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This Kiss, Our Sensual Pride… You Make My Sun Arise, Oh So Deep Inside

029

 

1. A prelude to a due, adieu…?

May I have this dance?

and lead a merry whirl

through sensuous timesteps

with passion to unfurl

slow, slow, quick, quick, slow

the rhythm of love is to go with the flow

adagio, dulcissimo

intimo, libero

from subtle expression

to a crescendo of confession

lucidity in liquidity

the end undefined

sinuous sensitivity

with each beat in time

wrapped in arms

enraptured in each other

enveloped in sin

captured and covered…

…..

2. Toccare appassionato

As as the heat rises

imagination to the fore

increased variations

subtleties and more

dance with your fingers

linger with your tongue

carouse to arousal

two become one

in volume and vibration

increasing sensation

accelerando con brio

allegretto con calore

time in time

leaving you wanting more

a step to the left

a swing to the right

complete connectivity

performed to delight

…..

3. Finale…

Learning and lessons

become unending sessions

a waltz to a rumba

jive to lambada

emotions at full height

sensory delight

head and heart all a spin

all created within

fermata, fuocoso

passion still flows

pride to discover

as one with a lover

in a sensual dance…?

 

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Mistletoe And Murder! – It’s Xmas!!!

bulk_mistletoe

Kiss me before you go
Right here under the mistletoe
She said…
Wait ’til later
After Mater and Pater
have gone to bed…

So we sat in silence
as The Queen did espout
and then ET called home
before his credit ran out
and as the light was fading
dozed to Trotters independent trading
trying to be merry
on a single glass of sherry
tentatively sat holding hands
waiting for parents to disband…

Let’s play a game
all of a sudden said Dad
Get out the Cluedo
No! that’ll drive us mad!
But out comes the board
from the dusty old box
Dad sneaks another sherry
the sly old fox
Mum brings nibbles
and suppertime fare
Dad takes rolls the dice
and we all sit there…

A choice of weapons
So proudly displayed
Colonel Mustard in the library
chatting up the housemaid
Miss Scarlet in the bedroom
the bed recently unmade
My mind begins to wander
will I ever get laid?

Two hours later
And enough is enough
We had to let Dad win
or he’d go off in a huff
but still they’re not tired
so we again sit in silence
my mind now thinking
of acts of violence

Shall I hit him with the candlestick
or hang him from the rope
or stab with the dagger
I don’t hold much hope…
But then all of a sudden
both have closed their eyes
they no longer breathe
no snores, grunts or sighs
for my gorgeous girl
has found the way to win
she topped up their sherry
with a fatal micky finn!

And so now we can go
All night under the mistletoe!

 

 

A Selection Box – Chewing the Cud

087

 

FUNFAIR…
Do you carouse on the carousel
or fill up on candyfloss
sweet sugar ‘tween your teeth and tongue
messing up your sparkling lip-gloss…
with lights all a flashing
and shouts and screams
from roller-coaster rides
to melting ice-cream
from death rides to candy twist
holding hands to that first kiss
kiss me quick hats and sticks of rock
fumbling in the shadows, doors to unlock
ghost train rides in darkness
twisted mirrors as you dance
cuddly toys and spotty boys
all waiting for the chance
to win you as a token prize…and hope to get ‘tween your thighs!

so with laughter and grease covered lips
as you feast on fish ‘n’ chips
then leaving from the final ride
feeling sick deep from inside
sit on the kerb to gather your thoughts
the lad beside you is not what you thought
and so you head home alone
as the one arm bandits fill and groan
with all the cash you’ve spent so far
no money left for a cab car
but one day you will come back
you love all the lights, noise and cheap tack!

…..

Rusty Nails???

What good is a rusty nail?
Hit it too hard, and it’ll fail
to go in straight
you should’ve cut a mortice rebate
with a saw, then the joint will prevail!

…..

