"stroking" poems
i like my body when it is with your
body. It is so quite new a thing.
Muscles better and nerves more.
i like your body. i like what it does,
i like its hows. i like to feel the spine
of your body and its bones,and the trembling
-firm-smooth ness and which i will
again and again and again
kiss, i like kissing this and that of you,
i like, slowly stroking the,shocking fuzz
of your electric furr,and what-is-it comes
over parting flesh….And eyes big love-crumbs,
and possibly i like the thrill
of under me you so quite new
585.7k
Every day you play with the light of the universe.
Subtle visitor, you arrive in the flower and the water,
You are more than this white head that I hold tightly
as a bunch of flowers, every day, between my hands.
You are like nobody since I love you.
Let me spread you out among yellow garlands.
Who writes your name in letters of smoke among the stars of the south?
Oh let me remember you as you were before you existed.
Suddenly the wind howls and bangs at my shut window.
The sky is a net crammed with shadowy fish.
Here all the winds let go sooner or later, all of them.
The rain takes off her clothes.
The birds go by, fleeing.
The wind. The wind.
I alone can contend against the power of men.
The storm whirls dark leaves
and turns loose all the boats that were moored last night to the sky.
You are here. Oh, you do not run away.
You will answer me to the last cry.
Curl round me as though you were frightened.
Even so, a strange shadow once ran through your eyes.
Now, now too, little one, you bring me honeysuckle,
and even your ******* smell of it.
While the sad wind goes slaughtering butterflies
I love you, and my happiness bites the plum of your mouth.
How you must have suffered getting accustomed to me,
my savage, solitary soul, my name that sends them all running.
So many times we have seen the morning star burn, kissing our eyes,
and over our heads the grey light unwinds in turning fans.
My words rained over you, stroking you.
A long time I have loved the sunned mother-of-pearl of your body.
Until I even believe that you own the universe.
I will bring you happy flowers from the mountains, bluebells, dark hazels, and rustic baskets of kisses.
I want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees.
315.3k
~*for M. both
a living one, and
imagined, too*~
10/5/25
just woke up and began to work;
the muses are cofuse-ed
they think when head hits pillow.
it is there then the~moment to
refill my head
with verses glorious, alas, alack,
into the sub-subconscious furnace they go
to melt, meld or even die
iron of ironies; 90% of these words,
were adrift in my head when I
to bed, "for to be repaired" last night, and
only came to be recalled @ 2:34 am
when them muses and you guru,
woke me to 'get outta bed', and you
who
bids me sleep,
this clashing arousal,
starts engine's cylinders to begin
live~composing, stoking and stroking,
to awake, create, reassemble and uncover
the poetic notions trans~versing my head
one-day, someday they will depart,
for cleaner, greener Champs-Élysées,
where reborn poets speak all languages
with equal fluency, eagerly awaiting
my spouting in Hindi (already ✅), in
Hebrew and any/all dialecticals this
god earth
ever mothered
And there you have it, my FPOTD, dear m.,
SUNday 10/5 & writ in the city where I am alive
in the Den of Writing, where the muses
like to hang out with their old companion,
until such time they will come to inhabit
a younger, well rested, equally restless,
a not-my-mine mind
<nml>
Oct 5, 2025
Oct 5, 2025 at 3:08 AM UTC
“please be naked”
she stands in her doorway wearing just a gown,
I walk in the house, dumbstruck by beauty,
up in her room undoing the bow, the shield simply slides down
caressing her curves, stroking down to the floor,
intertwined bodies craving the touch of the other,
joined as one in the gentle acts of love and lust,
romanticised ideals of perfection and soft rhythm,
delicate groans as two become one,
the broken poet, for the moment, is gone,
my drug addiction of you, just wanting more,
As my heart bleeds, love begins to pour.
“please be naked”.
