You're Such A Treat
Can’t we talk with grace?
Expressions embellished with history
With myth
With lighthouses and castles
Can’t we kiss with your black stockings on?
Your belts to a garter
Your pedicure like an exotic treasure chest
Romance makes your eyes into the moon
Metaphor with golden jubilation
Swarthy debonair lines of Renoir
Ballet dancers with poise
Innuendo bright with humor
Darling you get it!
You’re such a treat
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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I Have Two Sides
Are you in awe of me like I am of you?
Let’s make it obvious
Let’s have a hard time falling asleep
Will you lay in bed with 5 inch high heels on?
Will you wear garter belts and silk stockings?
Will you get a pedicure and think of me
I do want to be good
I do want to be in heaven
Can you take my splits?
My quirks
Can you write poetry that has fire?
Can I watch you put on your makeup?
Will you tease me until I can’t sleep?
Honesty in the details embarrasses me
I am a Christian but a lusty one
I have two sides
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Tonight You are Mine
Stark black and white, drama
Silent evocative emotion
Are there ghosts like old movies?
The sea washes the moonlit evening
We are the protagonists
Ambiance and soft shadows
The time of amour and desire
Soft music and erotic wine
Slip into the attire of risqué silk
Black silk stockings, French perfume
High heels create a stage
Don’t you love a pedicure?
Garter belts and satin sheets
It takes self-confidence to be sexy
She is exotic like Monroe
Sweet with a true smile
We stroll the words of the poets
Intelligence is sexy
Wit and soft candles
The sea is sublime and cupid has come
Tonight is made of gossamer magic
Her eyes burn with sweet fire
Her red manicured nails scorch the night
The crazy world will be there tomorrow
You don't need to be beautiful to be sexy
Too many of us end the honeymoon to soon
Tonight you are divine
Tonight I am in love
She sings “Happy Birthday Mr. President”
Sometimes the wind just blows her dress up!
Tonight she is my angel in a centerfold
Tonight passion rules and you are mine
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Fallen Saved
Waning repentance bought by purple merchants
Moons that grovel before your painted eyes
The sea still innocent
You are my sins my love
You are the unmasked whip
Sometimes I hate that I am so weak
I want to have sex with you every minute
When I am honest you are a vampire
Is my soul lost?
No! I am the fallen lover
Vultures are waiting
My bed is a pedicure
Searching for a heaven of flesh
Do you see the fire burning love
Making you into a brothel
Part of every woman is a stripper
Your weakness loves my desire
You feed the wolves
Your wet silk stockings
Your high heel marks
Yes, you lounge in heels
She walks in the castle of vampires
My altar is dark with black silk
Garter belts light candles
I have my ideals
I believe in God
Romance to me is silver stilettos
It is too late for change
You are tempest
You are my weakness
Help me go to heaven
Corsets and church
Wet dripping salvation
My mate is a Goddess of moonlight
I am waiting for the night
I will be faithful my princess of silk
The fallen saved with a prayer book
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Your Intelligence
Isn't intelligence sexy?
I don't just mean cognition
I mean emotional depth
Humor, spiritual wit and dynamics
Computers are logical
Babes your like a ocean
I am diving for Your eggs
Trying to feel your rationality
Analyzing your nuances
Seeing your masks melt
I love the way you hide behind silk
Stockings around my head won't stop me
Your heart and soul needs love
Her high heels like 5 inch fire
Garter belts wet with clover fields
I march like Napoleons army
Love calls me to your fears
The moon is so smart
Your games are like sharks
Your intelligence as sexy as a whip
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Fountains of Gold
Cavalier like the fountains of desire
She squirts until the bed is soaked
I lick your wet high heels
Lost in your silk stockings
Your garter belt my sweet prison
She walks like the towers of Rome
My words swim in her tubes
Her pedicure red as passion
My passion shall never die for you
You are my Monroe
Let the bland be jealous
We are lovers beyond fire
How I love her warm fountains
My wet beard alive with her femininity
Fountains of golden love
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Mortality Sighs
She wants too much
Meaning is the ultimate treasure
She wants more of me
She likes owning
We are the souls of a storm
Darling we are leaving forever
We are the sojourning wind
We are more than dust
I want you in heaven
I want you in eternity
Making love has such depth
We just can't do it forever
Her black silk stockings have belts
Her red toe nails like heaven
Her high heels are open toed with straps
Time slips away with wet haven
Mortality sighs
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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You Were So Good At Subtleties
you were so good at subtleties
despite how you pretended
to be perplexed by metaphor,
or why our story ended.
