At a time when I needed to scribble down these lines and more did she come,
Really not knowing where the jazz would lead we,
Or where the bass would spill through,
Or how the sex in these words would heal wounds,
On me she glue true,
Even passion's clue flew,
True Love is never a hobby chore,
For I lived love as it grew,
The hue of thy soul changed as it tore,
Sweetly soft as that gentle seaside breeze for it upon our souls blew,
Pardon my knowledge of ethics for they are absurd and few,
Could this thrust be the lure as it left open two or more jaws,
Or this slur on these lines as they passionately lust,
My tingle as fur is her cure,
Thighs-a- strewn,
Unconstrained, refrained nor retained as we both contained each other's spirit, soul and body,
Her claw,
My blur,
Love that unhurt.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Write comment. Imagination, Anthony. You may like to read my poem, Love and Lust. Thanks