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
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