A Tale of Two
Her Story>>>>
Today was my free day and I longed for some soothing nature time. I had my picnic basket with some food and wine. I wanted to enjoy my afternoon alone. I was just standing there, waiting for the cars to pass me so I could cross the street to the park. He walked by me and the wind blew his scent right to me. He smelled like heaven on earth.
I am very familiar with many scents and this one was new to me. I watched him walk past me. He was hansom with dark hair are mysterious eyes. His hair blowing in the breeze just as mine was. I love that feeling, being caressed by the wind. Before I knew it he was out of sight. I did not see where he had gone, for I had been day dreaming of what he would be like to kiss.
I continued on my way to the park and found a nice quiet place to read my book. I laid out my blanket and flung off my shoes. I wanted to lay there under the fading sun and enjoy the wind flirting with my dress while I read. It’s a warm windy day and its perfect. I had been reading for 30 minutes before I was warmly surprised by the smell that came to me. It was the smell of the man who had passed me. I looked up and saw him; he was standing over me with a poetry book in his hand. I smiled and invited him to sit down.

He smiled and introduced himself as a fellow nature lover. He didn’t tell me his name and at this point I was so surprised by his presence that it didn’t matter. I sat up and I asked him if he would join me in a glass of wine. He comically answered that he is sorry but we both cannot fit in that glass! I laughed and poured two classes of BlackStone red. He accepted with a smile. I lay back down on my stomach with my book half-open. My heart was beating so fast, he was right here with me and I could smell him, it was wonderful. We were strangers and I had no idea how he found me or why.
"What brings you to the park today?" I asked. He didn’t answer me, he just looked into my eyes for the longest time and then slowly bent down and kissed me. I thought my heart was going to be heard for miles. Surely he could hear it! It was a very long sweet kiss, perfect in every way, as if we had been kissing each other for years. I broke my lips free reluctantly and asked him once again, "who are you?" He opened his mouth and he said, "I came to the park today because you are here" I was speechless, I didn’t know what to say.

I turned over and lay on my back ready to question him again. He was right next to me, a man out of a dream, just appearing from no where. My mouth opened to ask once again who he was and as soon as I did his lips fell to mine in a long wet kiss. He was pure heaven to touch tongues with. I was enjoying myself too much to ask him anything. I dropped my book and heard the pages flapping in the wind while we kissed. My hands made their way to his dark hair and I could not help myself, I pulled him closer to me. There was no one around; we were in no danger of being seen. He moved closer to me and held me tight. I could not brake away from his kiss, nor did I want to.
He left my lips on his own, kissing my neck. He whispered in my ear "I have been watching you for a while now". I suddenly felt a little frightened. I do not know this man at all and yet he is kissing me. He reached past me and into my picnic basket. He pulled out the strawberries and nibbled on one while staring at me. I couldn’t speak, I was staring right back and it was like he had my mind engulfed with thoughts.
He then fed me a strawberry very slowly; juice ran down the side of my mouth. He reached down and licked it off with his tongue. I whimpered, I wanted him so bad. He picked up another berry and took a big bite, the juice feel on my chest between my *******. I looked him in the eyes, smiled and closed my eyes and waited for him to lick it off me. And he did, very slowly lick it off and trailed his tongue down the length of the opening of my blouse.
He began unbuttoning me, my hand went to stop him, and he reached out and held my hand. He kissed my fingers and said, "abandon all fears". I let my hand fall to the grass and let him unbutton me. I was wearing nothing under my shirt, no bra. I felt his breath touch me on my ******, and I felt it rise to a stiff peak. He took a bite of a strawberry and left half of it on the stem. He kissed me once again, and at the same time I felt the chill of the cold half strawberry touching my ******.
This was heaven, my god I felt a trickle of my own juice run from my *****. I was whimpering while he was kissing me. He touched me so slowly and with such care. The cold berry circling my ****** and the kiss at the same time was driving me wild. He moved and began ******* the strawberry mess of my ******. I held his head to my ****** for a moment, it felt so good. I felt his hand reach for my thigh, soft and warm hand just caressing me. He found my wetness and was surprised by it.
I smiled and giggled, what could I say. He looked right in my eyes and told me I was about to get a licking I would never forget. He was very right! He knew what he was doing, and he made me *** so fast I couldn’t believe it. I was in heaven. Still quivering and whimpering I rolled over on top of him. I kissed him like he was my long lost love. I quickly unbuttoned his pants while a stared at him with glazed satisfied eyes. I moved lower and found his throbbing **** staring at me. I took him into my mouth while I stared into his eyes. I saw the thrill he was having as the moistness from my mouth mixed with the wind as I moved up and down. He tasted and felt wonderful and I couldn’t stop myself from wanting all of it for myself.
I heard the noise of pleasure comes from him and suddenly he stopped me and laid me down in the grass next to the blanket. He wanted me as much as I wanted him. He joined me and made love to me in the grass. The breeze blowing over our bodies, the currents within exploding. He stayed on top of me and started kissing me again.

