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the very beginning
    of the Big Bang,
did someone wise realize,
          he created, eventually,
achingly soft feminine
            firm voluptuous,
pendants miraculous,

          ultimate fun.
beauty  formed in a burst of
           magnificence.

Seriously, genius,
        the naked female born in an
explosion billions of years ago.

Unending wise, or
        coincidence, not ever,
I cup them, in reverence.

Your pretty dress
pushed up
to your hips;
your boots kissing
the small
of my back;
that is a ride
I want to take,
a picture
to hold close
forever.
   ~mce

It was overcast that summer day
long ago,
I remember
a light cool-mist
covered our faces.
The way you looked was magnificent.
You wore a straw brimmed-hat
with a single fake daisy.
Even the way you baited my hook
was hot.

I watch the palm trees blowing,
visualize the white crystal sands
& I've seen those golden-liquid
television commercials.
Jesus pretty woman,
I smell the sea.
And when I think
about the beautiful dip
between your hip bones,
I get drunk
thinking
about rocking your soul.

I am searching for the right words to flow
(do not fight me Sugar),
a configuration of hot stanzas,
or slippery free flow verse
to scribble,
to pen,
in an elegant fashion
(or maybe not so pretty),
to get my heated
sensual-point
across to you.
These fiery feelings
are scorching
my wanton-body,
they're raging,
all consuming.
My shaking-body is on fire,
it's a freaking inferno
up in here.
Ohhh Baby,
I want to loved,
squeezed really really hard,
adored like a king,
pounded incessantly
into a lovely
heated-submission,
where we both explode,
enjoy the most sacred explosion
in the entire universe.
The kind of explosive-action
where two internal fires
burn each other up
like gigantic sunspots....
So do you Darling,
do you Sweet Angel,
feel me trembling?
Do you feel my warm rush,
way up deep deep deep
inside your Heavenly gorgeous-body,
between your quivering thighs?
Ohhhh my God,
Alleluia,
do you see
the rising sun?
I can see it
in your incredible eyes
looking up and down
at me...
slay me please,
I can hear flowers sing,
I am born again!

That ***** was tough,
I mean,
she was picturesque,
a sweet
beautiful
f'n sight to behold.
Not too old,
but old enough
for frisky business.
She stood straight up,
with her back
to the crowd
facing the bar
grasping double-****** whiskies.
She was a freaking shooter,
rapid fire witchery,
hoisting them up
like there would
be no tomorrow.
And they didn't seem to phase
her neon azure mop
or the devil tats flipping birds
on her shoilders,
she was practiced,
certainly well-versed.
Her pendulous *******
were heaving,
both of them mightily,
covered with her sweat,
and red,
some yellow roses.
I loved her platforms,
plasticene white,
with jeans like leopards
exposing her lace
and fineness.
Jesus,
where do they make 'em
like her...where?

Foggy days in absentia
Caught in the ripples of a memory
The sparkling bay laps the sand
Soaking in the love
Tanning in the brightness of a smile
Living behind closed eyes
Where the heart is full
And the soul lives with its mate
In that bliss, glowing red
That is where eternity continues
Bliss found in a gaze
Perfection in a kiss
sigh, foggy days in absentia