Vitruvian Sin Poem by Ananda Alves

Vitruvian Sin

Rating: 4.9


I feel the air with a kind of tension
I stare at you standing close to the window
Smoking your cigarette in a peaceful way
Distant look in your eyes
Like you were in another dimension

Your hair, as gold as the sun,
A little bit messed
Falling over your eyes
Oh...those blue eyes
Two crystalline drops of ocean
Enough to drown me deep inside of you
Then, I stare at your nose
Pretentious and imposing
I pretend to avoid your lips
But they seem to move and breath my name
Full, lusty and opulent lips

You look down the street
Giggle a little bit
No, I could never forget about your smile
All I know is canvas could never capture its light
I like the way your teeth are aligned
Guarding the fountain of the greatest pleasures
Your sweet, soft and warm tongue
The one that gives me butterflies
Every time it touches mine
All the time it runs over my body

You turn back to bedroom
Pick up the ashtray
Your body against the light
What can I say about your skin...
White, pale, just like marble
I stare at your chest and shoulders
They have perfect dimensions
Not too large, not too sturdy
Hairless chest sprinkled with freckles
Wide shoulders leading to your arms
Arms that make me feel safe
Arms that hold me in sign of possession
Yes, I'm yours, I whisper with passion
And when you hold me I can feel your hands
Firm, but delicate hands
Gifted with such a velvet touch
You run your fingertips down my spine so gently
That makes me shiver
Takes my breath away
Oh... you and your long fingers...

You get close to me in bed
What makes me look straight to your stomach
It's plain, with no muscles
Teasing me with those entrances along your hip-bones
I see you're wearing a black towel
I won't talk about what's forbidden
Because what's forbidden is way more tempting

You return to the window to look down the street
You say something but I can't seem to hear
You're standing there, side face
The curve of your round bottom
Leading my eyes to your legs
Your strong and stout thighs
Reminding me the way I feel
When they rub against mine

You call my name to get my attention
For a second I feel scared
And in response to that I close my eyes
Don't want to wake up if this is a dream
So I feel those lips kissing my shoulder
Right on the curve that leads to my neck
'You're beautiful.' you whisper
And with your hand behind my head
And your body on top of mine
You lay me down in bed to fulfill me one more time.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Dee Daffodil 07 May 2007

Wow! ! What an incredible body! ! What an awesome poem! ! Very spicey! ! Hugs, Dee

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Derrick Clark 07 May 2007

That was very good, i been a deep person in my life also.been through lifestorm's it seem now im a surviver.that why im writing poem now, i got alot of storyteeling to tell.have a bless day.

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JoAnn McGrath 07 May 2007

Very well done willout the details...your words paint the picture

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THE FIRST SHRIKE 07 May 2007

The perfect body, pure with out flaws, no corruption saith she, The man all women through the ages, still wish to see. Very Nice.

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Anthony Dalby 07 May 2007

Ananda, Notwithstanding the praise above (which is well deserved) you can go further. There is a lot of narrative in the poem, which keeps it grounded, almost like a film noire. Push the language further, go on, because I know you can!

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Shannon Monroe 10 January 2008

i liked it. it shows such passion and integreity. you'll become a famous writer one of these days, keep up the good work.

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Dr. Kolitha Lelwala 13 November 2007

Wow Ananda......... Such a nice word painting, I really enjoyed. Keep it up.With Love, Kolitha

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Falease Anderson 15 June 2007

Are you sure you never wrote before? You're good, girl. And I'm glad you discovered your gift. I was enthrawled in this one. I couln't stop reading and I just had to get to the end. I sort of got the feeling that the character was dancing between fantasy and reality....what she wanted to be versus what really was. Was I wrong on that? Anyway, great write.

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John Raubenheimer 19 May 2007

There is a lovely sense of play and good humour in this poem - your beloved's nose seems to come to the rescue, when you are about to drown in his eyes! In fact the poem's strength is the way it dances between two poles, between keen observation and surrender. I love it. Thank you - John.

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Michael Saurer 17 May 2007

Some people don't need a pencil to draw a picture...Imaginative writing.

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Ananda Alves

Ananda Alves

Rio de Janeiro, Brazil
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