Erotic Poetry - Tumblr Posts
The Fish’s Desire
by Shuzo Takiguchi
Virginal decorations.
The pain of countless upside-down candles.
The branches and flowers of transparent trees.
The rumble of infinity’s mirror
and the sudden spasm of house windows.
My whole body.
In the fossilized water that brightens day by day
my desire still swims.
I, bastard child of the giant chandelier called the blue sky.
No one calls me the sphinx of love.
In a jasper fable, my dream
glittered all the more blue.
—Translated from the Japanese by Mary Jo Bang and Yuki Tanaka
365 Days of Poetry - Day 24:
*
Where to
girl with bright thighs?
There's no moon tonight.
Out to my lover.
Not afraid, young in the darkness
to travel alone?
Can't you see-at my side
with lethal arrows the
love god?
*
Vikatanitamba
What can I do?
We make love in the common position
He calls it sedate
but invent
something new
he asks where I
learnt it
Anonymous
Sattasai 5.76
How can I
sleep when my beloved's
in bed with me
how when he's absent?
For me the two
sleeps are annihilated
lost this
way or that
Hemachandra's Grammar 418.1
The Cane Groves of Narmada River, Andrew Schelling
an erotic poem:
leg so hot
hot hot leg
leg so hot u fry an eg
A Quickie
You find me wanton and waiting Wanting and wailing No time skip the foreplay whale me Nail me Masturbation isn’t enough I am wet and willing I need fulfilling Felling, laying, filling Feeling, fornicating, forcing I spread my legs Give me all the dregs My pussy begs, eggs you on, pegs you out And draws you in… My cunt takes the brunt of every shunt, each punt of your blunt to my front. Your grunt finally ends this hunt. Unt-!! Alas your stunt has finished this runt -il next time…
‘Coming’ Over
I’m knocking at your door. I’m standing out here in my coat, the long grey one. Can’t you hear me? I’ve got on my black, knee-length, high heeled boots. The water drops glisten on the polish. You must be able to. My dark hair is covered by the low hood, but it’s been blow-dried. Come on, open up. The dark wool is itching against my chest. I’m wearing nothing else, except for the shoes. My nipples ache, from more than just the cold. I’m listening through the letterbox. I can hear a fire crackling in the hearth. My lips are painted red, and they are hungering for you. I try not to bite down. I want to look good for you. For you. I’ve rung the bell too, even though I know it’s been bust for months. An old habit. I’m finding it hard to wait. My fingers have slipped between the buttons, slid down, and now they’re pressing there too, even though I know it won’t be enough. I need more, but several inches of solid wood are keeping me from yours. I hear a sound, and for a moment I’m hopeful… Your garden wall is low, and the neighbour’s washing blows in the gale, and she rushes to get it down. I don’t care. The goosebumps are spreading up from my socks, which only cover up till my knees. I shift, tightening the grip of my thighs, anticipative. I stand still now, looking into the still, white curtains behind the little glass panes. My breath steams. I sigh. Drip. I lean against the door. It isn’t enough. I need more. I need… I’ve banged on the door again. …I knead my breasts, standing now against the door frame. Home is where the heart is. Let me in. You know you want to. My eyes are smouldering within the black painted frames. A -picture of predilection. I shiver. Answer. The rain is coming down heavy, each drop thudding, each one touching an individual spot all over the surface of the driveway. Each sound is a sting while I remain pristine and unmarked. Why are you still reading this? Get your hand out of your pants and open the door. I’m waiting…