erotic poetry

[pam69ur]

What do you think of this erotic poetry by colin leslie dean On another thread some commentators after commenting only on one poem ie "45+ erotic poems of lost love and longing ... " argued that his poetry is naughty and that they cant put some of his lines on this site because they are to lewd. One even contrasted him with the restoration poet john wilmot-ONLY AFTER READ ONE ONE OF DEANS- where wilmot was wity in his lewd and crude lanaguage some say dean has no wit at all and thus his poetry is just bad.
one even compared him to a right wing ginsberg in a parrall universe
So what do you think of colin leslie deans poetry please comment after reading at least one different poem to "45+ erotic poems of lost love and longing ...
you can download them free at

here are two sweetners
HYMN-poisonous flowers
Oh! mushroom headed God,
Oh blue veined stem thou mighty Godhead
At thy feet I prostrate and for thee weep
Worship, kow tow and of thee entreat
Rescue me from my horny plight
By thy tumescent throbbing sight
My lips fold out, expand and pout
They long to clutch, furl round that bulbous headed spike
Caress, devour and of thee to me give life.

Sorrow fills my eyes without thy sight Oh mushroom headed sprite
The days are long and pained filled is the night
My heart longs for thee of thee I whish to see
My love for thee sets in my soul, my love, my divinity.
Grant me peace give me thy grace
Show to me thy blood gorged face
Come my beloved this very hour
And of me devour.

Oh lord my body wastes sleepless are my nights
Beloved when will thou come and rescue me of my plight
Oh lord I am thy slave without thee cowered and afraid
Fasten thy eye upon me lord and release me from my pain
Oh lord show me thy compassion, thy love, thy burning passion.
Come my darling my beloved thy coming fills my need
Come Oh lord without thee I feel no ease
Come Oh lord and save me I beg thee please.
Upon thy swelling stem My lord I offer myself as sacrifice
Again and again, once, twice, thrice.
Oh lord quench my fires burn up my desires
With one almighty burst squirt forth thy frothy seed
Oh lord of my anguish may my hymn please intercede.

MY BOYFRIEND-from poisonous flowers
Up under dress my arse he pinched
One hand on tit the other caressed and softly clinched
"I love you !" he sighed
As he eased my gusset to one side
"I love you !" he sighed
As to the bed we did hurriedly glide
"I love you !" he sighed
As his jocks dropped by
And the condom upon his **** did slide.

"I love you !" you sigh I did cry
How oft hast thou sighed such words to some shrew
Hoping such dolt would then let you her screw
How oft hast thou ****ed some bimbo with the **** I suck
Placed over some well spunked **** the lips I do kiss.
Placed in my **** the knob that has reamed the arse of some drunked slob
How oft has the **** I lick been smeared in the mensus of some randy chick
How oft hast thou shafted some local town bike
With "I love you !" muffling her orgasmic delight
When thou sigh "it is only I thou love" with such passions fire
Is it me or my ****s sweet lips thou dost really desire
Are my tits thy mothers to hang off or do thy belong to I
Are you **** struck or do you really love I
Dost thou think me some fool to melt and to swoon At such words with soft croon
Enough of the crap lets go and spurt thy sap
Keep thy **** to get the next lay sprawled in thy lap.

[Artem85]

Very very good. I like it. Thanks for this poem :thumbs_up

[RobinHood3000]

In my opinion, as romantic as a textbook on quantum mechanics being danced on by Richard Simmons.

The day my girlfriend thinks it sexy to refer to my manhood as a "bulbous-headed spike" is the day I get its name changed to "Princess Sophia."

[Xtian]

