bright and bold, 
Voices echo, stories yet to be told.
Whispered chronicles, for all who survive, 
X marks the journey, where poems keep us alive.
Yearning for meaning, in every single line, 
Zeal for expression, a truth so divine.
Form: ABC

Hedonic hotspots

Pursuing more than a fair rightful need, 
Man, thou hast cornered every craven toy, 
Coveting vulture-like that grabs with greed, 
Indulging more, way far less to enjoy, 
Chasing false thrills on thy life’s every shore 
To gratify thy voracious desires, 
Fuelling around furious forest fires,  
Yielding less and less, fielding more and more.

Thou hast far fewer brain spots of pleasure—
Those that fuel in thee a raging fire,
Beware, Nature has a rare erasure 
On thy streetcar with a brake-less desire 
That darts more dots O driving thou to strive, 
Yet, satisfaction does seldom arrive. 

Beware O man, ye covet in excess  
In hedonic hotspots’ frantic mad chase, 
Attempting to get more, enjoying less, 
Amidst all boundless bounties art thou blasé! 
                                   …..
What ancient wisdom of ours long ere knew,
Science endorses now its weighty view.
________________________________________ 
Happenings | 01.04.2007 | desire, joy, pleasure
Poet’s note: A scientific study shows that wanting and liking are separate spots in brain controlled by different circuits. Only when these urges occur in sync, is the impact on brain powerful. But there is a catch. Brain has fewer mechanisms for pleasure than for desire. Hence humans are susceptible to wanting more than they can actually enjoy. Alas, science is only now beginning to understand the Indic thought spiritually and philosophically divined long ago, that too much desire which always frustrates man is not good. Minimizing one’s needs is the key to happiness. 
This poem has four stanzas, progressively reducing in size— from eight, to six, to four, to two— the hedonic spots for desire must gradually reduce in sync with those to enjoy.
Form: Rhyme

Invasion, Causation

Across the city the emperor called
For recruits to join the legions
Travel to new and strange lands
And conquer for covetous  reasons

As sun beat down they trained their men
To fight  for colonisation,
Taking with them skills and knowledge
Introducing urbanisation. 

Past mountains, lakes and plains they marched
Battalions stood United  
Crossing countries, rivers, sea,
Arriving uninvited. 

Invasion, yet they brought with them
Progression, innovation;
Technology since lost in ages dark
Transforming a whole nation. 

Roads of stone, heated floors
Domestic sanitation,
Walls dividing tribes and clans
Fuelling aggravation.  

Yet Britain’s climate, wet and dour,
It’s warriors and chief,
Sent Rome’s great fighters fleeing home
Struck dumb in disbelief,

That this small nation could be such
A hostile, retched place,
And Rome  needed protecting
From the Jutes and Angles race. 

So after Constantine’s withdrawal 
Britain re-emerged  anew,
Rebirthing of a greater nation,
Than the one the romans slew. 

Left behind their legacy
Culture, architecture
But no longer an unwitting, oppressed,
Out-posted prefecture.
Form: Rhyme

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