Mar 28, 2018
Mar 28, 2018 at 8:29 AM UTC
#
*paint me
with the wet tickle
of your tongue
lingering with affection
savoring my fervent flavor
in bold strokes
of your obsession
color my essence
in heated hues
sending shivers
down my spine
in anticipation
of your warm breath
against my flesh
with every blissful caress
to ensue painted petals
of animation
with your supple lips
gently blur the lines
of my curved hips
softly stroking
the subtle shadows
of warm depth,
blushing
quivering thighs
as I gasp
of breath
plunge in
a primer coated palette
dipping your stiff paintbrush
deep within
the folds of my blanket
manipulating
a trembling image
of your voracious lust.
craze me
again and again
in breathless
****** glow,
your sensual brushstrokes
gently murmuring
layer on layer
in alla prima flow
delve deep
into my eyes
paint splattering
the passion
of my soul
drizzling silken strands
of love
in their entirety,
polishing me whole
and then
in blissful backwash
admire
the tangled limbs
interposed
of your
completed masterpiece
in smiling
sated repose*
#
Jun 25, 2018
Jun 25, 2018 at 8:21 AM UTC
MOMENTS OF MOMENTS
LONGING FOR HIS TOUCH
CLOSENESS OF OUR BODIES
FEELINGS WE HUNGER FOR SO MUCH
WHISPERS OF A BREEZE
TICKLING SIDE OF MY EAR
SENSATION RISES MY CHEST BUMPS
WITH FEELING OF WANTING HIM MORE
AS WE START TO PLAY
HE GUIDES ME IN A WAY
WHERE HE LAYS HIS LIPS ONTO MINE
AND THE PLEASURE IS RECITED ALL DAY
FINGERS TRACE THE LINES
OF BLACK SILK ON MY SKIN
SLOWLY HE PULLS THEM DOWN
WITH A RISE OF EXCITEMENT STIRRING DEEP WITHIN
I STAND THERE COMPLETELY BARE
PEAKS AT A RISE
THE WAY THAT HE KISSES ME
AS I STARE INTO HIS EYES
VULNERABLE AND EXPRESSED
THE WAY HE LOOKS AT ME
I START TO FEEL COMPLETE
BECAUSE HE SAYS TO ME
“YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL MY LOVE”
“I COULD STARE AT YOU ALL DAY”
“NEVER COVER UP”
“AND NEVER BE ASHAMED”
WITH YOUR HANDS INTO MINE
RIGHT WHERE THEY BELONG
PRESSED UP BESIDE ME
FEEL OF HIS ARMS SO STRONG
OUR BODYS GLIDE TOGETHER
I CAN’T EVER GET ENOUGH
MOVEMENT FROM HIS CENTER
GIVING IT TO ME NICE AND ROUGH
ACTIONS FROM OUR MOVEMENTS
EXPLANATION NOT IN NEED
MOTIONS FROM OUR FANTASIES
I’M BEGGING TO BE FREED
THE GLIDE OF HIS PASSION
EXPRESSED TO ME EVERYTHING
LEAVES ME FEELING FAINTLY EMPTY
SO SATISFIED AND DRAINED
THE TENDER KISSES HE PLACES
ON THE SKIN BETWEEN MY THIGHS
TRACING OF HIS FINGERS
STROKING IN AND OUT OF MY INSIDES
AMAZING ELECTRIC WAVES
AS I CONTINUE TO BEG FOR MORE
WRAPPED IN HIS ARMS
MY BODY EXHAUSTED, PAINFULLY WORE
THE SHADOWS OF OUR BEINGS
GIVES THE WALLS A LITTLE SHOW
WITH THE PASSIONATE MOTIONS WE DEMONSTRATE
IN A RHYTHM WE ALL KNOW
-BY JENNIFER WOLFE
Sep 10, 2018
Sep 10, 2018 at 12:09 AM UTC
a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities...
