"straddle" poems
Lipstick kisses,
we're both wearing red.
I motion her over and onto our bed.
Blood red smeared across our lips.
I keep her enticed, I straddle her hips.
Seductively playing,
I'm touching my lips.
Long acrylic nails,
for us never fails.
I show her a ***** and
she gently wails.
She's waiting,
my sweetheart,
I lust her so much.
We **** we're on fire
and I wonder,
which of us holds the power.
I, in all honesty is hoping it's her,
'cause then I'll continue this life
in her beautiful blur.
Poetry by Kaydee.
Jul 9, 2018
Jul 9, 2018 at 11:44 PM UTC
ugly men burning their bay leaves
in pots of static gardens
underneath all this cement
your past is looking at you indecently
so change the words around you
you can shift their meaning
its all a game and no-one's winning
your tired emotions accent your poetry
umbrellas are scars that carry symphonies in their hearts
you held my hand as we welcomed god back into our skylines
her face is as familiar as the stars
we originated from
with ulcers open in quiet hurting
your youth are wordless and distrustful of angst ridden authority
in unsuspecting situations love’s vacation is ending
her wedding gown got quite *****
since she literally spent her entire honeymoon
wandering idly into banks of muddy water
humanity is worthy of justice and sweaty romance
i breathe your flesh into my bottle
and we take boundless walks upon the clouds
that straddle mountains, graveyards and cemeteries
fresh from wading in the rice fields
i peeled you a ripe banana
under pressure your sweater came off
and revealed a perfect metric for us to emulate
your eye sockets are two umbilical chords
and your voice is a curved sword that cuts through fear
like the moon slices through the sky
i have held all of this inside for far too long
and now it comes shattering forth
spilling itself over every page
every letter an escapade almost as long
as an Eskimo's pilgrimage to safety
Feb 26, 2018
Feb 26, 2018 at 11:36 PM UTC
you see
i had always felt
that in a dream
i was the absence
of the dream
and then it dawned on me
that i was in a time piece
trapped during forgotten hours
where everything is alien
but vaguely familiar
the beach beneath me wandering
off to anywhere but here
and i straddle the shoreline
palming stray shards of sea glass
always the color of her eyes
and i am abruptly upside down
an upheaval, a maw
where i thought it as
a nightly revenge
for skipping stones
and again i am upended
& back on the beach
born of broken hourglasses
and it makes me think
that god likes to watch things leave me
Feb 15, 2014
Feb 15, 2014 at 11:35 AM UTC
As the Mohawks straddle the goal line
We hold our breaths.
We need a win under our belts,
And this is the most important game of all.
I feel the tension in my stomach,
Now in my hand,
As you take it into yours.
Normally I would be thinking of you
But we are so focused on this touchdown
"Hike!" Shouts number 7, and there it goes.
Caught by 22.
Almost intercepted,
But not quite.
We go wild.
Hearts pounding
Mohawk fans cheering
We won.
You grab me in a huge embrace and
I can't breathe
But its not because you're holding me too tightly.
Together.
Without thought:
Thought of consequence
Thought of the future
Thought of pain
Thought of who is watching,
You kiss me right there and then
And even though your eyes are closed
I still see the blue in my mind from moments before,
Letting me know that it is okay to dive in.
As the cheering roar dies out
I see that blue again
Confused and happy
Or is that me?
On this homecoming night
We won
And I'm not talking about the team.
Dec 16, 2014
Dec 16, 2014 at 9:07 PM UTC
God knows how our neighbor managed to breed
His great sow:
Whatever his shrewd secret, he kept it hid
In the same way
He kept the sow--impounded from public stare,
Prize ribbon and pig show.