a bit of future history?
you always meant much more to me!
yet i would rather suffer this,
than not have known your touch.
you were so good at alibis,
at summonsing defenses,
at masks and feigned self-sacrifice
and other such pretenses.
and love that was a mystery
to you, was more than bliss to me.
while you, so frugal with each kiss
were robbed of such as this.
you were so good at history,
at figuring dimensions;
for future castles, i suppose.
did i forget to mention,
that you and i have history?
no matter how we choose to see it,
mansions have been built for less.
my lover, weren't you up to this?
poem by Moon Batchelder
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Romance Bore Seduction
Hand blessed hand, caressed.
A blushing rose, her face;
Her breast alive;
The elfin nose, a diamond set -
A kiss upon perfection
Bore a rise of pulse
To coach a sultry moan
Across a mellow breath of wine.
He knew; he sensed,
And easing loose a clasp of lace,
Another sign of her relenting:
Wild the play of eyes,
A fuller glide of skin;
He felt the now begin -
Her swell, intention in the sigh.
And so to hedge his move upon the cue -
The cry of deep anticipation,
Waxing all he saw -
Tho' not for us to view -
Arrived, emotion raw.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2011
Now render to caressing waves of romance
Romance romance romance romance
Romance romance romance romance
Romance romance romance romance
Romance romance romance romance
Romance romance romance romance
Romance romance romance romance
Romance romance romance romance
Romance romance romance romance
Romance romance romance romance
Romance romance romance romance
Romance romance romance romance
Romance romance romance romance
Romance romance romance romance
Romance romance romance romance
Romance romance romance romance
Romance romance romance romance
Romance romance romance romance
Romance romance romance romance
Romance romance romance romance
Romance romance romance romance
Romance romance romance romance
Romance romance romance romance
Romance romance romance romance
Romance romance romance romance
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Bed of Ghosts
Red wolves under the purple moon
She sighs like the wet tide
I have entered a dark door
Parallax lace tubes of silk
Covered in her golden pain
Eyes like castles of strange stone
Walls as high as broken glass
Maybe awakenings are over
Maybe the end is just a mirror
Is love another passport to pain
Now the circus bells sound like thunder
Pigeons feed on park benches
She loves gargoyles on the old church
We walk shrouded in rain
Panhandlers amidst the saved
Gothic lights from a forest of gray
Her red 5-inch heels click the cement
Everyone in a role
Everyone caught like a bomb shelter
We wait for a libido of silk doom
True love like a frozen river
Time settles sand in valleys of sorrow
Childhood oaks with boughs of dreams
No refuge in the ancient masks
Old swings where children played
First friends with granite memories
Joy like a vague painting, a wish
We hold hands under the lost neon
We talk of a future that already is gone
Make love to the images of silver swords
She loves midnight when darkness plays
The romance of Ann Rice
Vampires with garter belts
Moons that seem to melt into whips
Actors of Eugene O’Neil
Tennessee Williams and Poe
Blues and jazz as sultry as eyeliner
We kiss like wild wolves
Lioness that prowls these streets
I lay on a bed of ghosts
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Vampires
Mandarin sky like fire in her eyes
Dark visions rise between her thighs
She sleeps in a bed of liquid lava
Decadent Venus in gossamer night
Black silk poetry fills her womb
Succulent moonlight caresses
She reads the Flowers of Evil
Satin sheets in soft candle light
Golden chains, silk scarves
Passion dances in pedicure red
6 inch high heels on my shoulder
Her kisses are like wild wolves
Her mirror fills with purple night
Ivory neck alive with moon beams
She longs to feed on a poets sin
Feel the thorns of sensuous myth
Born to be adored in the garden
The dark side casts her spell
Music from ancient castles
Roses wet with deep red lust
A Goddess thrives on hot blood
Vampires gorged in moonlight
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Christmas treasures
I count my treasures o'er with care.--
The little toy my darling knew,
A little sock of faded hue,
A little lock of golden hair.