*that's all any man wants,
a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities,
who knows the when and why of differing
cuddling styles...
a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities,
who knows when to leave a man alone
alone in his man-mourning time,
distance needed,
letting his ex-rage dissipate or
watching his red and blue football
redefine ignominy...
a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities,
that when the man low whistles, eyes adrift,
she heartily agrees and is
reciprocity rewarded regularly
with hunk alerts of
"hey-check-him-out!"
that's all any man wants,
a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities,
a tigress in the bedroom
she asking, try this, I'll love it,
served with a desert demo of awkward afterward,
his less-than-perfect cuddling abilities
a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities,
who doesn't abhor partner silences,
comforting they are, in their own ways,
lying side by side, interrupted only by peccadillo body noises unexpected and
sheepish apologies and loving arm stroking
a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities,
who lets the man roar, top of voice,
when imprisoned in car,
his voice, un enfant terrible,
performs with Creedence Clearwater
a sing-a-long in traffic, asking
"Have you ever seen the rain"
while amidst Israel-leaving-Egypt
Sunday beach traffic on the L.I.E.
a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities,
when it's pheromones alternative mode day,
he celebrates Carole King day,
she demonstrates her cuddling abilities,
par excellence, with kisses and tissues
a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities...
a woman, plain confident in her abilities
no matter the situational status,
when confronted by
less-than-crazy-impetuous,
she smiling says "why not,"
when he proposes,
a movie and dinner in a fav haunt?
"plenty excellent enough" her answer,
spoke in a rising voice
full of unfeigned delight
a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities,
accepting the unexpected airport embrace
on a moving sidewalk, unexpected delays
with the aplomb of a well lived life's
long term sustainability perspective
when he kisses her hand for no reason,
while driving 75 miles per hour,
she only winces internally,
the other hand vise-grasping
the other door's handle,
who brushes hair wisps in a dark movie,
celebrating her Bathsheba Everdeen's
duality of strength and tenderness
a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities,
that when on second date he proposes
a non-exclusive relationship,
confident enough to high-five respond,
and laugh about it,
seven years on
a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities,
that when she reads it,
analyzing the oeuvre as
"too **** personal and
as usual
too **** long"*
that's all any man wants,
a woman, confident in her
cuddling abilities
in everything...
even a little occasional criticism
May 17, 2015
May 17, 2015 at 10:45 AM UTC
Let me be the Angel
Who bears that pain for you
I am present in your memory
And my thoughts distract you
You will forget the pain
For that lose yourself in me
Always be ready for that detail
Which you find in a stingy bee
I shall as always tell that all is well
Entice you with my newer poems
Just lie back carefree in your bed
Feel me by the side stroking you to sleep.
Jun 20, 2014
Jun 20, 2014 at 12:32 PM UTC
My lips stroll along sultry soft skin
I close my eyes , and see your curves with my kisses,
fingers caressing your belly in infante swirls as if polishing the porcelain surface of a statue,
You lay entranced beneath my gentle stroking , your tummy stimulating the rest if your senses, ******* yearning for attention ,
Strings of a harp waiting to make music, my canvas , your desirable body,
****** finger painting
I meet your lips with mine , for your stamp of approval, my hands answer the call ,
My warm breath ,
Brushes your neck with the stroking of ****** feathers ,
Intensifying the raging desire within your ***** ,
Remnants saliva painted with my tongue evaporates into more of a magnetism, you open yourself to me,
The weight of my passion envelops you
Our tongues dance to the rhythm of our beating hearts
Blood flows through our veins at an increasing temperature
Ignited only by the meeting of our lips.
Intensified
My hands continue to brush your body ,
Answering all the yearning calls ,
I watch you lose yourself in the heat of the moment,
And I continue to stoke the fire
And with a burning wave of passion,
Enfolded bodies
I simply love you off to sleep .......
Oct 7, 2014
Oct 7, 2014 at 1:22 PM UTC
i’d rather write about the freckles on your back than think about all of the ways in which you quite possibly don’t love me.
i feel sick at the very thought of you picking me apart the way you did; fingers grabbing and stroking in a catastrophic symphony of skin and vulnerability.
let’s read between each other’s lines; share my sentences and punctuate my paragraphs with your mouth; because i can breathe easier on the mornings where i wake up wrapped around you.
because my moods change like the ******* seasons and the spinning in my head doesn’t want to stop.
you tell me that i should probably get a therapist because no one that thinks about all the ways in which they could **** themselves has an ounce of mental stability.
i tell you that i have been to four.
names faded into a blur with hazy snippets of conversation remaining.
