Tag Archives: Sex

Modern Love

Thought is clouded by a few drinks and the

intoxicating scent of a woman but

 

Thought stops an impulse

thinking it impolite

 

Thought discourages touch

tells hands not to wander

 

Thought stays a kiss

just short of the mouth

 

Thought wonders whether “Yes” is meant

wonders what tomorrow might bring so

 

Thought pushes body away to

neither soul’s satisfaction

 

 

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Pause, O Men!

Pause, O Men, and consider what it means

for a body to shut off its

progenitive purpose, having expended

all those eggs carried from

one womb to another, from

birth to reproductive death, with

hormones fighting one another, sending

contradictory orders to units

cut off or annihilated, the

Command Structure in disarray, and we

transmit into this confusion

increasingly desperate messages that

though our ammunition is

severely depleted, we still want to

resupply them.

The Lost Thing

The search for the lost thing turns the

house upside down: drawers are

tipped out, bins rifled to their

mucky depths, papers

stupidly shaken; every step taken

retaken, reconsidered, was it

lost then? was it there when

that happened? Then, usually, the

lost thing turns up where it

always was and we laugh at our

forgetfulness, ignoring the

upside-down house and all the other

lost things within it.

Groundling

A groundling in the TV business I was

happy to sit on top of a

swaying ladder ready to drop

dead leaves on an actress

bereaved in wartime but looked up to meet the

eyes of the naked woman in her window

casually brushing her long brown hair, her

breasts swaying gently with each

languorous sweep, her gaze so

commanding that the squawk of

“Action, Action” from my

walkie-talkie went west as I gawped, a

groundling in her more

urgent play.

Her Namesake Diana

In the black woods, under the

cloud-shuttered light of her

namesake Diana, her Mother

told her the secrets of being

chased yet chaste, of the

pleasures of the mouth, of

acquiring the taste for the

moon-coloured effluvia of a man, of the

unexpected utility as entrance of the

dark star between her buttocks, of

so many things that left her

shaking with the cold, embarrassment and the

first tremors of awakened lust.

 

Now, a Mother herself, she

looked back at the lit-up house where

her daughter and her latest boy were

supposed to be behaving, considered the

Pill she’d put her on, knew it was safer but

wondered if she had learnt more under the

protection of Myth, regretted the

degradation of the Heavens, knew

she had been more adventurous than her

well-protected daughter, heard again her

Mother’s voice, dead in the dark, echoless,

“It’s a Huntress Moon, not a Hunter’s”, under

her namesake Diana.

 

Charlotte

Though named for a rose she had

no desire to be one, watching the

girls at school primp and tweet,

display and slut, be

budded, bloomed and blown

before adulthood, so she

prayed she’d one day find a man who

knew more of a garden than just

dead-heading roses.

Formal

A formal garden, bleak, with

coyly nude statues beneath a

sealed-in sky, your

off-white dress skittering between

bare but budding trees as I

pursued you across

frost-crickled grass and

caught you,

pinned you against the

plinth of a naked urn

which swayed and

grated worryingly like my

skull against my spine as your

hot mouth clamped mine with a

kiss like the

ghost of sunshine.

Field Day

Leo harbours Saturn, a

lubricious flea clinging to the

matted belly of the beast

hoping its host will catch the

trailing gaseous skirts of

skittish Virgo when they will both

have a field day.

Rusted Honey

Poetry, haiku, tanka, and micropoetry

Turning the Lights Off

Random musings inside my head no matter how hard I try to shut the damn lights off

Southern Georgia Bunny

Adventures of an Southern Bunny everything from dating, sex, life and shake your head moments.

Secret Dates Diary

Secret Dates Diary of Anne Regina

Hannah likes dirty words

Writing, extracts, pleas to buy my books, the odd essay.

word and silence

Poetry, History, Mythology

The Cat's Write

Milly Schmidt

ELLEGUYENCE

New content every Sunday

Love Hate Sex Cake

Musings on a Libidinous Life

Krystal Minx

My Colorful Life as a Bisexual Minx…real life tales with the man I love, and our fun-filled shared playmates…and all things about being the woman that finally discovered how to be ME and what LIVING LIFE is all about <3

R. A. Douglas

Dream big! Live bigger!