The Beach

It's been way too long since my last lay With a blue skirt girl on the westward bay I couldn't delay my sport and had to pay For the tinkers under the sun's last ray. Her hands were crafty in the glancing gloam And we finished before the plunging night The algae a -crackling with cyclostome The coralline pebbles were holding me tight. I smelt a whiff of opioid scheme Coming straight from her whitesilk thighs Before I was dragged down to ancient dream I gathered strength to disengage and rise. she was quick to act and fell me on to her breasts I was sure as hell I hadn't passed my tests She stroked my limbs with tiny scree fingers And kissed, and, kissed me like fearful stringers. Suddenly she broke into ponderous laughter And the maniacal wind blew with hefty gust She thrusted her pelvis to the water of the night Through my meandering veins the feral blood rushed. It's been way too long since my last lay With a Cinderella on the westward reach I found a Siren at Prometheus' end And she was a .. she was a beach! Your Best New Poem Poetry Contest Sponsored by: Emile Pinet 21 December, 2019