Our village is too small
I only have grandma
to go and talk to

I massage her shoulders
and she runs her fingers
through my hair, I arch
my back for more, deeper

I stretch my body
until her hand breaks me open
as a woman, who will
break me open as a woman?

The guys who don't see me
and the guys with staring eyes
who think to undress me
have nothing to offer me

I'm looking for one in between
who knows what he wants, and
only has to give
his virginity to me

Even when you’re not doing anything wrong, they still find fault in you.

For men of a certain age,
who recall when  Emma Peel
was all the rage.
No one can  ever take her place;
those dangerous curves, her beautiful face.
Who could forget
the scent of  her perfume and leather?

Just arrangement of words in a sequence won't make your poems run like Ussain Bolt,
you  need to infuse stuff in them.

Friends and lovers
Sat for the question, we live to be
Asked this thought, over and over
Will a hopes seclusion give us time, to need?

Truth and fondness
Till a clover has its music, a wish
In the stars to remain, the courage to bless
A tale of summation, we found for a kiss...

Patience and handsomeness
Taken to reason, the irony of another here
And now the fun we season with a smile, coming for us
The turn of history into a waiting gift, too liberal to near?

Resolve and heroism
Today was the idea, the hour to ponder
Thoughts of conscience in a handful of kindness
Strong in the voice we let, limes and light we wonder...

Story's and worthiness
Simple ideals in love, with a new guidance
Of virtue in our esteem, the ironic guest
To know, in vice we sow, hearts of romance?