"lusciously" poems
#
*I was shovelling drifted snow outside today
and was overcome again
by the warmth of that beautiful,
deep feeling.
You may never understand
the need to push through the mundane
and into the deep, central Core
of the one you care most about.
For you,
in your current world, that is not attainable..
but for me.. looking at you..
I know you very much have that deeply-gorgeous,
extremely worthwhile attainability in you.
Without connecting deeply with one such as you,
I would just be sliding superficially along the surface
throughout this entire 'life' here..
Knowing there is a whole world of untapped closeness
lying just under the status-quo
of the normal 'everyday' operating level.
That is not saying we would necessarily be ******
at all
It just means that there is, sadly
such a huge amount of giving up of the Beautiful
in order to continue on skating along the surface.
That is why I do what I do, and say the things I say
late at night.
During the day, I am operating
out there on the "everyday" level.
At night, I am connecting into the unfathomable depths
of the most lusciously-beautiful gold mine I have ever known.
I can't do the "surface" thing with you, Young-love..
In fact.. I won't.
You get that in your marriage,
and pretty much everywhere else around you.
I refuse to be a part of that tremendously sad list.
You will never not be that deeply luscious gold mine..
You will never not be fully worthy of the attempt.
You want to be left alone.
.. ok.*
#
Dec 15, 2022
Dec 15, 2022 at 7:28 PM UTC
Waiting for him,
Was like a,
Mindless abyss.
I thought,
This time I should give it a shot.
Add plus venture,
Into a realm full with pleasures of flesh.
Rather waiting to lie in sepulcher.
Thence came the wooers,
On horses, chariots, planes and cars,
Courted me to the foreign lands of brand new emotions.
Greasy, exotic, curious and even obscure ,
To satiate my hunger,
They poured,
And I sinfully devoured.
Ooooh!
A whip here.
Ouuch!
A tickle there.
Aahhhhh!!
The sheer unfolding of their classy work.
Every night lusciously they came,
Wrapped me in an awe of satire, skepticism and imagination,
Not to say of the bruises they gave,
Tears I shed of Anger,Pain ,Love and Hate.
Still I followed them blindly and agape,
Because a new world in me was taking shape.
Of Shakespeare, Freud, Tolstoy, Eliot, Byron, Wordsworth and my then fav,
the great Gabriel Garcia Marquez.
A medley of fantasy, fact-fiction, comedy, realism and romance.
Oh!
What not I chanced upon.
All emphasizing emotion, imagination, scientific and natural thought.
There was no stopping of these gnawing hunger pangs,
None lasted more than a one night stand.
The foolish me, unaware, cascaded in the fatal encounters,
Not knowing the pangs are of soul to reach the supreme ******
Thence came a Seer
The Prophet,
The Wanderer,
The Forerunner,
It was as if he can rip me with his thoughts,
And see my soul through that tear…..
I distinctly remember that divine night,
The moment I held him in my desirous hands,
I was no more in dual fight.
Things started falling into place,
Was no more in that abysmal space.
Still I would say,
It’s a current phase.
This soon would also evade.
New Lover ,
For every new night…
To cut a long story short,
Just so,
Because of your low attention span,
The lover, the poet , the wooer
Was the great
Khalil Gibran.
Jul 5, 2010
Jul 5, 2010 at 1:05 PM UTC
Too much synchronicity...
I feel you.
Your touch, your taste, your kiss, your skin.
Knocking me is the way to go, just put our lips together, and blow.
Baby, just breathe on me.
Blow on my soft flesh and kiss.
Lubriciously, lusciously, lustfully.
Breathe on my taste, my touch, my sin.
We don't even need to be physical, tonight, my senses don't make sense at all.
Our imaginations...
Take it in, let it out...
Baby, just breath on me.
Seductively, sensually, sexually.
We don't even need to touch, just breathe.
Baby.... **** yeah.
(Moans)
Feel my sin as it's desire that I unleash.
