Long Unkissed Poems
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Young with roses on the cheeks
Long soft hair surrounding her face
Her neck like a beautiful swan
Gleaming eyes seeking adventures
Smells of life fruits with curiosity
Beginning of adult life ... a bird leaves the nest
Her hips are slim and soft, ready for
..... life's dance
A beginning of a long and exciting journey
The arms open to receive what will come
Her smile ..... her lips are slightly red
The blood rushes, but she has no hurry
When the time is right
..... she will enjoy
Young beautiful shining like a perfect diamond
She has her thoughts, hopes and dreams
Dreaming of the future
..... kiss her gently
Sponsor nette onclaud
Contest Name SOFTLY SENSUAL
Deadline 9/20/2013 12:00:00 AM
26.08.2013
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Copyright © All Rights Reserved
(5th in the contest)
I furl myself…
in au revoir ruins …
within selfish flames
of a femme fatale,
where black pearl roses
weep with the ghosts of gold ~
grounded in the
glamorous requiem
with the grace of glittering glitz,
but in these gardens of grief,
I mourn with
the flawless footnotes
of grim obsidian mirage ~
groomed with faces
that forget
the patronus prose ,
petrified by
soul-stirred sunsets
with purple pigments …
I learned how to live unkissed, until ~
this emotion steered me
to the eclipse of heat ,
raining love riots …
even if it were
my imagination
and the moon tonight ,
were an honest manipulator -
O destined god of my dreams
let me melt in your lucid love-fire -
be the siren for sizzling seashores ,
and wake up with the wave ~
that whispers, whirling the halo
of white crescent wings …
as I need you …
within smooth strokes ~
that worship your
whistling heartbeat,
…and we dissolve
with devotion,
in the delusive design
of dusk-blush maroons ,
fading into
the evening evanescence
as those sun drops
glimmer with citrine stars ~
and I wear this
galactic wine pendant ...
in the paradise
of this dulcet demigoddess
weeping
~ smokes of d e s i r e ~
All the dream lamps of the world have joined their rendezvous
In this porcelain time of the evening playing in my bloodstream
I am waiting when the river of nudity will bring about the coup
Filling the molecules of my embrace with the toxic moonbeam
My companion a scarlet wine merrily churning a crimson sea
Of all the soft snow the world can collect in my pulsating room
With the river wearing moon and stars in an embracing spree
Now I am prepared darling to raise poetry even from your womb
The alcohol first invites sweet clouds from its own peace and love
The clouds start doing embroidery on the dance of pink neuron
How smoothly poetic gladioli the moon weaves just look above
Sparkling lyrics look and wait in the silk skinned horses of Babylon
Love spreads around the wonderful hills like the hugging blue mist
Silkily numbing senses feel mom has returned from silky childhood
Not even a single jasmine on my wavy skin will now remain unkissed
Electricity exchanging moments fill poetry in the bowls of rosewood
Come darling fill unquenched glasses time is running out with moon
Let's drain last of the love dregs along with the kisses in each spoon
October 17, 2017
Lay dreaming on the beach
Listening to the ocean roar
Ecstasy filled my soul with delight
My mind wandered ~
I filled the night's chalice with knots of desire
My heart raced ~ faster
Pulsating beats of rhythm
To the sound of the ocean
Splashing vigorously in my mind
Intense heat filled my body
Dripping with sheer ~ delight
My heart missing beats
I learned how to live unkissed, until ...
That night changed everything
I screamed ~ “Tie me to your Tongue “
Please, please ~ I’m begging now
Passed the stage of no return
Tonight is the night
Desire ~ becomes fire
It’s raining roses and love riots
Oh ! I feel your tongue caress me
I don’t want this to stop
I can take it ~ more~ more
The moon is an honest Manipulator
Brighter the moon shone, hotter I became
Is this a dream ~ or reality ?
I don’t wanna wake up
Feelings of desire, engulf me
Ocean calls me into you
If time turns, will scars stain the sky ?
Morning poem
From a prince’s shining light will it be possible to see the beginning of the day as it was before dawn the moment before it was unkissed by anyone but you before life began as the story go And no one knew what to say about the day
Before anything was born leaving the darkness behind like an unwanted dream of what was before the light was born
Is it not possible to see what life was before the mountain kissed the shore unseen by anyone but you not yet awake to understand the wonder of a new day so never mind the light if you have seen the beginning of the day the last kiss before I die
I shall say no more.
One summer eve in Galilee
I stood before my open door;
to me it seemed just one more night--
like all the others gone before.
Someone would come and, passing by,
would hear the tinkling of the bells,
would see the garish harlot's robe
and painted eyes beneath my veil.
Someone, a man like all the rest--
it did not matter much to me--
a nobleman, Samaritan,
a Roman or a Pharisee,
someone would pause and with one glance
strip me again of maiden pride,
and leaving, later, never know
the shame and shattered dreams I hide.
O, he would think me very gay;
he would not see my hollow heart
nor hear me curse him for his pay.
Just then I saw a band of men
approaching down the narrow road;
there should be one among that crowd
aho wants the favors I bestow.
