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The Savour of Satire

*
 
I dream still of thine eggplant-colored eyes,
thy cheeks of bubblegum, thy lips merlot,
thy candied breasts my sweet tooth tantalize --
each nipple tongued a teasing dry Bordeaux!
Desire I hard thy gams long shapely yams,
thy buttocks orbed two buttered cakes chiffon,
thy feet éclairs, thy toes chipotle jams --
which deep my hunger sucks in gorging on!
Thy rich vanilla pudding thighs bewitch,
thy hips of pasty pastries puffed beguile,
thy short and salty curlies raise mine itch --
as yet thy sweetmeat leaves one sated smile!
And stuffed with thee I wake to beg but "More!" --
till straight I full recall thou art a bore.
 
*
 
Contest: The Moment You "Woke Up"
 
Sponsor: robert43041
 
Form: Shakespearean Sonnet
 
Major Poetic Technique: Irony Dawning Each Noon  
Yet Still on the Wrong Rough Road with Potholes  
 
Theme: Lust's Labour's Lost
Written by Jordan (D.O.C.)
Published
Author's Note
symbolism, sex, food, appetite, glut, discharge
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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