Poetry competition CLOSED 15th May 2023 4:16pm
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Something erotic......

poet Anonymous

Poetry Contest

But ''clean'', please. No dirty nonsense or porn, keep it nice.
Poems, any style. 100 lines is the very maximum accepted.

poet Anonymous



They didn't
quite know
what to do

so they place
upright hands
upon a red
oak table


tension rises
reading lines
branded into
soft flesh

as they lean
their head
against my


I never thought
tables would
become my


until my
carnal legs
craved to

that god
poet Anonymous

Westfield Nymph

Yes, that was her in 1988,  
Who I met for the first time at the mall;  
A wilderness nymph that I'd come to call  
A bodaciously exceptional mate!    
Then, here I am, over thirty years on,  
Still struck with that same first sight affliction,  
Yet only lately earning the diction  
More essential than an emoticon  
For conveying the superlative sense  
I feel for the beauty she sends me;  
An aesthetic of unsurpassed degree  
At giving comity grand recompense...  
As if she studied Aphrodite's art  
At rapidly reloading Cupid's dart!
poet Anonymous


i am

to dismantle
piece by
little piece

those strong....

you thought
kept you



i am

to show you

no matter
how carefully
they were built

i will
tear them

like tearing fabric

you will be
soul bared
as your skin

yet not

you'll take
it all

you will

know ...

true freedom
under my hand
in my command


when you
head bowed

the only


be a good girl
i will let
you fly

soar higher
than your soul

and i



poet Anonymous


The sight of your glorious body laying bare before me
The scent of your Jasmin Noir perfume teasing my nose
A bowl waits by your side filled with chocolate cream
I lick my lips in anticipation and pick up my paintbrush.
I dip the brush in and begin the first stroke
Your honey eyes study the relaxed motions of my hand
I lead the thin brush over your perked nipples and perfectly mounded breasts
Your pupils dilate and sweat forms on your mocha skin.
Yet even the sinful chocolate can’t compare
To the sweetness of your mouth-watering cream
I take a taste; your breath hitches
And my tongue goes numb as the tastebuds overload.
Rich caramel intoxicates me
This is the sweetest of desserts that I’ve ever had
I can barely get over the initial shockwave of pleasure
But we have all night; another taste wouldn’t hurt.
poet Anonymous


I grab your shirt
inside my fists
I have your neck
moistly kissed
A sigh of pleasure taken
close to your ear ..
your hair grow thrilled
our fluids appear
to wail the vanished
plain sensations
with multiple orgasms
I bring all tension
forward my tongue
to blur the muscles
of your magic wand
A supernatural
pathos for flesh
arrives in glory
introducing Excess
I feel your jaws  
hugging my wet breast
and then an awareness
of you reaching depth
The yearning increases
despite of satisfaction
while nothing can stand
as our distraction
poet Anonymous

Her Flower

The creek in her crotch, I'd go in.
There's no going back from a life full of sin.
Like a kink, she so tight.
Kill her, I might.
Twisted like fluorescent lights.
Her flower, I'm Frenching her two lips (tulips).
Go down on her. Quenched by her fluids.
When it's just two of us, and there's nothing but skin.
Where do I even begin?
Lotus of bliss.
Give it a kiss.
Then dive off into the abyss.
Sing me a symphony.
Call out my name.
Her breathing's akin to me.
We're one and the same.
When our climax collide.
Our passions ignite.
Our heart rate begins to subside.
Her mannequin frame.
What can I say?
Not a flaw has been found to this day.
poet Anonymous

