Long Tasted Poems
Long Tasted Poems. Below are the most popular long Tasted by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Tasted poems by poem length and keyword.
If demons had wings they'd find they're way to her heart,
It's a blasphemous affair
She's white linen fabric and I,a pitiable being
Our differences make us beautiful creatures
These are the forbidden thoughts I have of her...
Her father has purchased crutches for the man who is to champion her chambers,
I care less, at this point I died when she grabbed my breath only to give it to me after she exited the room,
Lately my sheets wake up to a fragrance of hope,
A taste perhaps.... It's like she visited tonight
And I tasted her in my dreams...
This is beyond sorcery,complete addiction
She's nicotine and tar, Gin and olives...
The thought of her has me stumbling to the memory of our first date,
As I looked in her eyes and she conversed of her deepest insecurities...
Ice cream dates are great but on this one I left the kiosk with a melted heart.
At this point i can't listen to advise....there's no reasoning with a man feeling love
And when we last touched I licked my fingers
This level of lust is disgusting!
*LET'S DO A LIFE TOGETHER*
Just before you say Yes to the priest
Wait a moment before you sign on it
Give me a moment to make you a pledge
A pledge I've made with myself long ago
Even before we are here to make a vow
A pledge that would be with me when the priest is no longer here
I've run a jungle at the darkest hour
I swam the river at the highest tides
Even on the oceans at rough current
Been in the wind in turbulence
I have tasted lime and lemonade
Given the care and love only mothers can
Supported and cheered by my own father
Shown love and respect by my siblings
And I've come this far to make a choice for life
In the pool of many I've made my choice
And proclaimed my love with a stern voice
I've chosen you my friend till no end
Chose you my partner and welcomed by my father
In your home I have a friend in your mother
Share with me the honour and love from my mother
With my brother you can trust this army
And in my sister you have a friend
Step up the stairs my darling mate
I chose you for this but not a race
Nobody crosses the ribbon alone
I chose you for this not for a game
For there would be no prize for the winner
Let's do this not for the ring
I'm not gonna cage you for life
We know how rough it has been getting here
We know the pride we shoved down the throat
We know the price it cost us
And getting here isn't a prize yet
Let's journey together beyond our prime
Do a life with me
Let me love you till a day beyond forever
Respect each other till the last breath
I've agreed to sail this ship
Enjoy the cruise when the ocean is still
Sing me songs of our youthful days
And when the storm hits
Hold the wheel and steer with me
Nobody goes overboard
We hitting the shores in one piece
Should you say 'I do' today
It is a yes to life with me
Poetry was her best lover
like no other
he loved her
without restraint
She could be herself
and explore,
discovering
secret pleasures and fantasies
Naked above the covers
he let her lie
exposed
as he slowly caressed her imagination
making her flow
with the sweet essence of her soul
In waves of delirium
flying free
he let her be
unfettered
unashamed
unworried of how to please
or how to tease
just simply to be
a woman in a prelude
to ecstacy
Poetry was her best lover
her escape from reality
in clandestine intimacy
he ravished her mind
again and again
for all he wanted
was for her to come
to experience
to taste
every pleasure
he had to offer
Her insatiable appetite
he fed
with firm truths
that burst forth wisdom
He fed her desire
to reach supremacy
He never betrayed
or delayed
in pleasing her
in giving her just what she wanted
in different ways and forms
his creativity, endless
Poetry was her best lover
the only time in her day
when she had her way
and could be free
to be the woman she was mean to be
sensual and sultry, sexy and savory
not having to hide
behind the guise
the veil of culture
or religion
or misconstrued sexism
or alibis
being demure
and “sterile”
when she was fertile
laden with passion
Poetry was her best lover
he adored her
for who she was
and he gave and gave
at times
leading her in submission to his will
taming her
training her
to live in the confines
of his rules
For perfection to be reached
she had to follow his lead
to the pinnacle of pleasure
where all was in rhythmic union and rhyme
the sublime
tasted and lived
then to descend
to warm after glow
basking in the satisfaction
of a fruitful union
for beauty has been conceived
waiting for delivery
a poem child
Yes, Poetry was her best lover
and she
came looking for him
begging him
to take her
again and again and again
to transport her to heaven from hell
to wet her lips with the taste
of eternity...
Poetry was her best lover
and she
had no need of another
to help her discover
her own entity….
None other
But her best lover
Poetry....
Eileen Manassian
This is a repost of a poem I wrote some time ago. I felt the urge to repost it. I'm passionate about poetry.