Barcelona with
Gaudi’s buildings twisting unfinished carved into the sky
And cars,
Cars,
Cars, cars
Restless streams of cars
Around and around Plaza De Catalonia
And thunderous
Badly made European motorcycles zooming zipping up your arms
So much for America’s big metal machines
That swims around and around your navel
Down your back vibrating like chewing tin foil with freshly minted teeth
People, people, people walking in and out of cheap coin slotted peepshows
Out of my ears mouth and ******* like rushing ants chaotically running
Up past the unique sidewalk cafes of Las Ramblas
To get to the Hard Rock Café,
In case they miss the 20 ounce American Hamburger
With an extra side of fries with that
And walking across
The Miro inspired sky
And buses and motorcycles and people weaving in and out
Around each other
Never really touching
Some stop to watch the boy in the horizontal stripped Edwardian bathing suit
Skateboarding agile across the sidewalks
And in and out through traffic
I know I never told you about the boy and how he died
Alone in an opium den with a needle in his arm
That story would have troubled you
Just remember
The sweet smell of the flower sellers on Sunday morning
The overpopulated marketplace and the stink of fresh fish aging on the ice
To where I bought that bottle of Absinthe and Sangre de Toro
Europe’s new roads and highways keep moving the air into trembling heavens Accomplishing with a pen what Franco couldn’t do with an army
The ground swirling and falling through the planet
The Basque mountains keep rumbling with all the angry threats for independence and the sky-swallowing waves rushing
Women topless on motorcycles
Reminding me that marriage can be so-oo-oo sexy
With it’s flash floods of sperm making babies
Zooooaring, zooooming energy
Trying
To buy one of those cutesy hot beautiful trendy tapas
Straight out of the oven in confusion of aggressive Spaniards
Debating old themes of revolution under an onslaught
Of American Tourists in search of McDonalds
They’re so wonderful and - and
You can't get your hands on a proper pizza because
The Italians lost to Real Madrid
4- Nil sparking up a riot outside the stadium
I've lived in New York, seen the Yankees lose
But New York is tame compared to these Picasso inspired firery Spaniards
Hopped up on fine black hashish
And smooth tequila drinks served in cold liter bottles on the beach
Tourists try uprooting them from the earth throwing them into the skyyyyyyyyy the skyyyy the
skyyyyy
the skyyyyy
I love the Spanish sky,
Can I tell you?
When I first saw it, and the segregated prostitutes
I wanted to piss screaming words all over that ever present azure sky,
I wanted to be naked with pink flesh blanketed in that sky
I want to grab Barcelonan sky with both my hands to copulate
And forget that nightly phone call..
Just to say goodnight…. Goodbye
To make me realize in those warm Barcelona nights
The earth will
Surround me
Always
In the coming eternity of nothing. . .
My visions of that Moorish city massively swirling
Around my claustrophobic room
Music deliriously sings from across earthquake centuries
From the apartment across the alley of my hotel room
And I,
A swarming Poet
Open my mouth to hurricanes of mournful color
To face music like a restless Flood
In the rivers of the wandering streets of the Spanish University Quarter
North of China Town just a few blocks from those same streets
That Hemingway and I once stood
To marvel at the smells of habanera and other spices masking peasant cooking
My monsooning words swirling in my neon brain
The only TV channel I can get in English is porn or CNN
Yet, I reach out to that Picasso sky and begin talking to myself
I hear erratic violas and violins painting all my drifting misery. . .
And shoots a highway across to the Amazon rainforest
The moon falls up into a round-about dream
And another
Highway swerves out and crashes through the
North American continent
The George Washington Bridge
Leaps to the Dominicans in Harlem
Dancing salsa
And New York City - Brazil = Spain and Picasso into a big boiling pot
The Poet jumps out hands you the naked body of a screaming poem
Then you
Turn a squirming oozing poem to the erupting sexual music
The women of every hue and race imaginable are all smiling
Like Rosetti nudes I red about in Gardner’s
I get drunk and fall into a burning beautiful hell of millions of
Beer bottles
As Matisse is painting the world naked over the walls on buildings in every city on the planet...

[firefangled]

I guess your detractors have never read Song of Solomon in the bible.

[Moira]

In my opinion, as romantic as a textbook on quantum mechanics being danced on by Richard Simmons.

The day my girlfriend thinks it sexy to refer to my manhood as a "bulbous-headed spike" is the day I get its name changed to "Princess Sophia."

:lol: :lol: :lol: :lol: :lol: :lol: :lol:

[Xtian]

A SIMPLE TOAST

This is to......... your soft tender thin pulsed skin
Soft under every caressing finger tips

This to...... your
Dark eyes
That sometimes
Watch the work of fingers, my fingers
As
I touch you
Gently

Eyes in sweet release
Closing only
When
Pleasure has well I think you know

You have
Such a pretty face, I love to stroke it and touch
Beneath my fingers
Framed in soft curled hair that’s always in your face

I felt bad when you said you dropped the bottle of conditioner
That cost you $50
What a waste

I always wanted to be
The taster of those lovely and often unpainted lips
Which always seems ripe of the picking
Yet my shy hand forstalls the touch and
Sweet shallow kiss that should be mine
Responsive to a sweet tender and oh so gentle kiss

Full round breasts, a bit sml for my usual taste
Youthfully eagerly stiffening in attention
Each firming
To my endless lover’s touch
To your
Soft
Smooth skin
Tender inner thighs
Maybe a little sensitive from recent lasering
Open
To gentle persuasions of touching of the tongue
Delicacies revealed
Hungry

To know more of deep love’s passions
To releases sweet perfumed nectar
That rises from between your thighs

Oh my dear woman, my dear sweet friend
Your heart, like mine is so guarded
And so
So precious
So dangerously guarded
To let our spirits ever soar
When your desire overwhelms you

Oh sweet lady, my sweetest dream lover
My desire, I know
Sometimes consumes me
Beyond a single
Penetrating moment when
We become one
I want mostly
You know what I most want is
To know your heart
And with blacksmithed steel tempered our spirits
So we can fly

Hold me
Touch
Again
In your gentle way
Receive
Love
Desire
Just for you

To be for us to be together, my sweetest dearest friend
For this momentary time we walk this path
To learn joy
To take fond memories
From when we part

[Turk]

This is nothing but ---- Pathetic struggle of ungifted poets who tries to look rebel and different.

[Xtian]

Interesting comment, I guess you missed the entire point but what can i say, Laugh away if you want, its fine, or perhaps you think me crying in my milk.

You say a pathetic struggle of ungifted poets I don't see anything of yours here the poem might be pathetic but at least its here.



