This poem was written just as me following an inspired thought … but I think it came out pretty well! And – GASP! – it’s SHORT!
Moans float ethereal upon passion tinged air;
Hanging, tangible – beautiful like sculpture,
Or intricate like water colour masterpiece.
Twinkling like crystal hit by the right light,
Angled just so, perfect cut, carat and clarity
accentuating the pulsating
Of rhythmic penetration.
I, though participant, watch the making of art
Painting with lust tinged brush upon the canvas of us,
And seeing mental picture play out in reality
Makes the artist in me puff my chest
Pride and humility play dually across my skin
Which, mottling and creasing,
Continues to paint ecstasy upon naked flesh.