the thoughts of a young man newly in love
By M.A.Meddings
Captured by your smile, I turn
And become destroyed
By the way your hair
Like burnished bronze
Sweeps down to caress
The soft silken sweep of your throat
And how the curls just bounce
As you toss your head.
Then as they pour the chosen wine
I stumble with the words
Of correct salutation
A fool out of his depth
In this privilege world
Struggling to retain a miniscule
Of that thing they
So cruelly call etiquette
A foreign art of social grace
And scarcely taught to me
Yet as I wait
To strike blindly
At the wrong fork or knife
You come to my rescue
Delicately touching my hand
Your eyes signalling the preferred choice
Then you flash that reassuring smile
I had been waiting for
Setting my poor heart
To spasms of longing
Though disaster looms
In the form of your maiden Aunt
'And what do you do good sir'? She says
In a voice designed to destroy
I pause then announce as proudly I can
'I am a writer of words good Ma'am'
Then I await the testing repost
'A writer of words'? Your mother says
In that disdainful tone so expertly mastered
Daring me on to explain
'That's just what he said' says Uncle Joe
'For gods sake let him speak'
Then, from the corner of my eye
I watch you sink dejectedly into your chair
Afraid of the shame of me
'Pray speak up young fellow
Have you lost your tongue'?
Then my eyes so desperately seek
A rescue, a kind respite
From within this social inquisition
I find none except for, a glistening texture
As the light dances on your skin
And I become emboldened
By the prize of you
Made a hero
By the slashed red softness of your lips
Enamoured by the cleaved
Sensuous sweep of your breasts
Such that, words that defied me
Just moments hence
Now liberally flow
With the effect of the wine
And my shear adulation of you
'I am a poet' I say and wait
The sharp enchant
Then continue with burgeoning pride
'I am a writer madam of,
The most exquisitely sensuous poems
A skill I vouchsafe
Alien to most
Not least your good self
Yet if though will allow
I will write you a ballad, that will
Sweep you away on a cloud
And you will amaze
That I do with my tongue
What most can do with their hands'?
And she is disarmed until
In the soft enchantment
Of her gently heaving bosom
I detect a woman thrilled by the words
Romanced by the rhyme!! Made whole again
I am welcomed to her seduced heart
Invited to the drawing room
To stay the night then I see
The freckles on your face
Shining brightly in the subdued light
Your eyes proudly catching mine and they say
My heart, will you bed me tonight?
Or will Mama have the pleasure of thee
The end.
Poetry by lastromantichero
Read 527 times
Written on 2005-11-27 at 20:18
Tags Love
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Captured by your smile by M.A.Meddings
Captured by your Smile.By M.A.Meddings
Captured by your smile, I turn
And become destroyed
By the way your hair
Like burnished bronze
Sweeps down to caress
The soft silken sweep of your throat
And how the curls just bounce
As you toss your head.
Then as they pour the chosen wine
I stumble with the words
Of correct salutation
A fool out of his depth
In this privilege world
Struggling to retain a miniscule
Of that thing they
So cruelly call etiquette
A foreign art of social grace
And scarcely taught to me
Yet as I wait
To strike blindly
At the wrong fork or knife
You come to my rescue
Delicately touching my hand
Your eyes signalling the preferred choice
Then you flash that reassuring smile
I had been waiting for
Setting my poor heart
To spasms of longing
Though disaster looms
In the form of your maiden Aunt
'And what do you do good sir'? She says
In a voice designed to destroy
I pause then announce as proudly I can
'I am a writer of words good Ma'am'
Then I await the testing repost
'A writer of words'? Your mother says
In that disdainful tone so expertly mastered
Daring me on to explain
'That's just what he said' says Uncle Joe
'For gods sake let him speak'
Then, from the corner of my eye
I watch you sink dejectedly into your chair
Afraid of the shame of me
'Pray speak up young fellow
Have you lost your tongue'?
Then my eyes so desperately seek
A rescue, a kind respite
From within this social inquisition
I find none except for, a glistening texture
As the light dances on your skin
And I become emboldened
By the prize of you
Made a hero
By the slashed red softness of your lips
Enamoured by the cleaved
Sensuous sweep of your breasts
Such that, words that defied me
Just moments hence
Now liberally flow
With the effect of the wine
And my shear adulation of you
'I am a poet' I say and wait
The sharp enchant
Then continue with burgeoning pride
'I am a writer madam of,
The most exquisitely sensuous poems
A skill I vouchsafe
Alien to most
Not least your good self
Yet if though will allow
I will write you a ballad, that will
Sweep you away on a cloud
And you will amaze
That I do with my tongue
What most can do with their hands'?
And she is disarmed until
In the soft enchantment
Of her gently heaving bosom
I detect a woman thrilled by the words
Romanced by the rhyme!! Made whole again
I am welcomed to her seduced heart
Invited to the drawing room
To stay the night then I see
The freckles on your face
Shining brightly in the subdued light
Your eyes proudly catching mine and they say
My heart, will you bed me tonight?
Or will Mama have the pleasure of thee
The end.
Poetry by lastromantichero
Read 527 times
Written on 2005-11-27 at 20:18
Tags Love
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
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