Category Archives: Erotic Poetry

Tumult: Glorious Torture

Tumult of confused arousal
drives forward sensate magic.
The dervish of edging renders
my exquisite intelligence surrendered
to Your power.
Anything. Any task.
This electrical, mystical connection
to growing power and intuitive shimmers
of life. This is that.
The craving shivers to know more,
feel more, taste more, be more,
powered by surrender.
Had I only known sooner …
Glorious torture.

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Art note:
To distract myself from arousal (and to learn), I enjoy reading about the work of various artists, viewing their physical work in books, online, or in person on the rare occasions such opportunities occur.   I also like to copy others’ work as a way to grow my own abilities and to understand what others produce.  The above painting is a copy of one done by Rassouli, so I claim no originality other than my paint, rags and brushes produced an amateur attempt to copy one of his originals.

Freydoon Rassouli is magical and I aspire to one day possess even a scintilla of the mystical beauty he creates on canvas.

Delicate Craving

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[photo]

A delicate craving begins to smoulder.
The finest wisp of smoke arises.
I thought perhaps erotic passion had drowned in grief.
After all, how could I express sensual murmurs and orgasmic quests
while memorial services are wrapped around families’ ankles
and draped all over the internet?
Even so, this delicate craving has snuck past sorrow
and found life in your grace.

Who Would You Like To See?

Taking a rare dip into the rhyming pool. 🙂

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Who would you like to see
inside the ‘scape of me?

A wispy angel blond
with violet eyes anon?

A freckled imp with grace,
pouty lips and oval face?

Or maybe you would like to see
my ravenous slut finally free?
Bound only by cuffs
and pleasures delight
or maybe silk scarves
as I’m pounded through night.

Inside the ‘scape of me
resides each one and more,
neither fickle of heart
or lust evermore.

My heart burnished in gold,
overflows with love.

My touch gentle yet sure
finding every sweet spot.
My tongue an adventurer
giving pleasure as sought.

Who would you like to see
inside the ‘scape of me?

Feasting

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I am a song
that’s not been sung
until now.

Whispers turning into roars.
Moans rising like vaporous
tendrils of luscious
liquid kisses
consuming your
sword of light
only to reignite it.

Spirit Lover tastes of
fine wine and musky flora,
spicy and fragrant,
intoxicating, edible,
and delicious to
awakened palate’s
appetite.

This raging furnace
that is now me
burns
and moves as
red hot lava
carving pathways
through valley and stream,
village and skyscrapers,
virgins and victors.

Feasting between your legs
whole universes explode
as we collide
in time
and space,
soul and flesh,
spirit and mind,
devouring,
drinking,
knowing,
belonging.

I see.
I feel.
I know.

The Priestess is awake.