Magnitude, corresponding with your aching thought of impure lustful intention.
Intention, feel me grasp onto your every nerve with my non-physical touch.
Caress me, hold me, baby, don't even **** me, just breathe onto my neck, my shoulder, my breast, my stomach, my ***** my thigh, my legs, my ***
Can you feel it?
As I mind **** you, it's that tingling sensation I release.
Aaaaaaah, baby, stop, and just breathe.
May 16, 2019
May 16, 2019 at 7:26 AM UTC
Oh Joy, Oh Great Heavens Above,
How I like to lingeringly slaver o'er
The fartleberries hanging humunguously
Out of your **** cleft like bunches of mouldering grapes,
And to gaze upon the lusciously stale shitstains
Decorating your hirsute **********
You so rarely wash and your dumps are omnipotent
And you are too mean to buy any **** wipes.
You moan quite loudly in colonic ecstacy
As I plumb the Stygian depths of your sit-upon place,
My nose diving daintily like a woodpecker's beak
Smeared with poo-bits, seeking Nirvana
In your ****** paradise, brown love-tunnel
Serenaded by the poets since Time began!
Nowhere in all the Hershey Universe can there be
A pongier rimmee than you, O unshaven beauty of mine!
My probing tongue is covered with nutty brown paste,
Your sweet excremental delight makes me drool
In joy, as I personhandle myself "down there";
Ignoring the most elemental rules of hygiene.
But sadly there is a fly in the ointment
Indeed a whole ******* barrelful of them:
Not only will I get a very nasty E-coli infection
But I'll have bad breath tomorrow at chapel.
Mar 11, 2015
Mar 11, 2015 at 1:45 PM UTC
#
.
*To feel things as deeply and as multi-layered as you do-- instantly and all-together, at once.. is to live a life that is far too often right on the edge of temptation, right on the edge of falling. The Art of holding on to who it is that you are, is to never betray that beautiful Self of yours.. whether in word, or deed.. at any given time. Ok it is to f e e l things as deeply as your luscious body and spirit so fully can, but as you already so clearly know.. certain "acting on's" can create such havoc within and to the things (people) you find important.
. .
That being said, a form of self-betrayal also is to deny yourself the beautiful Gift of fully feeling at all.. in order to help keep a peace that will forever come at the cost of who you truly (fully, within yourself) are.. even if it were to be acted out all alone on the edge of your bed.. or even against the back of a couch. In the world of Magic and Deep Deep, Beautiful Feeling, there is always a place for the win-win within you, and also within the world that you currently live in, over there.
You are an artist. An artist F E E L S.
The Universe will always, always help you find a way.
Always. xox
. . .
You are far too strong and stubborn to ever fully give up. That, I know. There is also a 'weakness' within you that hinges around the word "Vulnerability" when the Beautiful world of Magic overwhelms and then truly overtakes you. Your spirit's receptors are far too deeply intertwined into the gorgeous molecules of that lusciously-Responding body of yours. That makes your Path (your "Portion") that much more difficult to endure. There is a tremendous aloneness (loneliness) in living a life that has to so often be subdued, solely due to the consequences within others that truly do not understand. What you need most of all.. is simply to be Understood.. yes, Kid.. within all of that seemingly tremendous complexity of feelings and experiences.. your brilliant complexity of mind.. and the succulence of body that so gorgeously feels.. Everything.
It is not a "Curse", young Love.
It is a beautiful, beautiful Blessing.
. . . .
Surround yourself (if you can) with those who understand (because they struggle within the "Deeply Feeling" world as much as you). It is in no way an act of unfaithfulness (in any way whatsoever) to fully feel. Finding for yourself the most beautiful of Releases within those Moments of deep feeling is the beginning of your way 'out'.. and (so very lusciously), the way through. You are so very worth your own fighting for.. in order to hold on to every single part of who it is that you are.