I broke the kiss and I whispered to him, "Who are you?" He simply reached for the wine and smiled. He filled my glass and placed the cup in my hand while he buttoned my blouse and smiled. I sat up and looked into his eyes, why do I feel is if I know him! He bit my thigh and I jumped spilling the wine on my skirt. I ran to the water fountain to rinse it off and when I looked back he was gone. There was no way he could have left without passing me! I was stunned. I went back to my blanket and collected my things. My book was gone, he taken it. And he had also replaced it with the book of poetry he had brought with him. There was no name written in it, no sign of who he was. Just a book of poetry and a note slipped into a fitting page of love for a moment and it read ‘Meet me in the moon light tomorrow night, I will be waiting" and it was signed no longer a secret admirer.

His Story>>>>
I saw her again yesterday. This time when I went past, she seemed to notice me. Like so many days recently, she took my breath away. I remember the first time I saw her; she was wearing a **** black dressed that crossed at the front. Today, she was carrying a picnic basket.
I ducked behind a corner and watched. Who was this woman? And more important, whom is she going to have a picnic with? I followed at a safe distance and watched her unpack & prepare a picnic for one. She started reading a book and I knew she would be there for a while. I don’t know why, but I decided to backtrack and bought collection of Emily Dickinson poems before making my way back to the park. When I got back, my heart pumped hard in my chest. I could feel a throbbing in my head as the blood coursed through my brain.

