Weekend Poetry: Raw Passion
Jan 9, 2010 Creative Writing/Poetry, Masturbate-able, Sex
sex me.
my toes
nose to nose
no clothes
rapture shows
every breath
I moan…
shallow groan
mind blown
love unknown
unspoken adoration.
speechless joy
girl n’ boy
human toy
together enjoy
raw passion.
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Weekend Poetry: Chasing Butterflies
Jan 2, 2010 Creative Writing/Poetry, Relationships, Sex, love
I see you undress me
with your sexy eyes
from the locks of my auburn hair
down to my voluptuous thighs
I know that you want me
which is no surprise
whether or not you will get me
is still a compromise.
I contemplate allowing you
to take me as your prize
or leave you hanging by a string
in a tangle of my lies.
I switch my hips and toss my hair;
you shyly analyze
as confident as I appear to be
insecurities I internalize.
I wonder if your adoration
will ever be verbalized
or if you’re terrified
of your confession being chastised.
I might tell you of my newfound interest
before your fondness dies
before you walk away from me
my presence you’ll memorize.
I watch you from behind my shades;
I look away as you realize
as you approach me my tummy flutters,
a feeling I recognize.
I let you silently take my hand
despite my inner cries
and we walk, and we talk;
our hearts chasing butterflies..
Tags: boy meets girl, poetry
Weekend Poetry: vul.ner.abil.ity
Dec 27, 2009 Creative Writing/Poetry
vul.ner.abil.ity
defined by a simple
glance in your general
vicinity
as you catch me
red handed and
crimson cheeked
with silent humility;
except that you too
were caught
glancing at me
in our proximity
in flagrante delicto and
flush faced
a dead giveaway
of your defined
vul.ner.abil.ity
Weekend Poetry: Love, Always
Dec 19, 2009 Creative Writing/Poetry, Masturbate-able, Sex, love
the pungent taste on your lips
creates a fire between my hips
in my panties your finger slips
creating butterflies; my stomach flips
with each tender touch my nectar drips
whether in silence or clever quips
our love replays in my mind like movie clips
i love you always, not in fragmented snips.
Weekend Poetry: Prolific Professions
Dec 12, 2009 Creative Writing/Poetry, Masturbate-able, Relationships, Sex, pillow talk
I’m perched and prepared to pounce.
you possibly are perplexed but
probably can be persuaded to play
my
perfectly
planned
game of prowl and prevail.
I purse my pouty lips.
“please pull down my panties” I plead.
Pointedly, you perpetuate.
“plots and ploys my pet?” you pry
I smile, prettily.
“precisely.”
You pause, pondering my proposition.
Politely, you peel my pretty plaid purple and pink panties off,
pushing me proficiently against painted paneling.
Punditly, you penetrate my palpitant pussy properly.
Panting, I plead for more penis; you provide my petitions perfectly.
I am pleased.
Tags: poetry, Sex, the letter p
Buy the Ticket, Take the Ride
Dec 6, 2009 Creative Writing/Poetry, Random, Relationships, Thoughts and Perceptions, Wicked Wisdoms, love
I have never thought that life is like a box of chocolates. Nope. I have always compared life as one big roller coaster.
At times, life has climaxes that send you to heights that you never ever thought you could reach. The highs are exhilarating. Sometimes, life shoots you to the very top so fast that you don’t even know what hit you. All of a sudden, your eyes are closed… and the next thing you know you are staring down at the world.
I love that feeling.
When I am up there, soaring above the world, tightly fastened in … I scream with delight; my hands stretched as far up above my head as they could possibly be.
Breathless. That moment takes the breath away from me.
Do you ever notice that the moment is short lived? That, no matter how good it feels to be up above the rest of the world on the high of all highs … we never stay? The reality is that at some point, we are destined to descend. As the ride comes to it’s end, all we can do is close your eyes, savor the passing moment and hope that the next time will just like every other time we gave the ticket collector our ticket.
Still alive with wobbly legs and a speedy heartbeat.
We are gluttons for punishment. Absolutely. No doubt in my mind. We know that the valley sucks. We know that it is coming. There is no avoiding the end. Yet we go. We buy the tickets, and brace ourselves for the climax.
Some roller coasters are bumpier than others. Some are quick and painless. Some leave us scratching our heads, wondering why in the fuck we even bothered. I wonder when I will finally be done seeking out that rush.
Actually, I am already done. I want off this roller coaster.
For once I would really like to just keep my fucking feet flat on the ground.
What about you?
What 3 things do you do every single day?
What 3 things annoy you most?
What 3 things must you do before you die?
Tags: life, love, rollercoaster
Weekend Poetry: “Your Side”
Dec 6, 2009 Creative Writing/Poetry
I miss you most
when I wake up
and your side
remains vacant;
chilled sheets
still taut and pristine
like our façade
Maybe tonight I’ll sleep on your side.
Weekend Poetry: Wet Dream
Nov 28, 2009 Creative Writing/Poetry, Sex
toward my
private place
your shadow travels
down
down
down
a sweet kiss
from sweet lips
my sweet place
deep
deep
deep
dives your tongue
parting moist lips
a deep kiss
oh
oh
oh
from my bit lip
moans and cries
happen to slip
give
give
give
all your love
dig deep down
a heartfelt request
please
please
please
begging and pleading
kissing and touching
grinding and sexing…
and then i woke up.
Kiss Me
Nov 19, 2009 Creative Writing/Poetry, Sex, love
in
out
in
out
breath hot like
indigo flames
against my neck
kiss me.
don’t wait
’cause i cant
anticipate
another moment.
hurry,
it might be too late
kiss me.
skin so soft
mind racing
sex so sweet
skin tingling.
kiss me.
i really am
coyly grinding
shyly teasing
traditionally waiting,
really.
patience was never my virtue
‘kiss me’
sweet syllables escape
unexpectedly
startled. that’s us.
so you do.
magic happens in
a single kiss.
at least it does
when
lips;
mine and yours
collide
quaking the earth
keep.kissing.me.
Vacancy
Nov 16, 2009 Creative Writing/Poetry
The neon flickers.
“No”
next to
“Vacancy”
First it blinks.
Rapidly as if fighting to stay lit.
Then a tremble.
Afraid of the imminent dark.
Last, it quivers.
With a zap and sizzle.
Vacancy. Luminous. Abandoned. Tenacious. Broken.
Vacancy in
my bed
my head
what wasn’t said.
Shattered glass on the concrete below.
