Well, as is typical for my lack of attention to detail lately or just my random memory I forgot that yesterday I was to begin a poem a day for the month of April. I guess there went that goal BUT I shall continue with today at least. I won’t let anyone believe that each day will harvest greatness but why not at least give it a very good attempt. So here is my April 2nd poem.
Seeing for the first time.
Crossed his legs, casually
with that sound of fabric
the way it brushes together louder than you realize
but, only in your own mind.
How it must feel
to feel that material
stretched taut against lean muscle.
Let’s make a baby.
There is no other way for me to drop my spoon.
Lost in my own erotic thoughts the utensil
has now lost complete use in my hand.
Thick eyelashes swat smooth skin
as you laugh at the joke.
Your arms flex, move, then across the table
reaching for the water-glass.
I gasp audibly as the fluid lingers on your lips
in the same moment you lick.
Let’s make a baby.
Glued now to my seat not only by
hot summer sun warming me but,
being betrayed by my own weak legs.
It will turn out right.
Settling back in my chair I can’t help but smile.
As if my need finally caught up to you,
blue eyes linger in my direction.
I wonder if there is a way
To make you my baby.
Fumbling as I pour a drink
it spills down the side of the glass
and on my fingers
cursing in my head
I raise my hand to my lips
my tongue reacts to the strong taste
I notice you
and I linger
licking my finger
the cold drink in your hand
begins to sweat
I raise my glass towards you
your eyes follow the slow roll
between my breasts
at your smile,
one moment falls
and there I am
breathing your breath
my moist lips cover
sweet taste of your mouth
so loud there are no words
your eyes invite me
our quiet dark corner
full of sensual scents and sounds
feeling inside me,
my body guiding you
gliding with you
our flavors mix
and you drink of me
you moan against my skin
my thighs tighten
your body follows
our breath heavy
with sighs of release
you lean in towards my ear
and whisper, “Can I get you a drink?”
This particular poem is one of my personal favorites. It was one of four I had selected by a former webzine called Mind Caviar which has since ceased its creative processes but the archives are still available. I wrote under a different name at that time due to a horrific choice of marrying at the age of 20!! But that is a topic for another type of post. 🙂
I love to watch you softly blow
that ridiculously hot beverage.
Your lips pursed in an invisible straw expression,
eyes nearly crossing as you look
at the ripples made amongst the foam.
A tentative sip which always leads to burned lips.
Instead, you attempt the tried and true stir cooling method.
Careful maneuvering with a wooden stick
designed by someone who is surely laughing
at the bank while you use it.
Not entirely at the delicate dance with your drink of choice,
but at the concentration.
Fingers grasping the silly cup clothes
designed by someone else that is surely laughing
at the bank.
It’s almost arousing as your tongue licks the cream
along the slender stick.
Eyes closing for a moment as the strong bitterness
mixed with sweet meets in your mouth.
I’d take you in my arms now for a kiss.
To taste you.
Damn that risk of a spill!