Best Massages Poems
Walking slowly on the lily-white beach
winding down from the pressures of work
a warm breeze teases my sun-kissed cheek
and I thank God I'm here for a week
Sunrays sprinkling sensuous massages upon me
weary blue eyes concealed by darkened shades
I hear the tickling of the ivory, playing a tropical bossa nova
my happy feet follow the sound to the secluded seaside cabana
straddling the antique upright baby grand piano stands
the most gorgeous woman I've had ever the pleasure setting my eyes upon
her skin, so soft and smooth, a deep deep olive tone
her hair, a rich thick hazel, flowing down to the nape of her neck
her eyes, oh her eyes, sparkling, radiating peace and harmony
that angelic voice, singing such a beautiful tune
I stood star struck, speechless and staring
she whispered to sing along
how did she know my favorite song?
We sang and we laughed and we sang some more
In a blink of an eye the night was through
She grabbed my hand and we ran out into the surf
Running and splashing, kicking and kissing
We got soaked
I held her close and wrapped her in my shirt
Serenading the moonlit night under a sky so vast
We woke together wishing our fantasy would forever last
All Being Considered, Dating Every Friendly Girl Has It's Joy. Kisses, Long Massages,
Necking, Only Poetic, Quick Responsive, Stable, Talkative, Unusually Vivacious Women
Who're Xenial, Youthful, Zealous!
Need apply
*For ABC contest
She stared into the mirror,
wished she could utter the Queen's request.
"Mirror, mirror on the wall...."
What was the use? She was not beautiful.
Nor was she rich. No plastic surgery for her.
Oh to be beautiful, men admiring her,
she'd be always in control,
beckoning, ordering, playing, partying.
But her face was not beautiful,
passable perhaps, but not beautiful.
Was it any use for her to wish the impossible?
Was beauty so important?
The media thinks so. Look at all the ads.
Cream for this, cream for that,
slimming, poises, massages, trimming.
She picks up her brush.
Yes, her hair was beautiful,
smooth like a luscious green meadow.
She smiled. Her face lit up.
Incredible how such small lips
could produce such an effect.
Even the old woman whom
she helped yesterday said so.
You have a lovely smile
and a big heart, she had said.
But she did not say she was beautiful.
Nor did her husband ever tell her so.
He just called her "My treasure."
And they always made love in perfect harmony,
uplifting their hearts, passion uncontained.
Again she smiled. Soon he'll be home
for dinner and love. Did she need to be beautiful?
Did she need to change her life?
Was not all she possessed
all for the best? Again she smiled.
Her face, not beautiful perhaps, lit up in joy.
I've bought a brand new mabel fern,
expansive, I can tell you,
when I've learned just how it words
I'll have a go and bell you.
It's got five ponds of crudity
which should last me a moth
but just for now I'm sending taxis
and this is the firk one off.
I've learned to use the camilla,
and music files called empty trees
which quite impressed my goon ladle
who wished she had one of these.
The only treble that I'm having
is the massages I type out
keep changing anatomically, don't know what that's about.
I may just take it back and give the ship assassin what for,
and get my monkey refunded and find another store.
Hope you and the wolf are in good hearth.
All my life I've been called
-The skinny girl
-You're too thin
-The fragile girl
I was bullied for the size I was born with and can't help fixing it to their perfection
Always getting disgusting looks in their eyes
And the unending questions of - HOW and WHY I'm so skinny
People can be thoughtless of how their words may cut deeper than a knife
Often I'd walked away with stinging pain spreading in my chest while hot tears flowing hastily
I used to wonder if being skinny was so inhuman and was it worth living
I used to believe that being naturally skinny was perfectly ugly
Everyone is trying to feed me
I've tried many styles of massages
I've consumed many local herbals and vitamins prescribed by doctors
I've tried all there is to gain
Yet none has really does anything.
