The Orgasm of Poetry
By 1stpoet
The Orgasm of Poetry She asked me why I touched words Swayed reeds with wind of thought Feathers dipped in ink, leaving a trail of the sweat of my muse I loved her, bathed her in emotions stirred within an aching heart I heard her moaning given as a dirge for my sacrifice Her whispers danced upon my ears as her eyes closed to see the beauty of the man who sliced to the core of her soul Tears trickled down blushed cheeks as the fire of passion grew searing, burning to ashes the place where she held me I was in her growing. Plunging deeper into depths she wanted filled Yet I did this all with words Words traced in the dew that formed between her breasts As the poem came to climax I told her that poetry was real and Orgasms could be faked But with a love for words I could reach her……. Where I never could before. William S. Dawes January 28, 2001 Written January 28th, 2001 © on Dec 17 2001 01:31 AM PST 0 • 10
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"The Orgasm of Poetry..."