bearer of the fire, keeper of the flame
kind of man who takes what he wants
but always gives more than he takes
to be desired by such a man....
to kindle the fire of such a lover...
where are the words to give wings to such joy
his soft whispers have pulsing lives of their own
like inquisitive fingertips they explore
the intimate places of my most erotic dreams
my thoughts of love are commanded by them
he is the love song sung by angelic choirs
and the primal drumbeat of passion
played by the swarthy savages of my desire
desire that rivals that of Calliope for Odysseus
and imprisons our hearts together on a volcanic island
he tenderly crowns me with pristine halos
and takes me in the night like a rutting beast
he is darkness and light, love and lust
angel or devil, i care not which he might be
for there is nothing of him i don’t adore
a word, a whisper, one touch is all i need
to prime the pump of my passion’s well
and overflow the river’s banks
with floods of aching, wanting lust
oh to drown in his masculine ambience
die, resurrect... die again in his arms
until desire’s whispers become summit’s screams
and wild summit’s screams revert
to sweet pillowed whispers
... We must be psychic, Belle... Yesterday, when I was thinking of writing another short poem for today, I resurfaced the poem I wrote a couple of months' ago by the same title! Initially I thought I had reposted it by mistake! :)) But this wonderful outpouring brings me out in a hot-cold sweat, Darlin. The skin-taut tension is as palpable as a roller-coaster ride and I can so relate to the oscillation between the poles of hope and despair, the hot and the cold, the black and the white. Silence and absence are as a slow death to the waiting head and heart. The agonising frustration as the soul's fast. May the feast come soon! :)) Love, Kate xx
Passion such as this fuels dreams and inspires the universe. The flame lives on even through the grace of the four winds. Know you this, it is overwhelming.
Amor
Scorchio! Volcanic eruption of fiery passion and *points down* - oooolala - pumping water jets - what contrasts - s t e a m y! This write would surely blow Odysseus and Calliope off the island and into the water, if the Muse of Eloquence had been on this kind of form, would he have wanted to ever go back to Penny? Tooo close to call...great write La Belle, Nicky x
Yep, here it is, I've been waiting for this hot number - this line evokes my own young girlhood living in the country with hand pumps and well water...they didn't paint those pump handles red for nothin' darlin'...
"all i need to prime the pump of my passion’s well"
...so I know, Ms. La Belle...you have to pour liquid down the pipe before it will pump out water...it's called "PRIMING THE PUMP" baby! Hand crank, release, let go, and OOOOOOOOOH! Whew!
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Love Tinka
Rose
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.
Georg
Amor
Your eloquence makes me believe he exists
Gina
a word, a whisper, one touch is all i need
to prime the pump of my passion’s well
and overflow the river’s banks
Hugs..........
"all i need to prime the pump of my passion’s well"
...so I know, Ms. La Belle...you have to pour liquid down the pipe before it will pump out water...it's called "PRIMING THE PUMP" baby! Hand crank, release, let go, and OOOOOOOOOH! Whew!
Sage