Sensual

Sensual

An expedition full of whirlwinds,
Submerged by an estuarine goddess,
Deep breaths and long strokes,
Filling your body, feeding your soul,
As we venture into worlds unknown,
I never want to let go.

Eyes wide shut,
Thin linen unravels perfection,
That derriere provokes infatuation,
I gasp with every gesture,
As I manoeuvre those curves over that thigh,
I never want to let go.

The fragrance you wear,
Channels lust into every bone,
Your body against mine renders my fantasies barren,
Forged with insatiable revelry,
I’m enamoured to what’s amid and within,
I never want to let go.

Your smooth skin glistens in this Cimmerian shade,
My lips yearn for a taste,
Fingertips relay messages of intimacy,
Momentarily delving; showing intensity,
We share scars alike courtesy of vigorous animation,
As the love we beget lingers,
I never want to let go.

– Smyekh David-West.

Nostalgia

nostalgia

Maybe I had to do it for me,
Walking away,
But you were more than perfect,
A utopic chimera,
I’m somewhat nostalgic.

I think, then remember,
I remember how it used to be,
Two children lost in the playground,
A playground that’s the world,
Seemingly in love.

A place on my chest is still hollow,
Wanting to feel your weight again.
But you’re far away,
Probably in the arms of another,
I’m somewhat nostalgic.

– Smyekh David-West.

Flower

New poem

I wrote this one for a flower,
When Aquarians flooded the earth,
Something about angels singing a psalm,
Amidst hands placed in palms,
Whilst birds chirped in a barn,
It only took but a minute,
Pleasurable ecstasies quite minute,
Mild but wildly resonant.

Anyway, I wrote I think with a pen and pad,
Ink filled with a sea of mead,
Lustily drenching with L.O.V.E,
I strayed, walked in paths unknown,
My heart led the way,
Entangled in the fray,
I played with words; like and love,
Candidly I was wobbly, perhaps from worry.

I swore I heard a little creature sing,
You know the ones that sing and dance,
She swayed effortlessly, those hips in that thigh,
I kept that memory close and near,
A voluptuous enigma,
Sat writing a poem for a flower,
Snowy soft petals caressing my paws,
The beauty of daisies in spring.

– Smyekh David-West.

Words

words

She said I had a way with words,
I smiled; exposed dentures for all to see,
A portrait of plausible clauses,
Then I spake,
Spat out what some might call feelings,
The harsh reality of it all,
Words I’d die for her to hear,
But what are words if they mean nothing?

She said I had a way with words,
My smile faded, replaced by crooked lines,
They wavered; a barrage of syllables,
As copious amounts of dolor surmounts,
I felt her fingers as my eyes gleamed,
Once again I spake,
Words from the deepest of my heart,
But what are words if they mean nothing?

She said I had a way with words,
Tranquil overcame my vocal cords,
I spake in a drunken slur,
Songs that exude melodies from within,
Cupped with romance and despair,
Smeared with hoarseness and coarseness,
A tone beat from heaven,
But what are words if they mean nothing?

– Smyekh David-West.