Only
Only if you want to, she said,
only if it means to you what
it means to me. The other
members of the choir were
ahead on their way to the next
house for carol singing, the full
moon luminous above, the voices
of others like faraway whispers
of ghosts. She looked at you; her
blue eyes searching every aspect
of you for an answer. Yes, it does,
you replied, your words hanging
around your head like tamed birds.
She smiled and closed her blue eyes
and moved toward you and kissed.
Lips to lips, flesh to flesh, no tongues
(at least not then that intrusion of
the mouths) just skin touching skin,
seemingly an outward sign of how
you felt within. She drew you into
her arms; you sensed her breast
beneath her coat, felt her body
touching yours. The kiss ended,
the lovers drew apart, the others
had paused outside another house
to begin their carol singing once again.
She held your hand in hers; electricity
sparkled; down came the soft rain.
poem by Terry Collett
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Related quotes
HER EYES KNEW THE WAY (Ode to Love)
A full moon bathed her
tranquil form in silver light
This playful orb would only
dance on her this night…
Hesitant I knew desire
was the bane of zealous lovers
Yet eagerly I reached down
moved aside the satin covers
She sensed my presence
awoke then moved to rise,
A moan exhaled parted lips
as she opened sleepy eyes
With eyes blue as glacier ice
she smiled, reached for me
I held her dainty hands in mine
and kissed them tenderly
Forever came and went
we held a tight embrace
My head did spin and
heart began to race
At last we pulled apart
I looked into her eyes,
What happened next was
strange, yet no surprise
Within the depth of her eyes
I beheld her very soul
For the first time in my life
I felt complete and whole
An aura encircled me
flooding me with light
I felt a flash, then heat,
felt my soul ignite
Fire on fire as two
souls fused into one
A war against loneliness
had finally been won...
ROTMS
poem by Ray Lucero
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And The Bus Took Us Home
I saw him in the distance,
he looked so pale and old.
Of late the skin had thinned
and his eyes were not so bold.
I saw him in the distance,
and raced to catch him up
but I was far too slow
and soon ran out of puff.
He stopped just at the bus stop,
looking tired and frail.
Breathless I caught up with him
and took his arm with care.
'Hello dad', I spluttered
and kissed him on the cheek.
His skin felt paper thin,
and soft beneath my lips.
His eyes lit up to see me,
his worry lines relaxed,
then he smiled happily
and I smiled back.
The bus pulled up beside us,
we struggled to a seat.
I snuggled up to dear old dad,
who felt so good to me.
I chatted on quite merrily
‘til I noticed he was sleeping,
I tucked my hand right into his
and listened to him breathing.
poem by Ruth Walters
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I Read Some Poems Today
i read some poems
today, and these are
poems about the flesh
touching another flesh
like the lips touching
another lips, a kiss to
another kiss, like a
body rubbing another
body, and then it went
higher than that, a
spirit touching another
spirit, ablaze, like some
flints catching fire, like
that desolate house
of bukowski where parents
forbid the children to see
that man with beautiful
eyes, on his pajama
wet with his sweat and
carrying a rhum on his
right hand and a cigarette
between his mouth.
i see, this is all about
isolation, a man's way
of getting away from
the maddening crowd
his way of loving himself
and making a part of
himself grow and glow.
the door bell rings
someone is calling
'anybody home? '
i am pressing my fingers
on some letters
my left hand rests and
touches my crouch
the woman with a shrill
voice finally stops and
leaves and i hear her
footsteps departing
i am silent, i am awake
finally i find my way home.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Once
Once upon a year
Maybe it was around
Christmas tide and
The choir had stopped
Outside some building
In the evening mist and
You were carol singing and
Lovely she moved onto your
Lips and kissed and it was
Like some angel had touched
You and you never wanted
That moment ever to end
And it felt as if God had woken
From a deep dream and seen
The beautiful effects of love
And remembered and maybe
Years later when you heard
She’d died with cancer and
You had never married her or
Made love to her you sensed
Part of you die and it seemed
As if there were a few less stars
In the dark night’s cold sky.
poem by Terry Collett
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Rainy Day Under Trees
She stood with you
under the trees
the rain falling hard
the Sunday church service
had been a wet affair
the walk home together
then the bus
to the end of the road
and she said
Is it ever going to stop?
her hair was limp
and hung over
her forehead
her eyes bright
her complexion white
Sure
you said
But I've built an ark
in the woods behind
just in case
and she laughed
and took your hand
and said
How any animals
have you got so far?
