Long Waist Poems
Long Waist Poems. Below are the most popular long Waist by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Waist poems by poem length and keyword.
Soulful eyes may watch the world, but see no time
sit in silence without a care, listen to the words I share
glowing lights now lead your path, enjoy this glory
through your eyes, I sought vision and found strength
through your strength, I sought guidance and found your heart
through your heart, I sought understanding and found love
and through your love, I found friendship
the music fades the worries of another day
the music becomes an erotic force guiding your arms
to form around my waist and my hands to carefully
capture your lovely face, I reply, by softly brushing your lips with mine
EVIL FLIRT
The first dance with you,with my flirting beats
makes you shy at first.
the hands on your waist hold you tight in my arms
with the shyness with a warm hug you dance
when you talk like a baby girl and i reply on you
like a kid than sweet anger on your face makes me smile
The melodies sound of water fall ,
sound of air breeze your long hair touches my face
Eyes of undefinable beauty,trying to flirt with my words but
its hard to do cause of non definable gorges,adorable,delightful,
hot,cutie person cant be define with a words
like color of red cant be take out from a rose
taste of green apple cant be delicious as you words
my words fall on your feet but your EVIL FLIRT cant
be describe i love you
with love all
jagdish bajantri
Breathe
When the night claims you like a wayward leaf of old
and it takes you to the caves where anything turns gold
you don't ask any questions and you don't dare breathe
you just follow her, like a light weight tumbled weed
Down the passages of dark, down the staircase of rune
every step a little deeper than the crevices of moon
you can almost taste the air, on your tonguing clepe
you can down the stars of heaven in one single leap
Taking you by the waist it shall dance you through
the elixir of happiness when your feeling down n' blue
you just thank the Lord for the magic of this gift
all you need is skin n' eyes to cross her lowly rift
When night claims you like a wayward leaf of old
and takes you to her caves, all etched with gold
don't ask her any questions just go ahead breathe
no, don't ask her anything at all, just breathe,
yes breathe... written by Mystic Rose
And with each bated breath you breathe
You find, you'll begin to slip away with ease
While silently the cavern walls now hems you in
Whether it be Heaven's lust or righteous sin
Your eyes now open wide, collecting light
Find no greater solace, in this barren night
As you lose all self, of who you were
With every fiber, becomes one with her
Thoroughly drunk on this harmonious gift
With each sensation you span the lowly rift
And as sure as the moon controls the tide
Your very heart and soul, exposed can't hide
Down, down, down with the darkness growing
Where the sacred of all cups, is over flowing
The journey's long and it is without reprieve
Now's not time to think it over, just breathe
written by Me
Les Bijoux (The Jewels)
by Charles Baudelaire
loose translation by Michael R. Burch
My lover nude and knowing my heart's whims
Wore nothing more than a few bright-flashing gems;
Her art was saving men despite their sins;
She ruled like harem girls crowned with diadems!
She danced for me with a gay but mocking air,
My world of stone and metal sparking bright;
I discovered in her the rapture of everything fair;
Nay, an excess of joy where the spirit and flesh unite!
Naked she lay and offered herself to me,
Parting her legs and smiling receptively,
As gentle and yet profound as the rising sea,
Till her surging tide encountered my cliff, abruptly.
A tigress tamed, her eyes met mine, intent ...
Intent on lust, content to purr and please!
Her breath, both languid and lascivious, lent
An odd charm to her metamorphoses.
Her limbs, her loins, her abdomen, her thighs,
Oiled alabaster, sinuous as a swan,
Writhed pale before my calm clairvoyant eyes;
Like clustered grapes her breasts and belly shone.
Skilled in more spells than evil imps can muster,
To break the peace which had possessed my heart,
She flashed her crystal rocks’ hypnotic luster
Till my quietude was shattered, blown apart.
Her waist awrithe, her breasts enormously
Out-thrust, and yet ... and yet, somehow, still coy ...
As if stout haunches of Antiope
Had been grafted to a boy ...
The room grew dark, the lamp had flickered out.
Mute firelight, alone, lit each glowing stud;
Each time the fire sighed, as if in doubt,
It steeped her pale, rouged flesh in pools of blood.
This translation has been adopted by **** and escort websites!
The Perfect Courtesan
by Michael R. Burch
after Baudelaire, for the courtesans
She received me into her cavities,
indulging my darkest depravities
with such trembling longing, I felt her need ...
Such was the dalliance to which we agreed—
she, my high rider;
I, her wild steed.
She surrendered her all and revealed to me—
the willing handmaiden, delighted to please,
the Perfect Courtesan of Ecstasy.
I am off to join the carnival
Can I go, Mom?
Can I go?
No, honey, you have to stay here.
Learn to cook.
Sweep the floor. It is so much fun!
I run from the house, wearing my favorite tutu
It is a bit tight around the waist, but that’s okay.
When I get to the carnival someone asks me if I am kidding.
That is when I realize there is a child wrapped around my waist.
She apparently would not take no for an answer.
I apologize for wasting the ringmaster’s time
saunter home, resigned to cooking and cleaning for fourteen more years
“I am joining the carnival when you go to college,” I tell my offspring.
