Long Object of desire Poems
Long Object of desire Poems. Below are the most popular long Object of desire by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Object of desire poems by poem length and keyword.
At last, a chance to write to you and tell you how I feel
Beside you every day I stand, my love I now reveal.
Cradled in your arms at night, with you content to lie
Devilish good looks you have, delicious on the eye.
Endless days of ecstasy, entice me with your charm
Forever in my heart you’ll stay, my never-ending calm.
Gentle, kind, and generous, my girlish hopes fulfil
Happy with you by my side, you are my hero still.
In love with you, I’ve always been, I want no other man
Jealously I’ve never had, I am your greatest fan.
Knowing that you keep me safe, protector of my soul
Loving you eternally will always be my goal.
Marry you I couldn’t wait, to hear those words’ I do’
No other man would ever be quite as good as you.
Obsessed, you hold me in your spell, my object of desire
Passionately you kiss my lips; you set my heart on fire.
Quarrels’ few, no grudges held, get over them real fast
Respect each other’s differences and let the past be past.
Surprise me with your little gifts, send roses every week
Trust in your great wisdom too, for this I’ll always seek.
Understanding of my needs, into your arms enfold
Vulnerable I never feel, cause’ you keep out the cold.
Walking hand in hand with you, great comfort you provide
X-ray my soul, you would find your imprint stamped inside.
You are my everlasting love, my treasured caring king
Zero do I want or need; you are my everything.
The breaking seemed to happen so easily.
Childish giggles and a pretty new dress,
There were the seemingly innocent tickling games!
Then came "This will be our little secret" accompanied by zipper sounds
Licking lollipops, "Special" alone times...
his need pulling at her panties, that strange wetness.
She felt her mind splintering
The inner her went to distant places, attempting to save small bits of herself:
Why couldn't she separate the pleasure from the guilt?
That ironic cruelty of her body responding to his touch.
The wanting to be loved, mixed with that icky feeling!
She had thought him to be her light.
Loving him for paying attention to her.
He made her smile by listening to every word she said.
Then he made her his slave, his object of desire.
Told her "no one else will love you!" "You are a dirty dirty girl!"
Inexplicably as she got older his attention waned
making her wonder what was wrong with her
until one day he bought her little sister a pretty pink dress
She recognized that innocent giggle, that favourite uncle smile
Somehow she gathered up her shattered and screamed her sister free
for she knew, no little girl should ever again be a slave to his darkness
Within her broken she found their path to freedom
Because she knew that breaking happens oh so easily.
Her sister didn’t understand
Still for her that was better than okay,
her baby sister was safe
When she looks at her she wishes
“If only I had a big sister,
I too could have been spared!”
July 26th 2017
Drugs come in all shapes and sizes
But the essence is the same
Providing a something we feel lacking;
A hit of pleasure and fulfillment
In instant gratification.
The problem then becomes one
Of cascading cause and effect
As the short cut route
Undermines self-esteem
As we know in our hearts
We are a thief, living a lie.
The drug expresses in the extreme
This paradox of being and desire
Giving us what we want, but leaving us empty;
Widening the lack we started with
Until it is a moat filled with only self-loathing.
The wisdom to be learned
Is always a matter of perspective.
The soul after all
Yearns to be a master not a slave,
And that which is beyond grasp
Is by definition unable to be bound.
This is the perspective we need to be free.
Perhaps emptiness is just a given
And our desire to fill it it’s natural expression,
And in our confusion we mistake
The object of desire with its fulfillment.
We may live a lifetime
Thinking we are attached to the nouns of our existence
All the people, places and things we know and love
When we are really just attached to living.
(12/17/24)
The breaking seemed to happen so easily.
Childish giggles, a new pretty dress, seemingly innocent tickling games!
Then came "This will be our little secret" accompanied by zipper sounds
Licking lollipops, "Special" alone times...
Darkness pulling at her panties, that strange wetness.
Her shattered mind broken into segments.
Inner her went to distant places, attempting to save small bits of herself:
She couldn't separate the pleasure from the guilt.