A ball point pen… 

It’s only right that it writes
sending words of delight
to a loved one…
To scribble or script
you won’t break the tip
in anger or in fun…
blue ink or black
only encouragement lacks
to get you scribbling…

and when you receive
the reply you want to believe
then you will be left dribbling…
there is nothing finer
than writing a one-liner
or even a year long diary…
so much more fulfilling
as long as you’re willing
to reply, in kind, to me!

…..

A Burst Water Pipe… 

You’ve got yourself
a new monkey wrench
so now you tighten
the connection, get drenched
as the pipe begins to leak
it’s help now, you need to seek
your top is drenched
your floor is flooded
and now arrives
a plumber, hot-blooded
he sees you in
a state of despair
so quickly acts
the leak to repair
and once he’s halted
that water flow
he offers you his plunger
to do with?
well…you know!!!

…..

Heatwave… 

Drained, so I’ll refrain from exertion
just lie down and get some diversions
like a cooling drink with plenty of ice
shared with someone special and nice
and the ice-cubes that are still spare
we can still enjoy and share…
by rubbing them over your skin
so cooling to the outside
but feeling hotter within
thoughts turn from chilling to sin
and as they melt
bodies ready to be felt
the heat wave takes it’s course
but there’s still readiness for some sauce
sticky perspiration
sensual sensations
then a cold shower shared later, of course!

…..

My Big Toe… 

My hero
is my big toe
it points the way
I should go…
it leads me
in the right direction
firm foot forward
without dissention…
It tell me whether
I should oughta
put the rest of me
in hot water…
by taking the lead
of testing the bath
better a hot toe
than a scolded aftermath…

…..

Handbags… 

I’ve always wondered
and it does make you think
how women have handbags
full of everything,and the kitchen sink!
Such spacious caverns
always filled to overflowing
they can’t do without them
wherever they’re going!
and yet there is a problem
when they put it to mind
they rummage around for ages
for something they cannot find!
Why can’t they use pockets
like us blokes with sense
we can’t fill them with so much
but some ball-juggling can recompense!

…..

 A Frog….. 

Sat on a lily pad, on the pond
hidden behind ferns and ticklish fronds
open eyed, silently studying
all the options later for buddying
waiting for the ladies to respond…

So with a raucous croak he shouts
come here frogesses – time to give out!
we can make thousands of tadpoles
from five minutes of froggy rigmarole!

And if you’ve ever seen
frogs mating in the pond or stream
then you will know
as the numbers grow
it’s a pulsating orgy of lust so obscene!

…..

 Lipstick…

There is lipstick on my collar…
Then I look down and follow
the traces you’ve left
all crimson and deft
down to where you did swallow!

…..

Sticky Keys… 

I’ve had my zeds
and a morning romp
now it’s time to rest in bed
and to turn on the comp…

to see who’s been up all night
and to get me in the mood
for reading and writing to delight
I definitely need some food…

so a full round of buttered toast
with my favourite strawberry jam
it’s the one I love the most
now I login and delete the spam…

with toast in one hand
the other hand tapping away
it looks like I’m in demand
but that’s for later in the day…

the butter drips down my chest
the jam slides onto the keys
and before I’ve finished my brekkie fest
the jam’s jammed my rrrrrr’s and eeeeeeee’s!

…..

The Magic Key…

Sat in the corner, gaining dust
a once elegant now neglected box
smelling of must, covered in rust
no way of opening the lock…

what is inside?, I’ve never espied
tho’ many a time I’ve wondered
is it just empty, or would there be plenty
of treasure inside that’s been plundered…

I have to find out a way to get in
forgetting I haven’t a key
perhaps if I pick it, dextrously trick it
it’ll open itself, mysteriously…

I twiddle and fiddle and fumble and fret
fluster and bluster and curse
but am unable to open it yet
every time I try, it gets worse!

How can this frustration, lead to elation?

it’s driving me wild, even over the edge
desperately, finally, I get my own magic key
and smash it wide open, with the sledge!

…..

The Laughing Potato? 

