rain keeps coming from volumes of clouds
it trickles and cools down my passions that pound
then just when I think I'm all calm and collected
the thunder resounds and I'm feeling neglected
i need the rain and the touch of my man
i crave the chill that warms with his hands
my tingles go up and then all back down
then passions are wakened that push and then pound
heavier the cadense merges with thunder
then body's take refuge within one another
the fired up reality ... that comes and then grows
keeps budding the nipples and curling my toes
the fever of flesh and the rosier tones
they prick each nerve with a sip and a moan
the whispers that breath upon moistened skin
when floodgates are opened and love rushes in
its the passion of storms that call upon lovers
who roll with the thunder and move under covers
its needing the pleasures that cadence with rain
it kisses our sorrow and loosens our pains
its flirting with these provocative powers
the hot love of you and me and the showers
its rhythms much faster then kisses all over
its wet things that lick in places that smother
its hugging and bonding in lightning's rebound
its loving hot passions that don't touch the ground
when nature performs and passions do too
its me needing love from no one but you.
In exquisite poetic form here. I had to wipe the steam from my glasses 3 or 4 times.
You are truly a poetic wonder-woman. You have this way of connecting in all the shakras, no matter what you write about. Kudo's!
You have grown so bloody much in the last couple months - at last that's my opinion, and if anyone wants to argue with me about it, I will oblige them.
Your friend and fellow explorer in the realms of words.
Richard
I love it Susan...the steam that rises as the rain hits the wet pavement in summer's heat. I can't help but be reminded or the last lines of my own poem,
'Upon Awakening'
..."And wishing it were Sunday
And raining…
~~~
You just finished the thought...and in the grandest, most sensual style. Must be something in the water, or these Southern women's heads. ;-)
Love,
Taylor
Reviewed by Andy Turner (Reader)
Reviewed on July 12, 2006
The words fall as fast as the rain, and seem to move more rapidly as it reaches its crescendo.
Masterful; the words just melt/fuse together...
This one stirs my fires with memories of making love under tin roofs at the cottage, it stirs my blood with the desire to be there in that lusty rain storm making it in a hammock on a deck with the feel of rain falling on bare skin, shivers from the chill of the rain combined with the heat of passion. Wow better stop here and just say this is a great piece Susan, I love it.
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Love Tinka
In exquisite poetic form here. I had to wipe the steam from my glasses 3 or 4 times.
You are truly a poetic wonder-woman. You have this way of connecting in all the shakras, no matter what you write about. Kudo's!
You have grown so bloody much in the last couple months - at last that's my opinion, and if anyone wants to argue with me about it, I will oblige them.
Your friend and fellow explorer in the realms of words.
Richard
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.
A souls stirring and sensual write that inflames the passions and ignites the imagination..
Wonderful write
Love the tulip graphic
Peter
'Upon Awakening'
..."And wishing it were Sunday
And raining…
~~~
You just finished the thought...and in the grandest, most sensual style. Must be something in the water, or these Southern women's heads. ;-)
Love,
Taylor
Masterful; the words just melt/fuse together...
Fee
God Bless
Michelle!