Many a boy – quick in his view
Looking for the easy girls of a soft dawn
Those who are comely & always giggle
With an fresh smile & seldom else on
They know not the pleasure of true joy
The beauty of engaging an active mind
The coaxing out of the right words
An equal in intellect you might find
But I, who finds himself at sunset
Have indeed heard the siren’s voice
& the pleasure of being selected
By a grown woman’s choice
This Pirate is an old wives’ tale
Passed on by sorority sisters these days
Mythical pleasure & infatuation –
Fluttering love; let them count the ways
World renowned for his nautical exploits
But it’s not true they were all naughty
Legends told of a bad boy untrue, for
That infamous passion belongs to only one hottie
Transactionally stealing poetry from her diary
Thinking pretty thoughts, my lady crooner
Shedding our shared idealized past
Ravishingly disheveled from another nooner
These things are seldom spoken aloud
Angels sing out; no longer so distant
Breached actions distorting our thoughts
Heartbroken; leaving you feeling resistant
I’m out here worshipping my secular goddess
Looking for quiet now & avoiding unsolicited advice
Passion not always akin to pleasure
Focused to ensure my kisses are nice & precise
A woman of interest
But she couldn’t comprehend
Dismissing my words
Like my missives of love could ever end
She called me droll & simple
But I yearned for her feminine pleasure
Astounding all expectation
The greatest of my Pirate treasure
Beyond all your common tales
This woman; finer than her humility
Beauty isn’t a rational equation
Though her logic doesn’t equal tranquility
Hey there, ballerina
Graceful upon your toes
A pleasure to view
I’m not as innocent as those
Need to kiss that smile
Are you always this chipper
A wink & a taunt
I’m going to destroy that zipper
Kicking the heads off wildflowers
But they’re often seen as weeds
I stroll throughout this lost meadow
Forgetting my list of dangled needs
Recharging my soul along the way
Knowing there’s an answer out there
Wallowing in life’s simple pleasures
Never gone, because I’ll always care
Red lipstick & a tight ponytail
The pretty piano player; a punk rockette
The domestic goddess with a need to be clean
Living on the edge of the cosmopolitain set
Hoarding her guilty pleasures fiercely
The moral ambiguity is a stubborn crutch
Ignoring nature’s perfectly placed laws
But she’ll only accept the light’s soft touch
Wearing an evening gown at her elegant leisure
Within her mind, no better way to take a selfie
She’s blunt with her standards & expectations
But lucky for us all, my poems are gluten free
Image by Kelsey Vere from Pixabay
“Eating the peach is a meditation. Your mind empties of all the must dos and should have dones. You are pure being. Your lover’s tongue is the key that turns the lock that opens the pleasure box. Life has few perfect moments; moments of cunnilingus score the highest on the sex blissometer.”
― Chloe Thurlow, Katie in Love
Captain Q 