Every single beautiful part
(and those within you that you currently "think" are not beautiful)*
#
Aug 28, 2023
Aug 28, 2023 at 8:29 PM UTC
yes, of course I know your name
you're the girl who always dances
no matter who might be around
can't forget someone like you
you're the girl who always dances
around the house with a smile
can't forget someone like you
a beautiful body like yours, dancing
around the house with a smile
I imagined myself with you
a beautiful body like yours, dancing
writhing in ecstasy on my bed
I imagined myself with you
breathing your essence as you're
writhing in ecstasy on my bed
my roommate was the lucky fellow
breathing your essence as you're
laying wrapped inside his arms
my roommate was the lucky fellow
a treasure locked behind his door
laying wrapped inside his arms
you must have glistened like a gem
a treasure locked behind his door
kept hidden from my hungry eyes
you must have glistened like a gem
your lusciously pale skin forever
kept hidden from my hungry eyes
oh, how I long to hold and caress
your lusciously pale skin forever
no matter who might be around
oh, how I long to hold and caress
yes, of course I know your name
Apr 20, 2011
Apr 20, 2011 at 8:47 PM UTC
Imagine if nobody felt pain?
Would any of us be left sane?
Why do I say so?
Because once upon a time,
There lived a stranger.
In order to quench his thirst,
He drank boiling water.
And to quench his hunger,
He lusciously chewed his mouth.
Once upon another time,
A little girl lived in a famine.
The night-snake came and bit her.
But unlike you, she didn't throb.
And deemed that he was simply playing
Both of those people plunged into pain.
Yet, they never felt pain.
Instead, they unknowingly became inhumane.
So thank God for having a conscious brain.
Jul 24, 2021
Jul 24, 2021 at 2:38 PM UTC
You told me my colors clashed
But I think them more to dash
and lash out
at passersby to sing and scream,
to shout
to sigh and shrug,
to let it all out
To breathe real deep and hold it there
my chest the spectrum swells to a tear
dulls, pallids, dry and opaque
to sing and scream, to shout,
to shake.
Violently to wake.
Violently vaporize voluptuously
from lustful lucidity lusciously
to chromatically color kaleidoscopically
and wake.
Silently shake and to...
Brilliantly Break.
Such a brilliant break, the day's.
To shatter smoothly in calm collision
through the dripping dew, the haze
Oh the grip of you, the taste
Such a fantastic fission
Illuminate
Such a drastic decision
in a dreamstate.
Such a calm collision.
You told me my colors clashed.
*Your eyes, my sinking shrine
A wishing well in Town Square
filled with hope and change over time
Long and Loving I would sweetly stare
copper glowin' fine
Your eyes, at the present, you forgot to mention
what new love with my coins did you buy?
Your eyes, at the present, you forgot to mention
was my wishing well shrine emptied in the night?
Your eyes, at the present, you forgot to mention
why void of shine, lined with lies?*
You told me my colors clashed
Your eyes, though sublime,
Maybe Mis-matched.
Sep 16, 2011
Sep 16, 2011 at 1:30 AM UTC
Fantastically fashioned fingers,
running smoothly through hair;
past present post-
Father Time struck by Sand Man's stare.
Heavenly hanging hair,
draping gently over lips;
tantalizing teasing tendrils-
Aphrodite's mien, Venus' hips.
Lusciously loving lips,
smiling softly at wandering eyes;
delirious delighted daze-
Pyramus and Thisbe's kiss--butterflies.
Efficaciously effervescent...
enchantingly endearing...
enticingly euphoric...
exultantly excited...
[Simply] ethereal! Eyes,
diamonds, starlight, life, of Earth, sky, and sea;
bejeweled boundless bless'ed-
If thou were Medusa, stone I'd be so readily.
Simply said Shakespeare,
thou art the sun;
falsely framed fairness-
for the sun is not brightest,
tis You tis You,
my wonderful, beautiful One.
