- Erotic Poetry
- Why Mormons don't dance.
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He moves beside me
Churning his hips in the
Ritual dance.
Rhythms throbbing through
My bones.
With his wooden drumsticks
He pounds a staccato
Jazz beat out.
My cymbals quiver as they await
His brush.
Membranes tautly stretched
Across a framework of life
And tissue.
We watch the pulse vibrating
My wrists.
In a sweating flurry of arms
Hard driving bodies thirsting for
Wet tastings.
It's over too soon to learn all
The steps.
- COMMENTS
quietpoetover 18 years agocomes in many seductive ways. i like the ways that aren't using too much gutter language, though i can use it! You mastered the art!!!
QP
Anonymousover 20 years agoIt's so refreshing to read a poem that is really erotic. No crass obvious words - just great language and anology.
