that heart pounding moment
risqué of midnight negligé
his hunger satisfied
the quake of furniture
pearls glistening on floor
candle flame flickering, flickering
language of love
making tongues swoon
surreality of being one
coalescent couple burning
conclusive kiss, sigh, satisfied
the dewy, unresistant words
that come with completion
simply expounding love
that remembers
that forgets
that forges the future
Betwixt twilight, in hypnotic trance
Lapping waters compose sensual dance
Lovelorn sap pines in vain
Downtrodden, return nary ordain
Neon allure gleaming down
Gifting halo upon petal crown
How cruel tis luster on display
Beauty, aware most risqué
Briny tears remain unshed
Tender words gone unsaid
Sunrise blushes skies
Dispelling unrequited ties
Sunkist upon petals smutch
Balm, like healing touch
Bask ‘neath celestial shine
Wispy swells, thou art divine
We had not canoodled for ages,
we washed bed linen,
sloshed saggy skin with surgical soap,
put on face masks
(rubber gloves were optional),
but they did remind us
of more risqué days.
We had old people sex -
less frantic, more careful.
I think I heard God laughing
as we both encouraged
slow-fuse orgasms
that declined to arrive together.
At our bedside
a stretched-out chocolate lab
huffed, a little bollixed,
as if overhearing
two hamsters exercising
on the same training wheel.
My salt and pepper shakers were risqué
Shaking their booties night and day
I told my husband to put them away
It was his mother who thought they were gay
I brought my boss home for dinner last Tuesday
Those nasty shakers were dirty dancing away
I said to my husband please take them to Kay
That is his mother, who thought they were gay.
Loo humour it is my forte
Risqué rhymes, I’ll write night and day
I’ve finished next book
Will you dare to look
It’s naughty – that’s all I will say!
Your vanity is insanity.
And it is a painful sight to see.
Whilst looking through the looking glass.
How did your life become so crass?
Why did we all become so vain?
Reflections in a windowpane.
Remember when that no one cared?
Now everybody seems so scared.
With thoughts that hurt the way we feel.
Like peeling back an orange peel.
And as the surgeon sharps his knife.
Now these procedures are so rife.
Why do you want to look the same?
Lip fillers are in part to blame.
Conform to look a certain way.
Procedures that are so risqué.
Whilst looking for the right procedure.
Whilst scrolling through your social media.
Not comfortable in our own skin.
Just looking like a mannequin.
Our beauty now it runs skin deep.
Procedures done, yes, on the cheap.
Procedures done more harm than good.
We are beautiful, not made of wood.
Obsessed about the way we look.
When really no one gives a ****.
Our beauty, yes, it runs skin deep.
And while we get our beauty sleep.
We'll dream about there was a time.
This beauties yours and so not mine.
I had a dream, it was risqué
Read on if you dare
I was at a masquerade ball
And all there were bare.
Except for wearing masks of course
No one cared at all
Just got on with naked dancing
Bouncing round the hall.
The funny part was when they parked
Backsides on a pew
When they came to stand up again
The seats stood up too.
There was lots of piercing screaming
As seats were parted
And some very red rosy cheeks
On vision as folk partied.
At midnight came the final dance
The dream came to its close
I switched on the light, got such a fright
The floor was strewn with clothes.
[[X][x][X][X][X][X][X]]
[ ]
Albeit, a riddle and true,
happenstance quietude,
privacy absolute of two,
monarch, and servitude.
( )
(*******~0~*******)
( )
Proximity rather risqué,
her inner horse handler,
usually believed display,
and so all souls said her.
( )
(*******~0~*******)
( )
Soulfully tenet ill a day,
as good friend perishes,
Queen Victoria alas say,
confidant's...cherishes.
[ ]
[[X][x][X][X][X][X][X]]
Chipmunks tease us after we bloom
we're clueless as to why
the words of the birds and bees loom
we're small we don't deny
Grow low, we'll be out of the way
lowly we grew to be
thought our colors a bit risqué
butterflies shout, PANSIES!
From Manchester came a bloke
who thought himself quite bespoke.
His risqué pick up lines
were made in monorhymes.
He proved to be all mirrors, no smoke.
Lady T is a wildly acclaimed peacock dancer, in gay Paree’
Most of us whistle and stamp as she writhes with glee
She is risqué and unique, and shows us lots of beautiful skin
It is 1923, so this tells you the kind of times we are in.
We love seeing this woman, she makes our blood rise.
Everyone is clamoring to get tickets, no big surprise.
Wait a second! One guy yells. I think I know Lady T.
It is his little sister, so he rushes the stage to cover thee.
Inquisitive sorts enigmatic notions as positions--scaled left for the right-hander--behold various perceptions, thus preserving perfection as a cure for misdirection's subtle draw.
Earnest forgivingly weakens its posture as truth betrays, incredulously, amidst reality outfitted in non-traditions; Judas kisses a face, while the strummed favors oils embrace a straining revelation that pleasures the muted.
Distractions of another sort muse the ne'er-do-wells, while diligence inks the lost, ambulates ambitious quill of risqué 'Olympia' whose indecency is shaded decently.
Tryst loses in translation, forms anew in an altered view; observant exposed a chapter; a spilled review cores a novel of two; meeting of the minds formed upon a ruinous and trifle distraction, whereto whenever praise ventures, "A dull knife makes a cutting edge."
the other women are askance
a flapper has moved into the neighborhood
not on her own, but with parents
they cannot control her
she wears short dresses
this is 1921
her skirts are no longer than her knees!
She is flippant, reckless, risqué,
she has bobbed her hair
the other woman gasp their disapproval
she listen to jazz
smokes cigarettes in public
she flaunts brash behavior
I heard she drinks alcohol! some whispered
the rest of the women are shocked
most had no idea that she is also having casual sex
none of them knew about that
they were jealous of her confidence
her misbehaviors stoking their rumor fire
as she stoked their husbands
art deco was considered ultra-modern in the nineteen twenties
fashions were outrageously risqué, women were slim, flappers wore fringe
I would have been a flapper if I had been born then,
after I escaped the cave of my parents and their rules
If I had known about Berkeley, I would have gone there in the seventies
If I had known about Woodstock, I would have stayed away though.
I detest crowds.
But art deco, that is something I can embrace.
In some ways I wish I had been born in the twenties,
then I would have gone to the otherworld before my mother
who was not born until 1931.
Another reason to be a flapper.
Is he a Poofter?
I was reading “An American Tragedy” by Theodore Dreiser
reading slowly because the writer proceeded slowly in his writing
It was eleven at night; I was going to bed when I had finished a chapter;
when there was a knock on my cabin door, the deckhand
stood there looking shy; I asked him what he wanted, and apparently
he had run out of cigarettes; I didn’t believe him and asked who had sent him;
he didn’t answer but hurriedly left
It appeared the former chief steward was gay, now the boy was sent up
by the crew to see if I was gay too
A cargo ship is a cosmos of gossip and pornographic magazines
when there was a perfect library with books changed by a welfare origination
the literature was of a high standard, this was an effort to educate and brighten
the mind of seamen
Alas, I was not social, sitting in mess halls playing cards and telling risqué jokes,
spent my free time in my cabin surrounded by books and dreams of a better life.
A better life came when illness ended my career and
I was free to find my own way in life.
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