Poetry Erotica: An Ode to Your Mouth

You flash your charming smile

Your eyes drawing me in from a mile

With each stride, you move closer

Reeling me in as I lose my composure

 

Your scent intoxicates all of my senses

Your words render me defenceless

Smouldering heat drips inside me

Like little droplets of honey glee

 

Start with your tongue

Thawing me inside out

Hot, sticky and sweet

This flame burns within

 

Tease me with your juicy mouth

Tracing every line and curve

As my desires heave and swerve

Imprint my aching flesh with your kiss

 

Lick every seam as I unfold

Leave nothing unexposed

Savour the panorama

My body becomes

Until I come undone.

 ~ Shirley Maya Tan

 

www.shirleymaya.com 

 

 

 

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Blog Tour

A very fine poet, Paul, a master with words and imagery, invited me along on a blog tour. I’m chuffed to bits that he reads my blog and makes lovely comments.

Now, I also feel a bit guilty because Ali invited me on a blog tour a wee while back and I agreed and then didn’t follow through on my side of the tour. My bad. But, here I make it up to her and, hopefully, send lots of new readers to these two wonderful bloggers. Both write fabulously well, leave me standing at the starting gate, so to speak. So I’m delighted that they each extended the invite and urge you to check them out.

This is my absolute favourite of Paul’s. I had to read it over and over again and eventually made a reading of it for my own pleasure. It’s a wonderful piece of work.

Ali’s writing is so often full of humour and this one appeals to the teacher in me and the love of a fine anecdote expressed just so.

 

The three questions I am to consider are these.

Why do I write what I do?

How does my writing process work?

How does my work differ from other genres?

 These questions  certainly got me thinking about how and why I write and when it all began. So I penned this. With a pen!

 

Poetic infancy, I guess,

began with a doodle,

a scribble on page,

just a mark

till letters’ formations

revealed their delight,

their sensory quality,

their spark.

 

Like moth to the flame

of the pencil and pad,

to the ink draining

out from the pen,

I scribbled and drew,

no clue what to do

but still the flow

raptured and then

 

I found out in books,

those worlds in the pages,

what magic

an author creates,

I gloried in them,

hid out in my den

while kids danced and larked.

My fate

 

was to wonder at words,

their meanings, their source,

to be spellbound

by even their spelling,

to capture each one

how they’d become,

connotations,

their secrets concealing

 

in Latin, in Greek, all the words that we speak,

in the French, in my own mother tongue,

I found that one word

may erupt as I think,

while feelings

course from

my lifeblood

to ink.

 

In angst of my teens,

I defined all my dreams

in writing,

who I was, the why of existence.

Years charted of life,

senses refined,

thoughts penned, but

only for my own subsistence,

 

to reveal who I am,

what I feel, what I think

how my mind

plays tricks in the light,

I wrote for myself,

filed the pads on the shelves,

opened new,

wrote into the night.

 

Till one day in June,

of two thousand thirteen,

at behest of my brother,

I clicked

on WP’s pages,

typed up some old stuff,

and haven’t looked back.

What a dick!

 

I now feel to have been

so shy to reveal

with the family of all

who love words

my offerings today,

as I make my own way,

not in forms recognised

but in floods

 

of joy that I’ve found

in expressing myself,

in floating, eyes gazed

to the sky,

that nothing is worse

than a tongue if it’s cursed

to a silence

that tells its own lie.

 

Now you’ll be sorry you asked

for a blog tour from me

‘cos bugger!

I just don’t do brief

but that’s just my style,

I’ve tried haiku and twitter

but syllable/character counts

feel like thieves,

 

reducing outpourings,

that I have to confess,

just splurge like

waterfall’d blurbs,

all the A’s and the B’s

right through to the Z’s –

no process –

just a huge love of words.

 

And pens and paper.

A bit of a fetish actually!

 

 

Why do I write what I do? Because I have to, always have.

How does my writing process work? Like a waterfall.

How does my work differ from other genres? Not a bloody clue! And don’t, frankly, care. They’re all words.

 

I’d like to invite a few others to this blog tour whose work I admire.

Cole, whose eloquence in words and thoughts on life and meaning entrance me.

http://colemining.wordpress.com/2014/06/03/poets-priests-and-politicians/#comments

She’s coming to Glasgow in September so we’re going to have a good old natter about politics and music and life. Over a couple of glasses of vino, of course. Looking forward to it, Cole!

I only came across this blogger recently and he has quite a distinct style that I really must try in that his poetry is prose is poetry.

Daniel at

http://danielswearingen.wordpress.com/2014/06/27/merle/

Now there are so many more I could mention whose blogs and words I love. But I figure you’ll have more than enough marvellous reading material when you visit Paul, Ali, Cole and Daniel.

Still Your Voice

I still hear your voice in my ear,

mellifluous melody,

sugar’d strands

melted on my tongue.

In whispers, airborne,

your song

lingers

coating my senses,

breathed as liquid chocolate.

I still hear your voice.

