JUICES FLOWING


ENERGY RELEASED

i took a writing class in the spring of 2000 called GYNOMITE:WOMEN WRITE FEMINIST PORN...i had heard about it from a friend of mine and it sounded like great fun...yoga incorporated with writing to get the creative juices flowing...the work on this page is the result of an assignment we received in email...we were given a list of prospective titles and instructed to write a three line poem for each...i eagerly set out to complete this and was cracking myself up with my brilliance...as i reread them i discover something new each time...enjoy...


Field Day
Glorious green the field was spread
Before our eager pussies grew
To know the velvet feel of fresh mown grass


Cups
The cups I held in my bare hands
Were full of nothing but desire
For lips to suck their nipples off


Tablets in My Hand
Tablets from the mountaintop
Rules for peace eternal, shattered
Elegantly re-adhered with juices from her deepest well


Regal Cat
Meow…she whispered stalking past
Scent trailed by, the only sound
Muffled not by panties, damp


Emerald Pillows
Glorious green her breasts so soft
Like precious jewels that swell to form
Pillows to rest my weary head


She Came to Stay
A thousand miles and more traversed
Centuries passed to find again
The peace together souls at rest


That Inner Thing
It vibrates as she passes near
Inhale her scent it blossoms full
See her face it melts my soul


Smashing Virgins
Pluck them off one by one
Awkwardly girls await the knowledge
Womanly they leave with power


Two Heads are Better than None
If she had two heads
One could lick
When the other needs to rest


I Give Thanks
For soft skin touching mine at night
For nothing she says will bring me fright
For desire strong tonight I might


Two Men on a Road
They realize and sadness looms
Consuming them for all their days
Their women are mine and always were


Five Women in a Castle
Rescue them I must at dawn
In gratitude with tongues poised and ready
They pay their debt eternally


Satin, Fingertips, Pillars
Desire’s texture, soft and smooth
Desire’s servant, ready to probe
Desire’s place, a pedestal for display


Ice Cold Air
Caught in my throat
Each breath I take
When we are apart


Ocean Sway, Earth Bed
Rhythmic movement timed with the tides
We rock from the rock when time abides
Flesh transforms to animal hides


Black Eyed Susan
Her eyes were black deep circles set
She must continue if her desire is to be met
Who needs sleep when sex is so wet


The Real Meaning of Columbine
Virginal geek-boys’ fury unleashed
Pent up semen too much to be rational
If they were only having sex with someone…even themselves


Breathing Oxygen
Rising from the depths of her pussy
Not too fast, the bends unpleasant
Why is it necessary…I’d rather stay put


I Can Take It
One finger, two fingers, three fingers, four
Slowly stretching to accommodate more
Desire and reality again not on the same floor


The Darkest Morning
I have been there, not going back
Not to be feared, but mighty unpleasant
Perspective gained to all things past, present, and future


Important Swan
Necks so long they’d kiss themselves
If only for the comfort found
In stroking softly on their sex


Pitcher of Water
Flames to douse inside my soul
Liquid heat is rising higher
Drink it down, indeed, to slake


Serpentine Limb
My fist will snake eternally
Betwixt her lips so warm and moist
Turning here or there to please


Snake in the Grass
Eagerly his pride displayed
Horrified she sped away
The boy zipped up, no chance for play


Flickering Afternoon
Candles burn to liquefy
The wax I’ll need to tease your flesh
All day ‘til dim the hour grows


The Stars Have Names
The moon and sun have made a pact
To name each star for lovers past
They might run out as time goes on


Opened Chest
Smaller titties require this
Lines cut down and smiles sliced
Peeking from under new formed mounds


Hidden Box
The forest so thick it’s time to groom
The hair cut close to frame the doorway
A secret room of treasure revealed


Velvet Gourd
Plunge it deeper
Smooth and soft
Contoured to fit


Like An Iron Fist In a Velvet Glove
Deeper still her cervix meets
My knuckles curled in tight design
To pile drive her senses home


© 1997-2000 queenmaxine@pdq.net


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