But one dusk our questions commended us to a tour
Through his lantern-lit
Maze of barns to the lintel of the sunk sty door
To gape at it:
This was no rose-and-larkspurred china suckling
With a penny slot
For thrift children, nor dolt pig ripe for heckling,
About to be
Glorified for prime flesh and golden crackling
In a parsley halo;
Nor even one of the common barnyard sows,
Mire-smirched, blowzy,
Maunching thistle and knotweed on her snout-
cruise--
Bloat tun of milk
On the move, hedged by a litter of feat-foot ninnies
Shrilling her hulk
To halt for a swig at the pink teats. No. This vast
Brobdingnag bulk
Of a sow lounged belly-bedded on that black
compost,
Fat-rutted eyes
Dream-filmed. What a vision of ancient hoghood
must
Thus wholly engross
The great grandam!--our marvel blazoned a knight,
Helmed, in cuirass,
Unhorsed and shredded in the grove of combat
By a grisly-bristled
Boar, fabulous enough to straddle that sow's heat.
But our farmer whistled,
Then, with a jocular fist thwacked the barrel nape,
And the green-copse-castled
Pig hove, letting legend like dried mud drop,
Slowly, grunt
On grunt, up in the flickering light to shape
A monument
Prodigious in gluttonies as that hog whose want
Made lean Lent
Of kitchen slops and, stomaching no constraint,
Proceeded to swill
The seven troughed seas and every earthquaking
continent.
6.5k
my **** is hard
throbbing
inside you
as you straddle
and ride me
i need more
to go over
the edge
humiliation
shame
pain
slap my face
hard
harder
i want to feel
your anger
loathing
contempt
call me names
degrading
hurtful
mean it
when you call me
loser
disgusting
reject
Jul 4, 2021
Jul 4, 2021 at 2:25 PM UTC
Beams of light explode over the soft sand,
i can feel the warmth on my face as i sit on the beach,
sinking softly into natures warm bed.
The light seems to turn everything it touches
into a glowing ball of light,
as if god himself is smiling down at the dawn of a new day.
The beach is deserted apart from a few seagulls
that seem to share this enlightened appreciation.
I grab my board and walk slowly towards the sand,
my feet sinking into the grains,
feeling the consistency change as the water laps at my ankles.
My wetsuit keeps me surprisingly warm
as the cold water rises slowly, and i close my eyes,
holding my board under one arm.
I smell the salt, the fresh air, this is what beauty is.
I wander in, losing myself in this new environment.
I duck quickly underwater wetting my hair and face,
floating weightlessly in the water for a second,
before rising, feeling fresh as i grab my floating board and straddle it.
Leaning forward, i can seeing fish scatter
as the first wave washes over me
like a tilde wave of emotions and stress,
i wipe the slate clean,
i am the tabula rasa and this is a new day.
Nov 2, 2014
Nov 2, 2014 at 1:43 AM UTC
i still straddle the fence on this
immigration reform manifesto
i see both sides of the story
it's good to have the grandfather clause
for the immigrants in my bloodstream
- the scrappy scots-irish-ingles-welsh
in me - but too late for the cherokee
behind the old fences of history.
r ~ 11/9/14
Nov 9, 2014
Nov 9, 2014 at 9:57 AM UTC
I pledge allegiance
to all the stones in the road
that have given me succor,
to every poet-of-anywhere
who greets me
with wetted, parted lips and open heart,
who greets the sun-rays shared, inching,
opening o'er my yet living,
praying body, reminding me
that I am alive,
that I am warm
that I feel poetry in, on,
cells, all over, deep in my extremities
Most importantly, in my busted heart,
where warmth is stored in a soul restored,
and Life affirmed,
For who knows how
many more times
I will know this,
How many more times
I will able compose this,
Play "measure the future''
in seconds or years and
grimaced smiles over tears,
or just one or the other,
that be willed to supersede;
Will keep you posted
in every realized and many some stillborn poem,
rising with the grand entrance of morn skies,
or perhaps, lies buried neath in each horizon's cemetarial,
and
even those,
that straddle a confusing and confused moon,
of a twenty fours hours existence,
be shoulder-borne,
bathed in
combinatorial equatorial
moon & sun light,
so we can bathe, like Bathsheba (1)
by both,
and delight
at the exact same moment's portent,
no matter,
the disregarded, discarded,
why
we are
who we are
when pledge and plead
allegiance to those eyes that read our scrivenings
nml
Aug 27, 2025
Aug 27, 2025 at 11:57 AM UTC
Can we just play ***** you and i?