Couple of woodlice
and beetles
and the odd worm or so
and you smelt
the scent on her
the warmth
of her hand
in yours and you both
under the trees
out of the rain
but the drops fell through
You remember that time
we went to the hay barn
to keep out of the rain
and we were wet through
and took of our clothes
and lay in the hay?
she said
snuggling closer to you
No can't say I do
you said
and she smack your arm
and said
Oh yes you do
and there was a break out
from the sun
through the branches
as if you say
I' still here
I'm trying to get through
and she looked at you
and you smiled
and said
I can still smell the hay
and you lying there
beside me
and the damp clothes
hanging over the hay bale
and you and I close
and warmth
and then she put
her finger to her lips
and shushed you
and drops of rain
came onto her head
Let's keep it kind of holy
she said
and kissed your damp ear
her lips like a blessing
soft skin on soft skin
and she moved away
and the rain eased
and you both moved out
into the woods
pleased.
poem by Terry Collett
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As You Walked One Summer's Day.
These lanes are very narrow
you said
walking with Jane
from the parsonage
where she lived
to where the farm road began
Are they?
she replied
I've never thought about it
just that the hedges are high
and the birds chock full
in them and their songs
Yes
you said
They are
and in London
there are no hedges
or narrow lanes
and the only birds
are sparrows
and pigeons
and you wanted
to take hold
of her hand
and squeeze gently
the flesh
and sense her pulse
but you didn't
you put your hands
in your jean pockets
and gazed sideways on
at her and her dark hair
and her profile
and the scent of her
like lavender
as if she'd dived
into a wide field of it
and embraced
the flowers and stalks
What bird song is that?
she asked
No idea
you replied
moving closer to her
the scent getting stronger
the desire to be closer
taking hold but still at bay
It's a blackbird
she said
You'll learn them all
the birdsongs
and where and how
they nest and in what months
and you nodded
and saw how
the summery dress
moved and swayed
as she walked
the flowered pattern
like a field moved
by a soft breeze
and her sandaled feet
touching the gravelled lane
and you thinking
how it would be
for them to be held
and kissed by you
if she were beside you
lying in a field
or in one
of those tall woods
and you pursed your lips
and she looked up at the sky
her eyes gathering
the blueness
and whiteness of clouds
and she said
Monet would have captured that so well
and You
you muttered
He would capture you well
each aspect
of your face
and hair and eyes
and she smiled
and looked at you and said
I'd want to be captured by Renoir
have his arthritic fingers
clutching brush
and capture me
and maybe secretly
lust after me
and she blushed
and turned away
and you thought
Oh yes yes yes
but said nothing
just gazed
and breathed in
her being
her beauty
all there
for you to view
the eyes
the hair
the profile
the way her lips smiled
and sway of walk
and the tall hedges
seemed to explode
with the wild bird's talk.
poem by Terry Collett
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Baylitz's Wife And A Game Of Chess
Baylitz's wife served you snacks and booze
while you played chess in the lounge
at the small table set aside for games
and you watched her come and go
the swaying of her hips
the well crafted thighs
beneath the dress
the way her hands held the tray
her eyes green as emeralds
searching you as she laid it down
watch your bishop
Baylitz said
but in your imagination
you were already undressing his wife
for bed letting fall her dress
and bra and underwear
of flamingo pink or soft sky blue
you've left your castle well exposed
Baylitz muttered
his fingers over the piece
waiting there to pounce
you made a protective move
and he smiled and studied the board
as his wife stood by the window looking out
your eyes moved over her frame
caught in the sun's light
imagining her beneath you
in their broad bed
her lips on your chest
ah you've sacrificed your pawn too easy
Baylitz said and swooped in
for the kill of your piece
by his black bishop
you sat back in the chair
gave a sad expression
your eyes touching his wife's soft flesh
your king's in danger
Baylitz said
and your eyes moved back to the board
and studied Baylitz's fingers
lingering murderously
but too late
he moved in for the kill
checkmate
he stated
you sighed
and looked at his wife
who pulled a face
you sat
your dream of sex and love
stilled in frozen frame
another time maybe
Baylitz said
ok
you replied
unfulfilled.