Suddenly, I was only aware of our immediate surroundings. The sun caressing my face, the wind lapping at my hair. And her. She looked radiant in the dappled light of the afternoon, her hair flowing over her shoulders. Her sensuous mouth twitched every now and again as she read. Something caught her attention and she looked up at me. I was a mess. All I could come up with was that I was a fellow nature lover. I just stood there until she invited me to sit down.
Worse still, when she asked me to join her in a glass of wine, I blurted "I’m sorry, but we both cannot fit in that glass". At least she laughed and when she handed me the wine she asked why I was there. Having made a fool of myself already, I decided that actions would speak louder than words and surprised both of us by leaning forward and kissing her.
Her mouth was beautiful- soft, full lips. I could taste the wine on her lips and as my tongue gently parted them. Her mouth opened to greet mine and I took her lower lip between my lips.
She was reluctant at first but warmed to me and I felt her hand on the back of my head pulling me to her. I was no longer aware of anything but her. Nothing else mattered.
At one point she asked me again why I was there. I couldn’t believe it when I heard myself say that I had been watching her. "Great", I thought. "Don’t worry about looking foolish because now you look like a psychopath". Deciding for the second time that silence was golden, I kissed her again. Our tongues explored each other’s mouths.
I could feel her warm breath on my face and I pressed my body firmly against hers. My leg found its way between her legs as I used it to press on her *****. Reaching for some of her strawberries, I took one in my mouth and fed her the rest. I put a strawberry half in my mouth and lent forward to give her the rest. She bit into it and our lips caressed as she swallowed it. When some juice escaped her mouth and ran down her cheek, I licked it off, running my ******* trail from the base of her neck up to her mouth.
She was now irresistible; I had to have her. I undid her dress button by button. I licked berry juice from her ****** as I felt it harden under my tongue. I ran my tongue around and around her ******, then from the base of it to the tip. I felt her back arch towards me as my hand wandered down her body. The leg, which had been pressing against her *****, was damp. Her ******* were completely soaked and I was astonished to find her completely shaven as my fingers slipped under the waistband.
She opened her legs as my fingers slipped inside her. As I let my fingers caress her ****, I kissed and nibbled my way down her body. The further I moved down, the stronger her scent became. It was intoxicating and I knew that I must have her juices flowing over my tongue. My fingers slipped under her ******* and I gently pulled them down, very slowly. She lifted herself off the ground, inviting me to take them off completely. It felt like I was 6 years old and opening a Christmas present. When they slipped off her ankles, I brought her ******* to my face and inhaled deeply.
The scent hit my nostrils and went straight to primitive parts of my brain. I dropped them and immediately ran my tongue up her inner thigh towards her *****. I stopped before my tongue reached there and let her feel my breath. I enjoyed the smell while I could as I plunged my tongue between her lips and straight into her *****, the sharp tang of her juice stimulating my taste buds.
She tasted as good as she smelled. I made my tongue rigid and slid the tip of it along her ***** up to her ****. My tongue broadened as I delicately licked her **** like it was a melting ice cream. My wet fingers found her ****** and I caressed it to the same rhythm as my tongue on her ****. I felt her ****** build up and a gush of her *** soaked my chin and my chest.
I was aroused to the point of unconsciousness when she suddenly pushed me on my back and straddled me. She was quick to free my **** and took it in her mouth and looked up at me. Our eyes met in a moment that I will never forget. We both knew what was to come. Releasing my ****, she straddled me and lowered herself onto my ****. We both gasped as she opened up and slipped over my head and down the shaft, her **** grinding against my ***** bone. We kissed deeply as our bodies united and we tasted each other’s juices. When I first saw her, I thought how much I would love to **** this angel. But we were not *******, we were making love.
At last, our bodies climaxed as we ****** hard at each other, my **** slamming hard, my ***** slapping against her *******.
We lay on the soft grass in ******* bliss and she asked me again "Who are you?". I avoided the question by biting her thigh, which made her spill her wine. I took my opportunity and left, but not before swapping books with her. I left a note for her asking her to meet me tonight. Such unimaginable beauty and sensuality can only be enhanced by the moons pale light.

[In which Aphrodite ponders monogamy, 21st century style]


She’d come far since that whole Botticelli scandal,

astride a shell, hair tumbled about her ******,  

sensuality and a taste for illicit thrill (a real wild myth)

but now the candid canvas only required a google by the Book Club’s prying judgment,

she’d since traded Olympus for a semi-detached.  


All his shirts were folded, perfectly pressed,

ham and chips congealing by the microwave  

and he should have been back before Hollyoaks.  

They met in their local, he bought her a pint and mused

over Milton of all people, his degree finally put to use,

justifying the ways of God to men.  

Impressed and tipsy his back was soon against the wall, no tricks needed.  


He kissed all over her divinity,  

admired the quote encircling her ankle, from a trip round Asia

to find herself, at age nine thousand and nineteen.  

As they made love a spell fell on her for once in a millennia

Married in months, too young, well he was,  

and her face had always been twenty-two.  

Then came the mortgage, the Labrador, the kids, the affairs.  


At the bottom of a wine glass she pondered on the irony

after all what was the point of an eternity weaving passion into the world  

with your husband’s ‘lunch meetings’ equating to rolls on Travelodge sheets?

Not her style at all, too tacky.  

She could work her charms, make everything rose-tinted,  

but the bitterness intoxicated.


On the sofa, her side, she dwelled again on Botticelli,  

spilling her beauty on a page,

passion and dexterity, a lost breed- this century was so unpromising.  

Aphrodite thought on her conquests- Ares, Poseidon, Adonis

gods between her thighs, making her mountains move,  

oceans boiling madly, bruised skies crackling with fire,  

tangled bedsheets,  

hair,

hands caressing skin and creating worlds, and…


…and on her mortal, a balding, a boring, a bland  

disappointment.


Off came the clothes, the wedding ring and the phone from its hook.  


Imagine the pizza boy’s confusion as the door opened to the sound of the heavens singing  

rays of ethereal light warming his pubescent, pock-scarred face.  

