Publication Date: October, 2019
Genesis: It should be pretty obvious from the title and the image that this poem has an 18 rating! I honestly doubted if this would see the light of day, given the subject matter and the language, and that the the site is based in the US which, from a UK point of view, sometimes looks a tad puritanical in its moral standing. I’m thinking of the Janet Jackson ‘nipplegate’ incident in February 2004. A nipple appears during the Superbowl half-time show and the entire nation loses it’s shit! I mean, look at the size of that Wikipedia entry! There’s 191 references, ffs! But I digress… Massive respect to poetsonline.org for going ahead and publishing this despite my rather graphic take on the subject which, by the way, is in no way gratuitous. I have a genuine love of the sexual arts, and an enormous respect for women in general, and those I have loved in particular, some of which I’ve tried to capture in this poem.
When she opened up her mind to me, Her ideas lit me up and her conversation dazzled, And we sparked off one another until both of us were frazzled. Talking late into the night Each twist and turn a sheer delight Even when the red wine had us absolutely sozzled. When she opened up her heart to me, I saw it happening by the light in her eyes As her pupils grew in intensity and size. Casual pecks became proper kisses – Square on the lips, no longer near misses – Yet I fight primal urges and vow to be wise. When she opened up her thighs to me, I felt honoured, privileged, like a novice in the temple, Treading carefully on sacred ground, being gentle, Until she wants more – harder, deeper – Does she see me already as a possible ‘keeper’? I roll with our urges, animalistic and simple. When she opened up her mouth to me, Lips stroking, tongue swirling, hollowed-cheek sucking, I try to lie motionless, and keep my hips from bucking. I’m overwhelmed by the beauty, Her generosity, absolutely, I can’t wait to reciprocate the next time we’re fucking. When she opened up her soul to me, She was literally my ‘other half’, my muse, my little goddess, I’d sometimes go upstairs early just to watch her stretch and undress In the dim and flickering candlelight, Her skin glowing warmly in the night. Yet – in perfection, my mind wanders, I must confess.