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My Supple Whip

Supple, limber perfect leather Graceful in it’s agility when I wield it by hand. Supple are the contusions upon your back as I teach you to tease my attack- When I train you, bull whip in hand. Supple is your insolence- soon it shall No longer exist, after my punishment. Darling I love you so supply and intimate.

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Dr.Ram Mehta

Date: 4/22/2014 9:42:00 AM

Congratulations again on the fine win with this lovely poem, Amy

Poet Destroyer A

Date: 4/21/2014 9:35:00 PM

Hey Amy, Congratulations, --Enjoyed your awesome win. Thank you so much for the support... Always & forever *Linda

Michael Dom

Date: 4/17/2014 12:01:00 AM

Very...supple. :-)

S.Zaynab Kamoonpuri

Date: 4/16/2014 2:47:00 AM

An extraordinary poem! Great style and content. U might like my latest poem. Pls do review it.

Andrea Dietrich

Date: 4/15/2014 7:06:00 PM

this is awesome, Amy. Writing of what is so much a part of you!!

Paul Callus

Date: 4/12/2014 3:36:00 PM

I love a poem like this when I have to read it a few times in order to elicit what you really have in mind. Supple means that the effect is pleasurable and that is what the end result is. // enjoyed. // paul ..... ps...typo in last line(?)

Paul Callus
Date: 4/22/2014 2:17:00 PM

congrats on this fine win. // paul

Tim Smith

Date: 4/12/2014 7:31:00 AM

This is so good. I like all the hidden meaning Amy......hugs Tim