poem by Terry Collett
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One Summer 1962
Christina sat next to you
on the school playing fields
the summer day was hot
and she sat there
cross-legged
her school skirt
touching on her knees
and you looked beyond her
wondering if the girl
who had kissed you
at Christmas
while carol singing
was looking over at you
from a group of girls
across the way
I wish I had
my bathing costume on
Christina said
so do I
you said looking back
at her taking in
her white knees
catching the summer sun
she giggled and looked away
did Cedric tell you about me
and what I told him?
she asked
her profile
like some Renoir girl
yes
you said
remembering Cedric's words
and his blushing face
he seemed put out
you added
you don't want to worry
about Cedric
she said
he hates me getting into boys
as she said this
you looked over
at the girl who kissed you
and she was staring
over at you and Christina
and seemed annoyed
and as you gazed at her
you still felt that kiss
on your lips
and that embrace
in the moonlight
and Christina touched
your knee
and said
if you want privacy
we can always go up
into the woods by the fence
and you said
did you hear about Brilton
the teacher of English?
No
she said
what?
he's been sacked
why? she asked
running her hand
along your thigh
for taking boys home
in the lunch period
you said
oh
she said
removing her hand
what for?
You looked
at her knees
in the sunlight
how the light
seemed to warm them
no idea
you said
and you looked away
with a picture
of her knees
carried in your head.
poem by Terry Collett
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Before Choir One Friday Eve
Before choir practice
before entering
the vestry door
you and Judith
stayed behind
and waited until
the others
had gone inside
and Judith said
look at those stars
and how dark blue
the sky is
you gazed up
at the evening spread
of dark blue
and stars
and moon
to one side
and you put
your hand
around her waist
and drew her close
and she lay
against you
and you said
I read some place
that some
of those distant stars
burned out
centuries ago
and what we see
is the ghostly glow
of dead stars
and she turned your head
towards her
and kissed you
and the pressing
of her lips on yours
and her hands
on your waist
and her 13 year old
breasts pushing
against your
14 year old chest
and the sound
of the choir starting up
in practice in the church
and the flight of bats
across
the evening sky
and she holding you near
and the lips engaged
and the eyes closed
and the breathing
taken in
coming up for air
and behind you
the aging graves
the tombstones
with moss
and half lit
by moonlight
and star's glow
and you held her
in place face to face
with your hands
upon the cheeks
of her behind
eyes still closed
in the land
of the love sucked
blind.
poem by Terry Collett
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I Have Seen Autumn
I have never felt the chill of winter
Nor the birth of spring
Only the two faces of Nature
The golden sun shining
Or the heavens openly weeping.
But I have seen autumn
As I looked at her
No cold winter in her smile
A promise of summer in her eyes
Her hair of autumn leaves.
I have never felt autumn
But I have seen it
It’s the canvass of Rembrandt
Dark, red, crimson, gold
But I have never felt it.
Is the autumn breeze damp and soft like her lips?
Is the autumn sky naked and warm like her skin?
But I have never kissed her lips nor touched her skin
I have only seen autumn
But I have never felt it.
poem by Shogunoka Ledesma III
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The Summer Recess of 62.
It was the second day
of the summer recess
and Judith and you
walked through the field
behind her house
and sat down on the grass
the sky above blue
like an upside-down ocean
with the white clouds
like small fluffy islands
and she said
Mother doesn't trust you
why not?
you asked
she doesn't trust any male
she says they're all after
the one thing
you looked at her
sitting there beside you
her hair brown and curly
and her eyes blue
and bright
and you said
not all males
are the same
she looked up
at the sky
and said
I know but that's
how she sees things
my mother likes you
you said
she says you're good for me
keep me focused
she smiled
and lay back
on the grass
and you lay
beside her
and turned
to look at her there
taking in her profile
and she turned
to face you
and she said
does your mother
trust us to be together?
sure she does
you said
an airplane
went over the sky
a sparrow hawk
hovered above
its eyes watching
and waiting
you put your hand
on her hip
and she placed
her hand on yours
you felt her hipbone
beneath her green skirt
moved your palm
gently over and over
she moved your hand
off of her hip
and said
just in case
mother's looking at us
from the upstairs window
would she?
you asked
of course
she said
she held your hand
and took it
and laid it
on her breast
her heart
somewhere beating
your hand sensing
the softness beneath
the white blouse
and she said
just as well
she never saw us
last Christmas
and you smiled
and remembered
and the sparrow hawk
flew off through the sky
and the sound
of a distant train
and your heart thumping
like the downpour of rain.
