Sexy dark and pink heart fell upon my pulse, I still smell
her bloom on my nerves while weaved in her winter hair.
In the mornings her
sheeted marvel was the size of mountains, singing
with the sound of song-birds, and I knelt with a boyish
whisper to her maple-wood alter, in the chapel of her thighs.
How fancy her warm moods burned like an August noon,
while I laid beside her fire and happily suffered from
loves fever, harbored in her sweet grace!
Oh, when the drops of your dew gave me drink,
and when I kissed your curves,
and when I entered you as a dream enters a dreamer,
so fast were my blue tears dissolved, my hand full of senses
were drummed numb while I sucked the magic from your
flowered tides.
Oh my God what a time it was when you were my dark cross,
my savory creature, my smooth boned heart-
what a time it was, when I fell to you!
copyright 2020
-
Author:
cabalo blanco (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: December 23rd, 2020 09:57
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 34
Offline)
Comments2
artfully done, but skirting on just the safe side of borderline (age restricted), lol
good read,
'when I fell to you!'
indeed, we've all experienced a similar sensation of gratitude, at one time or another,
Happy Holidays
Should be age restricted: at 81 I'm entirely too old to be reading it!
Seriously, I really love this poem. It's good to think about a lover like you did!
A few editorial points: the past participle of 'weave' is 'woven', not 'weaved'. I think you meant 'altar' rather than 'alter'. Do you mean 'lay beside her fire' or 'laid her fire'? If 'loves' is a possessive, it needs an apostrophe.
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