I mean give me looks across the table, that you are disgusted with me, for taking my ******* off and dropping them in your crotch. I mean like you talk to another girl and glance at me, as if to say 'fuck you bitch', knowing you will **** me; Later.
Let's play ***** come on, i will welcome you in to my house, in stockings and leather, and push you against the wall; grab your hand and bend it back whilst i bite your neck. Push my knee between yours, and hold your chest in my hand whilst i make you watch me unbuckle you. Let me drag you on the floor, whilst you try to get up and say 'not here'.
Why can't we play *****
I don't want no ******* bedroom. I want the doorway, i want the hall, i want the kitchen counter, i want the living room floor and the shower. I want the couch, where i will straddle you and make you watch me as i undress myself for you, slowly, pulling, my, stocking down, so my knee is between your legs and i lean over you, so my ****** points out to your mouth, and i can hear you breathing, and every time you move towards me, i pull away.
Why can't we just play *****
Why can't you get me mad, and we argue so bad that i want to smash my fist in to your skull til you bleed all over my kitchen floor, brains on the washer...then pick me up, throw me on the bed, slap my face about, slap open my legs and grab my throat and the other hand on my chest as you push deep into me? Hear me gasp, watch my pupils widen, groan at you, watch as you come close to my ear, and say, 'this is what i ******* wanted'.
Why can't we?
Why can't we be deviants?
Why can't we go play in the forest?
Why can't we do like animals do?
Why can't we make two barebacked beasts in the moonlight?
Why can't we play *****
I touch your leg as you drive, playing the piano up and down your thigh, biting my lip, running my fingers up and down your thigh, nails pushing deeper, up and down, up and down, until you pull the car over, slam the brakes on, pull off your seatbelt and grab me, push the seat back, as i smile a secret smile as you breathe deeply in my ear as you pull off my wet knickers, and begin to take me on a journey through the stars.
Why can't we play *****
Shut your eyes. Shut your mouth. Shut everything, the, **** up. Listen to the beat of my heart, as it quickens and i place your hand over my chest, and i look in your eyes. Stop you talking about me, about what i am like, and who i am, and what it should be, and this and ******* that.
I don't want no tv before bed, i don't want no book, i don't want no midnight stargazing.
**** that **** **** me.
I want to play ***** with you.
Apr 12, 2013
Apr 12, 2013 at 4:58 PM UTC
This cold night, prompts us
to creep closer to each other,
warm ember glow of far away galaxies
pierce through the laden darkness effortlessly
find way to be near us, wink happily.
Love keeps our expectant bodies warm
light years stand sentinel to our transactions.
What a strange contradiction, is this!
but realization dawns in a moment that
it's the cosmic truth, absolute:
an open secret of life,
we straddle both, now and timelessness!
Eternity is in our genes, just the same
that glows in stars, millions of light years away,
we are clothed in transience, at this moment.
Sep 8, 2014
Sep 8, 2014 at 2:54 PM UTC
Oh, I should like to ride the seas,
A roaring buccaneer;
A cutlass banging at my knees,
A dirk behind my ear.
And when my captives' chains would clank
I'd howl with glee and drink,
And then fling out the quivering plank
And watch the beggars sink.
I'd like to straddle gory decks,
And dig in laden sands,
And know the feel of throbbing necks
Between my knotted hands.
Oh, I should like to strut and curse
Among my blackguard crew...
But I am writing little verse,
As little ladies do.
Oh, I should like to dance and laugh
And pose and preen and sway,
And rip the hearts of men in half,
And toss the bits away.
I'd like to view the reeling years
Through unastonished eyes,
And dip my finger-tips in tears,
And give my smiles for sighs.
I'd stroll beyond the ancient bounds,
And tap at fastened gates,
And hear the prettiest of sound-
The clink of shattered fates.
