skin – Fleeting Muse

Burn and Old: Set of Three Haikus

Sun burnt leaves wrinkled,
Withered like an old man’s skin,
Dogma shrivels minds.
**
Burn down the bridges,
Divided and conquered cry,
Corrupt old men rule.
***
Old wound bleeds silent
Rejected heart tries to heal,
Burn the memories.

Ronovan Writes Weekly Haiku # 391- Burn and Old

From Vault of Memories Past – (Continued)

[I wrote this poem over a span of one month. As the poem is long , I shall post it in parts every Friday. It’s a poem about love but some may find the content semi-erotic. Lest their finer senses be disturbed, be aware and proceed at your own risk.]

Memories from a day in life many decades ago comes flooding back when the love of his life suddenly appears after a prolonged absence.

Link to the previous part : https://wp.me/p73yZZ-4ms

Part III (continued):

She turned her head and
slowly opened her eyes,
From the depth of those
beautiful eyes,
She bored into my soul,
Quizzing and probing
without a word,
Reassured, she turned her head away
and uncrossed her legs,
Spreading them a little
to free my hands;
As I gazed away
To the tapering
long swell of her thighs,
Sloping down from
the rise of her hips,
To the slight dip
of the back of her knees and
rising ever so slowly
over her calves,
Down a beautiful pair of
slender legs,
Daintiest pair of ankles
they met,
One on the right
adorned by a
thin gold anklet;
My gaze shifting to her feet,
I slowly moved my fingers
down her legs and imperceptibly
she curled her toes.[24]
[December 4, 2020]

The rosy heels
of her slender feet,
Curved to meet
a pair of soft soles with
skins as smooth as egg shells,
Her slender feet ending on
toes long and
in a beautiful arch,
From the big toe
to the pinky,
Nails painted in
dark red gloss,
Sweet aroma from the
lush meadows she trod,
Still lingered on her feet,
Her toes danced in a rhythm,
As if priming my fingers to
play music on,
And I did.[25]

Fetish though I had none
for a damsel’s feet,
It would be a lie if I said
I was not attracted,
It would be indeed;
The arches of her feet
were inviting to be tickled,
But I hesitated
fearing how she might feel;
From the tip of her big toe
to her heel,
Gently I moved my fingers and
her calves tensed and moved;
As she crossed her feet
at her ankles and uncrossed,
The anklet caught the sunlight
and danced.[26]

[December 6, 2020]

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From Vault of Memories Past – (Continued)

Memories from a day in life many decades ago comes flooding back when the love of his life suddenly appears after a prolonged absence.

Link to the previous part :https://wp.me/p73yZZ-4md

Part III

Part III (continued):

My hands moved gently,
Tracing the curves of her hips,
Over the seductive rise and
fall to her thighs,
Her smooth skins broke
out in goosebumps,
The hips quaked slightly,
Small tremors danced across
in a slow waltz,
Rising and falling,
Dancing to their own rhythm,
Like waves cresting and
In a trough crashing on the sea shore,
They moved in unison to my delight;
And just where the hips sloped away,
To meet a gorgeous pair of thighs,
The narrow, thin gorge turned,
And lost itself in mysterious unknown;
Patience, my heart,
I cautioned.[22]

Deftly did my fingers dance,
From her slender waist
Up the rise and down her hips,
Over skin smooth as satin,
Her delicate muscles
Danced sublime,
To the magic of my feather touch;
Oh, how did I restrain myself,
And carefully tasted every morsel,
Visual bonanza that was offered
By my lovely damsel;
As I walked with my fingers
Down the gentle slopes,
I could sense a stiffening of
Her delicate muscles;
Expecting? a heightened desire? hesitation?
I was not sure;
Ever so slowly she moved
and crossed her legs,
And my fingers were imprisoned
in the soft nothingness of her
inner thighs;
I was mortified.[23]

[December 4, 2020]

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From Vault of Memories Past – (Continued)

Memories from a day in life many decades ago comes flooding back when the love of his life suddenly appears after a prolonged absence.

Link to the previous part :https://https://wp.me/p73yZZ-4m6

Part III

Tried as much as we wished
to hold on to the moment and
stay in that eternal embrace,
Our racing hearts had
lost all controls and
a wild warmth was spreading fast.
With a sigh
she let go of me and
hid her face in her palms,
She turned her face away,
Turned her back to me and
lay face down on the meadows.
A streak of ray through the leaves,
Lighted her back in an ethereal glow,
Cascading dark hairs down her spine,
To the bottom of the
sensuous rise of her hips,
Contrasting the silky smooth
skin on her back,
Glowing in the afternoon sun;
She lay there
as if in a trance,
barely moving.
Her bare back
a canvas for me to paint,
My fingers as a brush
I gingerly proceeded,
Parting her hair tenderly,
I touched the nape of her neck,
An audible gasp escaped her lips,
She shuddered and tensed,
then relaxed;
And she smiled.[20]

As my fingers played
music down her spine,
Gently touching and
probing down the center line,
She tensed and
relaxed in a rhythm,
I could feel her muscles
through her smooth skin,
dancing to my tune,
And slowly I moved down.
Her back narrowed
from her shoulder to her waist,
And then spread wide
to encompass the voluptuous rise,
I sauntered at the slight dip
where her spine met
the narrow, deep gorge
parting her hips;
Fearful of where that
dark deep gorge lead,
I ventured no more.
As she hesitated
and hold her breath
and lay motionless,
I gazed away
from the temptation.[21]

[December 4, 2020]

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From Vault of Memories Past – (Continued)

Memories from a day in life many decades ago comes flooding back when the love of his life suddenly appears after a prolonged absence.