20mg.
30mg.
you tell me that trust issues and scars aren’t endearing and i tell you that neither is counting up the potential number of pills needed to dissolve your body into the living room carpet.
let me sink inside your skin and make a home in your flesh;
i tell you about the nights where i lay awake in the bath turning the water red.
tragic, isn’t it.
you tell me that this isn’t how my head should work and i tell you that i already know. everything you could possibly tell me i already know.
i know that 400 calories a day isn’t normal, and my hands shouldn’t shake all the time.
i know.
please let me stitch myself into you, even just for a while; until i no longer feel dizzy and my world stops spinning.
i don’t need you to tell me that it will be okay, because honestly i don’t think it will be and, that in itself, is okay.
let me stitch myself into you, because my own skin can’t take it anymore.
let me call you back when my voice stops wobbling and my vision straightens out, but honestly, i’m terrified that it never will. what if this is it. headaches and tears and shaking and blood.
and the debilitating, gut-wrenching feeling of pure and euphoric emptiness.
tragic, isn’t it.
Apr 4, 2018
Apr 4, 2018 at 2:41 PM UTC
Its just ***
So why you catching feelings
When your body was the only part of the deal and
We agreed that your mouth don't come with it
Do you want us to quit?
He would say
As he ****** her soul from between her lips
And tighten up his grip on her hips
You had a choice before
You dont wanna be "just friends" anymore
I never wanted a rrelationship
You got yourself into this situationship
So stop that whining ****
He whispered looking into the mirror that was once her eyes
Before he made her blind
Before he couldn't see through her
I llove what you give to me
I love when you pleasing me
But I don't want you loving me
The *** is just enough for me
It was fun when it was hard to get
Now you're just hard to respect
Now your eyes are clouded with regret
He moaned thrusting into her mentality
Stroking her disabilities
To love herself
To love anyone else
Cause he's all she can see
He's the only thing that's real
He's all she learned to feel
And he's just expecting her to deal
Chill out with the feelings
You're getting unappealing
Your soul is so revealing
The poet in you lost all her meaning
You're demeaning
Youre no longer a woman
You're a substance
You're just a thing
He reveals stripping her of self security
Ripping off the bandage that she placed over her heart so carefully
But you're light
You shine so bright
You're all I think about at night
You make everything so right
But you're making me weak
Love is sweet
But not for someone who makes a living in the streets
I'd rather love you in the sheets
And rip your heart out before you leave
The biggest punishment that life could ever give
Give to you I mean
The biggest punishment would be falling in love with unloveable me
He thought carefully
Quietly
Watching the tears fall from her face
Watching her steps as she leave his place
As his home and heart and soul becomes empty again
He only knows how to cause pain
Only knows how to inflict gentle suffering
Cause everyone he's ever loved left him in the rain
But she let him in
And he's letting her go again.
After all its just ***
So why did she catch feelings
When her body was the only part of the deal and
He gave her the choice before
To be "just friends" and nothing more
Although he wants so Much more .
Sep 13, 2014
Sep 13, 2014 at 7:51 PM UTC
Stumbling into ancient scripts, authored a decades plus ago,
ago being a modifier of time quantities, minute or large, unspecific
without an objective adjective additive, that faucets a stream of an interlocutory elocution of a batter of rooted emotional histories,
but not histrionics
fanciful words for dredged up memories, acute, but tarnished,
powered yet worn by a cousin of ago, a/k/a,
age
and yet
renews as of,
at this very second, as if it were a first, a tumult of visions, swelling of remembrances, embodied scars, and I weep anew but not
for me, as much for the resonating simpatico souls with whom
they even now vibrate with resonance of the immediacy of
If not now, When?