Interlaced

In prophecy, she comes to you,

dream beyond pannier’d delights,

floral fragrance, cocoa’d core,

soft and sweet, delicious bite;

warm to touch,

essential meal,

butter’d melt

to taste, reveal.

No crumbs of comfort,

hearty sight,

fulfilling pain,

harvest, excite.

Slumber’d eyes,

token taste,

supped crimson tongue,

refinement, interlaced.

gods in the heavens…..all’s right with the world…..

Warning. Contains sexual references.

I’m attempting to work my way through the alphabet based on myths and legends. This is my offering for G. It’s not part of the April A-Z challenge as I couldn’t figure out how to enrol for that! D’uh!

 

 

Votive candles charged the night. Suspended in glass from trees in the glade, their whispers of smoke rose to the heavens.

The gods glanced down and shook their heads in wonder that still they were appealed to, despite having relinquished the right to interfere in matters below millennia ago.

Amid chatter and wine flagons they looked on and viewed the kaleidoscope of colourful candles with a mixture of despair and puzzlement.

Dancing below the makeshift candelabra was a myriad of creatures intent on eliciting a response from deities long dead in interest.

Heavenly cavorting took up a good deal of their time. Not that they were in short supply of that commodity. But still, it was nice to rest now and again from semi- permanent orgasm. Even eternal ejaculation had its limits of pleasure. In fact, truth be told, time and titillation were hanging heavily on their hands. There was only so much frolicking anyone could do. And the new laws on monthly monogamy were proving to be something of a trial for a number of deities.

Tcanchin  worried away at his erection and wondered if he might go again. He had a slight itch and speculated whether Faunus might have been responsible. Or might he have caught something from himself? He checked out his vagina and all seemed well there. No, he was pretty sure that whatever was causing the itch was not of his own making.

He picked at his penis a little longer and wondered which of the fauns had caused the itch. They were such sluts among themselves and were the only ones exempt from the law. So it was difficult to be sure.

He grew bored at his own meanderings and caught sight again of the carousing below. A thought occurred.

Conclave called, the gods gathered and discussed the incessant demands from earth. Argument flowed to and fro. When it had exhausted itself and they were back to their origins Tcanchin decided it was time to speak up.

His suggestion was well received and it was decided. He, as the only hermaphrodite, should be the one to revisit earth and check out possibilities for further excitement. Perhaps some intervention might pique his interest and the fallow connection could be re-established.

Tucking his mighty warrior into his belt he gave a shout to his peers and disappeared from the heavens in a shower of glory and good luck cheers.

Excitement bubbled within at the memories of maidens and youths who had previously succumbed to his charms despite their best efforts at resistance. Now, exempt from the laws of heaven, he fairly felt the sap rise within at the possibilities. Such a pleasant change from the eternal assured gratification.

And Tcanchin was nothing if not a player. He would give them a fair chance. There really was no fun to be had in weaving spells that allowed easy conquest.

From the depths of the forest a greater light shone than the candles now almost extinguished.

First one, then the others of those gathered, glimpsed the haloed form. As one they fell to their knees and began to chant in exultation at this evident answer to their prayers. One had come among them whose lightened aura proclaimed him a heavenly being.

Aware, suddenly, that he had omitted to dim his internal light Tcanchin cursed to himself and thus diminished his glow.

Slowly, the supplicants rose and approached what now appeared to be a mere mortal. Some, however, caught sight of the twinkling light that remained in his eyes and were drawn more readily to him, just as he had intended.

Momus hid among the foliage determined to remain quiet and prevent mischievous mirth from rising to reveal his hand in matters. He had waited a long time for revenge for his expulsion from the heavens. The frolics could begin. How he had missed this connection with gods and man.

Tcanchin allowed the devotees to gather closely. Time, he knew, to establish some adulation and reassert supremacy of the deities. Time to relieve the tedium. Time he had plenty of. And it no longer hung heavily.

Whisper It

Desiree was ‘forced’ into speculating on being cherished as well as being the one cherished. It has created something of a challenge on her page. These are mine.

Caring for me in a way that transcends self,

Holding me like letting go would be death,

Ending whatever you are doing

to take me in your arms when you see me.

Roaring with pleasure when our bodies meet in mind and soul,

Imagining the possibilities…then making them happen.

Showing me that nothing matters more than love.

Singing my name in your sleep,

Sending me into ecstasies of

Sensual

Serenity.

Having,

Holding,

Hearing, in

Heart and mind.

Cherisssshhhed.

whisper it

 

Coming to you each time I hear your footfall,

Homing in to your scent,

Energising you with my love,

Relieving the strains of day,

Instilling confidence and self-belief.

Somehow winning your heart, though undeserving,

Seeing the love in my eyes,

Soothing hurts with a kiss,

Shouldering your burdens,

Hearkening when you call,

Halting everything to embrace ,

Healing your

Heart of everything that ever crushed.

whisper it

Concubine

In her master’s eyes she sees his favour,

A smouldered glance reveals she is the one.

Fevered touch and kiss she craves to savour.

Tonight he chooses well and she has won.

But wanderlust, disquietude advance,

Foreboding, cast aside for someone new,

Karma calls, lends only this one chance.

