[F4A] How I Love Your Voice [Hysterical Literature] [Poem] [Touching Myself] while [Reading]How I love to hear you speak and call my name
The way your lips, tongue, and mouth forms letters and words
Those sensual overtones that utter sweet sounds that resonate in my ears
How I love to hear you speak
Your articulation brings forth joy and laughter to my soul
Your words are like music set to a melody sang by angels
It is like the birds summoning me to paradise
Your subtle amplitude drives me while at every utterance
I beg you to continue speaking to me for I have never heard a sweeter tone
Your audible vibrations are like a musical instrument playing lullabies to my soul
Your voice reminds me of being a child being rocked to sleep
Speak to me in those warm tones of elegance that only you possess
How I love to hear your voice in all its magnitude
It comforts me on my lonely days of inner reflection
It brings me hope for a greater day
When I hear you regulate the tones I am in a trance
I am captivated by every sentence you speak
I listen to your words intently at its rhythm
It warms me on a cold day and cools me off in the heat
How I love just to hear you speak to me
I would give it all away just to hear your words
Such satisfying sounds swing me back and forth in a dizzy dance
I lose my footing every time you speak
It is not just your words but the beauty within that captivates me so
I save all your messages to hear played over and over again
They are melodious songs that bring forth the light of a new day
They are enchanting as you are in life
No words spoken could explain the grace and charm of your voice
Each time you speak I have died a thousand times
With each word I am sent heaven bound
Your voice takes me places only imagined in dreams
Paradise once lost is found in your voice
Let it be known that there is no other like you
I am compelled to a higher ground
Your expressions are like the wind in my sails that sets me free
I cannot place any other above you
Your voice is all I ever need to hear in life
Your ability to speak brings shivers up and down my spine
It has the greatest influence over my body
If I should ever fall and stricken deaf, your voice would remain to reverberate in my heart
It would be the last sounds I would want to hear
Your name would be the last sound spoken from my lips
Your voice, how I love it soPlay Count: 1212 [F4A] ANOTHER Poem about Flowers [SFW]Bright little day stars
Scattered all over the earth,
Ye drape the house of mourning
And ye deck the hall of mirth.
Ye are gathered to grace the ballroom,
Ye are borne to the house of prayer,
Ye wither upon the snowy shroud,
Ye fade in the bride’s jeweled hair.
Ye are relics of bygone ages,
From Eden inherited,
To gladden the homes of the living,
And mourn on the graves of the dead.Play Count: 630 [F4A] A Poem about Flowers [SFW]They are autographs of angels, penned
In Nature’s green-leaved book, in blended tints,
Borrowed from rainbows and the sunset skies,
And written everywhere–on plain and hill,
In lonely dells, ‘mid crowded haunts of men;
On the broad prairies, where no eye save God’s
May read their silent, sacred mysteries. Thank God for flowers!
They gladden human hearts; Seraphic breathings part their fragrant lips
With whisperings of Heaven.Play Count: 609 [F4A] Just a Poem [SFW]There is much in life that makes me sorry as I journey
down life’s way.
And I seem to see more pathos in poor human
Lives each day.
I’m sorry for the strong brave men, who shield
the weak from harm,
But who, in their own troubled hours find no
Protecting arm.
I’m sorry for the victors who have reached
success, to stand
As targets for the arrows shot by envious failure’s
hand.
I’m sorry for the generous hearts who freely
shared their wine,
But drink alone the gall of tears in fortune’s
drear decline.
I’m sorry for the souls who build their own fame’s
funeral pyre,
Derided by the scornful throng like ice deriding
fire.
I’m sorry for the conquering ones tho know not
sin’s defeat,
But daily tread down fierce desire ‘neath scorched
and bleeding feet.
I’m sorry for the anguished hearts that break with
passions strain,
But I’m sorrier for the poor starved souls that
Never knew love’s pain.
Who hunger on through barren years not tasting
joys they crave,
For sadder far is such a lot than weeping o’er a
grave.
I’m sorry for the souls that come unwelcomed
into birth,
I’m sorry for the unloved old who cumber up the
earth.
I’m sorry for the suffering poor in life’s great
maelstrom hurled,
In truth I’m sorry for them all who make this
aching world.
But underneath whate’er seems sad and is not
understood,
I know there lies hid from our sight a mighty
germ of good.
And this belief stands firm by me, my sermon,
motto, text –
The sorriest things in this life will seem grandest
in the next.
Ella Wheeler WilcoxPlay Count: 675