need

But one wish…

Oh, give me but one wish and I would ask
For no great wealth, or earthly gotten gain,
Nor servants that would do my every task,
Nor power over sun, or wind, or rain.
For all these things, I truly would replace
To pass the night within my love’s embrace.

For wealth could not my passion’s fire sate;
No price is there to stay my yearning heart.
No princely sum could ever compensate
For time that she and I must spend apart.
And thus, no fortune had, I wish to see;
Instead I wish with her to always be.

And servants to obey my each command
Would idle sit, a wasted wish to be.
For there is not of them I could demand
To set my soul’s desires flying free.
Nor could a harem ever dare compare
To her, my sexy darling lover fair.

The sun may try to slay me with its heat,
Its rays are dim next to our passion’s flame.
The wind and rain may in a tempest beat
Upon us, but will die away in shame.
No force of nature ever could prevail,
Or cause my need for her to ever pale.

In dreams, when I am held within her arms,
And soft caresses dance across my skin,
Away fall troubles, all the worldly harms,
Removing all my woes, my fears, my sin.
And bolts electric leap through out my form
When laying next to her, so soft and warm.

And when she pulls me close, into a kiss,
I am the beast enchanted by the song
Her siren’s tongue, it weaves melodious,
And leaves me tamed, no fear of right or wrong.
Her lips with mine, a lover’s tango dance,
As we give way to simple, sweet romance.

Then soon, we are consumed by our desire,
And frantically, we strip each other bare.
Like panicked fauna fleeing from a fire,
We rush, and at each other’s garments tear,
Till free of those constricting bonds are we
To press together, naked, warm, and free.

And what delicious warmth in her I’ve found
As, hardened from our rush, inside I slip.
My heart beats furious with every sound,
Each sigh of passion that escapes her lips
As rhythmically, we two begin to move,
Our burning lusts together there to soothe.

With perfect thrusting beat our bodies slide,
Enveloped in the passion that we share.
Orgasmic pulses build as we collide,
That wash away our every worldly care.
We feel the pressure building deep within,
With ecstatic release soon to begin.

My hands across her body freely roam,
To touch her milky flesh, each curve to feel,
Each breast a perfect pliant pleasure dome,
And each caress is dreamlike and surreal.
And then her breathing quickens, ‘neath my form,
As tightening, I feel her body storm.

Then thrashing like a ship tossed by the sea,
Orgasms overtake my lover sweet,
And soon I join her in her ecstasy,
We draw together, fully and complete.
Our voices join, and moans, they fill the air,
As I explode within my lover fair.

Exhausted then, together do we sleep,
Still locked together in a tight embrace.
And in our slumber, comforting and deep,
Within our dreams, still passion do we chase,
Till waking, when we start all o’er anew,
To once again such ecstasy pursue.

So give me not of riches, this I plea,
Nor servants that each want may then obey,
Nor power o’er the elements that be,
There’s but one thing I wish for every day:
And that’s to live the waking dream so sweet
Of being next to her, whole and complete.

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Lust tapers? Not! (NSFW, AC, Sexual content, be warned)

You must forgive my needs, my dearest love,
For how can I not want you all the time?
Of all the things this poet can think of
To set to meter, fancy up with rhyme,
There is not one that even can compare
To you, my love, my dearest lady fair.

I know, at times, it seems that all I do
Is lust for you, like some demented fiend,
And when I cannot have you, it is true
I tend to get quite grumpy, dour, and mean.
How can I not? For you are like the drug,
And I the fiending, desperate, needing thug.

I long for you with every single ounce
Of passion that I can within me find,
I see you, and I feel that I must pounce
Upon you, feel our bodies intertwined,
But since we can’t, oh, torturous the fire
That burns within me, fueled by this desire!

And soon I find that every waking thought
Is filled with dreams of you in wicked ways,
Till nothing else could penetrate the knot
Of fantasies, and nothing else could faze
My sheer desire, my throbbing, aching need
For you, that you alone could quench, could feed.

I want to feel you, soft, beneath my hands,
I want to squeeze your breasts, to hear your sighs,
I want you to give in to my demands
With giggling lust, and willful spreading thighs,
I want you to want me how I want you,
As evidenced by wet and wanting dew.

Ah, to feel that wetness as I spread
It all across your wanting, waiting flower
With playful teasing from my other head
Till both of us are drunk upon the power
That mutual lust inspires in the heart,
And makes it hurt to ever be apart.

And then, to thrust into you, to combine
Our bodies, to give in to utter bliss,
To see you flush, as red as any wine,
To taste the need upon your flowery lips,
To take you and to love you, hard and fast,
Such are the dreams that build, endure, and last.

And oh, when you are wet like that, I joy
In ways no simple words could dare describe,
For though my carnal nature may annoy
At times, I’d love if you could but imbibe,
And drink full well my lust for you, and take
All that I have to give, our lusts to slake.

I do not think I ever could relay
How powerful my need for you has grown
With every passing hour, every day
That you and I have one another known,
“Lust tapers” – no, least not for you, from I,
But burns like sun and stars within the sky.

 

My Lust for Her…

A difficult form tonight. The ballade (not to be confused with the ballad) is a form of medieval and Renaissance French poetry

The ballade as a verse form typically consists of three eight-line stanzas, each with a consistent metre and a particular rhyme scheme. The last line in the stanza is a refrain. The stanzas are often followed by a four-line concluding stanza (an envoi) usually addressed to a prince. The rhyme scheme is therefore usually ‘ababbcbC ababbcbC ababbcbC bcbC’, where the capital ‘C’ is a refrain.

The many different rhyming words that are needed (the ‘b’ rhyme needs at least fourteen words) makes the form more difficult for English than for French poets.

 (See wikipedia for the full article on the form.)

My lust for her…

I see her form, and much to my delight
She’s unadorned, no trinkets to display,
No clothes about her wrapped to bar my sight
Nor anything but what she wore the day
She came into the world, but more risqué
For all her shapely curves, her woman’s claim
That fuels this man to passionately say
My lust is hers, and hers alone to tame.

And oh, the wicked smile that takes its flight
Across her face might lesser men dismay,
And cause their weaker passions to afright,
Their doubts and inner demons to obey;
Not I, for my desires are not allayed
By such a thing as doubt or fear or shame,
My flames go stronger, rather than decayed.
My lust is hers, and hers alone to tame.

And thus, my need her own seems to incite
As we embrace and with each other play,
As lovers, twisting, writhing in the night
And long into the breaking of the day.
And yet, unspent, our urges don’t away
But grow in power, glory, and in fame –
And as each other’s passions we essay,
My lust is hers, and hers alone to tame.

Then finally, we crest, we rock, we sway,
To rest and comfort in each other’s frame.
She knows it was the truth when I did say
My lust is hers, and hers alone to tame.