Submissions by Rachelleundrgrd
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
Love the spoken, sung and written word.
Subtle Succumbing
i do not ask
for your surrender.
who would say yes
...or no?
instead, i will allow seduction
its slow, languorous play
each advance sliding deeper
until i am so far in
we recognize no other
and when your white flag raises
i will sit back gently upon it
and eternal ecstasy
will rise in its stead
and we will laugh that
once upon a time
we thought possible anything
but this...
for your surrender.
who would say yes
...or no?
instead, i will allow seduction
its slow, languorous play
each advance sliding deeper
until i am so far in
we recognize no other
and when your white flag raises
i will sit back gently upon it
and eternal ecstasy
will rise in its stead
and we will laugh that
once upon a time
we thought possible anything
but this...
#love
#erotic
#peace
#spiritual
#SelfDiscovery
649 reads
0 Comments
756 reads
18 Comments
Longing’s Renaissance
Coming together yet again
in sacred offering
all galaxies drip through us
pointing us home.
There was never anywhere to go.
The You you search for
know this truth intimately.
—Pungent longing for your liberation
my own journey to nowhere’s bliss—
My Love, turn senses inside out
and inward to remember.
Then come again
that we may discover as one
the drops of our
universal everywhere.
R.
in sacred offering
all galaxies drip through us
pointing us home.
There was never anywhere to go.
The You you search for
know this truth intimately.
—Pungent longing for your liberation
my own journey to nowhere’s bliss—
My Love, turn senses inside out
and inward to remember.
Then come again
that we may discover as one
the drops of our
universal everywhere.
R.
#love
#sex
#spiritual
#TruthOfLife
#freedom
568 reads
6 Comments
858 reads
9 Comments
Bodywork
new hands caress bare back for the first time
obliterating all sense of new and first and time
glide down Sharada’s OM
connecting bodies to soul to universe
sacred practice pulverizing strangers
creating union of embodied, wordless metaphor
familiarity merges, worships together
the sweet succulent silence of Touch.
R.
obliterating all sense of new and first and time
glide down Sharada’s OM
connecting bodies to soul to universe
sacred practice pulverizing strangers
creating union of embodied, wordless metaphor
familiarity merges, worships together
the sweet succulent silence of Touch.
R.
#erotic
#spiritual
#metaphor #sensual
#metaphor #sensual
864 reads
8 Comments
Little Deaths
Les petites morts*
I have to believe that the only thing wrong with this otherwise perfect turn of the french tongue is scale. There seems to be nothing small whatsoever in this cosmic game you and I play.
Calling out over and over in this most ultimate of ecstasies, there is no end, only beginnings.
‘Insatiable,’ your repeated murmur.
‘Greedy one! Stop anytime.’ I might counter in response, though only in my after-imaginings—there is no room for thoughts or words in this delectable dance of decease.
Taken with uncountable deaths...
I have to believe that the only thing wrong with this otherwise perfect turn of the french tongue is scale. There seems to be nothing small whatsoever in this cosmic game you and I play.
Calling out over and over in this most ultimate of ecstasies, there is no end, only beginnings.
‘Insatiable,’ your repeated murmur.
‘Greedy one! Stop anytime.’ I might counter in response, though only in my after-imaginings—there is no room for thoughts or words in this delectable dance of decease.
Taken with uncountable deaths...
#love
#sex
#erotic
#spiritual
#lover
1001 reads
18 Comments
Making Sense(s) of it All
To see spellbound a sunset in shadows cast on a sunless day
To hear ocean waves echoing through the hollow of a pocketed treasure
To smell detritus and become overwhelmed with the beauty of life
To taste manna flowing freely through throat’s caverns
To touch the hand of the outcast and feel God reaching back
To embody love so profoundly that these senses become limbs for the journey.
R.
To hear ocean waves echoing through the hollow of a pocketed treasure
To smell detritus and become overwhelmed with the beauty of life
To taste manna flowing freely through throat’s caverns
To touch the hand of the outcast and feel God reaching back
To embody love so profoundly that these senses become limbs for the journey.
