Scorched With A Giggle

From your eyes the scorch of an angel

Words, feathered, pronounced on my skin

Caressed more lightly than fingertips could

Sexed without trace of a sin

Eyed by two green and a soul search

Two hazel stared in return

Glint upon glint sparking arrows

That’s where our love-life began

Voice bathed my flesh and it shivered

Washed me in words welcomed, warm

Filled up my core and delivered

Heat from a new-risen sun

Irises reached, enlarged pupils,

Signs of what still had to come

First look, first words, were the herald

Of a sex life that’s been second to none!

I was tagged by Jessica to write a sexy poem for Sexy Poetry Day.  But I’m obviously still a fourteen year old when it comes to talking about sex – I can’t help giggling.

Regardless, I dedicate this poem to my better half who, despite life’s marital ups and downs, still rocks my boat and makes me giggle. I was nineteen when we first met, he with my oldest brother, me with my mum. Sparks flew from the get-go, which was a tad embarrassing all round. He was warned off by my brother, me by my mum! But love will out. Sparks will fly. And sex requires some giggling, I’ve always felt. Think about it. Heaven sure has a sense of humour. You couldn’t make it up yourself!

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Parisian Sin

Add colours to your palette,

Greens and cobalt blue,

Yellows sourced from saffron,

Pigments of purple hue.

Dabble with the rainbow layered,

Brush upon the silk,

Breathe life into my picture,

Create me from paint spilt

Upon my skin, a tattoo’d blush,

Effusing limb to limb,

Your mark diffused in attic’d light,

Parisian in sin.

Spread, apply, with fingers deft,

Decree a new form born,

Unequalled art in tone and touch,

Picasso’d by lovelorn

Revisited each time to free

The picture held within,

Blend the magic twixt we two,

Masterpiece therein.

Unencumbered chaise and rug,

A naked revelation,

Smudged together, canvassed flesh,

Signed, ‘Love/Lust’, artist’s temptation.

 

I need sex

Hold on…that didn’t come out right there.

But it’s more or less true all the same.

Let me explain.

When I was very young, I was haunted

By a spectre of religion. Or its mate.

I wanted to be holy or some such thing

I thought it was my calling. Or my fate.

I know I always wanted to be close to

The almighty. Or equivalent for you.

I thought that being enclosed inside an order

Would make all my wishes, or my holiness, come true.

I went along to nunneries and convents.

I really did! And checked the lot of them all out.

I window-shopped for suitability, you know, flavour

And questioned.  God, I questioned. Have no doubt.

I was listening to a spiritual advisor. A priest, you know,

A guy who wore his collar back to front,

But even with such strange attire, you know, well backwards, I ask you,

He spoke a lot of sense and helped this little runt.

He gave me some advice I still remember.

Advice, though unexpected, held the truth,

‘Go and live and love and seek the place where

God intends to use your life and youth.’

I wandered some and dillied while I dallied,

I even checked alternatives around,

Buddhism appealed and so did Judaism

Then I soon got my feet back on the ground.

I figured that my life held many mansions,

Rooms, you know, of quantity and worth,

I figured that I knew there was a spiritual,

Something more than dying after birth.

I figured then that love was all that mattered

And that touch was all important in that task,

That hugging and, you know, a bit of the other,

Would help me help myself and others. Please don’t ask!

I figured that the course on which I travelled was pretty good,

You know, I knew it inside out.

What was the point in swapping buses on the travel,

A travail I could then, as now, just as well do without.

It never stopped my interest, fascination,

With the myriad of ways we seek our goal,

The seeking, questing ways that many look to,

The wondering how to make our fractured whole.

But, I’m lost right now, I have to just admit this,

I’m crazy with the thought that what’s the point

If all judiciaries of all religions

Want to score and somehow take over this whole joint

This little earth, you know, the place that we all live on,

What if annexing and confusion is their path,

What if Cole is right and all the myriad ministrations

Only blind us all and conquer while some laugh.

I hate the thought that maybe there’s no answer,

That all we have is only THIS, this jumped up mess,

That warfare in its many conflagrations

Is all we get. I’m sorry, I confess,

That hope, right now, this moment, right here sitting,

Is a figment like the godheads in the plays of ancient Greece,

That faith and hope, belief in goodness, people,

Is a nonsense I adhere to just for peace.

I’m sorry, yes, I am, it’s not my custom

To be lost to hope while praying for our race,

But, Jesus, jumped up saviour of my childhood

I’m begging, even now, with palms upon my face,

Let there be a way where touch and loving,

The touch of thought, the touch of minds and hearts,

The touch of souls who even still are questing

Let touch, like sex, instil, let love impart.

Sex, you see, it serves on open market,

Does the job on even blogger’s space,

It’s hidden and it’s cloistered, we all do it,

Without it there would be no human race.

All the feckin’ fighting and the stories

All the angst, for what, I have to ask,

Who hit whom and what do you believe in.

Who gives a shit. Really, this our task?!

