Poem: Beauty and the Beast


You have awaken a beast far more than you can contain,
Its shear strength can intimidate the tender,
Rendering, efforts to defend futile,
Leaving your field scorched with flames,
And smoldering under only its breath,
The smoke and heat of your anticipation,
Is what feeds him,
He is considered a force to be reckoned with,
Mighty with valor,
He radiates a heat that can be felt with just his presence,
So his touch can be fierce,
Yet you give yourself effortlessly to him each time,
Because you know the allure of his fire,
The tenderness in his flames,
The heat in his touch,
You understand the rage of this beast,
And you allow him to salivate,
Causing His taste buds to blossom,
As He slavers the steam against your bareness,
And the beast was conquered,
With just a mere taste of her skin!


©Copyright by Wordplay


Poem: Shallow Abyss

You make my mouth water,
Salivating a little past what my mouth can hold,
So I drool over your tender lips,
As they unfold to reveal their own tiny puddle,
Begging me to splash with the tip of my tongue,
Causing it to overflow into crevices that are already moist,
Slippery to the touch,
And encouraging me to let my face fall,
Into its shallow abyss,
Creating a sweet bliss,
That I will surely let you taste,
Right after I make you feel the vibrations from the ripples,
As your waterfalls overpower my senses,
Convincing me,
That I only smell enticement,
Teasing me way past excitement,
As I look for your expression in your moans,
And judging by the mere whispers in your tone,
after my fingers brushed across your other lips,
It’s only then that I realized that I was tasting your smile!

©Copyright by Wordplay

Poem of Random Thoughts

See the path that the Will of GOD has laid for your Life,
Hear what GOD is trying to tell you, and LISTEN with your Life,
Touch the hem of His garment, and it will change your Life,
Smell the incense of blessings, that the fire of GOD burns in your Life,
Taste the sweetness of His forgiveness, grace, mercy and sacrifice,
Even with the 5 senses you can serve GOD, but without Him the 5 senses only satisfies the greed of your Flesh.


Poem: Some Ah’ Her


I’ve heard the term loose lips sink ships,
But what about tender lips,
That seems to bloom like the tulips in the spring,
Causing a down pour of showers,
That only seem to rain where the air is moist,
And the pressure builds,
Past a point of insertion,
But one thing that is certain,
Is that lips loosen the joints, that control the arms,
As I pull you closer,
Keeping you warm with just the heat of my breath,
As our fantasies melted,
And begin to ooze into the crevices,
Causing our worlds to connect,
In ways that only seem to contradict,
what you have always thought passion to be,
that is until you tasted the syllables that make up season,
and if for any reason, you lose its flavor,
just wait until the fall, that bends at the knee,
and I will show you why I would trade in the summer,
just for Sum’ ah her!

©Copyright by Wordplay

Poem: Piercing a Yolk


Blood boiling with a heat that only my veins can feel,
Because the world has decided to turn on a flame,
That only burns at the tenderness of my flesh,
Filling the air with a stench that only I can smell,
Leaving only me to feel the pain as my skin deteriorates,
And begin to fall to the earth,
Where it’s to be covered by the dirt,
And never expected to get dirty,
With every attempt to wash my wounds,
I am consumed with the pain of my exposed bones,
That have now become brittle under the morning sun,
Breaking at the joints that try to hold it together,
Causing support to lapse in the face of judgment,
Because my heart was placed on trial,
with no jury,
Leaving the only choice for me is guilty,
But rather let the system put me to death,
I begin to shoot life into my veins,
Attempting to numb the pain,
But my life has been laced with a poison that only intends to infect me,
So I let the needle slide past the ashes on my skin,
Piercing it, and allowing my blood to mix with poison,
Right before the plunger is pushed and the toxins are released into my bloodstream,
Causing a fire to spread from my arm to my entire body,
Buy Rather than wither in the fire,
I embrace the making of a Phoenix,
Because out of the ashes I will rise to soar above the clouds,
Only to be pushed to the earth by the gravity of reality,
Where it keeps me grounded at the stake,
Unable to go past the limitations of the leash’s reach,
Yoked back with every lunge of progress!

(c) Copyright by Wordplay

Poem: Touched with Her Broken Fingers


Her mind wondered in curiosity, once she discovered it was there,
She was never to reveal it for another to stare,
She was taught to cross her legs, when sitting in a chair,
She was taught about under garments, that she should always have on a pair,
She was taught to never kiss boys even it was a dare,
She was educated to be blind, by the overly religious glare,
She was mesmerized when it began to develop a growth of hair,
She was taught it’s only used for breeding purposes, like a heated mare,
She was scolded if she was discovered in her room bare,
She was taught never to explore, because forgiveness would be very rare,
So for most of her adolescence she was forced to wear,
——- a veil of secrecy and guilt, until it was necessary to remove it to wash away its grime,
It’s only then that she realized the solid lies, were vaporized into an icy confusion that was sublime,
She began to find her self-esteem in a numeric scale of being called a Ten or a dime,
She never had that talk, and does not know why her excitement produces a silky slime,
She cringes with a sour expression at the talk of it, like she bit a tart lime,
Her immaturity only allows the boys disguised as men, to touch her with no words like a mime,
She allows them to write chapters of her life, with grammatical erred love through rhyme,
She was told never to touch it unless it was to be cleansed at bath time,
She never experienced, even with penetration that bedroom walls were meant to climb,
Her ears got so used to hearing the clanging of her legs like a wind chime,
That she didn’t realize she was robbed by so many,
for many,
years of her life and never reported it as a crime,
—– Because she didn’t know what pleasure, was meant to feel like,
So she was easily lured onto a mountain trail with no bike,
Easily confused of whether she wants a man or that understanding dyke,
She bowls with her emotions, and wonders why the gutter never produces a strike,
She settles for a love where the value is less than a pair of Nikes’,
—– But she can’t Just Do it herself, because she can’t touch herself with broken fingers

© Copyright by Wordplay