We wrote poetry in the early dawn
I tasted each line through your parted lips
Desire was penned in whispers softly drawn
Your hand inked strokes upon my curvy hips
We kissed while reciting words of passion
Our tongues murmured love sonnets in reply
Ardent verses are always in fashion
Each breath we took, a pleasurable sigh
I lay beside you, head on your broad chest
Listening to Quatrains in rhythmic beats
The beauty of prose sang within my breast
Romanticism written on silk sheets
Imagery remains inside my heart
Love is a journal of poetic art
>>>>>>>>*
My joyfulness is a fountain, overflowing with delight
for the wondrous gifts I find in Nature, day and night
Colors of dawn and dusk fill my heart with joyous song
In response, my winged soul takes flight and sings along
I find enjoyment in the divergent changes of seasons
Each one is a different setting for many good reasons
I celebrate happiness, valuing its worth as a treasure
My ocean of joy runs deeper than fathoms can measure
I relish the pleasure to be found in love and affection
Sweeter joy cannot be tasted in any sugared confection
When I hear a loved one, softly whispering my name
it's a thrill far greater than any riches or claim to fame
I find such elation in being content with life. It's a choice
that makes me celebrate my spiritual faith and rejoice
When I pray, joy surges inside of me like a flowing river
for God is my Father and friend, and such a bountiful Giver
Having gladness in my heart frees me from hate and greed
Hope, faith and loving kindness are important things I need
I wish the joy living inside of me could be something to share
with those who dwell in sorrow, for it would end their despair
July 27, 2022
JOY Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Gina McIntosh
I was visited by brothers Zog and Ziggy
Who landed from planet Plumfiggy
They were attracted by my Christmas lights
Both joined in when we had snowball fights
Zog and Ziggy were young alien twins
both had lime green and purple tinged skins
On the top of their tiny marshmallow heads
they had dreadlocks which hung down like threads
Ziggy's eyes were of pure emerald green
and Zog’s eyes had a weird rainbow sheen
when we met I shook all their four arms
these odd hugs really enhanced their charms
Plumfiggians don’t sleep but chill out instead
at night time they would rest in my shed
I found them both hanging down from a rafter
this behaviour caused loud peals of laughter
Zog is quite plump, Ziggy's much thinner
I pureed them a Christmas dinner
They gave me a present of figgy joos
it tasted vile, a drink I'd never choose!
They found it cold so I'd made each a jumper
with four sleeves to knit my task was quite bumper
My guests stayed indoors until it was dark
Then we'd visit the children's play park
Ziggy loved playing on the big swings
In Plumfiggy they don’t have such things
Their planet is just twelve light years away
At Plumfiggy fest I'd be welcome to stay
208 words
Fantasy with fictional beings Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Caren Krutsinger
12/01/20
I’ve walked among its people, tasted foods:
paella, soups, *horchata, and so much more.
I’ve visited Retiro Park, seen art
in sculptures on its streets that I adore.
I’ve visited its shops and restaurants
where dancers of flamenco hypnotize,
its rings for fighting bulls, its theaters.
These things I got to see with my own eyes.
I’ve taken buses all around Madrid
and learned so much there. Oh, that I could be
a youth again, enjoying its romance
and all its sites so beautiful to me!
*horchata is a special drink in summertime. It tasted to me like a watermelon smoothie,nothing like Mexican horchata made of rice milk. Spain’s is made from the roots of a plant called sledge.
Jan. 1, 2023
For the Take Me There Poetry Contest of Margarita Lillico
Remeber that toast from yesterday morning honey? Yeah what about it. It tasted like cake what was it. I fried the leftover poundcake into french toast. Hazelnuts and coconuts and whipped cream. I was faboulous Darling where did you get the idea. The gy at Cafe Mongol told me it's what his wife does when there's lefteovers.Editing, and distribution process. Jargon: why are you saying this Honey? Oh nothing I left the sheet music on the table did you move it? Yes it's in the draw by the door. Thanks I found it. Did you know they rebanned the 12-stringed Yatga in Mongolia? No honey, I couldn't give a damn. It's a banned instrument why is one here. I guess I'm some sorta "MUSICAIL OUTLAW" I guess.The Glass Armonica will arrive at the auditrium tommorrow. We might have some troubles do to it's abilty to cause muscle spasms. Yeah Honey! Well I'm off I'll be back after my workout.." Might the threads unravel i will depend on your love for my concern"! Yeah I love you to Honey. Put a block of ice on it Cool it off that way. See you later.
In the air, blows my hair
In my eyes, a blank stare
I’m just wasted
Too much wine, it’s divine
The most flavorful vine
That I’ve tasted
Have to go, even though
I can’t drive, that I know
Call a taxi
Stomach churns, how it burns
Artichoke dip returns
Mouth is waxy
I’m not well, they can tell
Like a turkey from hell
That’s been basted
Over there, people stare
They just laugh, they don’t care
That I’m wasted
This is personally one of my favourites from my book. I actually wrote this 2017 at my grandmother`s house, on the sofa around the a.ms after listening to a beat that had been sent on Whatsapp from a dear musician friend of mine. The title came about after we both expressed how beautiful concepts come after drinking coffee. He wanted me to do a verse and this is what transpired in less than an hour. I hope you enjoy.
_________________________________
It was After-Coffee
when he came in with his magic.
I had cleared all the rooms.
The soul is a huge house to live in
that I don`t know if I want
to be tripping on any more shrooms.
It was After-Coffee.
I rinsed our windows.
I don’t know if I`d eat his soul inside out.
We were ruined but love grows.
I know he wouldn’t hesitate to feed me to the scarecrows.
The ambience of the mere sacrifice is the door.
Do you know that magic?
It was After-Coffee.
The truth comes when we don’t sleep.
You stand and never leave.
We opened to find help.
In our Castle, I seeked but he found me hiding
like the eyes of a moving carpet.
He blushes but “chocolate is the new red”
I said with magic.
Have you tasted it?
It clears you out and leaves you laughing.
Don`t count the leaves in your garden.
This is how I fall in love, it’s enchanting.
His soul waters mine,
It`s been a while since I woke up to such,
my body hates him but anyway,
would you like some of that After-Coffee Magic?
{XM}
Amazon:
https://www.amazon.com/Talk-like-Painting-social-trilogy/dp/1093118938