Jun 24, 2014
Jun 24, 2014 at 4:09 PM UTC
it's been three sour months of sobriety
and unfulfilled
sensuality
But I see Lucy still remembers where
all of my
favorite places to be touched are
She sends me soaring
Fumbling.
Tumbling wildly toward
her body. a sacrificial offering
A new flavor on my lips
A feather soft breath across
my hips
****
I'm afraid if i whispered too loudly
I'd disturb the rhythm
of her technicolor love
And Lucy loves me so
lusciously
Dec 24, 2012
Dec 24, 2012 at 8:17 PM UTC
There is
a ripeness
pending.
It stares at
me in the face,
unblinking,
like an animal
ready to pounce.
It drinks in
my psyche,
my blood
pumping
in its wild, tender veins.
It soaks up
the vitality
clamoring
within me, like
a tornado
about to break force,
winds gathering
tightly under moonlight
a cosmic dam about
to burst.
It is a spell
cast into wilderness,
pristine and untouched,
yet longing for fulfillment
an undoing
of the senses
a subconscious unraveling
that journeys into
unknown vistas
with no map
Perhaps the
only real guidance
is each fine-tuned
sensibility in turn:
Eyes taking in the colors
within pulsing electricity
as they merge
and re-separate
into distinct tinctures
of luminosity
Ears welcoming
the instruments
of our bodies
as they writhe in tune
with acoustic passion,
hearing the cries of
wolf and owl whispers
of trees deeply
reverberating into nightfall
Smell, to inhale
the muskiness of earth
the salt of sea
the crisp dusk of fire
and your pinelit, animal scent
familiar yet far
tracing me to you
like predator to prey
in magnetic vortex
Touch,
to hold the
strands of my being
in place, steadied
by mahogany and silk
soft and solid at once
as the rhythms of storm
rock the house
And then:
Taste
to lusciously peel back
the layers of
our essence
letting them brew
in their own juices
as they gather
upon the tongue
in an effulgent stream:
sweet merging with salt
pleasantly sour and piquant
with understanding
whetting appetites
in a sumptuous feast
of enlightenment
that only shows us how,
in both primitive and
ethereal awareness,
we had known this
was going
to happen
all our
lives
Jul 26, 2016
Jul 26, 2016 at 8:32 PM UTC
The ephemeral memory of your fragrance
fills my mind with such an amorous longing,
Alluring my senses, anticipated bliss.
More intoxicating than wild lavender,
it invades my conscience.
The purest hint brings you close once more,
as if I nested my head against your chest,
listening to your steady heartbeat,
I am again embraced by your arms,
as I am lusciously reminded
of the evenings of passion
_When we were a whole world ourselves._
Feb 12, 2019
Feb 12, 2019 at 3:06 AM UTC
What does it matter to you?
My screams mean nothing to you.
Clawing, scratching, scrambling
for something, anything to cling to.
****** fingers and blind eyes;
no one else can hear these cries.
My mind: shattered, broken, defeated,
smeared on the floor for all to see.
The only voice I hear in the dark -
my Demon with his painful remarks.
Words ring off the walls; he speaks
velvet Lies into my ears for weeks.
Humanely malicious;
he tears my mind asunder.
Lusciously venomous;
he drags my broken body under.
There is no cure, no escape;
he is my twisted fate.
When I am vulnerable, he crawls to my side.
There is no one to tell me otherwise.
So what does it matter to you?
My screams never meant anything to you.
