Sate Poems | Examples

Bottomless bottles of bile, in my wake

In my wake, if i were to awaken,
O' wakeful wonder to wrench mine withered eyes 
Aware'f the withering summer haze
Out in my bright eyed future, out in my cross toe'd path
Pompous poppies t'prop mine withering body
Lest f'saken soil shall chance this chance and enwrap thy very soul
Whole, wholly in unholy disrepair 
Where thy feet ne'er make a pair

In my wake, where bottomless bile surely shalln't sate,
Grace be with grace whereth fate form'd nigh near'r thy hate
voracious, inherent, timbered'n barrels 
Embedded beneath thy bedded tomb t'ferment 
Fraught feminal petticoats bed thy bones'n skin, t'sit within
Barrelled quarrels quashed'n quaint fricatives,
T'lace these afaced wicked motives.
Foot befitting feet b'fore foolish faces reverberate foolish vows
F'petty petticoats liven' lieu'f laced love.

In my latent wake, 
Tend t'the petty posies 
T'prop mine body 
Towards th'lascerating ladle'f love,
And into th'deepening dish'f self-hate.

24//8//25

Escape

sensual touches
sate a need that aids depressed
hearts seeking passion
patches to cover twin aches
worn as scars from rejection

escape needs fulfilled
covers hold two stories told ~
desperate duet

little sandpiper

       little piper, little piper
   oh how fast you skip away
 as the morning tide crawls in to taste the beach
briny swishes bring your breakfast
 while you prance to greet the day
   and they never seem to wet you
       like you're privy to a chosen course of each

little piper, little piper
   such a ballet you perform
      when you twirl and pirouette your dainty feet
       darting in-and-out the sea foam
      just to keep them dry and warm
   all with perfect form and motion
so as not to warn those little things you eat

       little piper, little piper
   you're the bane of every clam
 watching closely for their bubbles in the sand
oh, the hermit crabs are missing
 each-and-each now on the lam
   and the hot sand gently hissing
       as you try to sate your hungry chick's demand

little piper, little piper
   all day long your work persists
      as your tummy and your wee one both are fed
       so with food enough to sleep on
      'midst the creeping twilight mists
   and as purple shadows deepen
comes the time to sing your little one to bed

       little piper, now you dance in dreams ... instead.

Echoes in Silk

Written: July 17, 2025, for contest by Joseph May

                    ********************

Silk voice ties the tunes of the throng
As you play the chill, snake-hands song
Void doesn't just loom—he swoons and croons
Of the throng, silk voice ties the tunes

My sound won't cross—cling to your room
He swoons and croons—void doesn't just loom
Won't quench the charm and delight dross
Cling to your room—my sound won't cross

I'll break the chain with skillful smarm
And delight dross won't quench the charm
Haunts the twilight with spry disdain 
With skillful smarm, I'll break the chain
 
Even my heart can't sate your height
With spry disdain, haunts the twilight
When the coming spite pours a chart
Can't sate your height, even my heart

Fulcrum of a rose

Stamens and pistils 
delicately poised
Shamans and pistols 
making too much noise 
Soft buzz preferred, 
a silencer’s desired
Pollinator’s sense 
the triggers just fired

Nectar brings balance 
agape open wide
Willing the seeker 
to do laps inside
Comes with a snag 
also stitch in the side 
Fulcrum of a rose 
the thorn realised 

My soul’s not a flower 
just gives and takes 
Wants what it craves 
accepts all, even fakes 
Opens too early, 
closes far too late 
Can’t tell if I’m full, 
yet knows when I’m sate

Possesses a thorn, 
and stabs by design 
Fulcrum of my soul’s 
human not divine 
Protects at all costs 
only thing that’s mine 
Not pain or loss, 
just my life to define

to a vegan be

to a vegan be

We humans can be good for wild animals
Their life of surviving hides hearts of love
by showing empathy and understanding
They can change and show utter devotion 
to a human who loves them back
and lessen the struggle for survival,
to be on their guard where there is aggression
is the only emotion allowed 
When an animal feels that way, its love 
is timeless, you are a liberator 
A question remains: how can a man eat 
burgers when knowing a cow was killed
to sate our appetite for meat.

The Ravishing Grimness

Veil of midnight, shroud of ache,  
A hollow heart begins to wake,  
Unfed, unwhole, in shadow curled,  
Craving life within this world.  

A wraith unseen yet bound to thirst,  
The agony—a wicked curse,  
Flesh untouched but essence bled,  
Hungering for what is shed.  

Through trembling dark and frigid moan,  
I grasp at souls, yet stand alone,  
Each stolen breath a fleeting glow,  
Still starving deep in depths below.  

Ravishing grimness, wretched plight,  
A suffering that breeds delight,  
To drink, to drain, to taste the soul,  
To feel—then lose—control.  

In tortured pangs, my hollow cries,  
A thirst that burns, that never dies,  
No blood will sate, no flesh repair,  
Only whispers in the air.  

The void consumes, yet I remain,  
Bound by hunger, wracked with pain,  
A phantom lost, unseen, yet near,  
Feeding off your trembling fear.  

And when the night betrays the dawn,  
Another voice—another gone,  
A feast of echoes, dimly bright,  
Devoured whole before the light.

