poem – Letters For My Lovers

Patience

I am no longer a volcano.
I am a seething rage of cool existence;
a deep burn, one that ignites the soul.

A liberating flurry of flames,
destroying all to better begin anew.
Two steps ahead of the phoenix,
I’ve already planted the seeds
to help my inner-world flourish.

I am no longer at your mercy,
but gently pressing
against the walls of my own being.
Reappropriation is like laughter:
it bounces off walls,
and its imperceptible power
fills your heart with joy;
a glitter bomb
exploding in your soul.

A Universe unto myself
my expansion is continuous.
I’ve set my mind free
and let the cage of my past
dissolve like ashes in the wind.

I can taste the colours again,
soak up the love in their eyes,
savour the silence…
dance ’till I drop,
scream at the top of my lungs,
fall into passionate embrace,
let my heavy eyes rest,
and do it all over tomorrow.

I can feel the lead of a pencil
sigh as I press down onto paper,
feel the temperature of colours
when they meet, swirl and mix;
and the words trickle like dewdrops,
as they roll off the pages of my mind.

I now remember
the untarnished power
of finding beauty in the now,
the stars, the sun, the wind;
and the radiant smiles
of those who populate my world.

Strange Times

Dear readers,

No matter where you may be in the world, chances are, we can currently relate to each other’s feelings.

Let’s be blunt: this shit is scary. I can personally admit that having a global pandemic, with the rampant fear-mongering and misinformation that has accompanied it, is, for many many reasons, as close to my living nightmare as any situation could get.

The world is grinding to a halt, and hundreds of thousands, if not millions of people will die worldwide. Millions of people will lose their jobs, and world economies as we know them may very well collapse. The list goes on… Many things are going to change, and the truth is that we don’t really know what the post-pandemic world is going to look like; many people have predictions, some more realistic than others, but right now we’re helplessly floating around in the giant sea of the unknown, and I know many of us feel totally and utterly lost.

I can’t speak for what will change in the upcoming months and years, but I can surmise that one very real thing won’t change: Us. Humans, living, breathing members of the Homo sapiens sapiens species. The inherent elements that bind us together as a species and have kept our societies running since the dawn of our era: love, compassion, understanding, passion, curiosity, solidarity, and all them incredible things that make us so unique.

We will continue loving one another, appreciating the little things in life, like the ring of someone’s laughter in our ears, the warmth that we feel in another’s smile, the burning desire when we hold our lover close. We will continue inspiring one another to keep on keeping on, to continue creating and appreciating art, music, creativity in whatever form it takes on for you. We will continue being present for those who matter the most in our lives, because that’s what life is really about, love and friendship, and partnership, and appreciation, and sharing all of those incredible things we so often struggle to put into words.

I, for one, will keep on creating and sharing my poetry and stories with the world because it’s my way of staying sane and keeping my life moving forward without giving into the total and utter panic that washes over me in waves.

You are not alone, we are not alone. We can weather this storm together, as societies, and as a species, and come out wiser on the other side. So let’s all take a moment to appreciate the little things and share some love (within reasonable social distancing measures, of course 😉).

And if you would like me to write a poem about a specific topic, or have a fun writing exercise you’d like to try with me, please shoot me an email at info@lilithember.com, and I will be happy to oblige. I will be writing from the comfort of my Love Nest, featured as the image of this article.

In love, lust, and solidarity,

Lilith. 🖤

So you want Sexy Poems?

For you, my reader,
I spread the pages of my soul,
I dip the tip of my tongue
In the forbidden ink of divine intervention.
A lost soul longing for a set of lips,
To kiss, lick, suckle to my heart’s content.

A tickle of a button
So soft it could make a feather tremble,
A breath caught between two sheets;
One second, two, three?
A gasp!
Air rushing through inflamed lungs,
Tiny beads of sweat dangling
On skin as soft as lips
Caressing freshly painted nails.

For you, my reader,
I explore long lost caves
Forsaken by the gods;
Heathen sanctuaries
Of nymphs, sprites, and fairies
I penetrate sacred grounds,
Document my stories
With tale after tale,
Stroke after stroke
Of my pen on shaking parchment.

A trusting hand,
Curling inside forbidden fruit;
A pressure so pure
It parts the sky with its lust.
The surrender…
Sweet delight, like hydromel;
Nectar of the gods.
Even they are unworthy
Of the delicacy, that is you.

Seule – for C

loneliness is like a bubble

sometimes all we need
is for it to pop, Pop, PoP!
like a kernel in the microwave

at first, inert,

it doesn’t look like much
then, from somewhere deep within
a heated force of overwhelming power
shines through and breaks the shell.

Bring Me Back

The perfect drizzle
defines the line between today and tomorrow
A morose specimen,
far too endearing to share with our peers
peers out of its receptacle;
a chill destroys its resolve
“if only pigs could fly,
then I’d get myself out of this darned mess.”
It thinks, unwillingly.

The home of a collector
is not to be taken lightly
on days where the sun’s power dwindles
and the comings of months of death
appear on the horizon.

One step at a time,
it creeps, occasionally lurching
towards a white cover of bliss.
Brought back to the silence
of a city’s breath drawn again
when a cloak of winter descends
leaving everything amiss.

At times, when the sea of stars seems
to lose itself in the vastness of the night
I’ve often longed to hear crisp footsteps,
ones I’ve dreamt of ad-nauseam;
despite the harsh and cruel winter,
they echo the sound of my love’s path
finally finding its way back
into the warmth of my tender embrace.