A naked, pearly goddess,

and those golden, flaxen locks snaking, seducing, ensnaring as he staggered into the rosy blur.


It was impossible, after all, to justify the ways of gods to men.  


But how clichéd.

She an art piece of utter sensuality,
Her personality’s flushed with an
Esoteric Kind of geniality
Not to say she’s a meaty vegan.
Stars twirl and swirl within her eyes bounds
Like over enthused hounds
On heat.
She a fireball
Burbling with enthusiasm
Many will agree she got all the physical wherewithal
To charm
All and sundry
And that’s no small feat
No wonder she’s synonymous with honey.

Smashed skull mentality.
Altered states of mind/ sober all the time
Slick, sickly cycling. Dreaming of love and of dying
Slimy sucky lust
No trust but I'm trying
Sticky fingers; Blue, brown, green eyes
Why do I appreciate, have mercy for every soul but my own?
This might be a house but it isn't a home.
Sweaty naked bodies, distasteful escape.
Wasteful mind
Bring me your time.
Minefield life just trying to survive most days.
Brain waves moody haze with your hand in mine I am thriving.
Pillow soft lips a kiss away from drowning in a strangers' eyes.

Endless longing set the days on fire.
Time warp, essential sensuality
Warm breeze running through my mind
Black poison blood, sweat, c*m, and confusion populate my veins.
A race toward brokenheartedness or objectivity
Lift the curse of eternal shame.
Forgotten toxicity embalmed in simplicity and transparency
Complacency, erasing a disgusting history
Bury me in the laurels you rest on.

There is nothing more
            that I wish
                        than to not
                                    feel like this.


The frustrations and sorrows
That fill me to the brim
Overwhelm me, eventually engulfing
My inner-self and my will

That always come second
To the weapon of my choosing
Now becoming dull
As I continue this self-abusing

In this battle versus the world,
I'm the one that's losing
Not the demons that found shelter inside of me
That kick their feet up
While they're cruising

But my gentle nature
Seemed to welcome them with open arms
Please help me,
When will I know when to sound the alarms?

What if I'm not meant to be
The hero in my own story?
I was never one to boast,
Or seek any type of glory

I just hoped to be a good girl
With graceful sensuality
But all society ever seems to worry about is
Finishing your ******* degree

My soul is hurting,
Can you see that I'm aching
In places that his hands explored
But weren't his for the taking?

I can't see clearly,
And my voice keeps breaking
I'm holding my own mouth
Because my lips won't stop shaking

It's affecting my breathing, my chest hurts
It's all heartbreaking
Especially seeing yourself lose
White flag waving above you

The darkness now overtaking

I just have to admit that my body is astonishing.
My skin is other worldly-
I glisten like an alien goddess.
My heartbeats of its own fruition-
air grows in my lungs and blooms
on the surrounding surfaces. I
have a power that lives between my thighs-
and when I focus it on an object-
that object crumbles in my lusting wake.
My fingernails grow to fierce and frightening lengths
and rap upon the earth with bubbling impatience.
My legs flow like water into my jeans
and ***** out of them.
(I make you question your understanding of words like lady,
*****, ******, sensuality, knowledge and maybe even manhood)
Shoulders that drip delicately with all my emotions-
you can feel my depth in the warmth of  my soul
as your hand grazes the small of my back.
I am every song ever written,
every note ever played,
every thought you have ever had
at an ungodly hour
in ripped jeans
and an off the shoulder sweater.
(I am understated provocative librarian ***
on top of a cool metal desk
next to the life changing novel you read,
my back arching over the paperwork you
can’t begin to think about because
of the way I look laying over them
with one stiletto still on and the other caught on my big toe
calling to you)
My tongue is wet with enthusiasm
My fingers are laced around humanity
Every piece of me is alive with the knowledge
That my body
Is
Astonishing.