My slaves I'd like to bind with thongs
That cut and burn and chill...
But I am writing little songs,
As little ladies will.
2.9k
The devil dancing in plain sight
When your eyes
glamorize mine
Makin me fantasize
Bout your face between my thighs
Straddle up
From the side
Hips peak high when you choke me as I reach my
****
I love when you ****** it from behind
Let me, keep you in mind
As I slip into something more casual
Slow
Grind, wine
Twisting my tongue letting you unwind
Where my throat flirts with the tip of your boat
Slip N Slide until unified
Let me, take my time
I'm talking knee pads on Valentines
Tryna elevate our vibes
Gates Wild Ride
&
Rotate on cloud 9
Body attentively inclined
To tell you all my
Secrets
Hung to air dry
- ****** dominance keeps me in line
- Kiss up along my spine
- Grip me right, tight
*Like, be Curious & **** this cat nine times
Now pay those crime fine
Stroke deep in my walls
Rock it til waterfalls
& watch me flood you like high tides
Meet & Greet our *** with sunrise
& bittersweet goodbyes...
I finally found the courage to speak my mind
I'm not so sure that I'll be yours but baby you could be mine
8:47 PM
#TheHIMCollection #DarkMagicCollection
Oct 5, 2018
Oct 5, 2018 at 2:02 PM UTC
Let me straddle your mind until I'm confined
to the empty spaces you refuse to acknowledge ,
taking hostage the inhabitants of this grand mental escape ,
I equate this mission to landing on the moon - you consume
every fiber of my being I intrude ,
wishing to know what you are thinking
it sort of ****** me off when you choose *** over celibacy
just assume it's my jealousy I'd rather have your mind than head
as we lay here in bed I listen to the breath that escapes the dark carven of your lips ,
you kiss me so softly with vocabulary I hear clearly how deep you crave me,
such a sweet sentiment from a sapio ******
someone who can fornicate my mental with intellectual ,
you eat out my riddles and digest philophosy
have me shaking feeling close to God see ,
we get bare naked to the truth
Exposing absolute equations and reasons why , I sigh .
Gagging on your brilliance
you present such increments of human creativity ,
swallowing your mysteries
stroke me close and slow
fill me to capacity with the knowledge of you
tell me the truth you love to **** me
with your words You encourage this insanity
This perplexing wet whirl of words gushes ,
and i demand to see the length of your lyrical havoc
I wish to kiss and grab the sensual sentences you string together
& nothing could compare to the pleasure when we intertwine our minds .
It's ridiculous how meticulous you are with my mental
we lay there , gasping sinful in sections of ecstasy
i watch you vividly , react to my melodic passion
i hold on - grasping my fingertips around your brain
you dig deeper and in pain i give you my vunerability
I .LET . YOU . FEEL . ME
speaking languages I forgot i knew
yet I know I cant dispute
our connection from confessing the truth
you sparked theories bigger than any bang
articulating art using slang
we decode out way of conduct
it was just pure luck we ****** through conversation
Jun 6, 2018
Jun 6, 2018 at 3:23 AM UTC
How do you know when enough is enough
I can't take anymore, I'm just not that tough
I've tried to be all that you said I should be
But that didn't leave room for me just to be me
I'm losing my grip on all that I know
One little slip and I'll go down with the flow
Hanging on any tighter just makes it more tense
I don't know how much longer I can straddle this fence
There's only two ways now for this ride to go
Neither of which I'm particularly fond
So I patiently sit here but frantically row
Rowing in circles on this dark, boggy pond
Will someone please stop and throw me a line
Can't anyone see that I'm about to drown
Don't you understand that I'm running out of time
Will it finally be enough when I'm all the way down
Sep 3, 2014
Sep 3, 2014 at 3:05 PM UTC
Moral pulls herself up
by her own bootstraps
on her high horse boots
with stir ups when I visit
and the rocking chairs
throw down newspapers
and stand to attention
in the name of Moral support
looking like we might be game
who holds the whip hand in this sport?
