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j-wallace-larwoodPoems
Moist and monochrome, clouds are gathering On a Sunday afternoon. Look up idly from my browsing, at the building 'cross the pool Winds picks up, the monsoon breezes Lick at the curtains twelve floors up On the terrace, woman standing Arms outstretched, grasp the rail Legs stressed back, footloose in sandal Lightly muscled, slightly formed Kimono slips from lighted shoulder, designer ****** strawberry brown Fabric glides across the hip-line Revealing all to me below Wearing nothing on the landing Hint of shadow, ***** mound. From the sliding doors behind her Steps a man not quite unseen Waist encircled in one movement, undergarment stripped away Rigid stillness then the thrusting Tension mounting at the breath Woman gasps the O shape forming Through her silent, varnished lips Mahler moaning on the ITunes Waves are forming, silent sound Thrusting, busting, flexing, ******* arching back crescendo reached Sun comes out, just at that moment Roads diverging in the wood Disconnecting, and uncoupling Might and maybe, aught and should Trembling  fingers, taught in temper Blink the eye and pop the top Shaking hands that hold the taper, to the unformed smoking spliff **** the wreaths in, breathe the thought out Bottle clinks across the teeth Unbelieving, unconcealing Unrelieving, unreleased
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Apr 23, 2013
Apr 23, 2013 at 6:15 AM UTC
Not Quite Unseen
Moist and monochrome, clouds are gathering On a Sunday afternoon. Look up idly from my browsing, at the building 'cross the pool Winds picks up, the monsoon breezes Lick at the curtains twelve floors up On the terrace, woman standing Arms outstretched, grasp the rail Legs stressed back, footloose in sandal Lightly muscled, slightly formed Kimono slips from lighted shoulder, designer ****** strawberry brown Fabric glides across the hip-line Revealing all to me below Wearing nothing on the landing Hint of shadow, ***** mound. From the sliding doors behind her Steps a man not quite unseen Waist encircled in one movement, undergarment stripped away Rigid stillness then the thrusting Tension mounting at the breath Woman gasps the O shape forming Through her silent, varnished lips Mahler moaning on the ITunes Waves are forming, silent sound Thrusting, busting, flexing, ******* arching back crescendo reached Sun comes out, just at that moment Roads diverging in the wood Disconnecting, and uncoupling Might and maybe, aught and should Trembling  fingers, taught in temper Blink the eye and pop the top Shaking hands that hold the taper, to the unformed smoking spliff **** the wreaths in, breathe the thought out Bottle clinks across the teeth Unbelieving, unconcealing Unrelieving, unreleased
To those that inquired: pure if unintentional voyeurism. It happened rather quicker than the verses indicate; I'm not sure I could have looked away even if I'd chosen to. Intensity is always compelling! They say that 'character is how you behave when no-one else is watching'. Not sure what that says about them. And about me...
Written by
j-wallace-larwood
Apr 23, 2013
Apr 23, 2013 at 6:15 AM UTC
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