Andy B J Low
Raconteur, paramour, pragmatist, programmer and poet.
Having fun.
If I were there and you weren't so far
I wouldn't have to wonder how you are
or how much better off you'd be
with a sudden dose of espièglerie.
Some things it seems just can't be rushed
the written word of love and lust.
Prepare yourself for a sudden burst of entropy.
As I burst into your office like a dervish, bits flailing mischievously.
Then smile a bit embarrassed and slink out sheepishly.
Dress, and hope the other people on the conference didn't see.
I slowly sachet past your desk
dressed in little else but jest
flash a smile, catch your disproving look
trace my finger along your neck, distract you from your book
then I'll run and hide,
but not too well, I'll just face the corner, giggle, close my eyes
the chase is on, quick find me now, I have no pride.
It doesn't matter what you look like without your clothes
'cos when you're both bumping nasties anything goes
and anyway, all I can see is your smile
and the drip of sweat on the end of your nose.
Multiple orgasms are a pain, there's no polite time to stop.
Just keep going , wait for the blood sugar to drop.
Until the essential element goes soft.
and
With mild disappointment and a smile she slips off.
Returning swiftly with tea, and a ration of scoff.
Then with an encouraging kiss, you're under orders again, a-n-d,
you're off.
Again.
A hug, a kiss
Neck, eyelids, lips
Fingers tracing tingles
Neck, back, breasts
Circling your hips.
Tongue teasing secret bits.
Starts the waterfall of bliss.
Breeze borne bringing bliss.
Kisses held on fingertips.
Distant lover's lips.
With only words, finger tips and lips
To transport you to heaven, to bathe in bliss
To light the way in the darkest abyss
To bring joy and happiness
All this
With nothing more than words, fingers and lips.
With only whispered words, with finger tips and lips.
To cradle you in bliss.
To light the way through life's abyss
Bringing joy and happiness.
All this
With nothing more than whispers, fingertips and lips.
Cascades of bliss.
Sorry darling, for not replying sooner to your text.
It's tricky when your hands are full of someone else's clitoris and tits.
Thinking of you.
Love you to bits.
A poem about vulva
something to tease with your tongue
or even your uvula
and if you can do that
you’re bound to be popular.
I place a single kiss upon each finger tip
and reach to brush through your hair
cascade a water fall behind a glistening spray
you shiver as they trickle
along your nape
your ear
your throat
and finally alight
atop your breast, to rest
quivering like jewels of dew they ride your breathless pulse.
A whisper, a wisp, passing in the evenings breeze
a moment in the thread of time
a heartbeat skipped, a kiss
Oh would the day be filled with bliss
cascades of countless moments, such as this.
To hold you, kiss you goodnight,
let my hands enjoy the warmth between your thighs,
send you to sleep with bliss behind your eyes.
Let me hold you like an angel on my finger tips
to kiss your neck, your breasts, your sweetly moistened lips.
To bathe you in softly lapping wave on ever building wave
of such tender bliss that only gods could ever hope to crave.
Until your joy outshines the blinding sun, and hold you there to bathe.
Glow in your lovers arms, hearts beating loud, entwined as one.
To rest sweetly and still outshine the setting sun.
It shows not that you are brazen nor a tart.
But that you know your enemy and have read the chart.
Scylla and Charybdis ready, sturdy and alert, none can skirt
guard the passage to your wallet and your heart.
Legs hanging like a banging stable door.
Salt lick untouched.
Oats unfinished, left to sour.
A text from a friend, he's out of the door.
Almost dressed and running as he hits the floor.
Something about a wretched football score.