Link to the previous part :https://wp.me/p73yZZ-4m2

Part II(continued)

Curvaceous beauty she was not,
Not someone’s idea of right proportions,
A bud about to blossom into a fragrant flower,
Vibrant and mellow,
Neither thin like a reed blowing in the wind,
Nor amply endowed but plump where it mattered,
She had her flaws that filled my heart with joy;
If I would have been a sculptor,
I would have taken a chisel in my hand
and sculpted her on the finest stone;
Like Venus De Milo,
her sculpture would have stood there on the meadows,
Beauty personified, a gift from God;
Alas, sculptor I was not,
I failed to immortalize thee,
But my love,
I sculpted every detail that I can see,
Tenderly in my heart it would be;
As the poet once said,
“A thing of beauty is a joy for ever”,
There, in my heart,
you would remain till end of eternity,
And I would selfishly enjoy your memory.[17]

Oh, how I describe your beauty,
words fail me;
I could only gaze in wonder
as my fingers moved gently over your flat belly,
A navel perfectly formed
with a thin line of hair moving down,
lost in the valley below;
As my hand moved down,
The smooth belly tensed
and firmed under my hand;
Your spine arched
and your slender graceful hand
held me in a strong embrace;
You rested your head on my shoulders,
Finely manicured nails
digging deep into the skin of my back;
Fine, thin silky hairs
at the nape of your neck
standing erect,
Your chest crushing into mine,
Heaving and throbbing;
You cried.[18]

Gently did I embrace you,
My finger tips moving slowly down
following the curve of your spine;
It must have tingled
when my fingers reached the base
where it joined the valley
between the rise
of the voluptuous half moons spread wide;
The quivering tremors
rushed across your body to me,
How was I aroused
as you hold me tight
and moved your hands gingerly down;
An eternity must have passed
as our bodies were so entwined,
Nary a hair could have passed
between us
as we stayed in that pleasant embrace;
You raised your head,
Looked into my eyes,
And you smiled;
Somewhere the forbidden fruit fell and
on that meadow,
I found my heaven. [19]

[December 3, 2020]

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From Vault of Memories Past – (Continued)

Link to the previous part : https://wp.me/p73yZZ-4lW

Part II

Patience my heart, I told myself,
Enjoy the moment and don’t rush;
But the moment took over
and we lost ourselves to love,
Blushing cheeks of my love
turned crimson red;
Was the sun getting warmer
or the meadow on fire?
She gently took my hand on hers
and embraced me,
Her slender arms around me, caressing,
As if to reassure,
Eyelids opening slightly,
fluttering like a butterfly,
She smiled,
And my heart molt.[13]

She took my hand,
Kissed it once, kissed twice,
And gently put my hand
On her heart;
The air went out of my chest,
As her warm breath touched my face,
Brushing my cheeks lightly,
Her sweet breath shortened,
A sense of urgency that I wanted to prolong;
And with every breath,
Her heart racing,
Her twin peaks of desire rose and fell
As she gently squeezed my hand
and pressed it down,
The floodgates of heaven were thrown open
and passion rushed in,
My resolve failed.[14]

Those two throbbing balls of desire
gently curving up,
Never had my eyes behold
such a delightful sight;
Firm like an orange
but soft like a ripe mango,
Dancing in tandem
with her rapid breath;
Inviting and alluring,
Supple and soft
Tempting and seducing,
Demanding explorations
but also entreating
a gentle handling, and
as I traced their graceful curves,
She moaned,
Breathing a contented sigh.[15]

Warmth radiating from her
Slowly engulfed me in a trance,
From her dimpled chin
drops of sweat fell
to the base of her graceful neck;
The tiny rivulet coursing
ever so slowly down
through her heaving bosom,
As a river meanders
from its source to the ocean;
I gazed transfixed
as I traced its course,
Her velvety smooth skin
offering no resistance to the flow,
It emerged from the narrow pass
of her breasts
into the flat valley below;
The glistening stream
pooled for a second
in the slight depression
of her navel,
And a fear raced through
my mind,
I stopped.[16]

[December 1, 2020]

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Peanuts

As I shell the peanuts

Sitting comfortably,

Running comes my dog

With doleful eyes begs he. Continue reading “Peanuts”

Divide Artificial – “One-Liner Wednesday”

This post is in response to Linda’s #1OneLinerWednesday.

As I was walking my dog Skooby today morning, a few lines of a poem was churning in my head. Normally I will sit down at my PC or jot down in my mobile whenever such things happen but I did not have recourse to any one of those today. Can’t rely on old memory too much now a days. By the time I sat on my PC, what remained is just one line of the poem. So before I forget, here is to One Liner Wednesday

Race is the cement,
color of skin sand,
language aggregates,
concrete to nationality steel,
building the dividing wall of religion
keeping us apart
while the river of love
from time immemorial
flows with the color of blood,
RED.