Wet Sunday Mornings

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Wet Sunday mornings
Grass still damp from the rain
Fresh air still cool to the touch
Rising without a hint of pain

Voluptuary visions upon a treasured bond
Hoping we might become bosom buddies
Remotely fond of the Bon Vivant’s taste
When I proposed to you in the study

My parochial quips; unacceptable in polite society
Profane & unprintable odes to her formidable posterior
Writing what catches my mind’s eye
I can’t help it if my motives might be ulterior

Vice & folly are complimentary rectitudes
But please stop staring at the lady’s chest
There’s only so much to explain away
& no one cares the origin of your Preppy crest

Tell me what constitutes good head
With my mind clinging to her curves
These dreams; had their own Silicone Valley
Yet, when she speaks I’m a pile of nerves

Boxing Day is the day for cunninglingus
Cauliflower ear from her thighs
Witnessing nature’s perfect curvature
Nonperishable lust eschews the dandy’s lie

Vanity is fundamentally unstable
Draping you in silks & laces so gaudy
New souls full of an easy virtue
Just know, how badly I want your bawdy

Picking Up My Girl Along The Way

Picking up my woman along the way
A short enough skirt that’ll surely tease
Soft tones upon the extinguished day
Wine & song that I might forever please

Snapping fingers & popping buttons
Ample latitude that I might play her fool
Admittedly; for her touch I’m a glutton
My own words reveal me to still be uncool

My ravishing mettle giving her just cause
Subtly picking up her heels and hemline
This rakish spirit providing her pause
Exposing joy & unadulterated sunshine

A Gleam In Your Eye

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A gleam in your eye
Like we’re getting away with it
A quiet moment for ourselves
Not exactly what you expected

A touch more intense than you’re used to

But I only know how to kiss deeply
I’m trying to reach your soul
& feel every heartbeat

Two Lost Souls, Like Beachcombers

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Two lost souls, like beachcombers
Looking for lost things, love & such
Distant memories of happiness
The feeling of being needed; a touch

Nestled within a Siren’s lullaby
We never could grasp our fate
Shrugging off the daily struggles
Our only choice is to circumnavigate

A Pitch Black Morning

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A pitch black morning
Lightning out in the stratosphere
Sharpening thy tongue
Sunrise the only thing we fear

Deflecting unwanted attention
Desiring space, but not too much
Pulling love from the cosmos
Daybreak; yet further out of touch

It Was A One-Eyed Kind Of Morn

It was a one-eyed kind of morn
With evening’s festivities going awry
I scrawled out all I could remember
Once a gentleman, turned drunken guy

Slight images of a lovely form
Olfactory sparks upon my brain
Sketching the party’s guest list
But no new faces could remain

Racking my skull for a proper memory
Writing down every & each detail
Compiling a list to rediscover
I’m trying to think, but it’s to no avail

A faceless gown with affectionate gloves
Somehow my mind is able to recall
Cognitive fragments begin to linger
Clouded out by last night’s alcohol

Scenes slowly begin to return
I believe we’re out on the dance floor
An embrace of smoldering desire
Yet I couldn’t figure out any more

Scraps of notes spread before me
No identity to place upon the truth
Scant reason to be shy in my search
Basking in honesty of my lapsed youth

Cobwebs have been sparsely lifted
Won’t think of her in the past tense
Her ghostly touch encourages me yet
We shall meet again, I firmly sense

To hold her with determined spirit
Seems fantastical at this sad rate
Yet she’s left fingerprints upon me
Remaining until I succumb to my fate

I’m The Footnote To Your Memory

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I’m the footnote to your memory
Everyone will remember how you touched their soul
I’m just the quiet guy in the background
Working hard to help make your vision whole

I’m not the one to be seen nor heard
But to fade away when they extinguish the lights
Forgotten once the dream falls to recess
Sealed once we find our departing flights

I never wished to distract from you
I humbly serve your silent grace
No aim to conjure something more
Merely to bask in beautiful refraction of your face

I Want To Dance With You

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I want to dance with you
But I only have two left feet
I want to grasp you tightly
Hoping for our lips to meet

I wish to serenade you
But I cannot carry a tune
My words falter & flutter
With feeble hopes to croon

I’m not good enough
To fake or impress you much
But I’ll love you forever
With every word & every touch

Running My Fingers Upon The Smooth Surface

Running my fingers upon the smooth surface
Keeping them always against the grain
I know my way through the Redwoods
They’re my protection against the dark stains