-Because I was born just the way God has create me to His perfection
I was beaten in their criticisms upon my waistline size
I was angry to the world
-But upon realizing how mean people can be
I've changed since and
Love my imperfectly skinny self... (Smile)
Written by Akkina R Downing
11-13-16
On Being Alone
We smirk at those who are alone.
We are better we think as busy bees.
Perhaps they never considered, what
It's like to those really alone.
We look at you and wonder why.
You fill each second with things
Not even worth a try.
Women..do know what I mean.
Your kids can always have an overnight
With their Yia Yia or a best friend.
Stay home with your husband~
A night dedicated to you and your
needs.
Like massages, sex and love.
Husbands and wives don't last forever.
But their sex drive is raring to go.
In men, especially...that I think women know....
Don't let them go looking for someone
else.
Remember the value of good sex?
Love and live, don't ignore that
Special him...
Your children are gone before you
know it...
Husbands are gone too soon!
Accept the kisses and passion~
Tiredness is not the fashion.
Life is really about loving not doing.
Loving your man, driving him crazy..
Panagiota Romios
4/21/2019
11:38am PST
Titillating drops of pleasure fall,
Showering down, halting tension's thrall.
Soothing warmth massages, eases pain,
Dispatching stressful remnants down the drain.
Caressed by warm pulsating stream,
I surrender myself to lazy dreams.
Imagining I'm in a far off place,
Wrapped in serenity's sweet embrace.
Floral fragrance with mist pirouettes,
Arousing senses, reviving zest.
Scrubbing away all dirt and stress,
I emerge relaxed, at peace, refreshed.
9/28/2011
Entered in Debbie Guzzi's Your own Favorite Poem contest.
Des Nuits d'Amour
A fine tablecloth, Lenox china,
sterling dinner ware.
Tall, elegant candles in shiny
golden candelabras.
Un chantes, d' amour fill the
starry night that I can smell in your
heavenly hair.
The songs of Piaf and Aznavour
soften me, caught in this love-lair.
Massages and sultry kisses.
A sink full of unwashed dishes.
It's time we dance, mon trevor!
Blow out the candles and close the
doors!
So that, we can, in sweet silence,
become one with the stars.
Simply, gorgeous you and I!
In overwhelming desire,
to quench our insatiability.
Those glorious moments of fulfilling
our hearts' utmost desires.
05/01/2023
He treats me like a Princess,
And calls himself the frog prince,
Though really on the outside,
Hes just as beautiful as within,
He calls me his Goddess,
And makes himself my slave,
But if I had a to pick a word,
Id say he was my Greek God, my King,
He massages my feet,
When the day has been long,
And whispers in my ears,
The sweetest little songs,
He tells me I cant beat him,
And then pretends that I can win,
The stars sparkel in his eyes,
And the sun glows on his skin,
He makes me smile,
Like ive never smiled before,
He makes my heart erratic,
And tries to hand me the world,
His lips are soft heavens,
His hands are carressing hells,
I cant stand the thought,
Without almost crying out,
He makes me feel amazing,
And we've never once had sex,
He doesnt want to till he feels im ready,
Even though I know im ready for him,
He respects my body,
And respects my mind,
He respects my feelings,
I think for once im not wasting my time,
He buys me all these presents,
Though I always tell him "Dont",
He treats me like a Queen,
And I treat him like himself,
He finds a million pet names,
And he's perfect for my heart,
We fight and always make up,
And he only wants me for himself,
Im happy and im giddy,
He turns me into such a girl,
I could go on forever,
And never finish all my words,
He calls me his Princess,
and thats exactly what I am,
He's my King, my baby,
and will always be my man...
A spiritual warrior,
I salute the sun;
breathe in its energy.
Light filling my whole body,
my whole being;
muscles stretch and oxygenate.
In the prone,
bellows breath massages organs;
brain drinks oxygen and revives.
Prone revitalization,
sustains another day;
I am one with Earth and sky;
a harmonic convergence sustains the
body, mind and soul.
