PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

She is my stoned, imaginary rush

briefly dancing in promiscuous emails,

and the stunning, sensual, pastel colors

of her erogenous poetry. Moonbeams

that makes long awaiting yearnings

start twitching; pondering, when,

and where – originated the Sagittarius

prototype for such stunning beauty,

lovely elegance … and exotic grace.

I actually envy this silent, holding me

erect wish woman; sexy erudite –

mythological virgin, mother of none,

born from the spirit of a lunar Goddess

extraordinaire. Spicy aphrodisiac lips,

disturbing a man’s lonely celibacy …

in a mist over his exposed garden of

arousal; amid ardent hot, torrid fantasies

that richly orgasm into a stellar catalyst.

Her poised Archer hierarchies are a sultry

silhouette, my obsessive beguilement,

like the opera Carmen, story of love mania;

a reality she says is more distant than the

last galaxy. Still I want to be the sole

wooden soldier between her lithe legs –

finely set like a delightful concerto. My deep

breath, incredibly impious, trance hunger

stimulus, seen with licentious blue eyes.

If only I could seduce her with words,

or lyrics, ending this troubadour of nothing; 

yet, in sleep she lays by my side, kisses me

like a famished princess – among boisterous

stampedes of other men craving her adoration -

a caprice release from their own ash burned

penuries; daydreams wished upon inferno logs,

you hope never collapse into the bonfires

that bring these hush-hush passions to life.