I straddle the fence
with her strict father
Duty
Duty gives the orders here
we try to carry them out
they're no heavy burden
not keeping mum Mercy
from being close
to daughter Moral
Duty is of higher rank
and gives Moral
direction
Duty sets the boundary
Mercy's bound to
follow
while Moral
carries the compass
and the compassion
of a conscience
Me?
I'm loyal
love enough
and
light enough
to jump the fences
with my own defence
Moral permits
This defence is
good for morale
but Duty is always on guard
for Moral
a perfect match
that can have
a deadly when ignited
bite to catch
those who are free spirited
When Duty's asleep
alone
he leaves a stern
guardian
off the safety catch
in Duty of care
for Moral
- Discipline
I must steal
this care
away
from the arms of Discipline
when Moral's involved
because Discipline
in the hands of Duty
would explode in the face
of neighbourly straying
should Duty do what he sees
fit
without Mercy at his side
But should Duty awaken
alone
to his Moral's
dilemma
I fear
his Moral Discipline
can be Merciless
Did we burn our breeches?
almost
we rode a city of them
chaste
off racecourse
to show
Moral Italy
Jul 20, 2014
Jul 20, 2014 at 11:44 AM UTC
You were draped across a girlfriend's bedroom wall
where a cross would be,
your arms held out loosely like an ambiguous invitation,
shielding your countenance from extraneous intrusions
under which she would sleep soundly
in the shroud of your incantation.
Your fallen angel wings beating back bad dreams
slain mercilessly
and falling at your feet.
Your lips slightly pouting, eyes dark,
obfuscating the madness and sex-crazed hallucinations
they harbor.
Hair purposefully unkempt,
disheveled sensuously atop your head,
tufts of hair brushed across your broad chest--
Bare muscles taut and taunting,
placed topographically on the poised temple--
those ready to worship bow their heads
in reverence to the sonic alchemist.
The modern adonis,
sculpted out of the Mississippi Delta Blues
and Dionysian wet dreams--
brought to life with the electric current pulsating through the microphone and its stand upon which you straddle with skin-tight leather pants--
Your left hand around its waist,
your right cupped over the phallus--
your lips part and your cataclysmal eyes
envelop the darkness before you--
Your image,
tormented and tantalizing
in an open invitation
to prostrate ourselves before you
and succumb to your hypnotic stare.
The door opens.
Oct 13, 2016
Oct 13, 2016 at 12:14 AM UTC
in the landscape of you
I am a wandering soul
with but my words
for protection
as I make you my goal
in the expanse of your vista,
I wear the cloak of our depth
your heartbeats in mine
as we breathe
the same breath
I feel your rugged peaks,
your valleys that sink
your core's wildflower essence
that stains me with ink
I bathe in its fragrance,
a tattooed poet's imprint
in the primal spheres in my being
enveloping my core
all the clearer
for seeing
and when your rough
tempest storms
are afar, yet in view
I dive straight to
their center
into the magnet of you
for
I will water your deserts
infuse fresh creeks
in your dry
I will run through your forests
as I call to your wild
as I straddle your cliffs,
festoon your tundra
with blooms
steam will rise from
your earthcore
and fill up my womb
Through the dew on our lashes
through my lava that flows,
the stars in your eyes
make my universe glow
these geographic measures
I take
as you let me inside
our bloodstreams merging
as we get lost in the tides
electric pulsed woodlands
that spread iced wildfires
slaking the loops
of floodgates' desire
and I will hold you together
if you fall, torn apart
bonded forever
in this map of our
hearts
Nov 18, 2017
Nov 18, 2017 at 5:43 PM UTC
It's not all been bad.
I have had some fun
I started to surf
when I was young
If ever I was lost
And out of reach
I'd often be found
Down at the beach
My own little sanctuary
Where I could be free
Either sat on the sand
Or out in the sea
I love the ocean
It blows my mind
It's Calming yet dangerous
Misterious yet kind
The energy's magestic
The feeling of joy
Has captured my attention
Since I was a boy.
