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Debra A Baugh Jun 2012
As night fell, winds whispered his
name; I curled into its breeze as
each leaf danced in syllabic count
with each breath he'd breathe.

I'd smile as he'd toss and turn
emanating masculinities
ambrosia, fingertip tracing
lightly as not to awaken him,
absorbing the moment of us.

Fore, I know there'd never be
another that can arouse emotive
ruminations of him and I as I look
upon his slumbering countenance.

Wanting to slide within his warmth,
embracing the ambiance of what
we have between us, an affinity
of lifetime entwined.
abcdefg Jan 2012
The bread blushes into a golden brown,
lettuce whispering to itself in the bowl
and Frisbees of cucumber at the bottom.
Later, men will grumble satisfactory masculinities
(bertha bertha you’ve done it again)
while dishes in women’s hands
laugh their way to the sink and
the yellow light inside keeps out the pitch black
universe beyond the light splashed windows.
Debra A Baugh Jul 2013
his voice syllabic brushes
against canvas whispering
lullabyes within dreams,
lingering...

his musky fragrance flush
upon flesh, dallying like
verbs still whispering
between folds of rumpled
sheets...

every noun a soft whimper
uttered. lips openly inviting;
stirring tenderly like a breeze
echoing poetry with passion...

ensnaring heart in web of
his muse; each beat looms
copulative, sliding seductive,
awakening senses...

abandoned ache slips and I
pirouette, rippled within his
verse; succumbing to his
poetic thirst...

still whispering lush verbs
while easing between
silken sheets and breath
quickens...

as ****** of tongue licks
nouns of passion, sipping
spills as labials quiver
against tongued invasion...

and he softly murmurs across
brined flesh, touching, nibbling
trembled aches; inflaming naked
desire as each stanza seduces
me again and again...

drawn to masculinities tease
verse by verse...
I associate crushes with dread
A sinking feeling
Even as a child, choosing a crush was a source of anxiety
I chose the boys I wanted to skateboard like
And steal the smiles of

That's not exactly true
I'm retroactively choosing information to fit my current narrative
I'll try again

We all want to be liked
And feeling like one of the guys
And liking those same guys
Has always been entwined for me
There's electricity for me in that safety
Debra A Baugh Jan 2013
I met him at an audition; he kept staring at me,
I walked over introduced myself; he said he's
a musician, told him I could help with is dickion
and he whispered; I want to sip the fluency of your
elegance, in which, I smiled all giddy inside; pulled
him close and said are you wanting to luxuriate in
lips pout, he said; yes and his eyes engraved me
in his soul

he stepped back; licked my lips and flushed,
embraced love's fidgeting, bestirred in gasped
hunger he held me like a lover in a dream;
clinging to the edge of silent beggary's urgency,
I touched his heat, knew immediately I wanted
him pendulating above femininities heat

so, I coaxed him with an aubade; whispering moist
in want; his euphony he'd written upon parchment
of my heart, without thought I wanted to give in to
masculinities desire to taste and sip as he pleased

but, I held him off for awhile wanting to get to know
more of him, not wanting just a physical allurement,
eyeing him in my mind to take in the scope of his
aura; weeks passed before I would allow him to do
more than just kiss me, the physical attraction was
too strong to wait for entanglements pleasure, the
want to linger in the delicacy of us; on one of those
misty balmy still of night's; I just grasped at passion's
threshold; to drown in our muted moans

as he'd explore pout of silken lips; tasting me
as I'd taste him we savored each other's hunger
taking our time, enjoying each nook and cranny of
him and I, tongue traced my trembles from its
eruptive point between wet thighs; I  had to flip our
script so, I could taste his milky spillage as well; like
fingerprints upon thigh, we glided in out, back and
front of our hungered want of one another; sighing
in unison laying paused and breathless, our rhythm
leaves us arched in each other's curve, tasting;
losing control

frenzied, breathless in softness of sigh's every
stroke of ecstasy, lost in the rapture of love; each
kiss from head to toe told a story of love lust and
hunger, hopefully for eternity; as the days grew long
and nights got shorter, we couldn't do without one
another; one day out of the blue he popped the
question and without a doubt I said; yes!
just a short story for a contest...
Debra A Baugh Jun 2012
Bestowed whispers abound
wisping against softness;
an alluvium flows in abated
breaths, crashing into dreams
awaiting uttered sighs;
aching to taste prurience rage
as tongue besieges pout
of want, awakening soul;
melding into silky fragility
gliding across masculinities
plain, caressing in tender
fingertip forages as I'm
consumed within his essence...uncoiled
brandon nagley May 2015
Gay time parade's wherewith the colors fly high,
Masks of all columbine where artist's passeth by!!!

