Okay, it’s time for poems about soliciting for a one-night stand, masturbation, and nocturnal emission! And one that might prove even more disturbing…

Remember please, with the last one especially, that the poetic persona is not necessarily the stance of the poet!

Honest Proposition

Let us embark on courtship’s dance
Begin romance
And let us kindle passion’s fire
Inflame desire.
Then let us ride the rising tide
A-rage inside
And precious ecstasy purloin
Let us conjoin.

Let your thighs squeeze my stone caress
Feel my thickness.
Let my tongue tease your buds to bloom
Taste your perfume.
And let us shudder with delight
Exalt the night,
Then let us slumber till the morn,
Renewed, reborn.

The Nether Desire

Both men and women share desire
That burns below; a nether fire
Obsessing us with need most dire
Compelling pleasure we require
To thrill us like a glowing wire.

It forces us to seek surcease
And will not grant us any peace
But drives us to engage caprice
Pursuing blessed loin release
Till, satisfied, its urgings cease.

And when we find ourselves alone
Without another for our own
It yet maintains its craving drone
Demanding that it still be shown
The fealty due its greedy throne.

Night Visitation

Goddess, you come to me tonight as dream nymph.
Not quite Jean Harlow, Monroe or a young Mae West
But hair blond and breasts of cream
You romp in silken scenes from silent movies
That in the twenties Anais Nin might have made.
Coquesttish even in your wantonness
You arch and shrug and stretch - and tug -
And touch me with electric fingers.
Our nipples brush and harden.
You wet my mouth with your moist kisses.
Suddenly I am Lawrence of Arabia with horns
And a moon shines on your brow
As you draw me into the desert tent
Through the film, and into you, my oasis.
Veils fall and titters morph to moans
As we roil rhythmically, in tune with inner tides.
I awaken spent. And thank you, Goddess
For your bestowal of succubic blessings.

The Watermelon Theft

It was perfect. Dinner, a movie,
Furtive glances emboldened by their return
Insinuendo banter replacing careful conversation
Then drinks and tipsy dancing, close car embraces
And at the door, the inevitable “Nightcap?”
“Sure,” I smiled and deep-kissed.

Things moved more rapidly inside
Once the drinks were in hand
And the music was on.
The glasses were drained and put aside
By reluctantly freed appendages.
Then she began Heinz Ketchup talk
To build the moment.

“I need you deep down inside me
You make me want it so bad.”

The entry was superb;
Positioned to the proper vector
Of smooth sliding resistance.
Gasps and groans ensued as I deliciously slipped
To the hilt beneath her velvet tangle
Then in synchrony we moved
And seamlessly set a mutually pleasing rhythm
As if we’d been bedding for years.

Churning the butter of passion
With sighs interspersed like flecks on buttermilk
At the critical cresting moment
As she whimpered, clutched and writhed
I, with abandoned thrust
Nuzzled the edge of a diaphragm
And my climax was dampened;
My explosion paved with oil.

Don’t get me wrong, now;
She was great
And the worst I ever had was solid good
But - and I must speak carefully here –

It was as if you and your best friend
Had moonglow snuck into the watermelon patch
And shared the ripest and juiciest between you
Splitting halvsies from the ends
Only to discover
That the rat had paid the farmer in advance.