It's led me to travel
To far distant shores
I've met so many people
Opened so many doors
I've surfed with monkeys in trees
And elephants on the beach
Surrounded by dolphins
And turtles within reach
I've surfed during sunsets
And sun rises as well
Trippy seas and Trippy skies
As if under a spell
I've almost **** myself sometimes
When caught in a gnarly rip
Being dragged out to the big stuff
That aint no ego trip
When you can't see beneath
The deep grey sharky water
And the fish race away
Is it me for the slaughter?
But hang on, there it is
Thank you neptune and peseidon
Look out to the distance
there on the horizon
A little bump
It's coming near
A pulse of swell
It's almost here
I turn around
My stick I straddle
I face the land
And start my paddle
Then suddenly
It lifts me up
Propels me forward
Fills my cup
It makes me feel
so very awake
I jump to my feet
For goodness sake
I'm 100%
Right there in the now
Conjoined with nature
No interest in how
Just doing it because
I'm it's biggest fan
Loving it loving it
because It's there and I can
Already a treat
This gift keeps on giving
I put in a few turns
Life is so worth living
Then the wall gets top heavy,
It's the best feeling ever
Everything goes quiet
It's a sublime endeavour
I'm inside the wave
for a second or two
The green room, The barrel.
Deep in the blue
There's no feeling like it
I can't even explain
Wonderous, breathtaking
It's ******* insane
I pull out of the journey
Can't get any higher
Full of adrenaline
My brain is on fire
Riding those waves
Gives me so much pleasure
I guess like the pirate
Finding the treasure
The greatest way
To improve my emotion
Is to float about
In that big old ocean.
Oct 24, 2019
Oct 24, 2019 at 1:30 PM UTC
Live music is a sound machine,
On all four corners,
Gilded streets, nearly five in the morning,
Pavement feet meet ****** shoes
Shuffling down the block.
Pigeon claps & high hats,
Cat heads & piano chops,
Whiskey sours evening gowns,
Lemon drops with Father Brown.
The St. Claude Shuffle down the boulevard,
Where shoes straddle electric wires.
Sirens ring & bullets proof,
And the blues sing out of shotgun shacks.
Dec 5, 2018
Dec 5, 2018 at 8:56 PM UTC
one...
fingertip he traced
two...
to lips he'll taste...wet
three...
caresses; trembled haste
four...
cradles softness, plump derriere
five...
covers breast tweaking, lingering there
shuddering as tongue parts me, like a sweet eclair
breathless; fingers entangled in hair
he's says:
baby, straddle thickness, love me right here...ahhhhh!!!! yes!!!
Jun 29, 2012
Jun 29, 2012 at 1:56 AM UTC
This morning I had to go ***** so bad
I squeezed and I pushed with all that I had
And after what seemed like a great battle
I heard a ker-plunk from what I did straddle
The mighty splash that this thing made
To have a look, my curiosity bade
So up I did rise slowly and sure
So as not to drop any poo onto the floor
I looked into the bowl not believing my eyes
This terd was of a most bodacious size
The cause of the strain was now easy to see
I new then not what I had set free
It leaned upright on the side of the bowl
Like it was in a jacuzi relaxed and whole
As I looked at it again in utter disbelief
I knew I had to flush away my relief
But when I pushed the handle on the toilet I found
All the **** did is spin round and round
Like a wooden stick in water being stirred
I was amazed at the stiffness of this ****
When the flush was done I looked with disdain
The **** was still there and left not even a stain
I flushed again with greater resolve
And the **** broke in half as it did revolve
But then as it started to finally go down
Something then happened that made me frown
It got stuck and clogged up the hole
I watched in horror as water filled the bowl
It plugged the toiled up tight like a cork
And now I wished I'd chopped it up with a fork
I grabbed the plunger from off of the floor
And plunged real hard, for my toiled to restore
But though I plunged with all of my might
It seemed that the **** was winning this fight
After several minutes the water went down
But only at a trickle as again I did frown
So along I did move from plan A to plan B
I'd show this **** who's the boss, not it, but me
So with hot water, a bucket I did fill
And dumped it in so it could swallow that pill
After twenty buckets, the **** did give way
And I was able to flush. Hip-Hip-Hooray!