poem by Terry Collett
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In Mr Atkinson's Room
You saw Judy on the south wing
of the old folks nursing home
near to Mr Atkinson's room
carrying towels in her arms
I need to speak to you
you said
what about?
she asked
you playfully bundled her
into Bob Atkinson's room
(he was either
in the lounge
or out down town
hobbling along
for small items of shopping
or at the second-hand
book shop looking
for boy's annuals
of yesteryear
which he read
from cover to cover
before cutting out
the pictures
and sticking them
in albums)
what are you doing?
she said
what if Bob comes in?
he won't
he's out
you said
but what if he does?
she whispered
well unless I was rogering you
to kingdom come
I don't think he'd mind
you said
pressing her 5'5'' body
against the door
and looking into her
grey blue eyes
she gazed
into your eyes
and said
what do you need
to talk to me about?
I think I'm in love with you
you said
she sighed
that's the umpteen time
you've told me that
she said
she dropped the towels
on Bob's bed
and put her arms
around your waist
and drew you closer
you moved your left hand
around her back
and your right hand
on her buttocks
and said
that's because it's
umpteen times worse
or better depending
how you look at it
she kissed you on the lips
and you sensed
her tongue touch yours
her eyes closed
and you closed yours
the room becoming
a far away place
her perfume blending
into the air about you
the ticktock of Bob's
old clock on the bedside table
like some metronome
setting the pace
as if it was all part
of some song or some
deep aspect
of a Bruckner symphony
she pushed you away
and said
it's nearly break time
and people will wonder
why we're not there
and put one
and one together
ok
you said
removing your hand
from her butt
the warmth still there
her eyes still captured
in your inner self
thank you
for the Chagall postcard
I've put it on
my bedside table
along with that photo
you gave me of you
got to go
she said
and opened the door
and walked off
down the passage
you looked around
Bob's room
at the ticking clock
and the blue
candlewick cover
and the picture
of some boy
cut out of some
old annual
chasing a dog
over a field
and Judy's lips
and tongue
seemed still
to be there
in your mouth
and her hand enfolding
your waist and back
and Peter in the pants
going all slack.
poem by Terry Collett
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Beneath the Blue.
You both walked along
the narrow country lane
to the small church
and lay in the overgrown grass
in the churchyard
looking up
at the summer sky
and Jane said
It's so peaceful here
I feel as if part of me
were mixed
with the whole
of nature
you listened to her
looking at her
sideways on
seeing her profile
laying amidst
the green grass
her head facing
the blueness of sky
her hands resting
upon her breasts
with one leg straight
the other lifted upwards
with the knee bent
Do you feel that?
she asked
looking at you side wards
her eyes leaving the sky
and resting on you
Yes
you replied
but not thinking
of what she had
but of the beauty of her
and you being there
and taking note
of her eyes and hair
and moving lips
and hands at rest
and her soft youthful breast
and that glimpse
of thigh capturing
your eye
Yes
you repeated
I feel a part of that
feel almost drowned
in its beauty
and she turned
and you saw her smile
and heard birdsong
and felt the sun on skin
and the saw the expanse
of sky and clouds
white chariots moving
across the blue
and wanted that moment
for always and forever
and you reached out a hand
and touched her shoulder
and would had touched
and felt her more
had you been bolder
and she said
We lay here with the dead
but our bones and flesh
are filled with life and love
unlike theirs
wasted away
Yes
you whispered
feeling her bones
beneath the flesh
Just like us some day.
poem by Terry Collett
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Our First Time
We were young kids just learning about life.
But we found we had deep rooted feelings for one another
As we met to get together for the very first time
we gave each other a pecked kiss (our first)
We pulled each other close, and our hands held each others arms.
As we looked into each others eyes, there was a passion
Beginning to rise.
Our mouths joined together and we started experimenting
Our very first French kiss.
We felt our blood boiling to a high crescendo, and then
Crashing down like the waves against the shores.
Our mouths searching hungrily for more.
The kiss lasting for a few minutes, and the passion
And excitement taking control.
Finally I pulled away from her warm, soft, sensuous lips
And we stared into each others eyes again.
She slowly took her hands from my arms and started
To unbutton my shirt while looking me in the eyes.
My heart was pounding even faster now, as she took
Off my shirt, dropping it to the ground.