King Edward was not impressed
he’d sent Charlotte to be blessed
in Pink Fir with a Maris Piper
whose Jersey Royal looked even riper
and so badly failed the test…

To hold the Pentland Crown
now he felt so let down
his Desiree seemed Majestic
but turned out to be a domestic
so he hid his hurt with a frown…

Then an idea came to his lips
so he shouted out, hands on hips
bring Maris Piper and Peer
right in front of me here
and I’ll turn them into chips!

He was told don’t be so daft
but he just stood there and laughed
‘I’ve got salt and vinegar
and loads of fish fingers’
so they ate, and lived happily ever aft!

…..

An Empty Tea Cup… 

Is an empty tea cup
drained to the very last sup
just a reflection on how you feel?
Is your life full of stains
or scattered tea leaf remains
and drips spilled over the edge at will…
do you feel cracked and chipped
soggy biscuit dunked and dipped

or feel like the saucerful of slops
are you feeling so incomplete
life without sugar not sweet
how you wish the strain would stop…
perhaps there’s a way
to improve your day
and it starts with a fresh brew…
so under the tea cosie
is something so much more rosie
proving a smile comes with tea for two!

…..

THE CATERPILLAR AND THE FLEA…

There was a flea…
it freely landed on me…
so with a scratch of such vibrant vim
I fully explained, inclined to him…

Go Away!

So off he went, now mutually banned
and on a caterpillar he did fruitfully land
but twas immediately confused
so now he had to join the queues
for a leg, to beg for, and bite
to infuse his lust for a bit of delight…

He hung on through half a day and full night
and when the moment seemed so right
waited his turn, to blood suck and yearn…

But now once matched and tightly attached
sadly, his longing was quickly despatched
by the kick from the other 29 legs in turn!

So the moral of this tale
Is bite too much and you’ll fail
for the caterpillar will win
and escape from his slippery skin
to become, and this you can’t ever deny
a graceful, so beautiful
gentle-winged, spring butterfly…

…..

LACE… 

You are wearing laced stockings
and lace frilled knickers and bra
but it’s what’s underneath them
that is thrilling my hands to wander far…

It’s not that the underwear is plain
it is so very sensual and exciting
but the woman underneath is seemingly hot
and is now, nearly bare and enticing…

the lace may encase the fruits
and succulence is what I seek
so strip away these lacey plays
and let me take more than a peek…!

…..

A Birds Eye View From A Squirrel’s Nest! 

NUTS!
WHOLE HAZELNUTS!
I’m sat here high up in my drey
the forest floor seems so far away
the nuts have fallen, rich food is calling
yet high above a storm is squalling
but I daren’t leave home just yet
cos I hate it when my tail gets wet!
but if I don’t, and I surely wont
scramble down to the harvest below
my nuts will get stolen
some others gut will be swollen
and my stash will be empty, oh no!
so I quickly peek, dry route to seek
from here to harvest floor
I flit, twist and zip
missing almost every drip
until I can gather no more!
my drey is now full, and so is my belly
the rest of my stash
hid in an old smelly welly
but the nuts are dry
and now so am I
so I’ll just nestle back down
and watch the rest of the world drown
just keeping a wide open eye
for those pesky thieving magpies!

…..

Cup-Cakes… 

Prominently set proud
frilly encased
laid out to please
enticingly spaced
pliant pleasures
so full of flavour
and stiffly peaked
wondrous things to savour…
time to unwrap
lick at the icing
surrounding the roundness
full and enticing
squeezing the softness
licking my lips
nibbling the summits
enveloping the tips…
filled mouth with pleasure
hands filled, so gently baked
to enjoy at leisure
my favourite, cup-cakes!

…..

 

WOMEN OF TODAY…(part one of a never-ending splendid story…)

 

020

 

All your yesterdays were conservative

powdered, perfumed, as a preservative

nestles buffled, tight-bound, never ruffled

tightened to the waist, strapped without haste…

breathing so short as presented to the court

to be caught – hushed,blushed, in expiration

rouge cheeked, sweet desperation…

 

All our nows may be flirtation

all awe-showing, aural expectation

‘this is what I’ve got!’

‘does it make you hot?’

