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Temptations, Flirtations The spice of life, the sweet and sometimes bitter aftertaste of temptation and flirtations that lead to it . . .the attraction of forbidden fruit, the tingle of chemistry working its magic or recognition of someone or something far deeper and profounder than our understanding or will to withstand it.
Flirtations, harmless (?) little murmured nothings that hope to amount to somethings or playful teases that please the giver and the receiver.
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Themes and such... |
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for you
How I long to bathe
in the essence of you.
How I yearn, my love, to feel
your weight upon me, crushed
under the blanket of your body…
and so deliciously surrendered.
The gates of my secret garden
no longer closed, forlorn,
open only for you, holder of the key.
Enter gently, ignore my pleas
as my legs embrace your hips…
then fill me with all of you.
Hold me in your arms
as we soar ever higher
to realms of ecstasy unknown
beyond the connubial bliss
of earthly desires fired,
still, fill me with all of you.
How I long to bathe
in your sacred essence
and so deliciously surrender.
Only you, my holder of the key
to realms of ecstasy unknown.
Tomorrow
Thrilling, the thought to lay in
his arms . . .
enjoying the scent of his hair.
Ravishing, the thought to have a
nibble . . .
tasting those lips . . .and
elsewhere
Dangerous to look too deep in the
eyes,
others may notice and be surprised.
But we speak each morning and I
linger a while,
glancing away ‘tween words and
smiles.
When our eyes do meet, it is
delicious
and utterly, wondrously pernicious.
I peer over my cup, enjoy the last
sip
and find him standing before me.
Resisting a thought, I bite my lip,
and promise to return . . .Domani!
(Domani - Italian for tomorrow)
(Written for a persistant 'Casanova' I once knew, someone who spoke no German, but French, English and Russian. Who used to drop very erotic poetry in my mailbox. It was Germany. 1996. I left this poem once on his car...)
(for Whatsisname)
She Passes
Denial won't hide
the fire in your eyes
nor your subtle, intriguing seduction
and I
To your intent naive no longer
nor unaware of delicious danger,
lust tempts me to make exception
yet I
Not wanting to be one of many,
suspect you think me a conquest
expecting, "give in, she must!"
Silly, the lass?
With a sigh, I shall pass
this tempting issue between us!
Forever, never more?
Me
thinks my
ribald,
errant ways
of
long past days
are
gone forever,
though
perhaps not for ‘ever more’.
(Time,
being at times a relative thing.)
Convinced
of this
I
am sometimes -
until
taken by my own surprise
at
imagined flings
and
ardent attraction
to
tight panted bulge,
and
fantasies about figs.
Perhaps
I’ve become particular
or
less inclined to indulge.
Best
left closed, that door.
Who
knows what is behind?
Certainly
not I, not being one
for
the extracurricular
and
such parlour games as ‘paramour’.
Perhaps
I am affected
by
not much any longer,
having
found a higher fate of things.
So
I tell myself, with clever vernacular
though
a little unconvinced:
Ah,
well…
perhaps
this state is not ‘forever more’.