R.
#love
#inspirational
#spiritual
456 reads
9 Comments
Damp and Dark
Night bears witness
as moss traps and releases
moisture from the sky above
and the ground below
You break my heart from these same places
open me until space is all that exists
I am ready now
for you to become the moss
in the crevice of my wide open
expansiveness
There is enough damp and dark here
for you to feast into eternity
come drown in it
then go out remembering
as swiftly and lovingly as you forget.
R.
as moss traps and releases
moisture from the sky above
and the ground below
You break my heart from these same places
open me until space is all that exists
I am ready now
for you to become the moss
in the crevice of my wide open
expansiveness
There is enough damp and dark here
for you to feast into eternity
come drown in it
then go out remembering
as swiftly and lovingly as you forget.
R.
#love
#nature
#spiritual
#lover
#LifeCycle
796 reads
12 Comments
Death of a Crow
I should prefer they be called a congregation when they come together.
Their gatherings hold all the essence of worshiping kin flocking together
to sing and dance and feast.
Loudly croning Jesus and Buddha and Crow
in a language recognized by the attuned.
No, I should listen more intently
and prefer their rightful name.
A murder of crows.
For in their conclave, the death of crow is imminent, Crow immanent.
One becomes murder.
As one, they attend.
They become One,
worshipping death
and reveling in life. ...
Their gatherings hold all the essence of worshiping kin flocking together
to sing and dance and feast.
Loudly croning Jesus and Buddha and Crow
in a language recognized by the attuned.
No, I should listen more intently
and prefer their rightful name.
A murder of crows.
For in their conclave, the death of crow is imminent, Crow immanent.
One becomes murder.
As one, they attend.
They become One,
worshipping death
and reveling in life. ...
#birds
#nature
#spiritual
#humankind
#LifeCycle
670 reads
8 Comments
Longing’s Door
Heartbeat whispers
Knock knock
Longing only comes
when you depart
Reveling in its’ pungent pull
I beg you to leave me yet again
Knock knock
I dare not answer
lest our together render
longing inutile.
R.
Knock knock
Longing only comes
when you depart
Reveling in its’ pungent pull
I beg you to leave me yet again
Knock knock
I dare not answer
lest our together render
longing inutile.
R.
#love
#spiritual
#FallingInLove
785 reads
7 Comments
Starry Eyed
Let us not cast our gaze downwards
as our fused humanity consumes
as our shared divinity overtakes.
Let each serve as guiding stars
sherpas on this odyssey.
Let us sink completely. Consummately.
For every constellation ever contemplated is consecrated in this one love story.
And every love story ever imagined indelibly imbedded in the depths of our six starry eyes.
R.
as our fused humanity consumes
as our shared divinity overtakes.
Let each serve as guiding stars
sherpas on this odyssey.
Let us sink completely. Consummately.
For every constellation ever contemplated is consecrated in this one love story.
And every love story ever imagined indelibly imbedded in the depths of our six starry eyes.
R.
#love
#sex
#stars #spiritual
#stars #spiritual
694 reads
12 Comments
Infinity’s Nest
Mama’. My first word.
And the word wailed out after you drew your final breath.
How easily you offered up your mama-hand, always held just far enough for me to toddle on my own
until I finally could fly.
Not until I became a mother myself did I discover how much of me was still nested tight
into every fiber of you.
How the life-cord that bound us together those first months would never fully untether
even after you’d earned your ultimate wings. ...
And the word wailed out after you drew your final breath.
How easily you offered up your mama-hand, always held just far enough for me to toddle on my own
until I finally could fly.
Not until I became a mother myself did I discover how much of me was still nested tight
into every fiber of you.
How the life-cord that bound us together those first months would never fully untether
even after you’d earned your ultimate wings. ...
#love
#grief
#mother
#death
#spiritual
470 reads
3 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Rachelleundrgrd