Jun 23, 2010
Jun 23, 2010 at 11:01 AM UTC
~with thanks to T. Riddle for the inspiring photos~
there are color photos of budding nascent fruits,
an unexpected delivery to the eye’s inbox
exuding new youthfulness in
variegated shades of green
and
solitary ant traveler on a leafy space shuttle,
making its way, crossing galaxies
drinking from eye-drop seas
living off the land
and
life bursting out unreservedly asking for
no favors, nor recompense but to
breath, drink of soil nutrients,
to live to give back more
than it takes
and
to be chosen, plucked, torn from its environs,
to be the fruit of sustenance and a
delivery system to pass on its
**** tasty, enhanced flavors,
its seeded progeny the
chance to same
and
the ant travels on and about fearless,
its mini-size and sure footed body
leaping leaf to leaf to live and
to be fruitful and
multiply
and
multiple multipurposed prayers multiply,
of human origin, as humans blink at the
new-life miracles repetitious, wistfully
wishing every prayer, could be
answered thusly so lusciously
but
this it cannot be always, so we accept
as best we can, small proofs,
of regeneration, life eternal,
wetting browned, dark
soil with blotches of
salty damp-tears
encased within a
moment~eased
hopeful heart
Jun 8, 2024
Jun 8, 2024 at 7:53 AM UTC
Lemmings living lusciously in tiny boxes all the same – splashes of color
the whirring buzz of a paved path lures them like fish to their shiny frames
drab claims to a cube – clickty clack,
guffaw guffaw goes the lemming in cube 102
cube 104 pounds and releases, click click click, whirring slides overwhelm the brain of the lemming.
Beep beep beep,
ring ring ring,
millions of delicate digital lemmings walking off cliffs
plummeting to their pasteurized expiration
glued to more tiny shiny brightly lit boxes wanting verbosity and novelty
superficial thoughts grasp until every little living lemming wanders into the last chest,
the box made of satin, and silk, hammered shut and dropped into a rectangle mounded with dirt.
What comes next – nothing but more lemmings living in smaller boxes to their expiration dates
Oct 29, 2015
Oct 29, 2015 at 8:08 PM UTC
She was built,
shorter than the other buildings,
but stands just as tall.
She was designed to be
thinner,
as it would just fit.
Her long winding curves,
stretching lusciously
into the great blue sky.
Sabatino,
or what I like to,
call her:
Kelsey.
Her smile a grin
of reflective bright
sunlight.
This was how she was modeled,
crafted with the finest:
Marble,
Steel,
Wood,
and Stone.
As if Michelangelo
or Da Vinci,
came back to chisel this
monument to beauty.
Not because they can,
because they must.
I may walk past this building
everyday,
on my way to work,
coffee,
school.
But one day,
I will christen the lips
of her sounding entrance.
That day I
will be as tall as her.
A titan of concrete,
of steel.
A titan that controls my
imagination,
time,
and heart.
Mar 21, 2012
Mar 21, 2012 at 10:33 AM UTC
Your lovely eyes(widened by a surgeon's knife) in happiness shine,
those pouting lips sure contain some fillers,to make them lusciously full,
and the make up that creates an aura,I can't fail to notice , is subtle,
yet, I hope the beauty invisible is pristine still in your tranquil soul.
Jul 4, 2015
Jul 4, 2015 at 6:47 AM UTC
Her beauty is amplified by her unrefined exterior
She lays, submerged in allure
This woman has tresses that gently border her expression,
Composing a visual so tempting
A toasted complexion fused with almond designed eyes, a petite nose, and lusciously plump lips
Her skin, maintains silky to caress throughout her full physique
From her significant *******
To her fleshy abdominal region she has been drenched in gorgeousness
Her restricted territory receives my adoration along with her limbs stretched atop our mattress
This Woman is my lover, my friend, and my everything
She is flawed in all the right places, with loveliness through and through
To craft the most stunning woman I have ever set eyes on
May 29, 2014
May 29, 2014 at 2:39 PM UTC
Beautiful dreamer
Captivating my heart
Words that fill my soul
to completely overflow
Smiles that glisten
like water on my skin
The longing to touch you
eternal bliss, entice me
To breath you in
Savoring every scent
Thy lips are of the purest
most delicate desire
Sweet, soft, and lusciously
moist, my body hungers
The eyes of passion
leave me in curious wonder
Contemplating the depth
of a single stare
Knowing my heart beats
for you, without doubt
If for just one moment,
to stand before you, amazed
To fall softly into your heart,
into your soul
To dwell forever more,
loving you always, beautiful dreamer.
