Tag Archives: touch

Lost And Found – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

VJs Weekly Challenge – Touch

Photo: found on Tumblr

“We lie in each other’s arms eyes shut and fingers open and all the colours of the world pass through our bodies like strings of fire.” Marge Piercy

Lost And Found

Hands as whispers,
fingers as feathers,
gestures lightly placed,
skin as eyes so softly
feel the finest tears of sweat
from deep kindled heat,
she the journey he'd dreamed,
he an adventure traced in ecstasy,
both lost of the road begun, and
found in the meander of the
lush rich map of each other.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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Filed under Free Verse, passion, poem, quote, Sex

That Dress

Amorous – Word of the Day

klimt-ref-zoom.jpg

‘The Kiss’ by Gustave Klimt (1862 – 1918), born in Austria, Klimt was part of an era of radical social and cultural challenge, as an artist he was deeply influenced by Freud and became a symbolist painter, though far from subtle. His paintings are deeply erotic. He was a founder of the Vienna Secession movement which was ecclectice – it had no proclaimed style but rather welcomed all to coexist. He was considered ahead of his time.

 

That Dress

So still, the noise has gone, replaced by the beating pulse in my temples. It’s so warm in here, I loosen my tie, anticipation, my breathing shallow. A smile creases my lips. Wow, that dress, a cliche no more. Black, which looks stunning against your pale , soft skin. That alluring dip draws my eyes to the equally glorious rise, how a necklace would grace that. A length to show off your legs … I take your hand, so cool compared to mine. Time is warped, everything a blur, the air is electric, but you say nothing. I’m shaking inside as I reach out and touch your dress, a subtle swish as I graze the fabric. My heart leaps, dizzying, a kiss, surely yes …

“Can I help you sir?” “Wha … What?” I stutter. Jolted, stung, it wasn’t you. Who? My hand leaves yours, a smear of sweat remains, so hot in here. “Can I help you sir?” I blankly stare. “Are you looking for a gift for someone, your wife perhaps?” Noise rushing in, lights, sounds, movement, confused I shake my head. My ardour dampened, I leave the dun, and muted mannequin and retreat, but oh my, that dress.

©Paul Cannon

 

Donna Summer “I Feel Love”

 

Paul,

pvcann.com

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Filed under art, Fiction, history, life, love, romance, Sex