I in turn did the same thing to her blouse, removing it from her body.
She then removed my t- shirt leaving me bare chested.
I took off her bra, and we pulled each other closer
Where our chests were touching, and the heat and passion
Made us become as one.
I then unbuttoned her slacks, and let them dropp to her ankles
And started to remove them slowly.
She in turn did the same to me.
We looked at each other in our under wears and pulled
Each other close again.
Feelings and emotions that we never experienced before
Started to fill every part of our beings.
The blood pulsating thru our veins felt as if it was on fire.
Our hand caressing each other, exploring ever so gently.
Our lips joined together again in a kiss of passion and delight.
It was becoming harder to control our desires, and
The need for fulfillment.
I put my thumbs on the sides of her under wear and slowly lowered them to her feet, and removed them.
She did the same to me, slowly removing mine and taking them off.
Again! We embraced as our bodies became as one, moving
In unison in a slow moving rhythm.
Our loins on fire, burning with desire.
I lowered her to the ground as I continued looking into her eyes
And then I positioned myself above her in anticipation
Of entering her body and soul.
My blood to a boiling point, and my head feeling like
It was about to burst. I felt my legs and arms trembling
As I started to lower myself down and as I *****I *****
I woke up from this dream. A DREAM!
Ha-ha -life can be bad.
poem by Louis Rams
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Nothing Anymore
When I once looked into your eyes,
I saw honesty lying there.
When I once looked into your eyes,
I saw loyalty with love and care.
When I once looked into your eyes,
I saw life and love forever more.
When I now look into your eyes,
I see darkness, and nothing anymore.
When I once held onto your hand,
I felt compassion, kindness and love.
When I once held onto your hand,
I felt the warmth from GOD above.
When I once held onto your hand,
I felt a joy from the person I adored.
When I now hold onto your hand,
I feel coldness, and nothing anymore.
When I use to listen to your voice,
I once heard it with vigor and excitement.
When I use to listen to your voice,
I once heard it with warmth and fulfillment.
When I use to listened to your voice,
I once heard it with truth which I swore.
When I now listen to your voice.
I go dumb, as I hear nothing anymore.
When I once looked upon your face,
I would always look with pride and a smile.
When I once looked upon your face,
I would always thank GOD your with me now
When I once looked upon your face,
I would always be there to open your door.
When I now look upon your face,
I go blind, as I see nothing anymore.
When I once kissed your lips,
I tasted myself and also your flavor.
When I once kissed your lips,
I tasted life as you were my savior.
When I once kissed your lips,
I tasted excitement and your love in store.
When I now think of kissing your lips,
I now bite them shut, I taste nothing anymore.
poem by Randy McClave
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Judy and You and Chagall
What did you think
of the Chagall postcard print
I bought you?
Judy asked as you both sat
outside the Fox Inn
I pinned it on my wall
you replied
and stared at it every time
I entered the room
thinking of you
she sipped her drink
her eyes searching you
her hair tied behind
in a ponytail
so I gathered
by your letters
she said
putting her glass
on the small wooden table
I missed you
you said
I went to London
while you were away
and saw you
in every girl I saw
even at the ballet
at the opera house
she looked at her glass
I was only away for a week
she said
it seemed a year
you said
you inhaled the cigarette
you were holding
taking in her hair
and eyes and how
her lips moved
as she spoke
Florence was fantastic
she said
I picked out
that Chagall print for you
in one of the art galleries
who did you go with?
you asked
friends
she replied
male or female?
both
she said
you inhaled the cigarette again
and thought of the first time
you kissed her
how the moonlight
shone on her face
as you moved her around
you mustn't be so jealous
she said
I have to see others
who was the guy?
Henrik
she said
you imagined her
and this Henrik
making out
in some Florence hotel
his hands touching her
I thought of you
every moment
you said
that's sad
she said
why?
you said
because no one
should think of another
that often
she sipped her drink
and looked around
at the evening sky
how was Florence?
beautiful
she said
like you
you said
I am like Shakespeare's' lily
she said
as it withers
she added
I see
you said
and you studied
her hands as they lifted
the glass to her lips
the fingers
the skin
the way they held
the glass
did you read my letters
when you got home?
you asked
yes
she said
every single one
my mother said
I must have besotted
some poor soul
and you thought
of the Chagall print
and how you had sniffed it
for traces of her scent
and remembered
your mother's words
nothing is given forever
things in this world
are only lent.