Jul 11, 2010
Jul 11, 2010 at 10:38 AM UTC
She says she has none,
but her daddy issues run deep.
She pops pills and binges on tequila
to feel empowered and alive.
Intoxication controls her
and she gets behind the wheel.
The possible danger, legal ramifications;
they do not matter.
She wants the fleeting source to fill the void.
Her actions are impulsive, flighty
she is always searching...
searching....
searching...
She licks her lips, lusciously seductive
and gives away the milk.
The cows move too quickly now,
even for cows.
Then here comes the Crazy Parade
led by the depressed conductor.
Disoriented mutterings, ****** frustrations;
no one watches, no one cares
Her ruin is a full-time job
the 8 to 5 never ends.
She says she has none,
but her daddy issues run deep.
Apr 22, 2015
Apr 22, 2015 at 9:49 PM UTC
A shadow crossed the room
in the corner of my awareness
A cloud outside somewhere, probably,
but for an instant, I thought that motion was you.
Thoughts of you are casually intrusive.
Maybe you’d crawled into my luggage - and hidden.
There’s a complex birthday-candle wish.
Desire owes no deference to logic
When I think of you, my tummy becomes warm satin and I know,
that in your hands, I could be boneless and lusciously obedient.
For a while, anyway.
I remember us at the beach, lounging in deep parasol shade,
how your tanned skin glistened with tiny beads of sweat
and your endless legs stretched out like a centerfold’s.
Or you pulling me up out of the pool, one-handed, effortlessly,
with enough force that I briefly flew, and how you’d gently guide me down.
“What are you doing?” I’m virtually slapped out of my ****** fantasy, by Lisa, who’s standing, exasperated, sandaled toes tapping, purse in hand.
“Daydreaming,” I answered weakly, as I jumped up to get myself ready.
Has it only been four days since I left you?
I already feel tragically underheld.
.
.
A song for this:
Ain't it a shame by The B-52s
Locked Inside by Janelle Monáe
Jun 28, 2024
Jun 28, 2024 at 8:34 AM UTC
Poetry
is the
buzz of bumblebees
as they extract
the mellifluous nectar
of the tulips
blooming in my mother's
backyard.
Poetry
is the
taste of a brain freeze
pumping hard against my skull
as strawberry ice cream
melts into my
tongue.
Poetry
is the
way it sounds
when I hear the soft strums
of an impromptu banjo
tune.
Poetry
is the
odor of
freshly lit candles,
as the light swells full
with smells
of relaxation
on a sultry
afternoon
in bed.
Poetry
is the
pang of loneliness
a lover feels
as they are engulfed
by
absence.
Poetry
is the
sting of pain
as I bite my lip
hard
to keep from
screaming.
Poetry
is the
tinge of sensations
of
throbbing,
quivering,
and
detonating
with a forceful
heave of
breath.
Poetry
is the
scent and hum
as the coffee ***
vibrates,
emitting
a sweet aroma
to lift the
early morning
fog.
Poetry
is the
grin that washes
from left to right
across a face
jubilant
with
appreciation
and
admiration.
Poetry
is the
senses jolted,
the
emotions experienced,
the
moments lived.
Poetry
is the
laughter,
the
tears,
the
yelps,
the
moans.
Poetry
is the
harmonizing,
the
intertwining,
the
dreaming.
Poetry
is the
anguish,
the heartbreak,
the failures.
Poetry
is the
catharsis,
the felicity,
the obstacles overcome.
My world,
your world,
our world;
it is the poetry,
flowing rapidly,
lusciously
from my ballpoint pen.
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 10:12 PM UTC
If you have to deceive and weave at KLCC a lie,
CCB it seems quite clearly queer?