Long years ago this holy time,
My little one--my all to me--
Sat robed in white upon my knee
And heard the merry Christmas chime.
"Tell me, my little golden-head,
If Santa Claus should come to-night,
What shall he bring my baby bright,--
What treasure for my boy?" I said.
And then he named this little toy,
While in his round and mournful eyes
There came a look of sweet surprise,
That spake his quiet, trustful joy.
And as he lisped his evening prayer
He asked the boon with childish grace;
Then, toddling to the chimney-place,
He hung this little stocking there.
That night, while lengthening shadows crept,
I saw the white-winged angels come
With singing to our lowly home
And kiss my darling as he slept.
They must have heard his little prayer,
For in the morn, with rapturous face,
He toddled to the chimney-place,
And found this little treasure there.
They came again one Christmas-tide,--
That angel host, so fair and white!
And singing all that glorious night,
They lured my darling from my side.
A little sock, a little toy,
A little lock of golden hair,
The Christmas music on the air,
A watching for my baby boy!
But if again that angel train
And golden-head come back for me,
To bear me to Eternity,
My watching will not be in vain!
1879.
poem by Eugene Field
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Golden Kiss
await your roses in my dreams
Carriages of the troubadour well
Castles in fauve visions of Keats
Every cryptic flower sings of you
Now the world is extravagant grace
Elegant tendrils of spring’s rapture
Colors of the gardens divine wisdom
Love plants vines of mystic wine
Poetry as soft as summer flutes
My darling your eyes are like a forest
Night brings lips of serene moonlight
Joy shines over the sea of harmony
Adagios of romance like mystic begonias
Stars swirl and we are the dance of wind
Cupid has sent his sweet nightingales
Fountains of your heart pour into bliss
I am awakened by a golden kiss
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Lets talk about love
Call me darling,
I will call you darling,
Tell me you love me,
I will tell you i need you,
Sit down lets talk about love
Pull me close to you,
I will hold your hand and smile,
Reach your lips unto me,
Will open my eyes and kiss you,
Kiss me again and lets talk about love
Look into my eyes,
I will hold your cheek and bluff,
Talk about babies and i will talk about love
Talk about bed and i will talk about the sopha
Tell me that you need and i will smile,
Come to darling, lets talk about love
poem by Gaylord Munemo
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Remember Romance
Old fashioned movies
With true love to gain
Always remember romance
And kiss in the rain.
The only thing you have
Is the hope of his kiss
And waiting for the day
Is all that you miss
In love, in romance
Looking into his eyes
Is all you want to do
No time for any lies
So send him a text
Drop him a line
And maybe one day
He’ll take the time
He’ll fall for you
And never look back
Your life will be bright
No time for dark, no black
I hope he’s always there
To take away my pain
And to remember romance
And to kiss in the rain
poem by Lottie Hammond
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Small Talk
Its not the chapters he reads when youre feeling low down
Its not the touch of his skin when you kiss him goodnight
Its not the money he spends when you want to buy a daydream
And not that miracle smile that makes the sky bright
Its not the way his hands behave
When youve turned out the light
Its the small, small small talk that makes it all happen
Small, small small talk that makes you want to fly, yes it does
Its not the way he believes in you like a religion
Its not the thrill that you get when hes holding you tight
Its not the way his eyes persuade
You to stay the night
Its the small, small small talk that makes it all happen (just like that)
Small, small small talk that makes you feel like flying, yes it does
Information, heart and soul, a whisper, a word
Confessions that have to be heard
Small small talk
Come on now, come on now
Come on - you make it rock so heavenly
Come on now, come on now
Come on - you seem to talk so heavenly
Big words...
Small talk...
Its not the way his eyes persuade
You to stay the night
Its the small, small small talk that makes it all happen
Small, small small talk that makes you feel like flying, yes it does
song performed by by Roxette
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The New Moon
What have you got in your knapsack fair,
White moon, bright moon, pearling the air,
Spinning your bobbins and fabrics free,
Fleet moon, sweet moon, in to the sea?
Turquoise and beryl and rings of gold,
Clear moon, dear moon, ne’er to be sold?
Roses and lilies, romance and love,
Still moon, chill moon, swinging above?