Slow songs

The bass drops  
and in sequined,  
the crowd throbs to  
some fist-pumping  
dance-club anthem  
but I can’t seem  
to find their beat,  
because the moment  
you touched me,  
every song  
became a slow song.  
Our foreheads kiss
and the air between us  
becomes a humid mist  
melting our bodies
to each other  
like a paper napkin  
around a cold beer  
My shoes stick to the  
tacky floor, and the  
bouncer flexes  
at some angry  
twat starting shit;  
as your arms  
drape around  
my waist.
The light press of our bodies,  
the way the  
hair at the back  
of your neck feels  
under my  
gives me  
easy shivers  
and I want you  
In this perfect moment
your lips make promises  
for your body to keep  
when the night wanes,  
and the night wanes
all night, leaving you
the north star  
of my wandering heart  
Our feet move in slow time,  
your thumb  
caresses the exposed  
part of my lower back,  
and the crowd goes  
wild as the DJ  
drops another song  
that makes the alarms  
go off in the double-parked cars.  
and my heart beats  
in agonizing time  
with your hips  
Because the moment  
you touched me
every song  
became a slow song.  

poet Anonymous

Full Bodied Forth

Such Stuff As John-a-dreams Is Made On    
"Reason sole sobers up booze artists."  
-- a poet of penetration    
Upon the tide of midnight 'neath the moon,        
Amidst a sea of sherris sack and wine,        
My quill and I on sinking in a swoon,        
Bobbed up before a sonnet too divine!        
Bewitchery ne'er possessed such frame and form!        
Or coy, come-hither looks such figures true!        
No pick-up lines should speak in tones so warm!        
No sultry iambs sonneteers so woo!        
Enthrallèd by a steaminess ideal,        
All shades throughout the chamber being drawn,        
We paused not once to ask if "It" be real,        
But dropped a threesome into timeless dawn!        
Till on the morrow round our languor lay        
An ink-stained parchment smeared in sweet foreplay.  
a dedication of Respect  
the Pain of the morning after  
a revolving helios sonnet shakespearean satire menippean on  
poetry in its cups  
april, 2023 -- Romanticism yet  
full lit  
its cup running over    
poet Anonymous

The Object of Fixations

The angles were always variable  
constellations, infinite  
stillness of water abstruse  
and the aching yearn to lie with you  
entangled with bewilderment  
like beams of moonlight, buried deep  
in its own reflection of lavender silence.
I stretch my thoughts to the edge  
with brazen obsession of redolence  
circling your fire, aslant to the heat  
keeping the winter's chill at bay  
with friction of my flesh  
grinding with yours  
hip to bone, soft against hard.  
The hush of words in quietude  
fall in staccatos, stoking the hearth  
with our fantasies afire.  
The burn, imminent  
yet; I surrender  
in your cage-less embrace  
orbiting to the center of your soul.  
You flirt, alongside  
to the blue moonlight  
taking a strand of my hair
wrapping around your finger with slow  
acute precision of an executioner  
pulling me closer, unveiling  
my inhibitions with your piercing gaze  
painting the ripe lush landscape  
moulding and sculpting
every curve and fold with wild determination  
taking pleasures from liquified rapture
Object of fixations.  
my chaos  
if not  
my salvation  
of unruly obsessions.
poet Anonymous

My Budding Rose

There are thousands of roses in this garden, but some how your the only one that stands out to me.
You have so many layers and edges to you that I want to untangle and let them bring an indescribable rapture to my core.
There is no need to flip a coin because baby this is not a game of chance, yet a twist of fate that has lured me to you.
I vow to you that this is not a game of monopoly for I will not gamble with your heart nor will I lead you on a path filled with deceptions and discretions.
You have so many thorns wrapped around your heart from broken promises and lost loves, but I'm here to heal you from those deeply rooted lacerations.
I can't wait to brush your smooth, silky petals against the surfaces of my skin.
Your petals that brings out your divine nature and is a mere masterpiece that the world can't seem to comprehend.
Oh how I would love to have your enticing aroma seep through my nose, like it is the rarest form of pollen known to mankind.  
A scent that can seduce anyone woman to fall into your grasp easily and without even a second thought.
You are a rose that can never lose its luster neither your ability to shine even on days filled with drought.

