"eames" poems
you know exactly what you
are doing
to me
every day, of every week,
us at work
together,
knowing so little of each other,
you tease
me with the breezily
brush
of your billowy blouse,
brushed
by your sweet, soft-sleek
breast
against my arm or shoulder or back,
against me
brushing
-knowing that you do this
just to see me
blushing
just to laugh it off
in passing
as my stiff *******
belie my casual, response
my hard to stifle sigh
when you
brush
me.
-By Alexandra Eames
Aug 4, 2020
Aug 4, 2020 at 8:56 AM UTC
The first enchilada was created in the summer of 1968
In a small house near Seal Beach
In Southern California.
The house was owned by a friend of my dad's
Or my mom's
And we had gone over for dinner
I was eight
I would like to say that it was a cool beach pad
With wood paneling, all the rage back then
And an Eames recliner in the corner of the living room
I only remember the paneling
but since I am writing this
The Eames piece stays
We had gone for dinner
And the owner of the house had made enchiladas
Beef ones as I recall with sauce from a series of Old El Paso cans
I can still smell and taste them
They were the first world food I had ever had
Besides canned Chinese food from the supermarket which doesn't count
And because I loved them with their ground beef and sauce
Their hot oil softened corn tortillas, sour cream, cheese and green onion
And little tiny bits of black olive
They became the prison guards
Throwing open the gates of my suburban Connecticut upbringing
Letting me leave the confines and walk freely in the sunshine for the first time
They were followed by many other firsts
Sushi, Crepes, haggis, tiki masala and sea urchin to name a few
All of which owe their very existence in my life
To that first enchilada.
Aug 7, 2012
Aug 7, 2012 at 7:29 AM UTC
...best between my quivery, burning thighs,
gleaming and steaming my downy mound,
the air alight with my sighs,
oh, girl,
those eyes!
-By Alexandra Eames
Aug 3, 2020
Aug 3, 2020 at 10:46 PM UTC
i can only sense
you
in the words i read
today,
knowing i'll never know
you
but by my mind's eye
inner-image
bay.
-By Alexandra Eames
Aug 5, 2020
Aug 5, 2020 at 7:01 AM UTC
...like i do to me,
fingers flickering, thighs electrical quivering,
******* stiffening, hearts a-pounding,
sighs & cries sounding, orange flashes,
glistening gashes, girlish squeals throughout the night,
you touching yourself, like i'm touching myself
just so very right.
-By Alexandra Eames
Aug 3, 2020
Aug 3, 2020 at 11:49 AM UTC
oh, how i do love those pretty girl-kisses,
i dream about them every night,
those yummy, sugar girl-kisses,
soft, wet, tasty and just right.
from my first time kissed by another girl,
in our tender, early teens,
i still do love those girl-kisses,
in my day and nightly dreams.
-By Alexandra Eames
Aug 3, 2020
Aug 3, 2020 at 11:18 AM UTC
let us
do only all the things we wish we could, if our lust and love was not so secret.
not just dream but see, touch and taste the mossy nectar of our wavy
pinkish, glistening seas
above and
beneath an ocean of silken sheets.
-By Alexandra Eames
Aug 3, 2020
Aug 3, 2020 at 11:15 AM UTC
Bring me the rain,
of your always quenching
love.
Love,
love
me again
and again,
the sweetness of you drenching
me from
above,
above,
like the rain
I beg of you
to bring me
again.
--by Alexandra Eames
Aug 6, 2020
Aug 6, 2020 at 9:34 AM UTC
...i flicker my petals, now damp and tight, my coffee is done...the timing is right.
i think of you down between my thighs, i dream of your moist, precious eyes.
you are so young and so daring yet, i stroke your mound like a private pet.
a woman, a girl, a fantasy....i may not have you, but i sure can dream.
--by Alexandra Eames
Aug 3, 2020
Aug 3, 2020 at 11:12 AM UTC