For those of a military cast of mind
There is a poem they can find
Which does embellish battlefield glory
In the telling of its story.
But for me there is another field of play
Where merry pleasure is ne'er far away.
Not for me weapons armorial
Rather the naming of parts venereal.
Your soft hair framing your face
Your soft lips yielding with grace
And your darting tongue lambent
with sweetness heaven sent
That elegant and graceful neck I next address
Whereon a gentle peck and soft caress
Lead to the ruby roundels of your swelling areolae
Atop which stand your radiant and pert papillae.
How the gentle smooth curve of your skin
Gently and softly draws me in
Until like stout Cortes
I rest upon Mons Veneris
Then down through those soft wisps of hair
Until I find where
Your labia moist and moistening
Do invite my tongue to paddle in
That divine nectar of your welling spring
With legs spread wide signals me come in
To fulfil the passion of our play
And unite in loving ecstasy.
'Twas Ovid with his Ars Amatoria
Explored amoris ars gladiatoria
Wherein your scabbard could sheathe my sword
And that is the purpose of this world.
Where military men are needed
To keep us undefeated
Make love,not war
Is my carmen et error.