Your roots were planted firmly on the ground to be camouflaged but somehow my vision became 20/20 when I seen you as an angel of mine that would protect me from battles not yet fought.
The way you use your mind to sow your seeds of wisdom and intellect into the world has ignited the contents of my sapiosexuality even more.
You are the type of rose that appears once every millennium, but some how I lucked up and got you for the taken.
A rose that gives my soul the joyous opportunity to let love be awakened.
You are truly a rose that I can never fathom to lose, so I hold you at comfort to the confinement of my chest.  
So tight and near that I will never let you go for dear life, my dear.
poet Anonymous

Sensuous Empathy

- Sensuous Empathy -

In autumn's season, upon a world far and distant,
Within a park at the center of a stretch of the city...
An oasis within a great industrial power's confines.
There, I waited within the scarlet and orange glow,
Of neon lights and fall colors mixing so intense!
That beautiful island of peace held far more pity...
Than my cruel kin who held power in those times!
I was unique for I felt love, and honor did I know.

My paramour came to me in the late of afternoon,
In a gown of whitest silk, to match her pale skin...
Like a beautiful ghost out of some ethereal domain.
She and her twin sister, who oft kept my company,
For lonely was my soul, and oft fearful of doom!
They had the skill to touch my heart deep within...
To ease my worries and free me for a time of pain!
Their arts, sensuous and esoteric, did set me free.

Dark were their eyes, and all shaven their heads,
Their voices light and lilting in a hypnotic way...
Softly suggesting, knowing already my feelings.
They served my house and my person; however,
There was love between us, and so deep it led!
That like depraved children, we oft met to play...
Our erotic games, in the places of our choosing!
So that our souls might couple, to bind forever.

Even in decadence, we were a people civilized,
Because the virtue of self expression had value...
In love just as in strife, we were ever individual.
Every taste was catered to, every desire satisfied,
By a caste of practitioners whose skills thrived!
I was a regular of their services, for I needed to...
Find a way to let go of all my fears, to feel well!
I would lie in their arms oft, in surrender's sigh.

They were not prostitutes but something noble,
A castle lost to time, whose arts are uncommon...
With powers of empathy, and deep gift of sight.
They put no price on their services, always free,
Their bodies and their souls, could thus channel!
Between them and I, bliss together to summon...
My warrior spirit knew such peace, and of light!
With every kiss, touch, and caress I felt ecstasy.
poet Anonymous

The Contour and Figure

She came to me in the middle of the night,  
Undressed and provoking me to no end,  
“Take me” she says in all her raw nature,  
“Take me and I will be your new best friend.”  
“Do with me what you will” she fervently says,  
“You can do anything, whatever you want,  
Do with me whichever way you please, but please!  
Use the right size and a really good font.”  
And as I gather my thoughts carefully,  
I prepare myself to fill her shape and form,  
My fingers then twitch a bit nervously,  
When I feel her ready heavy and warm.  
And she opens herself exasperated,  
Torrentially she flows right into me,  
And I like a poor soul drowning and poured,  
I swim in titillating mystery.  
“Give yourself in, it’s all you desire,  
Concentrate harder and finish me quick,”  
And I revel in the guilty pleasure,  
Looking closely for the words I want to pick.  
“Hurry” she tells me “you’ll find the right spot –  
Where everything touches and all will make sense,  
Don’t be so coy, so delve in and enjoy,  
Surrender completely and make it intense.”  
And my guilt wilts to a languid memory,  
Looking forward to giving her my all,  
And I play and I shape, I figuratively break,  
The confines and structures of her walls.  
She becomes my exclusive creation,  
From imagination to paper and pen,  
I give her life in these written stanzas,  
My thoughts come alive again and again.  
She smiles releasing me tender and sweet,  
“You did good tonight, you brought it all home”  
Then she appears in the verses and rhymes,  
In the contour and figure of this poem.
poet Anonymous



You could
never refuse
hopping on

or stop
your limbs
falling over

you could
never stop
your spirit


as eyes
draw out
an inner


poet Anonymous

dry petals

I am a brown autumn
I want a green
sweltering summer
a breeze yellow spring
and uffff a white snowy winter...  

My body is
as fickle as water
I need your touch
as delicate as a squirrel
I should stay on one side
if you measure my depth...  

My petals are
as dry as dry berries
I want a few white drops of you
like the white full moon,
I want to bloom like a red rose
I want your silvery warmth...
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