Aside: The exterior environment is noisy wet pelting of thunderstorms and ****** sheets of bulleting rain, piercing projectiles, but I am safe in the sunroom, sadly happy my dog is no longer here to shiver and tremble, cuddle and be soothed by steady stroking
But I am here, wrestling with this dredging operation, digging up
tons of sand that require dumping, and I ask, inquire, beg:
Who will take this detritus off my hands, once more, now uncovered,
now recovered, the soil is already soaked and can absorb no more,
the soul is already soaked and can absorb no more, the weakened
heart, damaged and occluded, suffer cannot bare twice the
outrageous misfortune
of unbared recollections, twice, or thrice, and I feel myself drowning in revisiting pain, **** **** **** these old poems, not nuggets, but boulders dropping from night skies, shot from a pitching machine, without letup, piercing of agonies that once ago
freshly desecrated and decorated my basic training in humanity.
Enough whining:
*I wrote those poems to
eject out those pains,
and I write this now, once more,
to realize that so so many still face
uncertain and unrelenting similarities,
doing their own sums,
and I wish them easing,
strength to compose and
thereby dispose of
the ineloquent
and eloquent
words of staining suffering*
3:30am
Thur
July 10
2025
Jul 16, 2025
Jul 16, 2025 at 5:39 PM UTC
*A tentative touch unsure
of erotica I've yet to explore.
Her sweet ripe ******* allure
my watering mouth can't ignore.
Tickling teasing touch to ignite us
giggling on our high
Soft soothing caresses in between
wondering why I was so shy...
Our fingers tangled in long blonde hair,
then gently stroking soft warm skin.
Bodies writhing, legs entwining,
where she ends, there I begin.
Oblivious to our thoughts
enambered with desires
Lips of wine in heated passion
soaring pleasures even higher.
Perfumed oil on bodies glistening,
**** laughs and playful fights.
Lace and heels and toys aplenty,
Girl, we'll make this last all night.
By EJ and Cné*
Aug 17, 2017
Aug 17, 2017 at 1:01 PM UTC
You want ****** well here I ***
I'll be the trigger to make those ***** juices run
**** with your lips I wanna eat you like a peach
Take you to Hawaii and **** you on the beach
Friction from my licking up and down your ****
Hand full of **** as you grab my ****
My **** starts leaking lusting for your ***** fire
Sixty nine every time let me lick your desire
Exploring every inch of your body and skin
Oops I missed a spot let me do it again
Juices are a flowing I love how you taste
Suction sporadic as my **** enters your face
Bodies in sync I'm feeling all your lust
Making you *** with my tongue is always a must
Your ***** my playground watch me swing
You can play too, here play on my ding a ling
Pulling your hair while I nibble on your neck
As I position your ***** umm so wet
My **** on your **** up and down sideways rubbing you
Begging to be entered, so I do, now I'm ******* you
***** gripping my **** doesn't want to let it go
As we play tug of war in and out your ***** hole
Deep inside you I'm feeling your ***** walls
As I ****** in and out you feel my flapping *****
Finding your G spot oh there it is
Your ***** bubbles up and begins to fizz
Pounding on your ***** turn you around like a dog
*** up in the air ******* you into a fog
My poking keeps stroking as you *** on my ****
Writhing up and down bouncing on my stick
Intertwined in our minds ******* at the same time
Staring in each others eyes while our pleasure climbs
Taboo sextasy with you I'll commit every sin
When we are done turn around and do it again..
Feb 1, 2014
Feb 1, 2014 at 1:08 PM UTC
You don't see me in the night,
My ears pricked for every sound I hear
In the dark, like a stag poised for flight,
And my conscience seeing surgery,
Each sound a cut to my ear.
Guarding your thoughts with my warmth,
Enclosing you with my poised embrace
In the dark, barely breathing by your ear,
And waiting for night to end
Its careless gentle march
Before your breath must cease.
Staying up til morning to see you safe,
Knowing you won't see me standing over you
In the dark, fighting the sickness with my eye,
And hand gently stroking your hair
Until our fragile bodies fade
And your wishful dreams hold true.
Apr 10, 2015
Apr 10, 2015 at 9:17 PM UTC
Amid the verbose magicians
Seeking kinships
And sailing deep into their arduous mists
Watching them peddle their afternoon
To a handful of smiling children holding their breath
Amazed in gentle body trick
The older men of age
Leaning deep into their creased chins
Stroking the grizzled fat
Blinding light of soul
Staring down the barrel of life
Striking the enemy one last time
And yet smiling
sober,
Met of match,
taking care of their kids.
