PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

My heart is on fire, physically engulfed  

with passionate desires, arrested

and imprisoned, netted by a woman who

strokes me until the sexual heat, and erotic

flames intensify and begin to burn – red hot.

She has liquefied and melted wholly

all resolve to resist her flirting, toying and tease

time, rendering my coherence lost, swept

gone in raging unstinted yearnings, etching lucidity

into awe like a bed made of diamond dust.

Insatiable hungers, delicious convivial

embraces, knots in gorges of my stomach

hung like rope from a chandelier of uncontrolled

pandemonium, linking her balmy body of ardent

tenderness with my hungry, rebel appetite.

Pleasing anticipating fingers, frolic,

pinch and touch her pink distracting breasts,

flesh inclinations that crusade my dowel to billow,

heated provocations, sensations arduous as agitated

cravings needing affection to relax and subside.

I feel her tingling electricity, she shocks

my restless dreams at night, spooning with her

ass tucked into my groin, thrills of two connected

forms meeting on a mattress cloud of chauffeuring

moisture, where love dines at the hips.

The intensity starts to climb like a winged

horse soaring into heaven, hopes lingering final

in a pearl chariot, quenching lust in angels, created

without Gods having sex. Thunder then forays a new

throbbing as paradise locks into a sinful reverie.

Our rumpus lips get pressed together,

tongues dance a transcendent duet, physical

shapes evaporate as Yin/Yang spirits break out

in sweat, twirling across an ethereal highland, as if

peyote was smoked by magicians losing their wits.

Nipples get excited, pointed and erect,

an offering of devotional milk to the one man

who adores her best.  Rainbow elation with purple

hickeys on upper thighs no one sees, as if my initials

were tattooed everywhere above her knees,

Hands inaugurate a gentle wander

over nakedness that finds a trusting recess,

an alcove of sweet, sweet pleasure, its own euphoria

looking for a creamy wet niche; digits exploring

her grotto, a hidden hole of wonder and bliss.

As if the winds pick up to toss and turn

us, our sixty-nine position begins to twist, reaching

every hollow, corner and nook; trails that become

rousingly familiar, tracing beads of perspiration,

and candied cream when she starts to drip.

Every muscle quivers, molten cores erupt

and smolder in a language that begins to state –

her spicy cavern is in wait, streams of epicurean juices,

smooth as a dessert before it is baked; ocean salts

of rapture, waves of honey, sugary as a frosted cake.

Plunging side to side, in and out as we kiss,

softly sucking on ear lobes, her mouth open ornately

as if they were a bullion mine, prospectors defend

without knowing their fate. Torrid suspense now begs

me, climb up - let this mare begin her sprint.

I get challenged to stay in the saddle, like

a sailboat of ecstasy crashing the wakes between

her limbs, like a tiller revolving to carve the divided

chasm, keeping her fissure open for the final surprise,

as whitecaps crest to buss her serene shoreline.

This, like the frenzy of an exhausted imagination,

a breathless, emotional subside. Plunged face down into

into her abyss of enchanted euphoria, indescribable

pleasures and carnalities, a taste of delectable indulgences

in a bungalow of sensuality - no poet can truly describe.