All the dreaded cards foretell. Whatsoever Venus bids Is a joy excelling, Never in an evil heart Did she make her dwelling. To Pavia come, will you Just as chaste return you? When she gave the order I came into my mouth wearing her soiled panties which made her laugh and shout. The bailey beareth the bell away; The lily, the rose, the rose I lay. . Love Is Not All by Edna St. You have waltzed with great style, My sweet, crushed angel, To have ever neared God's heart at all.
Vincent Millay What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why, I have forgotten, and what arms have lain Under my head till morning; but the rain Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh Upon the glass and listen for reply, And in my heart there stirs a quiet pain For unremembered lads that not again Will turn to me at midnight with a cry. That is not it, at all. The thirst that from the soul doth rise, Doth ask a drink divine: But might I of Jove's nectar sup, I would not change for thine. And shall not thus time's eddying flight Still with our lives our love restore In death's despite, And day and night yield one delight once more? Thy crystal stream, Afton, how lovely it glides, And winds by the cot where my Mary resides, How wanton thy waters her snowy feet lave, As gathering sweet flowrets she stems thy clear wave. Nose too long, ears like burdocks, sunken chin just like a mongoloid. If thou be'st born to strange sights, Things invisible to see, Ride ten thousand days and nights Till Age snow white hairs on thee; Thou, when thou return'st wilt tell me All strange wonders that befell thee, And swear No where Lives a woman true and fair.
V Meticulous, past midnight in clear rime, Infrangible and lonely, smooth as though cast Together in one merciless white blade— The bay estuaries fleck the hard sky limits. As fair art thou, my bonie lass, So deep in luve am I; And I will luve thee still, my dear, Till a' the seas gang dry. Amber husk fluted with gold, fruit on the sand marked with a rich grain, treasure spilled near the shrub-pines to bleach on the boulders: your stalk has caught root among wet pebbles and drift flung by the sea and grated shells and split conch-shells. It is one to me that they come or go If I have myself and the drive of my will, And strength to climb on a summer night And watch the stars swarm over the hill. And graven with diamonds in letters plain There is written, her fair neck round about: Noli me tangere, for Caesar's I am, And wild for to hold, though I seem tame. Let's be more nurturing and caring to each other As we taste and explore each other's bodies Open your legs.
Kiss me as if you made me believe You were not sure, this eve, How my face, your flower, had pursed Its petals up; so, here and there You brush it, till I grow aware Who wants me, and wide ope I burst. The Floating Poem, Unnumbered by Adrienne Rich Whatever happens with us, your body will haunt mine—tender, delicate your lovemaking, like the half-curled frond of the fiddlehead fern in forests just washed by sun. The imaged Word, it is, that holds Hushed willows anchored in its glow. My desire raging Like fire overtaking my loins. I had all that I would. Smoothed by long fingers, Asleep.
Indulge your fantasy, add erotic words with wild sensual nights and then enjoy the sensations. Free from my tight cock cage my Mistress made me stroke for over seven hours until I went for broke. Gorgeous when I hear you talk. I should have lost a gesture and a pose. And I wonder how they should have been together! I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
To enter in these bonds, is to be free; Then where my hand is set, my seal shall be. And this is the piling swivel, Which in your case you have not got. March 21st A few years ago, then U. It's no go my honey love, it's no go my poppet; Work your hands from day to day, the winds will blow the profit. I have seen them riding seaward on the waves Combing the white hair of the waves blown back When the wind blows the water white and black. We always love quick and you never let me hold you. Is My Team Plowing by A.
But thou thereon didst only breathe, And sent'st back to me: Since when it grows, and smells, I swear, Not of itself, but thee. Wong selling day-old donuts in their café, past the Guerra brothers slinging pigs from the truck and onto the dolly, hoisting the slick snouts over their shoulders. Such was my Phao awhile, but shall be never, As thou wast, art, and O, mayst thou be ever. Feel Me Your fingers dip below my waist, traveling at a sensuous pace. Hand to strange hand, lip to lip none denies; Why should they breast to breast, or thighs to thighs? I saw you in the sports bar. But when I crept with leaves to hide Those parts which maids keep unespied, Such fleeting pleasures there I took That with the fancy I awoke; And found ah me! I glory in the hours of our embracings; my joy is incalculable! And yet I grieve the less, lest grief remove My beauty, and make me unworthy of thy love. She stroked my chin, She taught me Turn, and Counter-turn, and stand; She taught me Touch, that undulant white skin: I nibbled meekly from her proffered hand; She was the sickle; I, poor I, the rake, Coming behind her for her pretty sake But what prodigious mowing did we make.
In the room the women come and go Talking of Michelangelo. Thou art not soft, and clear, and straight, and fair, As down, as stars, cedars, and lilies are; But thy right hand, and cheek, and eye, only Are like thy other hand, and cheek, and eye. I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes. Scared and bare on the green plastic-pillowed trolley I watched my teaset, my bureaus of linen, my books Sink out of sight, and the water went over my head. The beauty of love is heightened when you add the spice.
The voice of my beloved! I charge you, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, by the roes, and by the hinds of the field, that ye stir not up, nor wake my love, till he please. On desperate seas long wont to roam, Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face, Thy Naiad airs have brought me home To the glory that was Greece And the grandeur that was Rome. The tulips are too red in the first place, they hurt me. Unto every man his gift. Do not fear the darkness; it is just a perfect blindfold. Yesterday, We had daily cleaning. Their father was what is called a drunkard.
I just can't wait no more Here we are looking for a reason. It is the unbetrayable reply Whose accent no farewell can know. But today, Today we have naming of parts. The water I taste is warm and salt, like the sea, And comes from a country far away as health. You'll be moaning with delight. Whoso List to Hunt by Sir Thomas Wyatt Whoso list to hunt, I know where is an hind, But as for me, alas! Teach me to sin— Enslave me to your wanton charms, Crush me in your velvet arms And make me, make me love you.