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Dinara Tengri Feb 23
My hair is not a raven's wing,
A wave of black, a river whose
treacherous shores
you long to explore.

My ******* are no doves: soft and fluttering;
No Promised Land of milk and honey:
there is no one to welcome you home.

My stomach is not a valley of wonders
leading to a treasure so many men
have died for.

My eyes are not slanted windows to some
ancient Eastern wisdom; no obsidian pools
that many great warriors have drowned in.

My features are not exotic
My skin is not silken
My soul is not unknowable
My mind is not inscrutable
And my body is not your muse.
Marco Jun 2020
You and I, handcrafted in lust,
borne of sea and blood -
you, of Aphrodite,
and I, of Ares.
The violence of your love
destined to be matched only
by the tenderness of my violence.

And my hands, war-given, strong,
made for battle,
grow soft at your hips, and
softer yet at the cliff of your thighs,
as they crash softly in the bay in-between.
And how these hands long for you, my child of goddess,

long for you like the armor of my chest longs
for your sweet mouth,
longs for your gentle fingertips
in the calm before the storm.
The passion of your tenderness a momentary reprieve
before I go to war;

and when I go, oh, the power that overcomes me,
and the weapons I will bring,
and the blood I will draw.
In the fashion of my father, as he tied Aphrodite's hair
in his fist, and
as he broke down her barriers, claiming her city,
her temple,
her soul.

The lullaby of her moans
reminiscent in your voice,
my favorite sound and
my chosen battle cry.
Velvel Ben David Apr 2020
She waited my table at a dive joint
I noticed her first when I came in
Whatever my type of woman is
She was it

Not wearing any make up
She had nothing to hide
She grabbed me by the ear
She had me

She was either sculpted by
The Gods, or by Buonarroti
Or earth-shaking love making
There she was

I slowly drank in all her features
And stylish clothes she wore
Scanning her from her head down
I found it

Of the gems she was adorned with
The one that struck me most
Was one on her left hand
Ring finger

I didn't envy the man too much
In fact, I took it as a challenge
I could tell by her grin
She was wicked
TOD HOWARD HAWKS Feb 2020
What is a life but a second with you
in a room with no furniture but our
bed. We shed our clothes as though
they are our past and I lift you gently
onto white linen sheets. I shudder
with excitement as I slide beside
you, your golden hair a trail from
your naked hips to your turgid *******,
pink as cherry blossoms, ***** as
Spring’s harbinger, white crocuses
sprouting by a winter’s stream. I
dream of you even as I’m with you,
stroking your gracious, lissome arm.
I give your neck a kiss. I wish not
to miss any part of you. I am on
a journey of love and your body
beautiful is my destination. Though
I have traveled this path before,
every movement of the palm of
my hand feels anew. I caress
your tender ******* that elicits
moans like voices of heaven’s
angels that give wing through
our gift-giving of ****** sharings.
Now it is time to touch your soul,
the epicenter of your being. I am
seeing again the provenance of
your goodness and greatness
that complement your pulchritude.
I am blessed by your spirit. We
are untrammeled when the two
of us make unending love.

Copyright 2020 Tod Howard Hawks
A graduate of Andover and Columbia College, Columbia University, Tod Howard Hawks has been a poet and human-rights advocate his entire adult life. He recently finished his novel, A CHILD FOR AMARANTH.
Jack Torrance Jan 2020
Panting and moaning,
your breath in my ear.
Running my hands,
over fabric so sheer.
The touch of your skin,
so warm and smooth.
Exploring your curves.
and every groove.
You’re biting my lip,
while I pull your hair.
gasping and sweating,
but neither of us care.
Silky and soft,
my fingers explore.
You grind against me,
like waves in a shore.
Grabbing your hips,
you match my pace.
Kissing me deeply,
enjoying the taste.
Harder and harder,
both holding our breath.
The ****** finally comes,
as I’m deep in your depth.
You’re clawing and scratching,
your nails down my back,
and screaming my name,
begging me “please Jack”.
Now we’re breathing hard,
and you shudder under me.
Enjoying the moment,
of pure ecstasy.
Elizabeth Jul 2019
Lying in the ground, entangled,
lost in a thoughtless trance-
there is no need to hide,  
I shut my eyes.
Seduced by the sight of color,
persuasive in its attempt to bridge us together.

We are lured in,
there are no promises,
no specter of thought.
Remind me its today.

The cold ground beneath,
carrying the weight of my tender heart,
unshackled by the grip of your starving hands; touch me.
Your hand slowly slip under my skirt,
pulling down my sweet intimate.
A sensational rapture,
—loud as the clouds,
a maddening sound.
Envelop the day like a tension film
--desperate to penetrate the savage sun,
Foolish, undoubtedly foolish.
serenade me under the shade, my little fire.

I could hardly breathe.
I suffer sweetly in your hands,
helpless, glued to the ground, frustrated,
annihilated by the movement of your hand,
those fumbling fingers tracing my delicate skin...
I weep your name, my darling !

I hear the world’s lust,
clandestine eyes watching us,  
Ignorant of the world were in.
Ignorant of the world I’m in,
drowning in your gaze-
I witness the world’s miracle-
Its electric than the pinnacle.

my sweet teeth.
what a sentimental thrill to be close to you this way-
gnarling, exposed for the taking.

You go deeper,
reach higher,
my toes curling,
body reluctantly surrender,
hands crawl,
knees start to shudder,
eyes start to water, I cant move.
do you hear me my lover?
I'm begging, whispering,
but this time for more.
blind me again, and again, and again.

I kiss you gently, roughly, then all at once.
The sun boiling at the palm of my hands,
holding me down in prayer,
my screams start to clutter,
body start to simmer,
lights start to flicker,
I keep my eyes shut.

I no longer need reminding.
Keep me alive in this place.
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