Arhive pe etichete: passion

What Is to Be?

Publicat pe de Standard Răspunde

What will happen then, when drained of all our might,
We fall on pillows—two torches burned by night?
Will sleep embrace us after passion’s storm,
Entwined as one, bathed in the moon’s soft form?

Will you smile gently, like a child with sweets,
Or tease once more, still craving fresh repeats?
Will you obey my heart’s discreet command,
And make me trust the fables you have planned.?

Will your hand travel slowly, down my brow,
Lost in the lines that time has etched somehow?
Will you lay your curls, in tender disarray,
Upon my chest, and softly there you’ll stay?

Or will you laugh, a secret on your face:
“Between us two, there is no binding trace.
What was remains a fleeting happenstance—
You walk your path, and I another chance.”

You’ll say it all was nothing but a flaw,
That longing fades like colds we’ve had before.
You’ll pull your coat and hurry from my sight—
Your steps dissolve in fog before first light.

A painter

Publicat pe de Standard Răspunde

I’d wish to be a painter true,
To take the color from your lips,
And with it paint, in gentle drips,
A flower glowing scarlet hue.

From out your hair I’d steal the night —
That dense adornment, rich and deep,
As if from molten tar would creep.
With it I’d paint the darkest light.

From your eyes’ blue I’d beg a trace —
So deep and grand, like heaven’s dome,
Where truth itself has made its home.
With it I’d paint a star in space.

The purest white I’d also take
From pearly teeth that shyly gleam,
That hide a smile — a tender dream.
I’d steal it with my brush, awake.

Your breasts — two seeds of dusky hue,
Of warmest brown, so rich, divine,
That stir the soul to stray, to pine —
They lead my thoughts to shameless truth.

To paint a living spring, I’d plead,
A dew-kissed sheet where dawn once cried…
From your pure cheek, where tears reside,
Grant me that drop of crystal need.

But paint I can’t — there is no wonder,
For I would paint the universe.
I end instead this humble verse —
For I’m no painter… but a versemonger.

30.01.2016

Feline

Publicat pe de Standard Răspunde



With catlike, silent paces
You’re coming close to me,
Your small lips, soft embraces —
Purr something wickedly.

Your being, pure sensation,
Radiates hot desire,
My eyes find fascination
In thigh waves rising higher.

On four small paws you wander,
Feline and slow and sweet,
You crawl — I watch, I ponder —
So softly our eyes meet.

Your eyes — twin flames that capture,
Two spells of pure delight,
Your form writes out its rapture
In curves that tempt the night.

Imagined ropes now tether
My hands and feet in place,
I feel your wild breath’s weather —
The maiden’s feline grace.

I wait — my pulse’s thunder —
To face my fate divine.
Your will I’ll sink under —
Fulfill your wish — make mine.

I long

Publicat pe de Standard Răspunde

I long for your passionate embrace,
Your eyes, where tranquility finds its place.
Your budding form, a beauty so rare,
Thinking of you, I’m lost in a love affair.

I wish to be madly in love for a lifetime,
Sharing both sorrows and joys, sublime.
Yours in the evening, and yours at dawn,
Always, beloved, you will be only mine.