- Erotic Poetry
- Crescent Moan
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strains of a jazz trio soft and subliminal
slow disrobing
musical swaying hips
searching fingers tangled by round things pushed
through slotted cloth what--
oh yes buttons
pop pop oops
who cares don't stop don't stop
storm rises from within
rushing winds of breath on heated skin
hands like brands
cupping breasts
gliding up along that neck graceful and arched
thumbs teasing bobbing throat
swallowing the flood of
mouth-water
do you feel it--
yes oh yes i want you want you
pulse-beat keeps time with plucked strings
of the bass
senses swirling
scented flesh touched by tongue
ahhh heavens
the miracle of a crescent moan
slowly rising
over passion fallen to earth
- COMMENTS
f-cynyrover 18 years agovery sexy poem, i like the title ,but my favorite image is "hands like brands" very evocative.
