Long Camisole Poems
Long Camisole Poems. Below are the most popular long Camisole by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Camisole poems by poem length and keyword.
With music playing from across the room,
the notes of love are drifting through the air,
and in my heart our romance still abloom
with bodies swaying to our song so fair.
I hear your whispers echo in my mind,
those playful words designed to light my fire;
the passion that we always sought to find;
that lustful high for which our souls aspire.
The way your hands would gently touch my face
as tender lips of pink came close to mine;
your camisole of black Chantilly lace,
these thoughts of you now leave my heart to pine.
But since the angels took your soul away,
my sanity, these memories belay.
January 5, 2019
Inspiration from Frederic Edwin Church's
painting, The Arabian Desert
~
I press along this arid wasteland
thirsting for your eyes
beneath a mirage of low stars,
my airbrushes stroked in Arabia;
the cauldroned copper dunes
and your moorish fragrance
Become an oasis for this parched mouth--
the sinous dust blowing legends
murmuring Bedouin rites unsaid;
and through embers of a gas light
my imaginings weave in hynotic threads...
Syrian desert touched by midnight
as pores recall my ancient prurient cravings,
I memorize mules roaming by
yet this grandeur leaves me
distraught... for time rushes to steal
a filament of one torrid journey
it's end I cannot defy-- the lavish
fondling on needled sandunes,
I tell you, my rabid body alights
moist in flamed tincture of moonshine,
radiant as an orange gold portrait,
fog swiveling tumbling on scattered weeds--
airy tunes wriggling this jeweled belly
with smoky flavor penetrating my camisole,
where a migrant gull whistles the grit
of an impassioned night...
Alone, as finger-strokes deepen,
the concave blast of reveries
and winds carry your breath
sweet and damp upon my neck;
while one tiny cactus pierces my skin
oiled...watercolored
with faint longing.
From eve's mural, she glints lusciously
waking duskfall with bolder hues
and toasted flames kindling warm passion…
that in stylus of breezes which etches
tinted oak, petals, and grass --- her tiara
bursts into sweet madness on earth's landscape:
How she flickers more daring
than a blend of innocence and rawness,
glittering through a ruby camisole
Luna unfurls her exotic angle--
delicate skin fluid, glossy, inviting :
Then to pose against an opaque view
which imprints the alchemy of romance,
this moon goddess ignites all lovers' dream--
until in capricious whirlwind
she evanesces... lusciously radiant.
-----------
3.11.2019
Liquid Luna Lace Contest
Sponsor: Chantelle Anne Cooke
Okay, I'm at it again, hope you're ready my friends
A mushy love poem from this old dude
He ain't dead yet, still got some oats to still spread
Block your eyes if you don't like rude
Well, I'll try my best but there are no guarantees
At my advanced age, I've lost all control
The best I can say with any assuredness is this
I'll try as I sit here in my old camisole
Now that may sound like I've gone over the edge
I'm teetering but I'm still hanging on
At times though, it does enter this old mind
But till now I can still greet the dawn
Wish me luck in my future endeavors won't you
Need all the help you guys can provide
If I can't get enough, I'll drift off into the sunset
But be aware, I had a fantastic ride!
.
i kept mine
duke's digits
unto mineself
mine eyne
i had no control
mine poetic think'd
yesss
and again
i rush'd home
tuh pictate whut mine
beheld
she wore thuh soft
camisole top
with
spaghetti stringz
loose
blatantly loose
and over hern
bent
front mine see
tap
Detritus
Sitting there, honey,
Cleansed and bathed,
Scented with lilac and rose,
Glistening at your dressing table, and
Eyeing yourself in the chrome mirror;
I, as your guest, sit by and watch,
Astonished at your well-intentioned revealings,
Seeing your young beauty at morning tide,
As hands and fingers apply the detritus,
To nineteen year-old eyes, awash in teen wisdom.
I sense there is something you want to say,
As you lean toward your reflection there,
Smearing scarlet on wet open lips,
Your unbuttoned camisole dangling loosely,
Upon your shimmering backside,
But finding a foothold upon your upturned breast.
And here I sit, astonished again,
At the perennial return of one endless ritual
After another.
Zounds!
Do you realize I cannot resist you?
Yet it makes me wonder,
If you want me to make love to you.
Yes, I wonder.
Well, shall we just dispense
With this slow dance in the darkness?
Look at me!
Zounds!
I will make you dance!