Submissions by Ruralwrite
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
EROTIC POEM
Published
24th Oct 2018 11:25pm
24th Oct 2018 11:25pm
Moonrise
#lust
#sex
#moon
635 reads
2 Comments
EROTIC POEM
Published
29th Aug 2018 10:39pm
29th Aug 2018 10:39pm
Bubbling of wine and lust
Dry, the wine, so white and bubbly,
we together so wet and sticky
in all the best ways.
A cork massaged carefully
in hopes that explosion
doesn’t happen to soon.
Gently in bubbly escapes,
it flows in wetness
oh so dry and sweet.
Tongues reach to catch
and inhale all goodness
lest any goes to waste.
Spilling to breasts
now heaving and shining
with nature’s fermented fruits.
Flowing downward over
navel and thighs
and labia’s inner goodness.
Tongue racing, swirling, ...
we together so wet and sticky
in all the best ways.
A cork massaged carefully
in hopes that explosion
doesn’t happen to soon.
Gently in bubbly escapes,
it flows in wetness
oh so dry and sweet.
Tongues reach to catch
and inhale all goodness
lest any goes to waste.
Spilling to breasts
now heaving and shining
with nature’s fermented fruits.
Flowing downward over
navel and thighs
and labia’s inner goodness.
Tongue racing, swirling, ...
#lust
640 reads
4 Comments
EROTIC POEM
Published
29th May 2018 8:16pm
29th May 2018 8:16pm
Fire Ghost
#erotic
#nature
#emotional
752 reads
6 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
24th Nov 2017 7:29pm
24th Nov 2017 7:29pm
Changing with the Land
Mindlessly looking at
dull khaki grass across
the valley below;
thinking about Thoreau,
reflections of changes in
me and the land.
Does it change;
do I change?
Khaki grasses earlier so
filled in lush green and
waltzing to summer in
breezes’ rhythms;
now November morn
standing rigid as oaks’ limbs and
brittle as old barns’ panes.
Water bubbling from a spring and
gargling into the creek
chilled even on
summer’s dog-days;
knowing without touch
water even colder in
November...
dull khaki grass across
the valley below;
thinking about Thoreau,
reflections of changes in
me and the land.
Does it change;
do I change?
Khaki grasses earlier so
filled in lush green and
waltzing to summer in
breezes’ rhythms;
now November morn
standing rigid as oaks’ limbs and
brittle as old barns’ panes.
Water bubbling from a spring and
gargling into the creek
chilled even on
summer’s dog-days;
knowing without touch
water even colder in
November...
#trees
#nature
#HenryDavidThoreau
836 reads
11 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Ruralwrite
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