We talked like tension hanging in the air
your eyes on me like you already dared
One slow smile, one step too near
and suddenly all I felt was heat and fear
Then your lips touched mine slow, deep, rough,
one kiss alone was dangerous enough.
My breath caught hard, my hands held tight,
already losing myself that night.
Your touch moved lower along my skin,
waking every fire deep within.
Soft teasing kisses down my neck,
leaving my whole body breathless.
The way your mouth explored me slow
made shivers through my body flow.
Fingers tangled tight in your hair,
soft little moans filling the air.
Bodies grinding closer still,
moving with impatient thrill.
Every tease just built the need,
making my whole body plead.
You pulled me close against your frame,
breathing low while saying my name.
And when our bodies moved as one,
the room itself felt undone.
Breathless gasps and shaking thighs,
heat reflected in our eyes.
Two bodies lost in burning flame,
wanting more with every wave.
The keys are cold, the notes so sad,
To pipe love that never bloomed
A minor key sighs, moans and weeps,
To recall a promise made
The ivory keys hum a dirge ,
A broken song of its sown.
Moonlight blushed as passion heightened
Hormones raged in aged bodies
Tongues spoke the language of moans
Fingers roamed across wrinkled plateaus
and into deep creviced valleys
Flesh was heated, engorged with anticipation...
We did not go gently into that good night
Morning found us entwined, weary and sated.
~Quince shaped houses landscape Julienned Street
where citric groans once molded a blue cheese night ~
In one home lives reclusive Graham and his wife, Coco,
two dilled, old pickles nervously living on the lamb.
Busted selling urine for addiction pee tests,
they agreed to flee from a legal barbeque.
Combining their bran, they landed on Julienned.
They peppered with fright when a repair man
fell down, done, dead and fried on their hall floor.
Even freaked, they managed to fully bake a plan.
They dragged his body with mixed moans and groans
to the cellar, filleted him and then designated
him the residents permanent cellar staple.
Tonight, there's a secret I planned,
Fly me once more to fairyland,
In our quiet bed and in dreams,
As you have done through moans and screams.
Take me there and let me lie bare,
Till my eyes have wept their last tear,
So my love may restore lost beams,
As you have done through moans and screams.
Let your touch send me to the moon,
Let our love lift us like balloons,
And our hearts will flow in cool streams,
As you have done through moans and screams.
By the time our secret is known,
To all eyes, our love will have shone,
And my face will glow in soft gleams,
As you have done through moans and screams.
Delicate fingers gripped the slender neck firmly-
after soft, full lips caressed cold, wet flesh desperately-
whilst deep breaths were taken forcefully;
yet suffocated moans and screams pierced discordantly
heavy silence.
The now despised and trembling cold embrace
lost its hold, thus allowed discoloured hands to bring it over the edge,
clouded head hitting the hard, wet surface - screams amplifying-
drops from his hair falling on contorted, pale face
mingled with the infinity of pure particles and rosy paint.
Time remained in its place after the moans ceased to pollute tranquility
while witnessing the spasming body beneath
and crimson blending, overtaking and spreading into vitality;
cynical gaze never faltered.
We've become moaners,
Grumpy and groaners,
We talk lots of piffle
We cough, and we sniffle.
We mumble and grumble,
We are not very humble
Sighing and crying
There's no denying
We've become apathetic
That is pathetic
Poetic mornings
loose verses whisper in moans
broken hearts voices
I
As some on God's good Earth
Arise at a new dawn, I'm grateful
Even to talk with friends I haven't met
Joe called them "myself," & on the internet
II
I say God Morning, for so many reasons
One: God adds another 'o' to make GOOD
I say Our Father (Holy is Thy name) prayer
Two: Start positive! Prefer mood of gratitude
III
In ones sixties, one oft gets up in pain
I thank my Savior, its but a little cross
I bear nothing compared to His! I gain
What Adam lost: If I pray, I won't complain
(Maybe just one of each, later, a moan & a groan!)
Purple bats and evil cats and strangled ghosts that laugh
jet black cloaks, snickering blokes and witches that gaff
Pumpkin grins, talking garbage bins and all that moves
Halloween rhymes and pentacle signs with evil grooves
Children running from the shadows towards the gallows
skeleton molds on scaffolds, and specters in the shallow
Phantoms and demons, bogey men with haunting looks
talisman, walking totems, demon hags with spell books
Haunted houses, mummy spouses and imps that steal
cemetery moans and groans, stiffs that oink & squeal
BETTER HURRY ON HOME BEFORE YOU BECOME THE NEXT MEAL
Cupid's arrows soar through the air
Like pheromones seeking despair
"To know the truth,"
Says Dr. Ruth,
"Like it or not, we need to share!"
Its difficult to be true
When lust gets the best of you
So swallow your pride
And enjoy the ride
It could be your last great screw!
Of late, nature moans inside a scraped womb
As her lush environ FLOUNDERS breaks out…
Played like a trusting NEOPHYTE from woods to rivers
She endures the BOMBAST of dirt through man’s crimes:
Awaiting kindness …amends remain undone
While LECHEROUS deeds persist without guilt, why, why?
More wrongs ravage innocent fish and flora
Infecting her very marrow, to drain away.
Loot, SMOLDER, rip a body ! Time runs out.
Mother Earth answers through bloodied jolts…
By will of PROVIDENCE, she whips a storm without INHIBITION
Halting indifference, her fire scalds air’s layers,
A battle citizens might grow DOLOROUS over--
Until her soul is nourished back, till she moans no more.
-----------
Eight Word Free Verse Challenge
For John Hamilton’s Contest 6/13/2019
Dearest sister, if you are reading this- I have passed on,
will you please have my name and "a poet" engraved upon;
the stone that marks my decaying bones,
where my writing ever moans . . .
___________________________
April 21, 2019
Poetry/Rhyme/Where My Poetry Moans
Copyright Protected, ID 19-1136-387-02
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Excerpt from my poem, Muse, A Sweet Bird Flown
“Phero-moans”
Oh, joy
the skunk is back.
No one has seen her
yet all know she’s here.
There is just an air
about her
that turns the head
(and stomach).
She is so cute
that wiggle waddle,
those cute eyes,
fluffy tail,
magnificent
white racing stripe.
Her rather overpowering
femme fatale
pheromonal presence
assaults the unsuspecting.
A sensually aromatic
two by four
come hither.
I think the dog
just had his heart broken.
John G. Lawless
2/20/2018
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