Poetry

Short poems and prose pieces

The Researcher

The way she approached her research
tenacious
never gave up
thorough.
It was always a pleasure
to work with her.
Sense of humour
confident in her abilities
professional.
Yet…..

The way she ate a melon
had always made him
smile
she knew the effect on him.
He needed to have her
at his table
on a picnic
by a pool
on a train
in his car
in his bed.

//////////////////

 

A Train can Travel Fast or Slow

A train can travel fast or slow,
the driver needs to take care,
not too quick, not too slow,
driving is an art.

Her hand slowly slipped off the table,
to slide down to find that part of him
that would please her, tease her,
release her.

The train roared on, driven by a driver
eager to get to to the next part of the journey.

Her hand always found its destination.
Timing is important,
never work in haste,
a driver should be considerate.

The speed of the train slowed,
an assured hand in control.
One cannot arrive too quickly.
The arrival is everything, full of expectation and pleasure.

The joy of a journey travelled and attained is everything,
never to be rushed or taken for granted.

She never set off too early,
she was experienced in the art of travel,
a woman who never raced to her destination.

Each journey travelled she was
aroused,
fulfilled,
satiated.


 

Dangerous Woman (for M…)

EDIT IMAGE 2
She slowly slipped into my life
then later she slipped into my bed.

My dangerous woman,
bright, quiet, quick witted,
driven to make her mark, to make a change.

Not easily shaken,
She drives on, a forward movement
until she reaches her goal.

Her daily illicit affair with data, rolls on,
nothing is consigned to paper.
Her eyes scan, decode,
Her fingers caress the keyboard.

Tenacious, relentless.
Not a woman to suffer dangerous people.
Fingers upon her keyboard ease their way
through the maze, to avoid online traps.

There can be no easy road for her.
It will always be a long, winding journey,
Often travelled, seldom with an end location.

Yet in bed, she is……
Carefree, a willing lover,
a relentless lover in pursuit of pleasure.

A kiss, a caress, my slow movements to
reveal her, reassure her, to undress her.
Another kiss, at first short, then long.
A slow caress to open her mind, her senses, her body.

Her perfume is intoxicating,
I want to drown in pleasure
to make her high, to entice her.

My red headed lover sighs,
needs to be taken on a sensual journey,
to be sexually, emotionally high.

Her whole body needs my touch.
I caress her breasts, move my mouth down
to caresses the inside of her thighs.
My tongue slowly opens her,
to relax her, release her.

Deep in bed she slowly slips her thighs around my waist.
Now I push, slow, shallow, deep, slow.
Her her whole body quivers with delight,
slow, shallow, pause, deeper.

—–

Russian Lady

woman-in-love-2

Russian Lady

She wanders around the
streets built by Caesar.
Alone, driven by a desire
to find an emotional home.

Quiet, inquisitive, a seeker
of something she cannot explain.

She feels, she writes,
seeks a fulfilment
that is always beyond her grasp.

I wonder about her,
wish her peace;
hope she finds what she is looking for.

A love deep and sincere.
A home warm and clear
of strife and fear.

—————–

He Thought of Her

BED SHADOW

He thought of her
walking through a dense wood
or on a desserted shore.

Lost in her thoughts.
Drifting.
Dreaming.
Happy to be away from him.

She should escape more with her thoughts.
Explore the tranquility of space.
Massage her inner soul.

Yet when she returns
He knows she will want him.
Need his assured touch
His mouth, his love.

He thought of her
walking through the garden
skipping through the door
no need of anymore solitude.

His room.
His bed.
He waits.
Silence before a storm of desire.

___________________________________________