Touch someone, hug someone, have sex or chatter 

With a lover, I don’t mind the gender of,

How can any of this really matter,

We’re here and now and living. That’s our cause.

I know I’ve wandered off, I always do that,

It’s a problem, a solution for I’ll find.

Maybe in the haiku or the photo,

I’ll check them out with, always, open mind.

Love someone today,

Touch them, hands and mind and soul

Love. And be the whole.

love pic

quotesjpg.com

 

 

SEX!!!! (and censorship…shhh)

I had another post in mind for today but I read two posts of a blogger I’ve only recently come to follow. She had some struggles today with a very honest post dealing with oral sex. It was not in the least offensive. But she had her doubts. Her second post reflected these. She removed her first post then reinstated it when her confidence took an upturn.

I think it’s a shame that we are so filled with doubts on what is acceptable here in blogland. None of us is sure when we hit that button to publish just how what we post will be received. I know I have had many doubts. Not only about posts shared but also about comments made. (I’m a bit of a mouth at times. Sorry, but true.) It’s a gamble. No doubt of it.

It does help though if we know that there is an openness in this land of words and shared ideas that, even while some may not agree, there is no need for us to fear what we may discuss.

Another blogger I follow removed a post this week just as I was about to comment and encourage her to continue her presence here.

To both of these bloggers, women after my own heart, I wrote this to let them know that they have my support along with the many who gave theirs in their comments.

 

Now there are lots of little fancies for your pleasure,

Accoutrements to tickle while you wait,

Gifts for some indulgent self-endeavour

And those reserved just solely for your mate.

 

There are joys of sex abounding for the asking

With willing hands that wield a sensual load,

Locations for a titillative teasing

And many paths that wend from just one road.

 

There are tongues and lips that like to go awander,

To travel south where aches throb deep with want,

Many are the mouths that purse to ponder

While fulfilling what leaves others pale and gaunt.

 

Some there are who know the kamasutra

And ‘read’ its pictures with a certain inclination

While others view such images as puerile

And seek other forms of subtle delectation.

 

There are Trappists who resist all worldly knowing

And contemplate a life of quietude.

Others scream, orgasmic in the showing

Of bonded bodies. This is also good.

 

There are mothers, like my own, whose efforts trying

To educate while censoring her spate,

Informed me that, ‘Some people when they’re dining,

Sometimes even like to lick the plate’!

 

Euphemisms for the genitalia,

‘Flowers’, ‘fannies’, ‘manhood’ and the like

Bemuse the young and crease my sense of humour,

Though my laughter is not done with any spite.

 

There are places where I’d never speak of sexual

Though not many as I’m open to that sphere.

A censored self is perfectly acceptable

But surely not because of others here.

 

I welcome how the words found in this venue

Attest to honesty and just debate,

I love that with those words my trust renews

And many get to share some awful fates.

 

It’s in openness and words said with a glad heart

That many wounds and hurts are lifted, healed,

In discovery that there are others just like you,

When truths, uncertainties are not concealed.

 

Maybe ponder on a page before dismissing

Just what the writer tries to oft portray.

Where none offence is given then why take some?

Instead believe the words they have to say.

 

Prohibition never works, we all know this,

Just ask the Jack of Daniels or his pals,

Cunnilingus, fellatio, aka ‘intimate kiss’,

Are just some words used and done by guys and gals.

 

I’d link to who brought forth this post, no problem,

But I’d firstly want approval, only fair.

The trial of her open poll was awesome

And, if she likes, I’d gladly join and spare

 

Any sense of blushing for her posting;

It took courage and a readiness to relate.

If others are offended by sex, I’m toasting

That some there are who like to lick that plate!

 

Now I haven’t checked the spelling of some terms here in this missive

But I’m good with that so some can take red pen,

Strike through all the words they find offensive

And I’ll ignore them. I’d rather have the act than spell their name.

 

UPDATE.

 

I’m delighted that my new-found friend has found this

And, approval sought, so given with a smile

So here’s the link to Mer; let nought confound us.

Blogging shared makes all the words worthwhile.

 

Now there’s one who, with her certain sense of giving

And receiving of what is love and how it manifests,

If, shyly, with her own doubts and self-misgivings

Should wish, I’ll proudly show my own self-interest.

 

For, in sensual words and images depicted,

There really is a world of huge array.

Some view sex as chore, ‘lay back and think of England’,

While she, like many, see the fun and play.

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.

Concubine

concubine picture

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.

Affinity

Guided hands feel their way,

Breathless sighs betray.

Fantasy fuels the ardent fire,

Two, transfixed, desire.

Immortal code betrays in flesh

Lovers touch, caress.

A mirrored need to seek the one,

Melded, they succumb.

Dissolving into liquid pool,

Tightened muscles overrule

All mental hope, facility

To rationalise what skin betrays.

Urgent passage to the place

Where blood suffuses; endless grace.

Crescendo in a wanton song,

Affinity where two belong.