poem by Terry Collett
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A Dream Of The Flesh
we are in the river
naked
our bodies meet
like
one body
missing
another body
and the river
becomes
one warm
water
trickling down
our two bodies
body to body
flesh to flesh
hands
to hands and
arms entwine
like some
chains of
daisies
to our necks
this oneness
that we
finally make
eyes to eyes
closing
and lips to lips
searching
tongues
we dare
search
our souls
if they
are there
too
in this
fusion
for the
meantime
we have no time
to ask
the river
has no name
even
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Ebony Princess
Her hair was as black as the calm of the night
And was as black and as dark as I could see
Her body slowly moved like a bird in flight
I saw her, and I was overwhelmed by her beauty.
Her eyes they shined like a full moon glistened
And her smile was that of a new day sun
My soul before her was locked away in prison
And releasing that key, it had already begun.
Her skin was as soft as the finest silk
And her lips they tempted me with their mystery
Her teeth they sparkled and was white as milk
And her skin, was the color of ebony.
I looked at her and then my look became a stare
She became my muse and also my destiny
Her skin was dark and black was her hair
Then she whispered in my ear, "Don't forget me".
"Don't Forget me", she whispered those words to me
And like a raven with secrets she went away
With her skin so soft and the color of ebony
I pray again that we would meet again one day.
Her name forever is locked inside of my heart
And it will be lost, until to God her name I will confess
Until then if any man asks me who was the beauty of my art
My answer will be, my sweet and beautiful ebony princess.
RANDY L. McCLAVE
poem by Randy McClave
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Love
What's wrong with you, with us,
what's happening to us?
Ah our love is a harsh cord
that binds us wounding us
and if we want
to leave our wound,
to separate,
it makes a new knot for us and condemns us
to drain our blood and burn together.
What's wrong with you? I look at you
and I find nothing in you but two eyes
like all eyes, a mouth
lost among a thousand mouths that I have kissed, more beautiful,
a body just like those that have slipped
beneath my body without leaving any memory.
And how empty you went through the world
like a wheat-colored jar
without air, without sound, without substance!
I vainly sought in you
depth for my arms
that dig, without cease, beneath the earth:
beneath your skin, beneath your eyes,
nothing,
beneath your double breast scarcely
raised
a current of crystalline order
that does not know why it flows singing.
Why, why, why,
my love, why?
poem by Pablo Neruda
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Monday Morning On The Bus
Mona sits on the school bus,
the noise of the other children
seems far away, she is indulging
in her thoughts. Lisa will get
on the bus soon. Her closeness
again. Sitting just here. Next to
me, Mona muses, patting the
seat next to her. The evening
before they had parted after
the tea. The bedroom romp
had filled her up. Each moment
seems to relive in her mind.
She looks out of the window,
passing countryside, cows in
fields, trees, birds. They had
almost drowned in the downpour
of rain from the woods to the
house the afternoon before.
Drenched to the skin. Get out
of those wet clothes, they had
been told by a parent. And they
did so. That started it all off.
Naked and drying. How had it
got that far? She thinks, watching
a girl on the other side of the
aisle of the bus talk about
watching such and such on TV.
She wonders how Lisa feels now.
The day after. After such things,
such sights, such deeds. The bus
draws to a stop. Others get on.
Lisa comes up the aisle and sits
beside her. She smiles and fiddles
with her school bag. Her fingers
nervous, like spiders on the run.
Sleep all right? Mona asks. Yes,
Lisa answers. Their eyes meet.
Mona feels a thump in her breast;
her heart seems to want to burst
open. Lisa leans closer. Dreamt of
you, she whispers. Did you? Mona
says, taking in Lisa lips moving, her
eyes, the nose. Lisa nods. Looks
around her. The bus moves on.
Mona wants to speak but her
mouth seems sealed. Lisa turns
again and looks at her. Seems
strange now seeing her clothed
after the nakedness and kissing
and holding. Lisa puts her hand
over Mona's, squeezes, touches,
flesh on flesh. Mona breathes
in deeply. The touch, the feel
of her. She thinks of the last kiss
the night before. Not now of
course. Not with others about.
Not here. They seem in a different
world to the others. Adrift on
their own ship, wild seas. Waves
of passion inside. They look away
each to a different horizon. Love
locked. Hands touching, skin on
skin. Father O'Brien would call it sin.
poem by Terry Collett
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