 

where once the intrigue

draw-strung fatigue

once the teasing

pure in-mind pleasing

a slip or a glance

furtively askance

of a cleavage or ankle

forbidden, now hidden

will such rankle

turn to exhuberance

blatant, flowing protuberance

of a sweet chest

fully blessed…

 

and yet the age has not woken

the flirt remains unspoken

using alternative signs

pro-creative designs

sauciness, sassiness

business, badinass

no more backward, more forward

scarily un-toward

your fight and your fire

inflamed with desire

creeps out…

and then with a shout

says…take me!

and…make me!

scream!!!

not in a dream

but now

I avow

to enjoy and retaliate

with whatever I can sate

for you, something new

until…..

 

the redress of the undress

spent in full zest, but ne’er blest

has been scorned and ripped

from bounteous breast then hips

which combined

easily defined

makes the lady of today

make wild and willing hay…

 

and tho’ more readily heard

then and now, thus thou….. is the word!

Are you modern and free?

Then please show all your hidden delights to me… 😉

A Gust Of Wind…

011

Morning stillness…

blessed with silent dawn

a new beginning

calm before the storm?

tranquility sanguine in sea green solemnity

early freshness of untainted morn

dew-drops glisten on budding emnities

from bud to petal to floridity new born…

a single beam of sunlight arises

rapacious in capacious new light

encompassing all poles in solar diversity

colours replendent in fragrant delight…

spiders drunk on emptied blue-bottles

in linked spun webs from stem to bloom

silence shattered by shattered shells

as frogs hunt the snails to consume…

until…

 

a whisper of a wind calls upon the listening

rippling leaves as it leaves belief

a building crescendo of crisp rustling shivers

descends amongst the eclipse of the trees

by clouded skies filled with foreboding

as the storm gathers pace from afar

the whisper evolves into whistling anger

as wind and rain start to spar…

their internal fight spreads out of the ring

and savages through the idyll

battering blooms and silken connections

angry clouds throw heavy overspill

torrents of water drown the illusion

gusts make bust of the sculptured vision

flattened and fallowed, laid in confusion

nature’s beauty beaten by nature’s derision

 

until…

the calm appears, the land is watered and fed

and new life will rise from those that are dead…

Feathers…

fether

 

No feathers, no bird-flight
no quills, no write
no tickle or teasing delight…

As the eagle soars above heathered glen
shaded in shadows of sunlit resplend
seeking prey frae above misted shower
silent sagacity in free-form power…

Guilded opacity of purity white
gliding on water with epochral delight
the swan of elegance, power and grace
stalks the waters with beauty apace…

Blackbird calls on spring fed morn
spiders web glistens in dew dressed form
song-birds a flutter, feathers all ruff
tunes a-la-lune, each song off the cuff…

So from each bird of beauty described
a single quill collected and survived
to write the right to right my wrongs
from poetic passage to lyrical longs…

Dipped in ink to travel the mile
scripted to think and unravel a smile
pages of sage or nonsense as written
art of writing, ne’er been so smitten…

Then from the sharp to teasing with grace
A gentle awakening from shoulder to face
stroking then evoking sensation surreal
temptingly unrelenting, to tickled appeal…

Followed by strokes of sheer intensity
across your body fully flows so sensually
each tickle and caress now a moment of heat
a solitary feather leads to passion complete

 

Familiar Trees…

009 (2)

The mighty Oak roars
at the weeping willow
get out of my way
lay down on the mossy pillow
for I am the strength
in this forest land
and all sad trees
must now be banned…

The willow retorts
in her feathery way
that the oak is a bully
but here she will stay
to add to the beauty
of the summer skyline
with elegance and movement
and thus floutingly declined…

so the mighty oak thought
and considered the scene
and shook the willow sharply
leaving it weeping and green
but the willow was not beaten
and so began to make choke
by wrapping her lithe branches
around the old oak…

the oak was distressed
and so fell its acorns
and from each tough seed
a new oak was born
but these seedlings now understood
that harmony must forever rest
with everyone of the trees
in the depths of this forest blessed.

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