Blue rays of the sun
Burn deep in the improbability
Of reality

Turning my outer layer skin
To a dark
Sensuality

As the second layer boils
And my sores
Of pain, rise to my fate

As I wait in vain,
Hoping my time with him
Will heal and create

As I dream of the summer moon,
Its light soothes
Me

It covers my wounds
From the blast of the burning
Sun degrees

My nightmarish love never shields me
From my boiling
Blood

I am stuck knee deep
In the spoils of the
Blue rays

Debbie Brooks 201

Is passion a virtue?
A passion that ingests my inside
The bareness exposed emotions
The slow graphic censorship
A depiction of Zion on earth
A deception ranting with wars

Is dedication a virtue?
A definition of a hard felt path
Preserved with heartfelt zeal
An ember that ceases and glows
Triggered touch of perseverance
Till death does you part in parts

Self restraint for one another
Dedicated to fulfil a purpose
Quests of alternative borders
Armoured in armed negations
Negotiations negative dominion
Should we control sensuality?

No better place but inside my dream
to leave the world and it's endless scheme
my fingers tracing violet mountains
that turn into illustrious fountains
of things I want to do with you
if you and I could ever follow us through

I wonder where I'd start my journey
Give the starting signal for our particular tourney
Getting into delicate positions
movement in passion my only mission

Sensuality comes easily
I want you to lean into me
let's be a little bit sentimental
no words needed when we become intrumental

In my dreams we hold on tight
to the endless possibilities of a night
under a cold and steady moon
Goodnight love, we'll see each other soon.

appearing without warning
gently viscous in her flow
oblivious of her potency

infusing the atmosphere
breath of anise laced honey
tasteful in her subtlety

gifting sanity gracefully
a willow swaying on hilltop
palatable sensuality

a playful elegance
colors the uncertainty
in her whispered concern...
are you sure?

make no mistake...
this is a poem of love and libation

If you get it, you lost it.


I am here
(On this platform it is evident for your reading now)
I express myself
(Heads scratching, wondering what and how?)


I share pieces of me
(A defragmented glimpse of an experience deemed ‘worthwhile')
Callous, sensuality?
(Or a traitor in sheep cosplay?)


A dead-end hi-way?
Or this pawn from yesterday?
Here, your final say


This family we never asked
Amontillado without it's cask
Dry and cheery
Heart’s are bleary
We own this laborious task

My sins are scrollable, thumbed in haste,
Wrapped in ribbons of curated taste.
A gallery of masks, all timed just right,
My shadow dances in the ring light.
What of shame when shame gets likes?
What of thought when thought’s in spikes?
I weep in drafts, but post a grin—
The world won’t wait for the shape I’m in.
So brand the bruise, then sell the hue:
A wellness tip in sponsored blue.
This self I host in feedback’s cage—
A pet, a post, a digital page.
I bare my soul (or just its shell).
You’ll never know. I sell it well.

I logged on seeking something undefined,
A tether, maybe—some reciprocal ache.
But all I found were mirrors misaligned,
Each smile too wide, each word opaque.

The comments pile like leaves, not read.
Applause from ghosts, replies from ghosts.
I feed the feed, it feeds instead—
A hunger that consumes its hosts.

I draft a truth. I dress it twice.
Add polish. Then delete.
I write in blood, convert to nice,
Make trauma fit a beat.

No lesson left. No higher shelf.
Just one more version of myself.

Smiling face, look how I get lost in her sparkling eyes
crystal glasses toasting, for this journey's we willingly embark on tonight

I can see her lustful thoughts
tread milling, running backwards
fighting heated feelings, she wants to rip off my clothes

Her lips the taste that gives it away, it's alone, it's lonely
Running seductively across every ounce of my quivering soul, static,slowly

I completely crash loosening my grip in this moment, I let go
Thermometer calling for a windy ice tea, intoxicating kiss that she blows

Our hungered hands searching like lost ships in the night
Body's shed of their burdens
Our ripped clothes strewn to the side

Our body's drenched with the emotions of one another
We tasted every ounce, breathed every sound, touches as soft as a feather

our groping body's heated, touching, moving intensely as one
electric, ****** surges with sensuality  
floating on each others essence, this taste, we both explode
leaving us breathless and done

we turn and get locked in each others arms
holding on for dear life, hoping this magic moments
will never lose it's charm.