What is a woman spurned so forced to do?

Poisoned lips she presses to his temple,

Whispers words of loving, serves to please.

Thus patronized, he begins to tremble,

Falls, willingly, she upon her knees.

Bejewelled dagger, in the boudoir, sparkles,

Moonlight glinting in dark eyes, on fixed smile,

Planned madness, maniacal her chuckle,

His supine head, eyes glazed, gone for a while.

‘Be still, sweetheart,’ softest words placate,

Unknown end, his in comfort and in leisure,

Exquisite agony propels his fate,

Life’s end erupting with his mighty pleasure.

With ebbing breath he gasps to tell his story,

Tale recounted oft, and oft too late,

‘My love, you were heart’s one true glory.

For you I foreswore others as my mate.’

With swift recourse and gesture lost to reason

She plunges bloodied dagger into heart,

Bled with him, though mortal life was over,

Together now, in death, no one dares part.

 

Unknown source for image. Credit gladly given if claimed.

In Other Words

Bring no roses

Send no card

No words for

One mere day…..

 

Light candles,

Cast petals,

Pour bubbles

To filling,

Fill glasses

Of ruby,

Submersion,

Show willing.

 

Immersion

So  heated,

Eyes closing

To scene,

Search lightly,

Touch softly,

You know what

This means.

 

Ease tension,

Relax some,

Liquidity’s

Pool,

Sip, savour

Taste trodden,

Bask, sample,

Let’s duel.

 

Now pat some

To dry off,

Massage

With the oil,

Touch there, please

And there, yes!

That’s how

To spoil.

 

Now your turn,

Turn over,

Lay flat

On your face,

Kneading

With purpose,

Now deepening

The pace.

 

Turn round now

Beside me,

Lean closer,

That’s right.

So eyes meet,

Bedazzled,

A wondrous

Sight.

 

You’re glistening

With unguents

And I’m shining

Too,

Now nibble on

Strawberries,

First one,

Maybe two.

 

Share kisses

So sweetened

By fruit

And the vine,

Taste my tongue

And savour

Desire

So divine.

 

Together now,

Darling,

Let’s build

The desire

With tumbles

Of touches,

Engaging

The fire

 

Hands roaming,

So tenderly,

It tickles

Like hell,

I giggle,

Can’t help it.

You know me

So well.

 

Now kisses

Are burning,

There’s fever

Afoot,

Teeth nip

With pleasure

No acid,

This fruit.

 

It’s gorgeous,

So fulsome

And bursting

With juice,

Come, lover,

Let’s get on,

We must 

Call a truce

 

To teasing

No further,

We need to

Explore

The wonders

Of loving,

Let’s give

Some more.

 

You take me,

I take you,

We give,

We receive

Now, let’s speak,

‘I love you’.

These words,

I believe.

 

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2014/02/10/writing-challenge-valentine/

In Awe

In Awe. Alternative award post. Video rather than written. Well, I’m shattered! And relaxing. And talking is so much easier than writing. Well, it is. 🙂 x

 

Ali And I don’t even know how I managed to leave Ali out of my video. I’m not doing the video again. Are you joking me? It’s tomorrow already. But, Ali, one of the truth speakers on difficult subjects, you’re there with the others mentioned. Blame Friday. And tiredness. 😉

Rene You rock! Hang on in there. When the deal is done you can raise the victory. One direction or other.

Shirley Soul sister fearlessly living and telling it how it is.

Trey Not his funny posts but an insight into a difficult subject. The funnies are well worth a read though!

Morgan Just so romantic! And words worthy of love.

John Afraid. And unafraid. Touching subjects some just dare to.

Desiree The eyes of the world. And a soul.

Poetic Passions Not one of his risque ones! But I love this. My absolute favourite.

Maryrose One of the ones that Maryrose does so well.  Listens to whispers on the wind then passes on truth that free thoughts.

Mike Learning what matters. And proving it in words. And in living.

Kerry Thanks, Kerry. Isn’t it awful always to need a nudge to get going? 😉

 

 

 

 

The Watchers

Who watches

When you come to me

Crawling on all fours,

Eyes never leaving mine

Except to glance below?

Sharp inhale, thinking where

Your licking lips may go.

Standing before you,

Legs trembling,

Heart pounding,

Film of sweat on lip.

Who watches

From the corners

And sees you reach

To stroke my ankles,

Rising to calves,

Raising head,

As hands travel north to hips?

Who watches

While your tongue

Touches cloth

And wets where

Wet already pools?

I watch.

I see your eyes lift to mine,

Hold my gaze

While you tempt and tease.

Promises of what

Will come.

Hips urging forward,

More contact to gain.

Lips parting

To descend

In suckle.

And cries aloud.

No flesh to flesh

In intimacy yet,

Penetrating silky sheath,

A moan,

A miaow

Of sheer delight.

Who watches?

My eyes in mirror

See we two

As of others tasting.

Heady mixture,

Voyeur and participant.

You glance to capture

My eyes in the reflection

And we two

Begin the dance

That flames

The watchers.