- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Portabella Hop
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Click herePortabellas sizzle and hop
among the garlic and onions
in a sea of melted butter
I do not merely sing of dancing,
I am here, and I turn and I sway
in the rhythm of dreams-
hips moving side to side.
I do not merely speak of love
our fingers twisted together,
I lift them high and let them fall,
swinging to my inner tribal beat.
Tonight I dance with these silent shells
of ladybugs scattered on the kitchen floor
the Portabellas sizzle and hop
to the beat, all waiting for you to come home.
- COMMENTS
Maria2394almost 20 years agowe do the saute` samba ;) this is intelligent, cute and well thought out, I enjoyed reading it very much :)
tungtied2ualmost 20 years agoin your cooking. Smells wonderful, sounds even better. Left a promising aftertaste. Nice read.
Tathagataalmost 20 years agoand reads yummy too.
Almost jazz ,beat feel to it.
Very nice
And who wouldnt want to come home to portobellos and garlic and swaying hips?
Thank you