Fabricated Sorrow

What is it, about being a woman
that drives us, to feel lust
nay, neediness, longing, expectations
of the opposite sex
to WANT, to need, to succumb
to loving us?

It’s like taking the first hit;
wanting every moment
to inevitably feel like the next.
A drug of the heart, a survivalist’s wet dream,
suddenly the nightmare of the other.

I loathe the void I’ve created
within the absence you’ve brought;
the coward who parades around
as a hearty lion, navy suit astounding
the driver of slumber long deceased
brought back to life in a dusty dream.

Nothing is everything,
it all resonates like bass hitting a temple
wishing for change, but unwilling to understand;
the dance slowly dies
as the reality of one love lost
bites the dust, of poetic abstinence.

Heed a lonely cry, in the distance
a single ring on a finger
symbolism of something so untrue
it might as well be dead.

I’ll die too young
to see the fruition of your honesty.

Fishing in Cape Breton

Crisp
are the winds
that brought me to you
along the broken path
by the Ocean’s roar.
Jagged
were the rocks
that dangled beneath.
So close
to losing my footing
and slide
towards my demise.
Dangerous drops
rarely lead
to peaceful waters
and yet,
in all my meanderings
I failed to fall.
Rugged
was my resolve
in the hopes
that I too
could balance
on the fine line
that pushes
one foot
after the other
towards
the unknown.
Unfortunate
are those who strive
to maintain happiness
as a constant
instead of a rare pearl.
A thing
to be held close,
cherished
and observed
in moderation.
Happiness
isn’t a fish
you can catch,
but a fleeting moment.
Just breathe it in
and let it go.
Breathe me in…
And let me go.

A few short poems

A collection of short poems that will otherwise go unpublished, so I’m grouping them together here instead. Some of these have previously been posted to Twitter, so apologies if there is a bit of a repetition.

Half Moon Bay

The roar of the Ocean
Rules and narrow margins.
You stole my heart away
When we were in Half Moon Bay.

Morning Commute

Basic bitches in the back of the bus,
Shit sprawled all over the place.
I’ve never understood pumpkin spice lattes,
Maybe it’s the only spice they get in their lives
Future soccer moms and housewives.

(This was undeniably a morning rant)

Montreal

Ice in the night
Looks like latex
Brought to a shine
By an obedient little slave.

Submission

Subservient Subs
Surrendering Subconsciously
to Subliminal Subspace
like the Subspecies Subordinates
they long to be.

Succubus 1

Cry me your soul,
Let my hands slowly deprive you.
Oxygen fleeing, haggard existence
What does it feel like
To know that when you kiss me,
You are kissing death?

Montebello

A colourless day draws on
In cold observation of privilege
By the light of a dozen flames
Patagonia and Gucci abound
Wood, stone, and stained glass
The Succubus laughs silently
As loveless marriages melt away
On this crisp winter’s day

Melt

Time of spring
Icicles turned water
Frozen again
Time to slip

Bard Bits – Innocence

He marvelled at her innocence
Shining through in the darkness
An ethereal light amongst the shadows
Blissfully cradled in his arms
She was his angelic little slut.

Bee Mine

Darkness before dawn
A wasp flies up a mountain
Spread thighs await

Ode to a Fern

Leaning towards dying foliage
Desperate whispers part my lips
“I’ll cherish you forever.”
Fronds amiss, you sink into oblivion

Succubus 2

Create a void in me, so I lose sight
Embrace the upheaval of my thighs
Mountainous strength from beneath
As I erode myself into your world
Eager monster forsaking the gods
Devouring, until only the shell remains

Until We Meet Again – For S

The raw scent of musky love
Envelops my thighs
My back arches, beckoning your arrival
My legs spread gently,
Always willing and ready
To feed you, my relentless lover.

Hands perched on parted thighs,
Only the most palatable position
For the refined and dedicated palate
Of my energetic connoisseur.
A sigh exhales, a moan soon follows
Etching ancient art
Into the heat of my burning body
A bit of this, a splash of that,
Savouring the many shades that unfold
So deliciously onto your tongue.

Nails digging into shoulders,
You tickle me just right
A timeless creator of the sparks
That ignite the fabric of my being.
Aching…
Come closer, my love,
Please,
Yes, slowly…

The deafening rumbling
Of a wave crashing onto shore,
Parting the seas of my lust,
Electrifying my senses.
I gasp for air,
Insatiable.

Overwhelm me with your love,
Just a little longer…
Deeper.
Harder.
Forever.

Tiny Dancer

A thousand times I could die
Waiting for your love.
A wailing heart brings forth a song,
Of melancholy and mourning
For a love that only exists inside a box.
Unlatching, a tiny dancer turns
In melodic perfection, a pirouette of desire
What goes around, comes around, as they say.
She turns, again and again,
Always facing herself in the end.
Perfect imperfections splattered on a soul,
She’s there, at the tip of a tongue…
Little. Love. Lust. Lilith. Linger…
Never will her step falter,
For her puppeteer knows no other melody,
Save that of forgiveness and sorrow.
Alone, she turns, again and again,
Facing only but herself in the end.

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Half Moon Bay

Morning Commute

Montreal

Submission

Succubus 1

Montebello

Melt

Bard Bits – Innocence

Bee Mine

Ode to a Fern

Succubus 2

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