She nods, apparently okay with it.
Being sensual isn’t necessarily about sex.
I recall a night of such immense innocent delight
that all my senses -heightened- far exceeded
my teenage expectations of romance.
My sense of sight had already been triggered
from the moment I first met the young man
whose eyes so flirtatiously met mine.
As sweet as chocolate, his eyes melted me.
His smile was honey and his voice too,
which dripped with an accent which was French -
instantly attracted my sense of hearing.
In the front seat of his Buick Riviera,
this boy from Quebec taught me the allure
of taking time . . .
taking time to gaze into each other eyes,
taking time to feel . . . to really feel
each little nibble on my ear lobe
and the sweetness of his breath
at the nape of my neck; to feel his fingers
as they softly traced the features of my face -
worshippingly -
as if I were a goddess he was touching.
Even my sense of smell was aroused by his colgne.
Taking his time . . .
such lingering precious time,
he arrived to that first anticipated kiss,
and my sense of taste was then aroused,
for his kiss was ambrosia of the gods.
To touch his silken skin and hair,
and then to feel his lips moving smoothly over mine!
In synche with him -
romance was nothing but sublime.
All the while his hands – so magical -
caressed my hands, my arms, my shoulders,
and my back down to my waist.
Feelings I’d never experienced before
overwhelmed me with bliss.
I was still a virgin, and he knew exactly how far
not to go.
Keeping me at the brink
of something I was not to know till I was married,
I was more than satisifed and never before in my life
had I felt more cherished.
Every sense of mine was totally engaged
by his dulcet whispers
and the beauty of his eyes, his nose, his mouth,
and his entire tall slender body.
The touch of him, the feel of him,
and the feel of MY burgeoning emotions -
for me this was a virgin’s dream
of sensuality.
Feb. 3, 2021
for the Sensual Poetry Contest of Charlotte Puddifoot
This will be my last summer asking them why.
Why they stepped so gently into my life, and then left with such a forceful goodbye, some not patience enough to state the real reason as to why, or like most, speak a lie.
This will be my last summer asking them to explain themselves, before any other who knew them just as
well, could stand up and be the first to tell. But foolishly, I sought after answers from only them, desiring the truth. If I rocked with you, I rocked with you, for you.
I have no more summers left for you! None of you, and all the pain you sent me through!
For this summer is indeed my last, filtering out my good, their bad. I will no longer except apologies for that tone in your voice, you chose your words, your choice, so called friendship, a blade to my back, exactly what kind of friendship is that.
I have no more summers left for regrets, for the ones, I wish I never meet.
I have no more summers asking why you loved her more than me, I was the last, but I was definitely the baby.
I have no more summers to give to family with no union, no bonds, no strongholds amongst us. I won’t ask for support because mines was always a given, with it, came my love, dedication, and affection. With many, my heart in their hands is where I need my greatest protection.
I have no more summers to waist because my summers grows shorter each and every 365 days.
Form:
Spring Flower
Long fine hair,
that lay softly across her shoulders,
and trailed down her back,
all the way to her waist.
The colors of brown and yellow and gold.
Mixed as one, autumn comes to mind.
Yet the time, it is spring.
Her gown is green, every shade,
like the forest when the sun shines...
through the trees in small open spaces,
between the clouds of a summer storm.
Never the same in any given place.
She rides a unicorn.
A horse of mythic proportions.
I stand at the rim of the cliff watching.
They ride to the water's edge,
to get a drink.
I am mesmerized,
and find I wish to be nearer,
than before.
I step closer.
The boundary gains a pace or two.
Death is happy.
She is singing,
I can hear her now.
On the breeze, of the morning,
the one that brings everything new
to the land,
and takes all things old...
away.
The song is beyond my thoughts,
I can not hear the words,
the melody haunts my heart,
and lifts my spirit.
She is magic...
surely,
and I
have stepped off the cliff,
in love.
New Years Resolution?
Heck no, I don't care
Making time to suffer
I see no reason there
Eat a little less
lose the sugar and the salt
Eat a good dinner
that's what i was taught
Try to get some exercise
maybe lose some weight
Really, I have no problem
with my plus size waist
Slow down with your drinking
it's really not that cool
How do I have a real good time
if I don't act a fool
Stop that crazy driving
cut down on the road rage
If they don't want to drive
they better get out of my way
You need to stop smoking
it's bad for your health
You need to stop talking
and worry about yourself
Kyrie eleison priest says
Water important and priest prays
At baptism, chants are incessant
Lord have mercy for those present
Child is beautiful, twelve months old
Godparents, traditions uphold
Undress child, it's fear transparent
Lord have mercy for those present
In font, oil added to water
Placed in water is goddaughter
Oil with water stings, unpleasant
Lord have mercy for those present
Three times child is immersed waist deep
Christ three days entombed for his sheep
In white sheet wrapped, light florescent.
Lord have mercy for those present
Contest Entry: A KYRIELLE ABOUT WATER
Sponsor: Kim Rodrigues
Date: 2022/08/17