Temptious women wherewith two world's become one,
As shadow's read the mountains of guru's and lost son's!!!

Timeweeping keepers of pocket\switch blade's,
Wherein haircut's are riddles, as lips turn to fade!!!

Scientific genious of law's gone thwarted,
Olympian of krip-tonight,
Oh calamitous runt!!!

Enter not ,
Sais the hourglass auspices ventriloquist!!!!

All Hater's pique despite peanut buttered pies!!!

Societal havoc of sweated Baguette's,
Wherewith sweater's touch winter letter's,
Of lost cigarettes!!!

White lies are highly mounted to protect ourn outter shells,
Where hellion can possess thy inner best of masculinities feminine selves!!!!

White-out conditions,
Schemers to invention,
Taketh what thou hath.......
                                                And leave the scroll set scene!!!!
Hour
Debra A Baugh Jan 2013
Him
hands stain me soft;
fingertips graze

teasing...

gentle caresses urge
slide; tingle cascade
along spine

titillating...

firmness pulses deep,
seeping a sweet
shameless spill;
bathe in awakened
flesh

trembling...

whimpers escape,
wrapped soft in
masculinities arch

whispering...

tongue traces lobe
a slow taste; in
carnal hunger

where...

minutes tick easing
in out of velvet folds

him....
Debra A Baugh Jul 2013
light from his eyes
encompasses darkness
in moments of us

intoxicating...

stars reading our intricacies
like silk spun webs; an appetitive
effervescence allure

of promises...

as gentle breezes glide against
glistening flesh under moonlit
skies

demurely blushed...

moaned breaths, soft lips slide
licking lush curved landscape
of silken flesh

starlit eyes...

traipse a contoured pout; tasting
its beck and call as hips rise
beneath seductions ache

ravenously...

succumbing to masculinities
pull, trembling against him, naked
within his promise; deep in his
hunger

smiling within my moans...

animated ripples rush his
whispered urgency, softly; in
out pulsing deep in wet chasm

screams of pleasure erupts...

I widen across his light,
blissfully welcoming his warmth
surrendering to milky way's deluge

love blooms...

allowing moans to escape parted
lips, hands slip beneath raised
hips; slowing dips as night became
ours under star blanketed skies

in surrender we slip...

he whispers from this moment on;
it's written in the stars
i) One day I was looking around and trying to be like all the girls around me
ii) And then one day I stopped looking
And started doing what I wanted, and wearing the things people I was attracted to were wearing.
iii) And then every boy I was ever drawn to became absorbed into my identity.
iiii) I will become satisfied when I am a chameleon and a kaleidoscope of these masculinities

...Or when I become too exhausted by the process and am satisfied with the journey.
Yenson Dec 2020
At the least I am not the ghost writers
preoccupied in arid pollution
wangling the biography of one we know nowt
in devoted homage to buttress all our depravities

At least I am not the indentured servants
showing like a gratified Kapos
the coerced slaves mindless of choices or free wills
used to rake smoke and breathe in pungent acidity

At least I am not the Scaramouches
fed with fables and lies unfounded
tasked with perversions to display as useful fools
the heroes of the chicken pen and ***** of the walk only

At the least I am not the renowned thimbles
begging for redemption in obedience
proving our masculinities in showy chest-puffs
posing in thuggery attesting the villainy of Sherwood forest

At least I am the edifice to the man
who walk the walk and talk the talk
staunch in the storms because truth endures
and who in all ways stands for all you can never be

for classic mind body and soul of the renaissance being
is as far from you and yours as conscience
love and humanity was to your slave trading ancestries
and some will rather die than represent slaves or victims to you
as those stolen honourable free men and women who jumped overboard did....

— The End —