For I a wombless woman shed no monthly blood,
A graceless mother mary, devoid of long enough hair,
"click clack" sounds draw eyes of jagas and makciks to stare,
Looks like the loudest color is blue
For murmurs and whispers make it seem queer,
That id let vampiric brastraps brand me as they drink my blood,
A silent gap beneath my beneaths;here be nothing but hair,
a masquerade designed to stop or lessen the gradient of stares,
This is to stop me from turning blue,
choked/drowned/beaten : price of the lie
the penalty of a razor blade slices skin shedding tears of blood,
Streaking down legs and pits,for the sake of the lie,
Maybe i **** at shaving AHAHAH or maybe im not queer (after all),
For i am a mask;in heels blue,
a formless being; marked by long hair
yet formed enough to elicit stares
As mascara and eyeliner streak across face,yonder disheveled hair,
Calls "kopi O s
panas anneh" in baritone voice amidst stares,
The heels click,ocean blue,
Color of the body in these fears derived from commonality:drained of blood,
Tis no pontianak nor hantu raya,but tis is I, an antromorphised lie,
The mask that bends and folds to the will of anachronistic archaic norms that i shouldn't be queer
I live in fear, bounded by a 1000 eyed wall that stares,
A whispering congregation, "Ah gua? Bapok, Gay, ****** as these words stream around me, a river blue,
This blows as I don't like to fib, ( im Catholic u see) so i won't lie,
I AM NOT A BOY BUT IM A GIRL WHO'S QUEER
the length of hair gender markers none as it's just ******* hair
A woman I am; hear me roar; in my heels blue,
Locks; flowing lusciously; binding one norm: gender =/= length of hair,
Empowerment is built upon this premise: 'what me worry,what me care, go to hell with your stares",
I'm no Marsha I'm no Slyvia i wont lie,
But one things for certain : " im here and im queer"
Bruises and burns bear no marks for there is no spilt blood
Jul 8, 2018
Jul 8, 2018 at 12:08 PM UTC
Solely and only upon yonder radiance,
Hovering in awe as it dims,
The moonlight, as it shuts the fireflies,
And the butterflies fade white lo!
Allow me to look,
To fixate my gaze upon thee,
To let my heart stray,
Just for once in all times myriad….
Because I see thee flaring red,
Violet too, as it shimmers,
In which I failed to see,
A star thought fallen,
One that escaped me,
And too, my conscience shaken….
“And how I’d wish to hold you tight,
To have your all mine, just for the night….”
The very strand of your rivering crown,
As it entangles hearts and souls,
One dash too many, leaving damsels frown,
Envious, as all their knights growl….
“The first sight of thee, yonder hair as it flows,
As it compels winter’s first sunrise….”
Grant me entrance,
Paint me audacious, if you will;
To have not a mere peek,
But thy naked soul I seek!
Verily, how I’d wish to stay,
Before yonder glistening complexion,
One elegant, another meekly laced,
Innocence, complexity, and beauty,
Verses, songs, and poetry,
O lovely, how it leaves me entranced!
“Thy very eyes, jewels a pair, the brightest of all.”
And as it brought me deep,
Far under fairly steep,
Sweetly enticing, it tempts,
Lusciously as it draws,
Nearer towards I; O guilty bliss!
As I fell enchanted to its scent,
To its vermillion charm I vent,
How red and velvety!
O how I’d wish to feast upon it!
“I vow to consume it whole, bitter sweet to its very
pith. Thy lips verily, Scarlet’n glossy!”
As I would see the whole of you,
Violet as it engulfs, thy ***** a hand,
And deep onyx as it taints thy stand,
A fair column as it braces; O grassy font!
Fair'n sleek, allow me to quench my thirst within!
"As I would keep you on sight, I'll etch it through. Your very stature, yonder silhouette divine."
As I bid thee fair well,
Eternal in a night myriad....
"My lady in violet,
Tonight, you look gorgeous."
Feb 17, 2016
Feb 17, 2016 at 12:00 AM UTC