- Erotic Poetry
- It's just Lunch
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Rain on stretched canvas percolates our conversation
in rushes, pauses and complex melodies
a celestial tabla player playing ragas
in the London monsoon
You pluck a wild English rose from the trellis and stare as
beads of cool water roll off the petals into my mouth
Roasted cardamom pods and cloves stir the air in a glorious orgy
Slow food is as good as foreplay
True enough, the shine of your wedding ring gives me pause
I worry how this ends but then
Under the table you have ripped a hole in my panties
and your fingers are worrying instead
Oh God
- COMMENTS
HarryHillover 10 years agogive a hint of theatre,. no other way to explain how I see them. nice.
Angelineover 10 years ago1201 is right that your writing reminds me of Annaswirls (please take that as a compliment: I am a big fan of her poems). Love the way you take a whirl of senses--the rain, the raga, the rose (did you intend them to alliterate?)--and then reduce it all to those powerful last lines and that startling erotic image. There is a special talent, I think, to writing erotica and you have it.
Thanks for the wonderful read. :-)
GuiltyPleasureover 10 years ago...the way you casually meander through the senses, sound first, rain and rhytmn. Then sight, the rose and open lips, next exotic un-London scents. Lastly the deft way you insinuate sin with the mention of his wedding ring and his naughty finger. Bravo! 10 if it were possible.
twelveooneover 10 years ago(sorry, a bit of inside joke)
you'd like annaswirls,
in context, Des, there is something similar in the writing approach in this and the another to annaswirls (she went for the jugular) Here it is the title, and last two lines)
in context, Des, I think I'm falling in love.
Let's do lunch
(and I can tell you how my hands tremble when I try to draw her)
yeh 5ed
