I was clay,
Not kneaded.
You came as a sculptor,
With your long fingers,
You messed me up.
Squeezed and rolled
Sweat was added
You made me mature.
Exciting tickling
Between those soft fingers
As you slowly pass,
I was being transformed
Into a beautiful sculpture.
The immortal creation
Of infinite beauty
Formed in the soul
The sculpture of love.
Your index finger
Softly made my
Lips sedative and
They became radiant
Your hot breaths
When it caught the eyes
I started to see them all.
By your delicate touch
My breasts were formed
Elegant, they projected
My thighs and navel
All the loins are your
Creations, fantastic.
I am surrendering
To your handiwork
Totally made by you.
Yet I was not complete,
I had no life at all
Frozen without any soul.
But you made me perfect
When you hugged me
And kissed in the eyes
I got a life too, to be
Passionately yours
Dear sculptor, on this earth
Don't go away, don't go away.
No more orphaning me
Be with me always.
I know you are invited
By all the clays of the world
All my hopes are alive
Only with you my dear
,
I wish I could feel
That soft magical touch
Again and again and
My beauty awaits you.
Your poem reminded mevof my poem as a potter...indeed a life by the creation is the mesmerising and. There is no match to it. Beautiful.
Magnificent poem. So beautifully crafted. Top Marks! ! ! !
I am surrendering To your handiwork Totally made by you....liked this part so much! A wonderful romantic poem. Top score!
Creative thinking. Yes we all fall in love and then we are reshaped by the other person.5***
Good evening sir, very beautiful and heart touching poem. Thank you for sharing such a beautiful poem
I wish I could feel that delicate magical touch... wonderful... magnificent poetic expression! An elegant piece of poetry! !
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Fantastic poem. Absolutely genius