Somebody, for his silk-soft ***,
would need a golden toilet
to sit on, cozily smoking grass,
though "the pigs might easily spoil it";
a man of action he surely was,
notwithstanding his qualms (because
raised by nuns) he lent his hand
to the saving of treasures of the land.
(Far-fetched though the role of the late PM be,
he sure would have farted contentedly.)


https://edition.cnn.com/style/article/uk-blenheim-palace-gold-toilet-scli-gbr-intl/index.html

When Harry met Meghan, he held his breath,
would write her a poem, if only he could,
and no one else would he love till his death,
and bowed and smiled, as a gentleman should.
And she, in her sheer, unexpected joy,
would admit to herself: "Such an interesting boy!
Now, what can we do with those years ahead?
Watch each other´s eyes, and share our bed!"


(May 2018, ©  JVT Jensson)

Where are you taking me?
     To the Garden of Eden!
Why are you shaking me?
     As we danced in Sweden!
Am I still all you've got?
     I would think so, my dear!
|:  O, leave me then not,
     as you are so hot,
     my love.  :|

Katarzyna, you passed me, on legs so slender,
beautiful ! –– guess you are really tender
at peaceful moments, sitting with me,
sharing a sofa most comfortably,
and I know from the glances and words so few
        between me and you
on the pavement and there, in the bakery,
that you might be such a good friend for me!

That Poltava Lady Elena
would rather stay in her dress
for the very first day at least !
I've neither got AIDS nor eczema,
and tend not to make such a mess
as before, though still such a beast!

O, mightn't we join our forces
happily through the campaign
of life, in our fearless way?
And riding Arabian horses
would suit us----see El Alamein?
and so many a beautiful day.

How are you there, my fair one?
Ready to talk with me?
Sweet your tattoo! I knew that
suits you just admirably.
Soft on your neck I'd place my
kiss for you, maiden of love.
O you have got such grace. My!
such blessing from heaven above!

    

d27xi19

Miss Elegantina's charms I have seen
displayed in the West of Town.
O, wouldn't this belle, so blonde, suit well
this Johnian in his gown?

This is the one I could live off
watching how well she sings,
for whom I'd be ready to give off
my entire riches and things!

O she's got the voice as fine as
has never been heard in this land.
I could travel with her to the moon, as
to Rome and to Samarkand !

O, this would make my heart so fain,
if I could kiss you now and again,
love you with each bone and sinew,
making love, and then continue!

I'd give myself, without reserve,
to your sweet being---body, limbs
belong to you, as you may wish,
my hand's own palm then touch your ****.

If you're my fairy, I your elf,
whom would you see as happy then?
Your friend who's here, who offers all
he has : an off'ring to your heart.

No depth of soul discovered have
as yours, in what you ponder, love,
and speak to my abysmal deep.
O, might I live from nothing less,
my dear, and from your image sweet !

Gosh ! you are something–––something rather sweet !
implanted in my mind for weeks by now,
commanding all my thought, as I allow
your impact on my soul, as for a treat !
reminder, though, of even better plight,
the root of all : how you would me endow
to write in love, as fain I had to bow
to grace itself–––like Venus in the night !

Lone star, be mine, to shine for evermore,
not distant, yet, but present in my life,
from dawn till evening greeted by your light.
Not to forget : each touch, and kiss, and more !
Aware, still, of obstructions, maybe strife,
embrace I do in joy our future bright.



(Oct. 2014, © J.V.T. Jensson)

What are you so crazy about,
my ever so sweet one, to meet
your poet, to hear him greet
you? Can't you just live without
his touches, caresses, and ***?
Entrusting him with your eggs?!

My eggs in one basket (that's you!),
is that what you dream of, dear?
You being my lady here,
and loving me hotly, too?
Our house filled with laughters and joy,
as we'll have that girl and that boy?

I might have been yours now
     and sleeping beside
yourself, yes, of course, now
     as man and his bride,
indeed nothing short of
     John Donne's deep delight
when at best in his court-love,
     and into the night.



ev.12xii19

O this is really frightful
to say to a woman:
"Your shapes are so delightful,
and I'm only human!"