That ironic cruelty of her body responding to his touch.
The wanting to be loved, mixed with that icky feeling!
She had thought him to be her light.
Loving him for paying attention to her.
He made her smile, listening to every word she said.
Then he made her his slave, his object of desire.
Told her "no one else will love you!" "You are a dirty dirty girl!"
Inexplicably as she got older his attention waned
She wondered what was wrong with her
Until one day he bought her little sister a pretty pink dress
She recognized that innocent giggle, that favourite uncle smile
Somehow she gathered up her shattered and screamed her sister free
For she knew, no little girl should ever again be a slave to his darkness
Beneath her pain she found their path to freedom
Because she knew that breaking is oh so easy.
BROKEN People
Big GIRLS Do Cry
Yellow Shoes in the DARKNESS
SLAVE
Beneath the SHATTERED
For Timothy's five word challenge.
Written June 1st 2016
The root of all suffering is striving
For something we aren’t or don’t have.
Desire per se isn’t the problem at all
As it’s just a natural response to being alive,
But attachment to that object of desire certainly is,
And yet attachments can be good,
Such as the attachment to being alive…
But striving for something we aren’t or don’t have
Implies a basic dissatisfaction
With what we are or have,
And this implies a basic misunderstanding
About what we are and the nature of things in general.
Things are just things
They come and go,
And obviously they don’t always come,
But when they do,
They also always go.
Who we are is more of a mystery.
And I wouldn’t want to spoil that mystery for you
So I’ll leave it at that.
But exploring and discovering more about it
Is, needless to say,
The sine qua non of being human,
And yet all too many haven’t figured that out yet,
Which is acceptable for children but not adults,
And in fact may define what it means to be adult.
So, Life; living, eating, drinking, breathing, reproducing
These are the obvious givens,
And yet the mystery of it all
Remains hidden and illusive
Waiting to be discovered in our own way
On our own terms
And thus remains always a mystery
Always just beyond thought,
A something that isn’t a thing,
At the tip of our tongue,
At the periphery of perception
A Deja vu we have dreamt a million times
And yet still can’t grasp.
The solution?
Obviously simple;
Don’t think about it,
Stay so busy you don’t have the time or energy to.
In this way satisfaction comes effortlessly
As the by product of simply staying alive.
Work or play, what difference does it make?
Not enough you say?
Well then, enjoy your suffering!
(8/7/25)
viewing an object of desire
immersion in materiality
losing ourself therein
slave to the senses
lustful passions rising
our thirst keeps deepening
correspondent to indulgence
poised yet as an animated thought
heart awaiting actual fulfilment
wherefrom we gradually shift
our attention into the void
smiling at the descent
of consciousness
self serving
looking within
through foggy vision
mind offers specious logic
to placate our feel good factor
in alignment with our belief system
that we may carelessly dismiss
the root cause of ego craving
as deep dark delusion
owing to our stupor
stagnating in mind body
at Guna Tamas and Rajas
self blocking the Satva impulse
call of love divine in our heart
beckoning us in earnest
to meld head therein
in tranquil bliss
no judgment
rather recognition
of what is as is within
rising and ebbing emotions
having roots in our lower mind
which we then simply transmute
by allowing divine magnetism
to gently steer energies
into pathways of love
ever present within
our glowing heart
03-February-2021
Are you looking for someone to inspire?
Do you fancy being one’s object of desire?
Do you want to be the spark that sets my world on fire?
In other words, would you like to be my Muse?
There’s a vacancy on my pedestal
For someone more divine than terrestrial;
Or someone like you—almost celestial.
How about it—would you like to be my Muse?
Chorus
You could be the entity that brings out my creativity,
Give nuance and subtlety to the rhymes in my poetry,
And bridge my melody with polyphonic harmony.
You could light the fuse that sparks my art with tints and hues.
Together we could never lose… if you’d only be my Muse.
In return for being my inspiration
You’ll have my devotion and veneration,
And be named in all my dedications.
If you’d be my beloved Muse.