AMALIA IN THE CABANA
This book by Bella Beaumont
“Amalia in the Cabana”
Reminded me of my Amalia
From Cañete, in the province of Cuenca
Who, in a shepherd’s cabin
Near the Poza de la Horca
At the foot of the hermitage
Of the Virgin of the Zarza
The town’s patron saint
Showed me, while on all fours
What her pussy looked like when she peed.
I had my little willy out
Ready to dance it about
Eager to get it wet.
She is Amalia del Hornillo
I am Pedro Morrón; both of us
Children of Civil Guards.
Since we were children of Civil Guards,
We dreamed that when we married
We would marry in the Cuenca Cathedral
And that when we died
We would be buried beside the altar
O the hermitage
Of the Virgin of the Zarza
Her first, and me two steps behind
Because Civil Guards
Are more important than Castilian nobles
The Masters of the Order of Santiago
Or the King’s royal favorites
Just as our mothers told us.
Her pussy seemed strange to me
But since she was very pretty,
I found it enchanting
Especially when, from the hole
Where her golden urine fell
A couple of Cañete crickets emerged
Stopping right there and ceasing itsr song.
I picked up the crickets
And placed them on the tip of my cock
And as luck would have it
They began to sing
Amalia threw her panties at them
To make them hush
In the style of ladies and young girls
Throwing theirs to bullfighters
To win from them an ear or a tail
Trophies earned through their art
Of bullfighting and killing.
-I know you’re going to Madrid
And I’m staying behind, Amalia told me.
I replied:
-I know you’re going to Barcelona.
Now, if you like, we must seal
Our love by joining our bodies.
-Yes, let’s join together like Mom and Dad do.
We pressed our bodies together
Without doing anything wrong.
As we left the spot
To head back to the barracks
Our home
We both looked back
And saw a rosebush sprouting from the ground.
She came home without her panties
And I, with my cock hanging out.
When Amalia walked into her house
She felt the blood flowing
Between her thighs and cried out:
-Mom, my period’s started!
When I got home
I went to the bathroom
To have a loud vigorous wank
Dreaming I was making love
To the armadillo, the pufferfish
Or the turtle.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
