My dreams dance around me like shadows dance around fire pits: swishing from side to side in so seductive a manner that I am mesmerized by their show. She is a dream to me. Dancing her body of lust around me in an effort to taunt me into submission, and I dare say I'm willing to submit to her.
There is an energy that she lets off that chokes my breathing when I speak and slows my reaction when our hands touch, for she is the kryptonite to my superman, and I willingly dive into her piercing crystals.
From the flick of her tongue, I know she is willing, come, butterfly, I will teach you how to soar as covers fly over over your body and your mind races with the pleasures I intend to lay upon you. Tell me that your mind doesn't get lost in the lust and I will tell you how much I'd love to prove you wrong.
Oh how I long to taste your seduction. On so many an occasion I had fantasized our connection as you paraded in front of me, dancing like shadows around a pit of fire. And I would savor the sight and enjoy the release of my love that ensued once my mind became clearer and my surroundings become empty.
My young goddess of lust. Might I savor your flavor and enjoy your skin like I wish? Perhaps one day when the timing is right, I shall take you down like I have countless times before in other realities and give you the taste of pleasure you pry me for.
Maybe one day I'll pull your head back by the hair and inhale your fragrance as I begin to devour you slowly and enjoyably for the world to see. Maybe one day I'll have you lie in front of me and open yourself for my exploration.
And on that day, I want you to know that you turned me into a beast of lust as built up like the seed I would eject into you.
You have turned me into a creature addicted to your skin. Addicted to your tongue. Addicted to your lips. A monster addicted to your ***.
You shall see my broken bonds as I tear your clothes, you shall see my shattered chains as I ram you with the anger hidden inside my brain and the frustration hidden deep inside my soul represented by the bite of my serpent.
And I shall abuse you.
Perhaps you'll respect me once you get a taste of the hell I had been through chasing you. Maybe when your back is bent, legs gaping and body frozen stiff by the fear of my lightening strikes will you see how willing I was to please you.
And not until I tear you apart will my flame of evil lust be extinguished. Not until your body is red from my pinches, not until your breast ache from the pull of my lips, or until the bite marks I leave you with begin to ooze your sweet nectar of red tears, not until then will I let you go. Even then, I may lick you clean once more and send you into the world a purified being.
You are a dancer in my eyes. A dancer of shadows and a product of the pit of fire from which you were birthed. But once I have your skin in my clutches, the only fire you'll recognize is the fire in my eyes as I make you moan the world away and the smoke brings tears to your eyes.

all you did was
simply and slowly
run them in my hair

and lo and behold !
a waterfall
of joy burst open
inside me and
carried me awash to
depths of ecstasy
i had never been
and whilst
i was still ecstatic
i never saw the coming
of that soft
and surprising
kiss on my lips
which pulled me
out of my depths
and whirled me up
to heights of joy
that i had never seen.
all this while
simply and slowly
running them
in my hair.

how do you do it ?
this using of your fingers
like magical wands.

woman

you are
dazzle,

powdered
stomp of
colours,

mist dew
bright of
song,

melody
of a hum
when you
speak,

clear eyes
sparkle on
the surface,
delicate,
serene,

today you
said softly,

budge a little
in the path of  
an evening sun,
it gets into my eyes,

you shall be
the death of me,

should I be left
with words and
rhyme,

these stiff
laces of device
I call poems,

of what use
are they,

you will
not be
here,

my heart
gnaws,
twists,

caught
in perils
of desire

oh garbage
words,
you are a
beggar's
lament

be away,
let me
gaze at
her while
time benignly
spins a top,

soon it
is bound
to topple

this alphabet
string,
pearl scatter
of a necklace,

be away,
verse,

futility,

to live in
a papered
world when
loveliness
shrivels
to another
lost moment,

be away,
illusion

let me see
it as it is

her yellow
dress,

gathering
light,
her terse
shades,

her yellow
dress  

let
dreams
tarry a
little,

speckled,
hypnotized,
sunshine,  

her
yellow
dress

shall be
the death
of me

Savoring the sea salt on my lips,
I remember how it tasted on your nose,
the nape of your neck and so much more,
those delectable three months
when you were my summer man.

Having just climbed
  through ages
up what seemed an endless flight
of narrow winding gothic spiral stairs
I step out
right into the wind's brute force
   instinctively
my arms grasp for a hold
fearful lest I blend suddenly
with the white horses
and the fields of the Camargue
far down below

Wedged safely
in a nook of stone
a hefty tourist
leans out wide between the walls
toward the setting sun

her summer skirt is blown waisthigh
revealing
unexpectedly delicate lace
above sturdy thighs

her body opens
to the strong soft touch
of the Mistral

A little later
she walks past me
clothes gathered
level gaze calm  
and self-assured

and leaves me wondering
whether the mighty abbot
on his solitary tower
and his exclusive brotherhood of men
had ever understood
the wind that blew
and still blows
through two feet of stone
  like they were silk
and thrills a woman
to her bone

* * *
                                                              ­                        © Walter W. Hoelbling

Good Night  Poetry
Arc of the moon curves
as an outstretched hand
leads the way
Good Night Poetry
Arc of your back lying still
as a finger traces a line
a sheet falls away
Good Night Poetry
in motion
as two shadows become
one in the moonlit room
Good Night Poetry
no more woe in me
yet this is but a dream
misty shadows, lift as
the moon falls and as
the sun rises...alone.

She was an appetizing,
poetic proposition,
right from the opening line.
No way to keep
that veiled suggestion,
curtained off from
my window of attention.
Then I decided---
in slow time
ate that sensual  creation
in total self- absorption.
Couldn't help speeding up when
the crescendo of culmination began.