Spirit in a material realm;
I commune with Heaven and Earth;
mortality is no barrier,
in the oneness.
She is super, she says. After I leave there, I feel great!
This is my friend Louise who is trying to convince me to sign up for a massage.
I suspect if she gets a friend to sign up, she will win a pony or something.
I had a massage once, I say. The woman was rough. I was screaming in agony.
Kip is not like that, she says. She is wonderful! You would love her massages.
She put her thumb out on my back, I tell her. From pressing too hard.
Kip is gentle, she says. Really gentle.
You would have to kill me and drag my dead body to her table, I reply in the loveliest way.
I am not kidding, she says. She makes me feel great. Do you want me to make you an appointment?
I look at the bag of candy I am eating. Only 65 calories for a mini-Almond joy, I say. Not bad.
She looks up from her vegetable burger. Only 65 calories for what?
An Almond joy.
She takes another bite of her flat ugly unappetizing vegetable burger. Back to my masseuse, she says.
I really would like to make an appointment for you.
I would rather jump off a cliff into a vat of wild boars who have not had lunch, I say.
She really is terrific, Louise says. You owe it to yourself to try it.
I owe it to myself to find a different lunch partner is what I am thinking.
My beautiful ginger haired goddess faerie
Thick curls down her back, floating against her
Dainty cellophane dragonfly faerie wings.
Translucent, alabaster skin rarely seen even in a glimpse.
My delicate ginger haired goddess faerie
Enjoying woodland's most endearing sunrise.
He is awed by her beautiful, enticing loveliness.
Unconcerned, she massages her dainty faerie toes.
My selfless ginger haired goddess faerie.
Took a silent dip among the lily pads this morning.
Not wanting to bother forest creatures in repose.
My gorgeous, sincere, beautiful ginger haired goddess faerie.
I watch from the shadows in awe,
Careful to not alert or frighten her.
I have one toe that goes above its job.
The digit developed a way to give
pleasure if merely squeezed on its wee tip.
Like whenever someone plays with my hair,
massages my receptive neck or back,
it’s a prized oh-ew-ah-oh-ahhh affair.
I appreciate it so, but that bratty toe
withholds unless another does the squeeze
and my other thinks I caught an odd disease.
Love: Be it not a hand that grasps your heart, but a voice that massages it.
Foreplay starts hours before the bedroom.
Leaving a note on your car while you’re working,
As flowers are delivered in bloom.
Later, rubbing your feet to ease the hurting.
Over dinner, listening to your day.
Engaging every detail as your best friend.
Like when we first met, still the same today.
One of the secrets, don’t let the courting end.
Drawing a bath with popping bubbles.
Oils and a couple from the ice cube tray.
Solace for a night from life’s troubles,
Starting down through pleasure’s parfait.
My right hand sliding from your face,
Over the ear to your hair it grasps.
Our lips flowing together in a slow pace,
As my left hand massages your ass with tight clasps.
Laying you down under the light of the moon,
Candle’s flickers dance among our needs.
A cuddle making a fork from a spoon.
Hot wax drips the body’s tense pleads.
My tongue traces each of your curves.
To make them all mine this night.
Each part given what it deserves.
Knowing where and when to bite.
With the right pressure on every button,
Finding and keeping the perfect rhythms.
Loving you French, Greek, and Russian.
In and out of all the positions.
Two finger tricks in love and smut.
Just two inches in, then up.
Making a pea become a walnut.
While your hands hold your legs like stirrups.
Opening that box of our toys.
Black leather with whips and chains.
Clothes lines and collars employs
Us playing Asphyxia’s dangerous games.
From each encounter, perfecting my skill set,
And if your heart ever turns to another,
Your mind and body to never forget,
When once and still I be, your greatest lover.
------------------------------------------------------------
Contest: Hotsy Totsy
Sponsor: Rachel Firmin
Written: 02.14.15
*Forever grateful to Dr. Ernst Gräfenberg (1881-1957) and every woman I’ve ever known*