There is a rocking chair in your dreams croaking rhythm against the rotting front porch. No one is there, and then there is. This ******-motion picture is an old lady, a young girl, a dying farmer, a corpse, a bouquet of flowers, and then you. But you refuse to look at yourself long. You leave as soon as the veins in your forearms surface.
The walls reek of mold as you step in, and all at once every board splinters out and implodes to a nickel-size spot just six inches in front of you Then it burns itself till the point of a charred cigarette.
“Hug me,” it says.
And you do.
“No, hug me like you actually mean it.”
And you do. You hug Death’s slow-burning dynamite so tight the paper rips off and you are in a desert, surrounded by tobacco. But you hear sheets of rain in the distance, and you can’t forgive yourself for not being where it’s at, and dancing while it washes off the stench of Hell from others. There is a woman guiding you.
She doesn’t exist. So you push her surrealism back into her mouth, and tell her to *******.
Now you are sweating angst. And by God, or whoever—the fear is back.
******* and ******* to calm the beastly sensuality that eats rose buds for the jolly fun of it, that wants to miss work, and plug fleshy holes with credit. Why can’t Day and Night have a middle ground like Heaven and Hell? The Purgatory of regimented time, where guilt is legal, crosses are burned because they represent love, and people are murdered because it’s a religious experience.
And you end up in a box, drinking your favorite soda, and this is real—an odd thing to say to yourself, but it’s true.

He played in her lushness all night long
She had a moist garden of much pleasure
Within it he placed his pearl's treasure
Each stroke of his ardor twas truly strong
Her ******* were so scrumptious of tang
She did so delight his sampling of her
Sensuality set both of them astir
Their meeting had a hothouse guitar twang
Her inner petals held him with a thrall
Their sweat beads did flow on the bed sheets
The nocturnal hours did so captivate
Primal urges upon them made a call
In the starlight they performed their feats
Which did of the two so well satiate

It's time to shake our money makers
and see if we find any takers
i'm telling you, we're real heartbreakers
we were born to be *** shakers

don't look past my body and face
that would be a total waste
we really know a woman's place
just another wasted case

don't talk to us about intellect
that's a concept that we reject
we let our looks and sensuality reflect
our total mindless neglect

Hills about as you keep on
And miles apart, lo you'll live long.
Serene is not without silence sometimes
And again I wonder if I was wrong.

Touches of softness to make me second guess.
Litheness to warrant the silk in that ethereal dress.
You are slowly fading, at the expense of my joy.
I fear that I may have expected sensuality and joy.

I forget the moments as I make you into stone.
Maybe it wasn't us, but the distance of our homes.
I am pure ambition, give me tastes of trees.
You are like a nightingale, caught up in the breeze.
What I'd give for you again, call me uncertainty.
But you in touch beside me, might quell my  withering.

I say echoes but they are dying breaths
You are ever soulful, and I am but a wreck.

I've seen things in these days, our battles were nothing.

The breeze carries magic
on this flourishing spring morn,
with the scent of lilacs inspiring
memories of golden days and
long lavender nights with you.
How long ago has it been
when in the depth of innocence,
of youthful lust that current
of something crystal clear
and sweet coursed through me
with each thought of you?
Closing my eyes, you are here
beside me, vibrant and utterly
charged with sensuality, and
just as easily, you are diminished,
like the promise of my life.

Obviously not spring now, but
a poem I started then and finished
today

--

when i write
i always find myself wishing that i wrote like Lana del Rey,
making even the simple things seem extraordinarily grand, to be able to glamorize what is sometimes a painfully normal life
i want to touch someone's skin
and write about it in a way that makes someone feel as though they're touching velvet
i want the kiss we shared
to linger on someone's lips like the taste of their favorite chapstick
i want to write about love
so that in turn someone will lust for what i already have
i want to write about my years of pain and isolation in a way that makes someone want to rip their own heart out and offer it up to me on a platter made of shimmering, sterling silver
which, of course
i'd have to refuse
because what would a writer be if surrounded by love and admiration they knew was real, that they didn't doubt for even a second
although, the sensuality of the circumstance might be tempting
an artist without eternal, incessant suffering
is merely a wolf in sheep's clothing
or a fool who thinks he's a king
they simply aren't built to last

i want to write about my mid-night thoughts and for someone to think: Lana would be proud

The greatest piece of art
is found in the movement
of bodies

the fluidity of the wrist
to paint the nakedness
of humanity

the speed of fingers
strumming and plucking
our souls

the sensuality of flesh
moving in rhythm
of life

the meticulous eye
capturing little moments
of society

Art is beauty
and beauty is movement
of bodies.

