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Watching Her Burn

My left hand Stroke the back of her neck With the other I finger and play A writhing figure eight I nuzzle in the curve of her thigh My whispered nothing becomes a song The rhythm of her body . .... begins to vibrate and ..... resonate.. My breath begins our song ...... Our bodies entwined as one.. Her body light starts to hum Fingers strumming..... plucking... Finding the G cleft ..... sliding up her frets.... Open my eyes for the applause Afterwards I take her home Oh how I love to watch her burn Oh I love my lady Washburn Looking through my bedroom window Sentenced to guitar innuendo

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Freddie Robinson Jr.

Date: 1/14/2017 5:04:00 PM

Very clever write, Jannie. You had me going for a moment there, pal. Guitar love is still love though. Working them fingers to get a vibratory applause is hard work, dude. Love this poem, it was so sneaky good. Love and joy to you.

Patricia Cresswell
Date: 9/3/2017 12:04:00 PM

You put all your passion into your music and that is expressed delightfully here. The way you use the guitar as a surrogate for a woman emphasis your passion. Patricia Cresswell

Jannie Breedt
Date: 1/23/2017 1:03:00 AM

Fixated!!!

Jannie Breedt
Date: 1/23/2017 12:55:00 AM

Ha Freddie its always nice to hear from you. Lately I ve been so fïicated on my poetry that I have neglected her so.

Caycay Jennings

Date: 1/14/2017 3:08:00 PM

It just got so hot in here. Good thing I'm happily happy and cared for, I feel sorry for any lonely female bodies when reading this. It pulses with a throb only an experienced man with a gift of writing could work up. Something like that, I may have tripped over some words, but it isn't my fault. What sensual words, even when those words turn one a fool at the end, they still hang as sensual in the air. Am I done yet? CayCay

Jannie Breedt
Date: 1/23/2017 1:01:00 AM

I am digging in the ground with my big toe here. Eating my own words is not so yummy. Thank you Cay Cay. Im outa here