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My Captor There's a morning dew of silence Amidst the cold of this dawning Lying between slumber and the wake of light I hear a familiar voice calling… Looking at an empty space There you stand amidst the haze Once again you’ve come for me Like a demon spirit encroaching me Dark and dangerous, Your soul rings me Without a word, your kiss sublimes me Without a touch, your sting impales me Then you crawl into my person Take away all my sense of reason Capture my legions with one breath Imprison my soul in your dark silhouette And as I stand at the edge of sanity The fire in you flares up in me Imprinting your being upon my chest Conquering the throne of my yearning nest This fever is more than I can harbor I’m burning for the hunger of my captor Once unknowing of this fervor I now cry out for your scorching ardor Oh shadowing thief You relentless beast You took the purity of my flesh And engulfed me in your nakedness And now I live at the break of white Between the black and the birth of light Trapped in the middle of lucidity Knowing not who I should be Once captured by this thirst Surrendered willingly to this curse My captor who once ensnared me Is now the beast who thrives in me. |
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[B] Are you a poet? Or is the correct description, a poetess? I'm a senior citizen . Don't expect me to remember anything 
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5/29/2014 7:25 pm |
Are you a poet? Or is the correct description, a poetess? 
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Thank you for viewing my blog. I used to write poetry back in college for the school paper, but now I'm a copywriter and a legal writer for a private company. I really want to write poetry again, maybe even create music at some point. I would like to call myself a poet, but right now, you can say I'm just relearning the skills. Hopefully in time. I'll say you're more than halfway there.  I'm a senior citizen . Don't expect me to remember anything
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5/30/2014 6:36 pm |
Thank you Iris. It's embarrassing but this wasn't supposed to be sensual at first. As I carried on, however, it turned out to be more and more of that.. lol. I'm really glad you like it. I've read so much of your work as well and I loved every one of them. Your work is very inspiring. It's truly an honor to be appreciated by another writer. I'm truly humbled by your kind words. Thank you.
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5/30/2014 7:37 pm |
I'll say you're more than halfway there.
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Elizabeth! wow! this is lovely poem! very sensuously passionately wicked makes one being carried away! this blogroom will make your desire to be a poet alive.. go on with your dreams!! hugss, susan
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6/13/2014 3:01 am |
Thank you, I love your work too. You remind me of Joaquin Phoenix in the movie "Her." I'm thinking you'd do great doing what he does.. writing love letters professionally for people who cannot express themselves. Your poetry is very engaging, it's as if the lady you speak of is standing right in front of you.
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6/20/2014 12:27 am |
oh WOW!!! ... a poet of enchanting and contemporaneous flair. How wonderful to read through You have a charming way of making a reader think in an "R" sense just short of "X" rated -yours is a style that I could never achieve.I see that my slapstick kantoboy style is simply no match!!!  Your work is no "slapstick", it is very unique. I have read your blog and I see you take on the style of my favorite writer, Haruki Murakami - one of the best writers of this century. You narrate your thoughts with such poetic language, I find myself searching for deeper meaning to its content - enigmatic to some extent. I am so happy you like my work, but to be honest, it scares me heaps that I might not be able to live up to your expectations. It took a lot of courage for me to post this poem, having been unsure if it was any good. Thank you so much for your compliment, it means a lot to me.
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6/22/2014 5:35 pm |
You are too modest, and overly profuse in praise; but I Thank You for your thoughts. You remind me of a quite erotic blogger I once knew in this forum; kindyana was her handle; and we exchanged blog-for-blog for quite awhile. But anyway, from the blogs of a past life mutatis_mutandis he wrote something like this: Sunshine Coast Memories -Part 1 of 4 It was a spring day, a day for a lay, when the air Smelled of womanly flora, a day to blow or get blown; Returning from lunch I turned my corner and there On a near-by stop I saw her standing alone. I glanced as I advanced. The clean white T-shirt outlined A persuasive bosom, & the light-blue denims divulged much. I observed the snug curves where they hugged the behind, I watched the crotch where the cloth intriguingly swelled. Our eyes met. I felt sick. My knees turned weak. I couldn't move. I didn't know what to say. In a blur I heard words, myself like a stranger speak "Will you come to my room?" Then a sweet voice, "O.K." I produced some Chardonnay and we talked. Like a little girl She told me her story. Present address: next door. Half Swiss, half Austrian. The youngest. From Berne. Profession: model. Name: Cornelia. Age: twenty-two. She put down her glass and stretched her bare arms along The back of my sofa. The afternoon sunlight struck Her blonde hair resting near my head. Her face was sweet. Her mouth sucky. I could hardly believe my luck. And here she was sitting beside me, legs apart. I could bear it no longer. I touched the inside of her thigh. Her reply was to move closer. I trembled, my heart Thumped and jumped as my fingers went to lower her shortie. I opened a gap in the garter flap. I went in there. I sought for a slit in the undies that had charge Of the nest I asked for. I came to warm flesh then to hair. I went on. I found what I hoped. I groped *mmmmmmmm...almost bare. She responded to my fondling in a charming, disarming way: Without a word she unbuckled her belt while I felt. And lolled back, stretching her legs. Her pants fell away. I beheld through the thin sheer fabric what I held. oohh-lala... Singular powers of extension. For a second or two, I lay my hand there inert, then suddenly i stirred, Then paused as if frightened or doubtful of what to do. And then with a sexy shiver she began to squirm. By soundless bounds she extended and distended, by quick Great leaps she rose, she flushed, she rushed to full wetness. Nearly 4 inches long and an inch wide, a panty stain showing A royal ooze, *effenly solemn and princessly-wise. I tested her wetness and willingness with a manual squeeze. I pushed my finger and twirled it about the bump. I traced the slit from top to bottom. I got on my knees. Pulled down the undies. I stuck out my tongue for the job. (to be continued...) Pray tell us, do you sense divergence or convergence, in trend of thought? Your friend's poetry is a bit too explicit for me. My objective was to deliver a feeling or a sensation without having to take away the readers opportunity to explore his/her own imagination. I believe to master the art of "love making" is by understanding that no two persons are alike. That what can excite one partner may not be the same for the other. That what can turn one on can be a real "turn off" to the other. Likewise, to deliver sexual content with much detail, can either turn a piece of work into artistic derivative, or simply reduce it to mere pornography. This is what separates most aspiring sensual writers from the "Sidney Sheldon." I hope you get my drift, I liked the diction in this piece, but it was just a bit too explicit for me. I find that sex is most satisfying when it comes with a tint of empowerment, and yet yielding.. gratuitously surrendering to supplication.
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6/25/2014 4:05 pm |
nicely said!!! Thus, you see the "DI"vergence in your style and mine.  Kinda' like if you were Vanity Fair or Cosmopolitan, I would be bordering Playboy n Hustler. I thank you for you thoughts. It is enlightening. Interaction with you is turning out to be a most wonderful experience. *bow
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9/21/2014 4:56 pm |
Thank you tinkah, your kind compliment is very important to me. I hope I could write soon, this dry spell seems to have come around too soon. You take care, I'd really love to get to know you more.
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