Then there's the cold-clocked dudes
On the phone pushing buttons
In a button-up raglan
Lost indistinct
the promised land
The golden shores swept away by
inconvenient time
Left shopping in an auto mall
"Won't you look at the time?"
7.07 APR
Boy what a steal!
And Steve maddened and screamed
As the lines blurred instinctual between opposing teams
And the oven dinged a great alabaster slant
Leaning towards the new millenitants
Rise up!
***** the wheel
Turn the axel from pistons
To alkaline metal
And doubt with great monumental
Quality
That the machine borders all
And we cannot retreat
And while I sift bouyantly between the waves
Searching the puzzle piece within the molecules
Reconnecting with the things
And representing
dreams on a 66 hertz screen
I call rather failing
Towards a black rocked shore
Towards the sweet Dorigen
Of my dreams
Finding an integral of time
And space
And calculating the intangible slope
Of my desmise
With the imaginary constiutent
Of that lighted mind.
Jul 30, 2018
Jul 30, 2018 at 4:24 PM UTC
The waves moving in and out like a goddess stroking the sand
The clouds rolling across the sky with ease
The bright sun warming us up for the cold water
The beach is my favorite place
Especially when the red and purple is painted across the sky like a visual lullaby
When the air turns crisp
When sky fades into darkness
And you can see the refection of stars shining off the gentle water ⭐
May 21, 2015
May 21, 2015 at 1:45 AM UTC
Rubbing her *****
Through her tight yoga pants
At first glance, the slit, split by the seam
My finger tips, slips, perfectly over her ****
She’s getting wetter with each stroke, it seems
Stroking her bump, as my finger humps,
Her warm, ***** ***** jumps.
Pulsating to my touch.
Feb 7, 2022
Feb 7, 2022 at 9:32 AM UTC
The release; so powerful; sometimes to feel alive: all you need is a reminder:
His guiding hand:supplying the demands to the upper-hand, across her belly button, to forbidden; lands. Parted lips, her pink folds;dragging his hands down. Working each other: we ain’t fooling around; our bodies, over time. Dripping wet with desire.
Her reaching back; she leaned back. Over the edge; of the bed. standing ***** Picture perfect; she’s holding her breath, as he’s kissing on her neck, her breast, focused on her ****** the left. Right in my mouth. Long ponytail, pulled to the left. She is wet, under there, her underwear - pulled to the side, exposing her underhair; shaved bare, under there.
Fingers wrapped around him. Looking hard, she found it; tugging on it. Him pushing his luck got her pressing her lips against him. Pulling his belt out of way; biting his lips, he’s tensing. She, kiss as she play. looking a certaining way; tempting how she tempts him. She’s over the top, and its so overwhelming.
She’s all touched, from touching it; so fortunate, her ******* soaking wet, juices flowing. Wet spots, he’s all over it. Exposing her **** to his fingertips: with his index; middle finger next. Started working her slow, building up to raw *** Pressure building, rising her chest. She’s worked up; trying to get off. Giving it our best. Her waistline, being pumped from behind, so smooth; the finest wine. Unsatisfiable rhythm, keeping them inline. Holding onto her waist, he’s so online; bending backwards, pleasuring each other, every time. Some may come and go, but they come together every single time.
He’s feeling it: the way its feeling, feels so good - a burning sensation: her tenderness subduing his manhood; all is well, so it must good. Movement, with quickness, once his hips shifts, its motion sickness. Stroking his egos, increasing his stiffness, filling her deep. She’s clenching him, tighten, tighter. The feeling of him growing, she’s feeling him insider. Their wet bodies, skins glistening in the their fire.
