Poetry

I’LL LOVE A DANCE WITH YOU

I’ll love a dance with you
Under the moon,
With your scarlet lips on mine,
Your caress
Slithering its tentacles on my body,
And your waist swaying on my reverbs.
I’ll love a dance with you
Under the embers of the February’s moon.
You, yes you, my bride and pride,
Your dance, your waist beads, my joy.

©TurksonQuills❣️

Poetry

MY EROTICA LANGUAGE

…but all I need is you.
I want to be the one of your everyone,
To soar the comfort your duvet gives,
To be in reverie when your thoughts flood my mind,
To be your desire when the dawn is cold,
To be that log your garden prefers in its centre
And to lick the sweet fluids from your inner lips,
For your touch does more than tickle my desire for a gentle caress.

I want nothing more
Than you in my arms
Till forever and a day
Becomes the past that never existed.

© TurksonQuills

Poetry

I YEARN TO CALL YOU BEAUTIFUL

I have seen a lot
Been with a lot
Touched a lot
The fair and the dark.
The dark converted to fair
And the fair converted to dark .
But how shall I describe you?
For your skin’s ambience is like the countenance of a seraphim.
Your teeth sparkle
Even when the sun is shinning at his best.

How I wish to call you beautiful.
But they say ,
True beauty is from within.
Since I have not entered you yet ,
I shall refrain from calling you beautiful.

But exotic…I can!
For your hair’s smoothness and curl
And your sweet scented lavenda perfume
Makes you priceless.
Your perfectly coined calf
Makes me idolize your body each night.
My room might be dark
But surely,
Your waist shall give me light.

Come ,
Let us fry our eggs together this night
For I yearn to call you beautiful!


BY CHARLES ANDERSON
#charlesthelambentwriter

Poetry

WAILING QUILL

Have you ever seen words

That pierce the heart like arrows,

Or a nest inhabiting not birds,

But a crowd of bedfellows?

Maybe, just maybe a yes.

I met her on the sunshine of March.

Perhaps shining, but she was an angel of mess.

She seemed a perfect match

With glows of the august colours of petals.

Her aura defined betrayal’s serenity,

For her beauty portrayed meaning of lethal

Outlining its sin to love’s eternity.

She made my heart bleed

the inks of a wailing quill

© TurksonQuills

#SAFE