Raft branch buoyed in canopy crossroad
Ocelot pillow paws rail rainforest rotunda
Yataghan claws trail trunk, track cathode
Assailant arouse pounces, stiff tail rudder
Lithe, while night looms, lightspeed silent
Ogling exotic shores - she yanks anchor
Centipede nimble Queen needs her tiara
Evermore adorned, baubles bean arabica
Lustrous pearl dozes on dark décolletage
Opulent moon mother of tides, sly tyrant
Tortures subordinates to claim her island
Iridescent iris treasure hunt sailor ocelot
Spotted sea captain keeps snake for halo
Lapis lazuli exclusively steers royal yacht
Asphyxiating prey, Casper crouch lay low
Navigating her way to throne, puss pirate
Drapes cashmere ears in conquest crown
Nautical Nineteenth November
Categories:
décolletage, animal, beautiful, character, dark,
Form: Acrostic
mystique of Winter-white wings - soiree of doves
long string of pearls dangling over décolletage
ample hat covers her eyes with doveyness
intricate lace, feathers, flower, flowing, sensual, sensational
Categories:
décolletage, beauty, imagery,
Form: Ekphrasis
In a dream called passion
Ensconced in effervescent lingerings
sifting through moonlit seams
Soft flavored drippings of ecstasy
melting slowly within the fever
dancing across my skin
as your fingers trace
the outline of my deepest secrets,
mysteries lodged in seductive breaths
Sweet air murmurs in erotic whispers
Your love my opiate, addictive enchantment
Stimulated senses heightened
Sundrenched moans, silver lined
adrift on satin sighs
Floating delirious within
hallucinogenic eyes,
seducing my mind in eternal desires
Thoughts mingle in reflective desires
Trance infused emotions
cling to each nuance of mesmeric longings
Swirling smoke ringlets
penetrate whispering décolletage,
culminating in lustful motives
atop gilded sheets
immersed in our rapture,
etched in euphoria, drenched...
in a dream called passion
Good night Soupers
Categories:
décolletage, good night, sensual,
Form: Free verse
CAUGHT IN A TANGO AT CAPE HORN
whistles while he works ~
pavement is free of debris
on America’s south side
her slender feet slide
across legend’s windswept deck
~ tremulous tango
he boldly takes her ~
sure-footed and sensuous
her décolletage dips
a tortuous storm ~
a breathless virgin lighthouse
her knees nearly faint
firmly upholds her
in frenetic funnel dance
~ she dares to glance up
downdraft makes her swoon
~ spinning ballerina toes
caught in full embrace
with weak pulse she smiles
and balances as she walks
cautiously away
her cheeks wide-hip pink
he attempts to grab her shawl
~ she slides the glass door
unabashedly
asks her for another dance
his pulse beating fresh
she smooths down her dress
as sea salt whispers romance
~ she repins her hair
8/24/2017
Blowing in the wind contest
Categories:
décolletage, dance, romance, sea, sensual,
Form: Personification
Winds caressing fringes of
her deep chocolate tresses
as tree nymphs nimbly hid
midst fallen maple leaves
happily prancing round toes,
whilst a crescendo of chimes
played off in near distances,
warm apple pie aroma wafting
upon a zephyr tickling her nose,
unfastened her reddish cloak
for her e'er plunging neckline
exposed an ample décolletage
voluptuously heaving in broad
daylight waiting to seduce a crafty
wolf in sheep's clothing she had afore
encountered on the way to grannies,
called ahead to make reservations
for her & handsome knighted chef
hiding amidst the dark forest with
his trusty sharpened butcher knife,
had acquired Wolfgang Puck's
wickedly-satisfying secret recipe
for savory pack-of-wolves stew
Li'l Reddish Revenge is a dish best served cold-blooded with liberal
scads of punitive napkins and a bottle of vindictively chilled Chianti
Categories:
décolletage, allegory, fantasy, hero, humorous,
Form: Epic
It is the evening I have waited for,
stiletto heels three inches high adorned my feet,
real nylons hung from garters beneath a
skin tight, leather skirt of maraschino cherry-red.
A blouse of white silk, with a cascade of ruffles,
played peek-a-boo with my décolletage.
Outdoors, the rain pounded the asphalt
making the reality of his arrival even more bizarre.
A Harley barrels into the driveway.
Apparently, he thinks
he is Marlon Brando
and I am Stella?
I stand on the porch, a black umbrella
covering my new do, and watch as he
saunters through the puddles on the concrete walk.
The color of the umbrella my only
non-incongruent element in the frame, the scene made.
His smile was like a box of Chiclet's
on his clean shaven face.
He kisses me.
I lick the raindrop
from the tip of his Roman nose
and take hold of his Russian fingers.
He tosses my umbrella on the porch,
throws his black leather jacket over my shoulders,
lifts me off my feet, and carries me to the bike.
The sun breaks through the clouds and the rain stops,
just in time for the neighbors to glare at the sight of my legs
reflecting on the bikes chrome work.
Shake their respective heads
and donate a few wolf whistles.
Categories:
décolletage, lust,
Form: Prose Poetry