Born in the high desert among the cacti
Faint echoes from mission bells of yore
Great things come from fools with faith
Misguided souls remain thirsty for more

Stubborn & obstinate as hardwood
Needing my love to keep from being truculent
Even though our touch doesn’t always soften conditions
Nevertheless, she is still my favorite succulent

I Just Want To Love You

 

 

I just want to love you
With no drama or distractions
I want to focus on your desires
Us; & our primal interactions

I’ll write of our epic romance
How my forever feels on your lips
But until we can touch again
With anticipation you’ll drip

Image by joelleboente from Pixabay 

My Fetish Is Powerful Women

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My fetish is powerful women
Standing proud in front of a crowd
Holding court with authenticity
Firmly entrenched without having to get loud

Mesmerized by the way she carries herself
Controlling me with a compassionate glance
She’s my incandescent muse
My reason for believing in happenstance

She’s regal without being out of touch
Properly expressing how it feels to be real
But I know she’s never going to give in
No matter our depravities, she will never kneel

Containing the ability to remain soft & lovely
While always making me hard
She can be inconvenient to worship
Not a plot point, won’t let you simply discard

Who am I to say no?
When she asks me to open up for the Queen
I’m the victim of my own volition
But I love it all, if you know what I mean

I Wish To Feel Her Heart

I wish to feel her heart
To feel every loving beat
She makes me smile
Ever since we first did meet

I wish to touch her heart
For it always gives me hope
A silly grin creases my face
With my prolonged grope

Image by Tino Ehrhardt from Pixabay 

I Want To Touch You

I want to touch you
Taking in your hips, nips & lips
Forcefully; against the bookshelf
We keep making the record skip

There’s no quenching this fire
This passion burning inside me
I want this life to last forever
Keeping pace with the love setting me free

My Love Resembles

My love resembles
A smattering of prose
Lady, I beg you
Won’t you touch those toes?

I’ll create any dream you like
Stories, poems or tales
Infatuation lingering now
Smitten with all you avail

I wish for your subtle tease
But I can’t handle your stare
I’ll write anything you please
Though I fear you’re quite rare

Red Lipstick & A Tight Ponytail

 

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

I Know You’re Checking Out Your Flaws

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I know you’re checking out your flaws
Standing at the mirror, counting imperfections
Negative thoughts like these rather gnaw
So I’m offering up thorough inspections
It’s best to take it slow around curves
Haste would be such an utter waste
Wanting you to feel it in each of your nerves
This examination shall be conducted by touch & taste

Two Lost Souls, Like Beachcombers

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Two lost souls, like beachcombers
Looking for lost things; love & such
Distant memories of happiness
The feeling of being needed; a touch
Nestled within a Siren’s lullaby
We never could grasp our fate
Shrugging off the daily struggles
Our only choice is to circumnavigate

Daylight Creaking Up Over The Atlantic

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Daylight creaking up over the Atlantic
First light’s rays struggling over the sea
My bones seem to have a bit of rust
Better lubricate with some more coffee

Dancing upon the shores of the St. John’s
We don’t need carpets; red or otherwise
We only need our bare skin to touch
Ending with me whispering between your thighs

Touched By The Whim Of God

Touched by the whim of God
Revolutions in the unlikeliest of places
Tasting the perfect tilt to her hips
My benign lunacy comes in traces

Diluted measurements by midmorning
With inconvenient virtues & unholy glee
Bringing small obsessions in my mind
When the local widows invite me for tea

Entering only after a courteous introduction
No need to intrude on our nebulous beliefs
A shared sacrilege when I watch her curtsey
Dropping to our knees; praying for some relief

Dimples; The Marks Of The Fairies

 

 

Dimples; the marks of the fairies
Their love touched upon the very faces
Chosen to endure above the others
Dimmed, but remaining vague traces
Magic’s residue upon your life
Nature knowing what is true
Selected to be special
Out of all the woods, they settled upon you

Sometimes I Don’t Want To Love You

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Sometimes I don’t want to love you
But I know there’s no real choice
My heart longs for your touch
Your kisses give my soul a voice
Sometimes you don’t make it easy
But we always make it through
This world is a beautiful place
Much better since I share it with you

Walt Whitman

“Touch me, touch the palm of your hand to my body as I pass, Be not afraid of my body.” -Walt Whitman