Category Archives: erotic

Remained – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

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“We loved with a love that was more than love.” Edgar Allan Poe

Remained

Your lips were open invitation
to the breathless arched verge,
your eyes a consummation, a 
holding gaze of drama unveiled,
but your words were a raging 
fire for my ears, and you smiled
as I burst into flames, and when
the smoke cleared your kisses
remained.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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Hungering – poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

VJ’s Weekly Challenge – Waves

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“Ecstasy is a glass full of tea and a piece of sugar in the mouth.” Alexander Pushkin

Hungering

Day's hours slowed to soft sand and
she marked the moments of deep longing 
for sunset by the cool, summer shoreline,
breakers crashing the encrusted rocks,
punctuated by the scree of grey gulls,
she turned to him again, hungering,
greedy for the waves to wash over her
and carry her to the crest of ecstasy.

©Paul Vincent Cannon


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Pond Of Dreams – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Sanaa is hosting Open Link Night where we are invited to post a poem of our own choosing.

dVerse Poets – Open LInk Night

Photo: http://www.shutterstock.com

“Moonlight incites dark passions ….” Rampo Edogawa

Pond Of Dreams

I'm certain as not that my dreams lit
the light of my centre as moon floated 
gently through the window of invitation,
gently rustling my playful sheets of sigh,
lighting a fire behind my lids of desire,
with reciprocating motions of heart as
rhythms of stroked flesh hovering at 
the edge of desire assuming a tidal 
wave in a pond of dreams.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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The Gargoyles – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Sanaa is hosting poetics with an invitation to write a Gothic poem.

dVerse Poets – Poetics – Exploring Gothic as a Literary Genre

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“I was made to rule the darkness.” Rae Hachton

The Gargoyles 

Near the witching hour
the Bell & Candle spewed life into the
streets of thick winters night,
she, he, arm in arm, dared the other,
a walk along darkling stream's thickets
to cold cathedral cemetery where
death's sting rang off the stone in
heavy mortal silence, stilling all but
leaping imaginations of shadows,
she, he, stole kisses in mocking  laughter 
beneath the angry walls of judgement,
she, he, succumbed to the ancient spell
of heated congress as above them
narrow eyed gargoyles leered near,
she, he, stumbled onwards home,
she looking back to footfalls sounding,
he hearing nothing, blithely, blindly,
fell behind as she hastened to her bed,
while ever the footfalls pounding,
her heart pulsing, stretched naked.
In the morning she stroked his 
impassive face looking for life, 
where in that one glorious hour,
stone had enfleshed its leering lust.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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Stirred – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Lisa is hosting the Quadrille (44 words) with an invitation to write using the word abide. dVerse Poets – Quadrille – The Dude Abides

Photo: pexels.com

“The dancer’s body is simply the luminous manifestation of the soul.” Isadora Duncan

Stirred

There she was,
hips swirling colour,
head flicked back,
her eyes laughing,
toes double time, 
double shot of fantasy,
bass line harmony,
stirred not shaken,
sipping hazy smoke
parched and spinning
closer and closer,
she hitched her skirt,
I flipped tails
abiding with her.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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Before The Turning – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

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“She was like the moon – part of her was always hidden away.” Dia Reeves

Before The Turning

Spring's last reversion,
a chemise for moon
before the turning of
summer's bold tune,
an unbuttoned salute
to epicurean dulges
promenading along
our damp, warm skin,
in the misted mystery
of this omened night,
awaiting declarations
of yes, yes, along our 
avenue of sheets.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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Those Lips – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

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“Language is wine upon the lips.” Virginia Woolf

Those Lips

She was well dictioned,
forming plummy,
always an O,
showing her 
xylophone 
framed so red,
but after five,
without words,
she spoke a very 
different language 
that blushed me.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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Rumbling – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Peter at dVerse is hosting Meeting The Bar and his invitation is to write a poem based around sounds.

dVerse Poets- Meeting The Bar – Let your words ring out

Photo: shutterstock.com

“I’ll have what she’s having” (cafe patron played by Estelle Reiner) ‘When Harry Met Sally’

Rumbling 

Stiletto staccato on platform five
invites leather soul antiphon, an
echo of his quiet love quickening
her pulsing temple oblivious to 
the bustle of the milling crowd
passing in the shadows, 
oblivious to the hum in this nest
of hulking, clanking metallic beasts
whose breath shouts for presence,
aware only of reaching into each 
other with shivering groans,
the whole place rumbling as they
filled its emptiness, she smiled,
he was confused, he hadn't 
expected that train to come in.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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Amantes del la Luna – prose by Paul Vincent Cannon

Host Merril at dVerse has invited us to consider a line from a Mary Oliver poem for a prose piece (144 words). dVerse Poets – Prosery – Moonbeams and Moon Dreams

I have been writing about Moon for some time so this landed in a week of moon thoughts.

The line is: “In their dreams they sleep with the moon.” from Mary Oliver ‘Death at Wind River’

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“Go slowly, my lovely moon, go slowly.” Khaled Hosseini

Amantes de la Luna (Lovers of the Moon)

Moon disrobed the darkness, her eyes lighting everyone who ventured to the edge of night. She was an illumine of all that is love in that sacred moment as she touched the tide of rising feeling by the shore of desire that ached with her beauty. The young men are too distracted to notice, they foolishly chase after lesser stars, mere reflections of momentary excitement lost in the ripples of time. But Moon doesn’t mind, the tides come and go in a gentle rhythm, and they will soon enough take notice of her. Besides, she has plenty of lovers. The older men adore her and sigh at her memory, holding her close in their hearts. Through wax and wane they remember the tender intimacies of her soft glow and her warm grace, and in their dreams they sleep with Moon as once they did.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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Love’s Grail – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Image: istockphoto.com

“It is a beautiful and delightful sight to behold the body of the moon.” Galileo Galilei

Love's Grail

 Moon sat gracefully 
at the edge of movement 
where the reeds rest, 
waiting her turn to 
shed her skin and dip 
into the gentleness that  
would caress and hold 
her to waves of glow, 
illuminating the map of 
love's grail, shifting the  
ancient tide. 

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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