Poetry Blogs (sexuality)
I remember playing in a hayloft
with older boys, daring to jump like they did.
I tunneled alone through hay and darkness,
to find light at the other end.
As my memory goes back to those carefree times,
I wonder if I tried to impress older boys
as if they were my father.
Was I trying to outdo my brothers?
Was there a sexual element
in body sensations in free fall in hay?
Thursday 9th April 2020 2:01 pm
Where’s The Sun?
I used to orgasm imagining i was running to-
To reach climax for the relief was spiritual
Sex for me has remained-
Now it’s perverse and sexual.
So, I hide inside-
The dark of the night
And only come out when the moon says
You’re safe now.
He has my best interests in his heart filled with craters
Other women scarred with play...
Sunday 3rd March 2019 8:10 am
My love for you wells up from
A feeling indescript
A warmth rising from the heart
A rush of oxytocin through the
Immediate and pressing
Without urgency or smothering
Felt from my legs to my
And in every chakra the yoga-doers tell us of
From the crown above my head
To the root they speak of in awkward Puritanical tones
Tones we do not need, m...
Saturday 16th February 2019 6:01 pm
Those words move me
Quivering to my core
Sparks the embers in my cheeks
So many connotations
A thank you for listening
To your commands
A unique expression of adoration
As well as appetition
An ‘it’s going to be ok’
Psychedelic to my anxieties
Caress my curves
Trace the imprints you leave
On my soul
On my skin
Please, tell me again
I want to be your
Sunday 26th November 2017 11:42 pm
It was surprising that after work, on Thursday,
she wanted to meet and share her bed with a man, again.
Maybe men, even, she thought, suddenly indecisive and guilty,
but for society, men, peers, their judgment, their pursed lips and nods of disapproval.
Now that she was almost home, her fireplace and Scotch seemed dearer, as usual;
the icy blanket of her acceptance of undesired celi...
Friday 21st July 2017 9:10 pm
I think I’m addicted to acting the way,
Behaving the way,
No, I never meant to-
No, I never intended to-
didn’t set out to break your heart
I think that it came naturally to me...
Snapping those heart strings it’s what
It’s what I’ve always done best.
Affection is a weapon they say,
Charm is a murderer they say,
The blood you lose...
Wednesday 9th March 2016 7:54 pm
Standing close behind
She shudders in anticipation
For his commanding touch; but
He denies her such satisfaction
Only applying goosebumps to her skin
His hot breath teases increasing her adrenaline
Fingers hooking the straps of her top
Pulling over those soft shoulders
Drawing down ever slowly like molasses
Cascading over skin on winter morning
The cloth rolls over nipples perked
Thursday 28th May 2015 1:52 am
Shame - the greatest shambles; a sham
sex and guilt, beauty and modesty; molest
pitted in the stomach like acid,
spat swallowed pity, feeding starvation, an unquenchable famish, unsensibly sore
malnourished habits die hard, and lonely, resentfully
twisting and turning and diving, deprived
Lies for eyes, for ears and the nose; twitch
flies on the flesh of ...
Friday 25th January 2013 5:48 pm
as the dew dropped tulip two-steps over my tongue
so a pubic slaughter of moonbeams and drag queens
leaves so little space in-between the longing
hung, low slung, below the eaves of this curious abode
where pregnant questions await the gaunt relief
of a crucified thief who has chosen his flavour
so sure the house has fallen on the queen of the east
love thy nei...
Thursday 27th December 2012 7:12 pm
A cum stained victory for the avant-garde,
throw away your cameras
and embrace the lens of the soul.
Prettiness does not define talent.
How can a stoic face define the myriad of human emotions?
A lifeless motif of the status-ho.
Individuality seeps like semen upon a blood stained carcass.
Trickles of truth, like tears upon a false-face.
One cannot spell life without lie...
Monday 19th March 2012 2:59 pm
Surprised how slim you looked, how young,
red cotton briefs that made you look like Sybil Starr,
my room the way it was, the bed half-broken.
I lay, my body rhymed, at last, with yours,
though clothed: the same smooth legs,
same swelling breasts, the same receiving void
between the legs, the origin of worlds,
here, at the end, yours given, mine achieved.
Monday 10th January 2011 9:52 pm
A poem I did for the first time at Jibba Jabba in Newcastle yesterday night. I was a little nervous of doing it given the subject matter, but it seemed to go down quite well.
She’s that girl in every film you’ve seen,
hair tied up and eyes cast down,
books held to her chest, looking geeky-serene,
the skin above her glasses wrinkling into a frown
as she sucks nothing but her...
Sunday 15th August 2010 9:20 pm