Okay, just once more, I promise, and then I’ll go away (for a while). I have never understood why mainstream poets are reluctant to describe what it really means to be in love - the activities rather than the feelings. If you want to read poems describing the delight of pussy-eating, for example, it’s no use turning to your average anthology. You need to search the Internet. Boucher’s poem which I quoted from yesterday continues: “I want to kiss the pink pearl /that adorns its delicate rim /to polish it till it glows.” I know that many of you are not turned on by poetry, but if you don’t find those words beautiful, you really do have no soul. I also love the poem by Robert W. Birch that begins,xxxxCradled between your tender thighs
xxxxI lift you to my mouth.
xxx The abundance of your wetness greets me
xxxxand my mouth overflows with your warm essence.
xxxx Your sweet taste is on my tongue
xxxx and your fragrance delights my senses.
Beautiful! You can find the rest of his poem here.
Beautiful! You can find the rest of his poem here.
