it'll be five minutes

she sits

on the window sill

in the chipshop

he stands between her knees

she pulls him to face her

fingers in his belt loops

rests her flushed right cheek

against the button of his jeans

her breasts brushing his thighs

moistens her lips in anticipation

of a fine piece of cod

tangy with vinegar

Listen

I long to hold a woman

in my arms again

to feel her skin under my finger tips

the warmth of her breath on my neck

to draw the scent of her hair

into me

pure succour for my soul

I would live on the smell of her body

her musky shades and damp corners

I would thrive on her sweat

I would jive sweet sounds from her throat

with my caresses

and catch them in the bosom of my heart

too long the dark nights

have settled in

with no-one beside me

listen

let my loneliness

sing out

over roof tops

and

across oceans

listen

let my yearning burn

as a beacon on the hilltops

for I am no longer

afraid to tell

the world

of my longing

I fear only

the depth of death

in this sad solitude

were we to meet

Were we to meet

would we seduce each other?

would we

in our search for desperate love

find solace

in each other's pain?

I would let you

lead my hand

over the field of your belly

down through 

the soft warm grass

you would spread

your fingers over mine

and curl me into you

sucking up my fingertips

to the knuckles

in your lips' wet

kiss

and my mind would

follow your lead

and drive my nose down

across your breasts

tonguing your tender nipples

as I pass

glide over your stomach pillow

through the same pungent forest

then delve

into your honeyed cavern

seeking your pleasure

in its dank recesses

until you

your eyes closed

head tipped back

utter sounds

I long to hear

of pain melting into pleasure

of sorrows softening

of darkness opening

to the light

rope

Allow me to introduce you
to my friend
rope.

See
how she curls
and twists in my hands
for now she is calm
but soon you will see
how playful she can be

Watch
how she
snakes
flails her tail
curves her tiptongue
and flickers
a stinging tingle into you

her silken threads
fascinate
and you will fail to resist
her creeping around your wrist
for this
is where she longs to be
for you belong to me

one slim wrist
and then the other
at first a loose noose
looping gently round
your power to escape
too late
for now the noose knot
slips
and your lips
part with the sweet
impeachment
of the pinching pain

Do not strain
against her
as she pulls

and draws you into me.

Tighter she will hold you
and tenser
and you will sense her desire to
censure and control you

for you are to be punished
until you are wet
 with the pleasure of it

A tweetery poem

My twitter friend Amaliya (@4m4liya) and I were tweeting little poems to each other the other day and this was the result:

I harbour lusty thoughts of you

you provoke the seamy side of me

the steamy side -

you heat my blood

and threaten all the peace within

Know, maid,

that you have undone me

and led me to the edge of love

and teased me

with your loving game

I do not seek to tease you, sir 

but rather hope to draw you in

to open up your heart to me

to open up your heart

You tease & touch & tickle quite

then leave my flesh abandoned

oh would that I could bind you here

for all eternity

oh do not wish me tied, my lord

for I would ferocious grow

& break the bonds

that bound me fast and go go go!

Sweet love,

oh never leave my side

I beg you always stay

I never could restrain you thus

not for one single day

then sir

if you would love me now

& hold me in your heart

then take my hand

& kiss my lips

& promise never to part

my heart is yours

my one true love

my heart and all it holds

I will not be untrue to you

as long as tales be told

 

The Baxter Chides the Patissier

You have left

traces of flour

around my breasts

from when you cupped

your cold

pastry-making

hands

around them

lifting one

and then the other

like goatskins of wine

to your tasting tongue

my skin slips 

like dry, sanded paper

in your palms

you roll my flesh

like dough

between your fingers

and your thumbs

you wring from me

a syrup of ecstasy

my buttocks rest

against the

chill, marble slab

as we wait

for the heating

of the oven

 

lady of the plains

Come, be the architect of my desire

persuade your luscious land to succour me.

Mould rock and blood and bone and flesh and earth

and fashion passion from the worthy clay.

Come, be my guide across your sculpted form

guide my hands across your open fields.

My fingers shall palpate your subtle hills

and journey deep within your dark ravines.

Come, eat the soul of me and sup my wine

the power of consuming flesh and blood

I offer no religious sacrifice

to match this dark and satisfying urge

I harden in your gentle rolling hands

I soften in the aftermath of joy

I fold you in my arms, these loving bands,

I bind you in the slowly darkening day.

inspired by the work of Craig Tracy