Jul 4, 2014
Jul 4, 2014 at 11:05 AM UTC
we lay together, 6:00am, body warmth touch-sharing,
as the June morning summer chill coming off its night nadir coolness
surrenders very reluctantly,
full length pajamas, blankets and coverlets in use,
keeping cold out while bodies touching generate heat -
a big difference
through these layers of cotton controversy, my right arm,
my cunning, falls awkwardly upon her, advising I am woken
and aware she is as well, hear her earbuds emplaced, make shushed
whispering noises re the future of artificial intelligence
and other such mental knottings
my awkward angled arm rests on her landscaped outline of shape,
coming to rest where legs meet at the top of an upside down V spot,
which makes no request, but accepts my bequest of steady
stroking of her ****** as an unnecessary
but atheist-acceptable to her
morning prayer ritual, kept at the intersection of the
physical and physics theorems
funny how some prayers,
where recitation comes thoughtlessly and routine,
uttered without any contemplation are yet
deep comforting for their inherency,
so I pray a stroking repetitive on her body,
well hid neath a summer coverlet,
wordlessly chanted, wordlessly accepted, silence connoting approving permission
I comfort her,
above and through a floral coverlet for her floral coverlet,
till the sun rises enough to truly warm up our plot,
my praying reaches the end of its rope,
where quality and quantity achieve unanimity resolution
no longer needed,
but am appreciated, besides my arm is cramping,
not designed for the rising, unleveled angle of her breathing bodice
my comfort is her extra comforter,
an offering of coffee my reward,
for my daily work has begun,
and I have many more poems stillborn
that require coaxing stroking
to become
witnesses to living
Jun 17, 2019
Jun 17, 2019 at 7:32 PM UTC
My heels click
on the floor
Click click click
I walk up to you
all tied up
and At my mercy
Naked
Helpless
All Mine
I grab you gently
caressing
stroking
"This is mine
all mine
not yours"
"This is mine to play with
mine to do with
what I please"
"And maybe...Just maybe
if you're good
I'll let you have some fun"
I kiss you lightly
on the lips
and walk away
Click
Click
Click
May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 2:37 PM UTC
My memory is full of color and passion~ No amount of time could dull it
Its as if I still have the paint brush in hand.. our movements of the sea
and this painting of my memory is still etched inside me
The air is as hot and sticky as could be
your hands slowly gliding and lightly stroking me
Kisses so hot that they kindled and leap at the ready fuel of our need
Muscles clenching and tensing as our passion grows with greed
Weakened and undone now I arch to meet his lips and tongue that now savor
tasting of my flesh and most prized possession as though it were a banquet of the sweetest of flavor
He now whispers the sweetest
of words that I have ever heard
I want to watch you enjoy and want to watch you fill up with me
As I slowly part my legs allowing him to enter and finally set me free
This memory I hold very close to my heart
this painting of my love and our beautiful art
Jun 1, 2011
Jun 1, 2011 at 9:17 AM UTC
It begins with the ominous clouds that roil and billow over the sky.
Then they darken:
Soft whites...
Seductive greys...
All the way to the purple black that haunts the skies on the cusp of a winter night.
The smell that follows this sinister nebula of vapor hanging over your head is that of life bringing relief.
The smell of dry earth mingling with that of the fresh water above reminds one of summer breezes, freedom and relaxation.
The cool but warm drops of moisture start gently stroking your shoulders and arms.
The strength increases, forcing you to squint as you take in the beautiful composition of nature above.
Soon you're covering your head as the rain pelts down and you race for shelter.
The puddles appearing on the floor disrupted by the matter consistently falling into them.
You peer into the world, completely changed, as you visibility decreases and smile, the metallic twangs to the rain hitting the patio roof fill your ears and soul with its rhythm and music.
Oct 16, 2018
Oct 16, 2018 at 12:14 AM UTC
What will it be like
To kiss you?
Will it be
Romantic
Your soft lips
Pressed against mine
Our eyes closed
Savouring the moment
Arms wrapped around each other
The epitome of perfection.
Or will it be
Hot and passionate
My back against the wall
Our bodies pressed tightly against each other
Your tongue in my mouth,
And mine, in yours
As my hand gets entangled in your hair
And yours, stroking my skin.
Will I experience an eruption of
Emotions, feelings?
Will it leave me wanting more?
Well,
There's only one way to know.
Apr 6, 2014
Apr 6, 2014 at 11:04 AM UTC