Not Lost in France
Poetry
Warning!
The following Poems are a bit?
EROTIC! If you are OVER EIGHTEEN you can continue.
If not,
HOW ON EARTH CAN I VERIFY?
Women’s Love.
Deliciously
lapping
the
moistened
cavern that
held
her deepest
secrets
craving
her lips,
her
tongue
upon my
now
trembling
thighs
waiting for
the
deft agility
to
reach
my now
flooded
gate of
desire
our bodies
arced
in a final
sacrifice
to women’s
love.
Dave.English© July 2002.
Hunger.
As the night light dimmed
moistened lips that
held no words
greeted the darting tongue
Striking the shivering chord,
thighs, once stilled by choice,
shuddered as release
snaked through
her newly arced body
Eyes closed within
silent ecstasy
smiling a lovers smile
she lowered herself
to other pleasures
tasting herself on
my ever hungry lips
feeding on my
cold star empty life
swallowing the pain
then disappearing with
the night.
Dave English (c) April 2004.
Dream.
So soft the
pillow
on
which you lay.
So sweet
the lips that
took away
the hunger
from before.
So still
the air
as
shadows
traced their way
to the
moist valley
where pleasure lay.
The night
shrouding
us in
quiet mystery,
stars
winking their
approval
and
the moon
applauding
our
fleeting, innocent
efforts
to
reach our
own
personal
heaven.
So soft the
skin
on which I lay,
so soft your touch,
as you traced
your shadow
in the
dream I
was
having
in the
bed
where you lay.
Stolen Moment.
.Soft lips
opening to
other
pleasures,
my lips on hers
my tongue
tracing
the humid
contours
of
what had
been hidden.
Her body
arced in
submission
as I
accelerated the
movement,
her hands on
my head
pushing me
deeper,
her thighs
tightening
in expectation,
then her
release
as she
pushed
me gently away.
After, the
feel of
her lips and
her expert tongue
on my
body,
holding her
honey gold
hair as
her
bobbing head
chased the
night and
my fears
away.
