tagErotic PoetryErotic Muses: Calliope

Erotic Muses: Calliope



Lady, your clothes are like strong city walls:
I cannot get through them to you.
Deprived of the enjoyment of you, would-be lover,
I, in a rage, refuse to heed the calls
To raze those ramparts, and to view
That nakedness your evening gown does cruelly cover.
I know only your lovely silhouette:
Your black dress tightly does embrace
Your undulating curves with more lust than my arms.
I envy its possession of you, yet
It touches not even one place
Where you have hidden your most appetizing charms.
Your gown knows not the softness of your breasts:
It feels a bitter jealousy
For your brassiere, as for your panties (at their feast
About your crotch), those most gluttonous guests!
While they taste the delicacy
Of that pair of round loaves behind, they don't, at least,
Know the fudge-coated prune that lies between
Your bread rolls: we're all tantalized--
Me, your dress, and your underwear--none has it all.
They suffer, as I do. Though I've not seen
Your body, bra, or panties, prized
You'll still be; one day, I will get past your clothes' wall
Through trickery of gifts. Laocoon
Will warn you in vain, as before.
I'll get inside, and take the spoils. My passion's fire
Will burn you through and through, then I'll be gone
To tell men the tale of the war
I've fought against you, who resist my hot desire.


At long last, after what seemed many years,
I got you to remove that dress!
Your white lace bra and panties, too, have been removed.
Your nudity beneath brings me to tears:
I didn't know such loveliness
Existed, but in you woman's perfection's proved.
Your breasts are creamy hills topped with sweet cherries.
South of those hills, a grassy plain--
Well-trimmed--is found after a quick migration there.
Half of a grapefruit lies beneath your prairies:
Your endocarp one can't refrain
From tasting, for indeed, these pleasures are your snare.
Calypso, you have kept me in your thrall
For far too long; now I must go,
But I am chained to you, by your sensuous charms.
Your legs up and wide open, I see all:
Those holes are a delight to know,
Yet in their pleasures lie some very fearsome harms.
Your vulva is a dark and narrow strait--
Entering, I fear I won't come out,
For I won't want to; by desire I'll be devoured.
Beneath that hole lies what the eyes equate
To a whirlpool, or lips that pout,
Drawing me into pleasure; I'd be over-powered
There, too. Sorceress, you will not set me free
Until I go to bed with you;
You'll make me a lascivious pig, for I must roam
About your body. My great quandary
Is risking an addiction to
Your body, or you never letting me go home.


Now that I've come within your city walls
(That's your vagina), and the fire
Of my wild lust has burned your Troy down to the ground,
I can no longer seem deaf to the calls
To leave you, Muse of my desire.
With my large and hard gift of wood, at last I found
A way to slip inside your pretty door.
With me inside, how you rejoiced!
You wailed with pleasure as I slid inside of you.
Now that I've sprayed my passion, you want more;
With loud entreaties, you have voiced
Your yearning that we be lovers, forever two.
I know your longing: you'd forever ride
My wooden horse, which fills your hole,
Caresses it, and pushes until ecstasy
Creates a lake that floods you all inside.
But now I fill you all with dole
To know that I am leaving you, permanently.
You sing a sobbed lament as I get dressed;
You cannot bear to be denied
More of the pleasure you minutes ago enjoyed.
My queen, you lie in bed alone, distressed:
You seem already to have died
As I leave your bedchamber--your heart is destroyed.
Still, I'll immortalize you in my verse:
Your breasts will never sag with age;
The roundness of your buttocks will stay always smooth,
Because I write of teem. My words, the nurse
Of your ills, will thus disengage
You from your woes; my poetry will your heart soothe.

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