Desire

She picked his poetic flowers
Her tender hope a crumbly seed
Each morn, in wait to taste his feed
She craved him till eve’s florid hours
In need to sate her stark bowers

Sustenance Submission

Submission leads to sustenance?
In what world is this?
Death, dynamite, dominance!
Blowing Doom a kiss!

High cliff force in summer late?
Staggers in the gait.
O ye gods above, strife? Sate.
Too much on thy plate...

Drums played by the war gods?
Poets, by Fate required.
Nuclear my temper-rods!
Mercenaries hired!

Tyrant of tomorrow, time!
Knee deep in the slime!
Sullen silence slight sublime!
Wind, blow well each chime...

Mime, form well thy boxes.
Prisoner, poison pen.
Where the golden phlox is?
O dragon, from thy den!

Then again, old vampire:
Is succor still a curse?
Pinnacle, apex and spire!
Son, you could do worse!

Versed in rite and ritual?
Flickering fine and free?
Sing within me, brazen bull!
Fire fancifully...

The Music of Love

For Constance’s: Write Ten Beautiful Lines
10.04.2025

The music of love

Your voice a silken stream of violins
a sea of sound swishing on my calm shore
An overture of blissful laughs and grins
As playful tempos strum your tuneful score

I hear the urge of alto saxophone
A rhythm of blues jazzing in your blood
I feel the pulse of cornets in your tone
Euphonious waves sate a joyful flood

And when the roar of drums directs the beat
It somehow, sounds delightful and still sweet

Pushed

And even SHOVED I say!
For the love of my life threw me away.
It happened too fast--
Quicker than a flash--
And now, alone in the bed, I lay.

Oh, but she couldn't just let things be,
Couldn't find it in her to set me free,
For she pushed and shoved
Then kissed and hugged
And left me to wonder, "What are we?"

And not five minutes later--
That hussy! That traitor!--
Found aloft the one I called friend
That day two relationships she did tend
For it was him, not me, who could sate her.

With my shock and anger, I sat
Doing my best not to look back
Then I looked up to the fan
Slapped my face in my hand
And said, "God, I need a new cat."

Thinking about Nevermind!

Thinking about Nevermind!

Skinny dipping soaked in bleach, albino by design 
Eyes burning, -Something in the way- future gives a sign
No pacifier needed, when remuneration’s on the line 
Keep calm it’s just rehearsal, will sink lower another time 

Born too soon, umbilical’s frayed by a toothless bite
Lure instills urge to swim, bypassing baptismal rite
-Come as you are- take a breath, be sure to stay airtight 
Nevermind the grunge, it’s less dirty with a soul of white

Zero in on bait, the watermark hides a sell by date
Perhaps-stay away- not much change at going rate 
Don’t lose sight of legal tender, it won’t always sate
Take a breather, rest assured, if lungs don’t reinflate 

Swimming in circles chasing what is never truly ours
Set in ripples, a reflection of mankind’s weakest hour ?
The dollar breaks, revealing depths we’ve yet to scour
In the murk, no god we trust, just a bill we all empower

My Hubby Cheated On Me

You lied
I cried

Lie low
Hello

My dear
Her rear

Was flake
You snake

Slitter
Hitter

Batter
Scatter

Foul balls
Who falls

I did
You squid

I plea
Leave me

Your eyes
Like pies

And sweets
And tweets

That sing
And bling

That sate
Your plate

Without
A doubt

Peter
Cheater

Pumpin
Bumpkin

Bowwow 
Chow Chow

It's clear
Leave here


connie pachecho

1/12/25

Note-A prelude to this poem, "If I Were Your Love," dated 5/1/23.

Lullabies of Thunder

The sun has taken a day off, 
sleeping in blankets of silver 
while the Earth dances a slow pirouette, 
like the venerable ballerina she is, on her axis. 

I ponder the grayness 
while thinking of haiku to pass the time, 
wondering of what the sun dreams 
during its times of solar slumber. 

A rose awakens,
blooming with the kisses of dewdrops 
caressing her brow. 

The heavens softly weep. 
I know not whether for joy or sorrow. 
These tears of God are shed this morning, 
but the land and I are cleansed and nourished. 

The fabric of the sky is rent 
by sudden streaks of violence 
that shatter the peace of my reverie 
and threaten to unsettle my soul. 

Sabers of lightning 
duel throughout the morning 
to sate their anger. 

Their fury sends fear to my heart’s threshold, 
but it finds the door safely barred 
by the still waters of the Spirit’s serenity, 
keeping me untouched by disquietude. 

I find lullabies in the thunder, 
and the sleep of newborns follows 
into a realm where the storm dissolves 
within the calmness of God.

Uncertainty

Looking back, while looking forward
Am I really sate to go
Backwards, when I’m going onward
Pacing fast and sometime slow
One road ends, then goes another
Same exactly as the old 
Where to go to, moving further
Do I really have a goal
Maybe I’m amnesiac 
Partly this explains my doubts
If the memory I lack
Sends me back to same old grounds
How come that I feel uncertain
Within this unconscious drift 
Pull down, or pull back the curtain
Either way makes no big diff.

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