Dec 10, 2012
Dec 10, 2012 at 3:32 AM UTC
Returning son, his daughter at his side,
imagines now the men who once amassed
the limestone locks to straddle the canal,
an obsolete image from an eldritch past.
On a ritual hour of summer dusk,
if you should know precisely where to stand
that ghost of Syracuse can still be seen,
a rotting timber craft trapped deep in sand.
Mosquitos drone their hungry mother song.
The two upon the towpath, side by side,
survey this stagnant waterway where once
their ancestors lived and worked and died.
The silt entombs the boat’s untimely end –
how many years before the blasts of steam
sent veins of iron shooting ‘cross the land
did this canal boat capsize like a dream?
May 18, 2013
May 18, 2013 at 3:36 AM UTC
Close your eyes,
Translate my body in a braille of your hands,
Reveal these primal trembles awaiting your touch;
Taste this unbridled need,
As I place your fingertips
Deep!
In the wet of me...
Slowly moving them across your lips,
Into your mouth;
A jasmine laced molten that sears your tongue;
I straddle your want, pressing my lips to yours,
Tasting the breath beneath a pacing desire;
Aching!
To fill and fill and fill, this yearn in me...
Drink from the fever in my eyes
As I take you inside,
So deep within the intoxication,
Lost in the caress of fingers on skin;
Tangled in this ecstasy
Raging!
Each movement of my hips, rocking in the pendulum
Of your thirsty embrace....
Open your eyes,
I want to see fire
when I bring you to the edge;
I want to hear you say my name
Over and over,
Until we are both spent
Laying in a pools of sacred surrender;
Your heartbeat pounding beneath my palms...
Our legs intertwined,
My soft lips slowly tracing
Inch by inch!
Savouring every last drop;
Tasting!
The sweet nectar of liquid euphoria....
Close your eyes;
Translate my body
In a braille of your hands,
Spelling ecstasy
In the tremble of rediscovered fantasies;
And watch me!
Unravel YOU again......
Aug 22, 2012
Aug 22, 2012 at 5:53 PM UTC
Skipping ropes tied to lamp posts
hopscotch was another for girls
I'd try to work out the rules
but dare not ask, nor yet even
be seen to be showing interest
sometimes I'd be invited
to join in girls play
I could hold the rope
while others skipped
but had not the grace
or the agility to skip
at all well myself
there were role play games
of families with dolls
proudly displayed
tenderly nursed
and I would be offered
the role of 'daddy'
though I had no clue
of how to do that
having no father myself
so I would be told
to arrive home from work
to sit in my chair
to put on my slippers
to smoke my pipe
to hear tales of misbehaviour
by the children
and I would be amused
but would be told firmly
that I must be stern with them
then when that was done
to eat my tea and afterwards
to sit watching the telly
distracted from the game
that continued around me
or to go out to the pub
and I thought that
fathers must be
the most boring of people
The rough and tumble
was not for me
why would some boy think
he could throw me down
straddle me, pummeling
overpower and hold me there
trapped, despite my struggles
I learned early that
scratching, biting,
flailing, kicking
were not permitted
nor were tears
yet I shed them still
and screamed and scratched
and bit and flailed
if I could not avail
myself of natural defences
generally expected of girls
then why should my attacker
receive no more than
mild admonishment, if that
while I'd be advised
to "toughen up"
and the goading
carried on relentlessly
"you run like a girl"
"you throw like a girl"
"you kick the ball like a girl"
"you fight like a girl"
as though doing those things
like a girl were demeaning
Cynthia Pauline Jones 30/10/13
Mar 15, 2014
Mar 15, 2014 at 9:35 AM UTC