Rough tactile callouses.
Jointed mischief collaborators.
Twisted knuckly punishers.
Wrinkled hills and valleys.
Capability embodied.
Sensuality expressed.
Love experienced.
Life recorded.
Dancing Phalanges.

Etta James, singing “At Last” behind me now,
lights turned low, ******* of Drambuie on ice
the air carries the aroma of desert roses,
green fern and damp mossy bark; the gift of a posy.

The scent reminds me of the quick light rains
tapping in the afternoon, making love to thirsty
new greens, coaxing them up to reach for more.
My body reacts to the thought, arching up.

Sips of warming golden liquid, the cold ice
a give-and-take of restrained contrast,
until the liquid has all been consumed –
and the ice remains, bearing the spirit upon it.

Contributions to reflections in sensuality,
The ice, captured up quickly from the glass
held in deft fingers, neatly, to paint their
cold upon my lips, sipped within a warm mouth.

The cold, diminished cube, dances on the tongue.
I rise; the glass left behind, and come to you –
Face to face, eye to eye.  The kiss shares the cool
as the ice passes between us, to melt in loves flame.

Eyes close, now drinking in another kiss,
I feel myself surrender to the flame that rises up.
Once more I am arching within your arms,
strong, gentle hands contain me, stoking the fire.

I am released, free to feel all that is within –
to bring it to the surface; without question - to share…
The heady scent of longing fills me, fueling passion
The ice, a forgotten prelude to love’s rendezvous.

Lin Cava ©

As fishes wriggling

The entirety of their slippery bodies

In vast oceans, lost in the glory of waters


Instincts meander

Their way through to the mind

In a pool of imagined

Sensuality with wanton desires


A longing for the temporal

Poignantly stands *****

In the throne-room of man's emotions

Motioning with a seemingly motionless demeanor


Unfulfilled cravings

Cradles persistence

In his goal oriented pursuits


Thoughts are repressed

Mental imageries suppressed

To pave way for *******

Of pleasantly positive feelings


Yet the uncouth lingers

Occasionally engages the enthroned

In scrimmages in their bid to dethrone them

Man holds the prerogative

To serve either of them willingly


Equally, man possess all it takes to be

Heinously hedonistic

And heartily attractive in personality

To please society  

None can reach complete perfection

At both extremities



© Seth Boss Kay @ 19/10/2013

Stay!
And fly with me into the world of mystery,
into a proud, poetic and passionate dance,
feel the freedom in the tango's victory,
dancing sincerely, your body melts in this trance.

Whisper to me in syncope, in a sweet tone,
in spasmodic, elegant moves in this romance,
while the eyes sparkle like a diamond, for they own
the passion in this extravagant, vivacious dance.

Touch me in this poem full of rhythm and sensuality,
stay with me under the spell of the imaginary space,
losing ourselves in the exchange of signals, we have the key
to change the steps  and move with irresistible grace.

Paint the unknown again on my naked shoulder
with your lips craving after my sweet kiss, it seems,
cover me with your entire palm, bring me closer,
make me a bedding in the land of foolish dreams.

Feel my pure madness in this rhythmical speech,
resonating, vibrating together, for one last dance,
don't look down, but breathe my air and you'll reach
the top of the Eiffel-tower in magnificent France.

As I’m standing in the spotlight
I see look-alikes swiftly passing by
But none of them pull off
That red dress like you do

And I follow very thorough
Each and every one in my mind
But all roads lead to home
Where rooms are filled with memories

You’ve always had me caught
Between the fire and your vicious sensuality
Playful debauchery
I’d never would have thought
That everything would end up in this way

As you take me by the hand
And lead me down memory lane
A love in black and white
With hints of perfume in the air

You hold on to the leading role
Despite the fact that you’re long gone
But no-one would be able
To replace this femme fatale anyway

With passion and despair
You always lured me into petty ambiguity
Mental disparity
If only I had said
That life would stop being the same