Kind eyes met mine, and with one look,
He saw what others could not see;
He saw the hunger of my soul,
my loneliness and misery.
I only know that since that day
I live to walk along with Him.
His look of love has changed my life;
I need not sell my love again.
Tonight He dines at Simon's house__
all day the dusty paths we roamed;
but, still he waits, unwashed, unkissed;
small courtesies no one has shown.
My love for Him! It rolls and swells
till from His side I cannot stay;
I will wash His feet with tears of love
and with my hair wipe the sand away.
Copyright, 1987, Faye Gibson
He comes to me at eventide when all is quiet, still,
As I sit alone in darkening listening to the trill.
Of night birds as they give their call rousing at the gloaming,
To begin the evening hunt and I with them go roaming.
I feel His arm around me as I walk in twilight mist.
I feel His love surround me though I remain unkissed.
He is the lover of my dreams in whom I can confide.
He is the friend and confidant in whose arms I hide.
He soothes my wounded spirit.
He heals my aching heart.
He restores my confidence,
And all my fears depart.
He is no ordinary man whose ego I must feed,
No knight in shining armor upon a great white steed.
He's good and kind and loving though He knows my every deed.
He knows me well but loves me still. He's all I'll ever need.
Consigned I am to live without your love
To grave to go without its sweetest taste
On earth to stay and never fly above
I hope my end will come with wanton haste
What use have I for life without your smile
For body that’s unravished by your hands
What use is there to live but for a while
When I count unkissed days as grains of sand
What can I hope for in my lonely bed?
When cold am I, unwrapped in heaven’s arm
Your love was once a feast on which I fed
Your promises were charms that kept from harm
But tell me, love, are you consigned to be
without the comfort of my soothing breast?
When you are weary, tell me, will you see
a woman who can grant your each request?
Consigned are you to life without my eyes
that bore for you affection in their gaze?
Consigned are you to live with other’s lies
or here to thrive and live with lover’s praise?
Consigned am I to live without you here
I smile for in my heart I know it's true
When making love, you’ll "see" me standing there
And wish that it were me in bed with you
Eileen Manassian
I learned how to live unkissed,
until the day,
Your sudden presence
fractured all my cold,
And swept the heavy, quiet dust
away,
To spin a world of canvas into
gold.
I was a master of the muted
space,
A lonely scholar of the midnight
air,
Content to never look upon
your face,
Or look for passion hiding
anywhere.
The hours moved in a slow and
solemn line,
A sequence of forgotten, empty
days,
Where nothing in the universe
was mine,
And all my pathways led
through twilight grays.
I built a fortress out of frozen
stone,
Believing safety lived inside the
dark,
Resigned to walk the quiet earth
alone,
Without a flame, a glimmer, or a
spark.
But then you came with phrases
born of fire,
And drew a grander map across
my skin,
Awaking an immutable desire,
Where only silent winters used
to win.
Your long love is a brilliant,
endless stream,
An architecture masterwork of
grace,
That pulled me from a dim,
creative dream,
And locked me in a breathless,
warm embrace.
You flooded all my borders with
a light,
That re- engraved the
boundaries of my soul,
And scattered every shadow of
the night,
To make a broken history feel
whole.
With breathless words and
everlasting vows,
You wrote an anthem only we
could share,
Beneath the shelter of the
summer boughs,
Dispelling every ghost of my
despair.
Now every line I write belongs
to you,
A symphony of syllables and
light,
Where older, darker histories
withdrew,
And left us burning vivid in the
night.
We step into a grand, unwritten
text,
Where every page is vibrant and
alive,
No longer wondering what
sorrow's next,
But learning how to beautifully
survive.
The unkissed years are nothing
but a ghost,
For in your arms, the thing I
cherish most,
Is knowing not a single breath is
lost.
The Visitors of the Fall
Some people don't climb down into your pit to lend a warm hand,
they come only to measure with their gaze how deep the tar has you crammed,
they lean over the edge of your abyss like crows made out of mist,
and count with cold glass eyes how many wounds burn on your face, unkissed.
They come with lanterns snuffed to see you, not to light your way,
their footsteps on the rim of your grave write only smoke and dust that stray,
their smile is a counterfeit coin tossed into the well of your pain,
their compassion — a parchment the tooth of time gnaws through again.
They make certain you have fallen hard enough, sunk deep enough down,
so you'll never catch up with them along their circular road around,
their happiness is a crooked scale that tips only when you break,
they breathe relieved to see that in your chest just shattered glass you rake.
But my mourning visitors don't know, my frozen crows of sleet,
that from the bottom of the pit the sky looks cleaner and more sweet,
that the earth which swallowed me whole is the same that feeds the wheat,
that from the broken root the stream springs back, more stubborn in its beat.
My fall has been a school where they have never set a single foot,
I've learned to make a ladder out of darkness, flight from stone and soot,
every humiliation stitched me up inside with thread of fire,
every eye that watched me falling honed my outline sharper, higher.
And when I rise up from the pit — not crawling, but mast-straight and tall,
I will not seek them out to hurl the stones that burn in me at all,
I'll pass them by the way a river passes by its silent shore:
too whole to count who wished to see me at the bottom anymore.