Slender your feet as a white birds throat,
High moon, shy moon, drifting your boat
Into the murk of the world awhile,
Slim moon, dim moon, adding a smile.
Tender your eyes as a maiden’s kiss,
Fine moon, wine moon, no one knows this,
Under the spell of your witchery,
Dream moon, cream moon, first he kissed me.
poem by Zora Bernice May Cross
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Neighborhoods
Sage eyes in the rainbow of pain
Desire is a flame lit in her words
Deep words like ‘your faux pas
Her rules are a theater of Paris
Where are we going in the blowing rain?
Washington Square in 1962
I am born like an old Martin guitar
The Kennedy’s gave us hope
Black and white photography
Her smile has no guile
Her eyes see all my splits
No Broadway play can heal me
We walk like hungry centuries
Fragments of the medieval castles
Traditions broken by a postmodern mess
Rings of opal bells ringing
I guess love is pretending all is well
She is in love with old neighborhoods
I am just an old street with lampposts
Mantles of emerald windows
Chimes like a Vermont farm
Long Island shops filled with potpourri
The coast of Maine
Bookstores
Museums
Knives of gossamer impostors
Call to the working chains
Romance that needs daily bread
She walks other neighborhoods
Another smile
Another kiss
Old town and new town
I am abstract; he is real
He gives her roses
The moon is magic
Shut your eyes and sail
I am an art store
She walks as elegant as silk
She turns on the open sign
Glass of red wine some melodic jazz
She tells me beware of what you wish for
I am knocking at the door
Day at a time
Love is a day at a time
A short sexy dress
Risqué as a pedicure
She walks into my neighborhood
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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A Telling It Like It Is Offends
Whether embellished by the use of implication.
Whether embellished by the use of assumption.
Whether embellished by the use of innuendo.
A double entendre has been done to purposely do.
And whoever has done that to you,
Has probably made a career out of doing it.
My advice?
Unsolicited,
Is this...
Double entendre them too!
And witness the benefit.
They wouldn't know what to do.
At least you will be conscious of it!
And that is the advantage of acquiring knowledge.
To know 'something' AND be conscious too,
Is like packing a secret weapon.
Expose yourself to something different...
Anything,
You did not know before.
The downside of refusing an opportunity,
To obtaining a knowledge...
Is as dangerous as selling a bag of weed,
To a cop undercover.
the moment a badge is flashed...
A connection occurs.
However...
You did,
Once that deed was done...
Acquire a knowledge,
That was instantly transmitted.
Like...
To open a closed door,
Doesn't mean your mind is receptive.
Your ears may be shut off from listening.
And your eyes not prepared to focus.
Leaving everything in your head,
Subjected to being victimized by scrutiny!
And to be scrutinized caught off guard...
Shakes a nervousness seen throughout the body.
And to enhance, decorate, ornament to adorn or beautify,
With words to captivate attention...
Is to exaggerate.
With...
Implication.
Assumpt ion.
And...
Yes,
Innuendo!
But to call any of these activities 'lies'...
And spoken to masquerade truth to 'charade',
Would infuriate the one falsely delighting in spotlight.
And forced,
To 'think'...
With the giving of some unexpected time to do it!
A telling it like it is,
Offends those unconscious someone else is aware...
Of their every move,
Without the need of an explanation to interpret.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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You Cant Say No In Acapulco
(words & music by sid feller - dee fuller - lee morris)
You cant say no, in acapulco
With every beat your heart will answer yes
Where lovers sing instead of talk
And dance instead of walk together
In a night, thats filled with stars
And strumming guitars
You cant say no, in acapulco
Where romance blooms, and love is in the air
So kiss me tender, love me true
Darling feel this magic too
Dont say no, you cant say no, in acapulco
You cant say no, in acapulco
Where romance blooms, and love is in the air
So kiss me tender, love me true
Darling feel this magic too
Dont say no, you cant say no, in acapulco
Dont say no...you cant say no, in acapulco
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Making History
Pull out the pellets
from my chest, I had fallen
in a brutal crackdown.
A black moon was taking revenge.
You were staring
straight in the eyes of death.
The biker,
has lost the charisma.
The apples
were never so sweet.
Bursting out of the battle lines
ready to shoot.
A black hole
was calling. To take
a final jump of art
into believing?
poem by Satish Verma
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