The first time, I kiss you
Will be suddenly behind a rise of skyscrapers
Half cool
April breezes full of still old December chill

The sun casting off deep nets of deep succulent shadows ---
Our lips meet, in a burst…your tongue quickly flaring into my mouth,
One hand pulling my hips toward you

The other…. cupping the back of my head stroking my newly shaven scalp

I stand there
Allowing this wonderful event toss into my life… An epiphany of sorts

We shall walk arm in arm, the great bay to our left
Brown grasses, spindle arms of bushes wooing us with wind
Whirled up from the sea … as sudden as any kiss

And we will stop to re-taste that kiss
To hold… for me to ponder,
The deepness of your eyes at sunset

These images curl up in my lap like a favorite cat nudging for attention purring gratefully when acknowledged

I have made of a movie of these dreams in my mind
Which I replay like a favorite DVD
Each time I watch it,
It is richer than the last time… the music more haunting

My clichés of romance more embarrassingly vivid
And I don’t think I care
I have always been afraid of critics who have populated my life
Calling my efforts -- at best-- a mawkish attempt of reality… pantomime of life

My critics are right
Sometimes it’s easier for me to see the film playing in my mind then it is to face evident truths,
It’s easier than calling or writing
Easier but more profoundly isolating
More penetrating then any ecstatic kiss of yours
So….I fight to pick up the phone
WIth

Each press of the buttons, a terrible loveliness
A frightening surge… a breath of fate To grow means calling risking the news
That tomorrow you will be busy

There is no poetry in my pathology
In my neurosis of embracing my feelings, my fantasies
My disease with people… as flat as any prose

My art lies in a series of phone calls in the middle of the night
Not in the spectral productions in my lonely head
Resting behind the unchained door of my apartment—
a portal to freedom yet at the same….. a cell

Yet…you pick up the receiver, your voice ravishing my ear
A tickle reaching out my gut in a surge
In minutes, after the customary pleasantries, you were ready to meet again
To renew old times, especially those delicious talks we have
More delicious than kisses
For it is the nature of your touch that means something

More than the balm of you kisses,
though your kisses cascade as water
tumbling through
the ocean through and through

What I must look to you… now?
Do you smile at the emerging baldness?
The truth of lines stretched more surely with the seasons?
Are you glad?
Am I rushing… MGM… into the arms of a ghost?
Can I? Will I? Should I?
Walk up look up for a time of silence to see what folds out leaf by leaf.
That is too deep
You have come and gone,
As on an early spring afternoon, emerging, peeking out, felt, then…….
gone

I do not know what to feel now
But the reality is so much different…so much more
The passion of our lovemaking could be so profound
Even your musk is so enticing you challenge my limited annals of romance…

I want you but perhaps I wasn’t the one you have been conjuring.

So after days of counting off the seconds, being charming to the world
I hug you goodbye in an uninvited blasting wind
Watch you disappear in the steam of predawn roadway
Whisper to your lingering shadow
But then….
a big bottomed sadness in that goodbye, as every goodbye
Goodbyes being hard for me
Goodbyes seeming so final of an encompassing alone.

Innales are fine for the Philharmonic in time they mean moving out

Ripping the gut shouting for change –for me

They have always shouted and ripped

I have often driven away, the suburban skyline lights spectacular
That quick clasp of warmth quickly stolen by the dawn’s dense coldness
The road clicking under my tires in a metronomic solitude
That breeze, a remnant from the Spring’s winter’s gale, reminding me of that simple Spring kiss
Among the brown grass and spindle arm bushes

[Turk]

There's certain difference between art and pornography.

"As his jocks dropped by
And the condom upon his **** did slide."

What's this? I even don't use this as toilet paper. What kind of mind can call this as art i wonder.

[Riesa]

An artist's sensivity comes from his artistic creation, after every artpiece he produce he realizes more that he's a part of universe and responsible from it".


An artists sensitivity comes from their artistic creation, after every art piece they produce, they realize that they are a part of the universe and responsible for it.

[symphony]

An artist's sensivity comes from his artistic creation, after every artpiece he produce he realizes more that he's a part of universe and responsible from it.
Or it could be fixed with just an "s" following "produce". Plus the "for" instead of "from" and the "the" before "universe". Not sure myself though.

Anyway...
Xtian, I liked that second poem by you (i figured its by you since there were no references to any other poets) but I think there are some lines that may need a bit of reshaping.

[Brigitte]

Wow.... it's getting mighty stuffy in here. =/ Turk most definitely has waaaaaaaaaaay different opinions, but wouldn't want you to get in trouble, Riesa. Seriously, just drop it.

And I, personally, am too uncomfortable to enjoy the erotic poetry in this thread, but that is just me. :lol: I've got no passion.

[ktd222]

every single one of you will never be as gifted a poet as myself. Case closed. So stop arguing.:redface:

[Brigitte]

every single one of you will never be as gifted a poet as myself. Case closed. So stop arguing.:redface:

Hahaha, nice tactic. I like it. ^_^;




May I ask, what emotions arise from erotic poetry? Uhm... aside from a typical response. :blush: Like... do you feel passion, lust, whatwhat?

[RobinHood3000]

Xtian's poems don't seem nearly as bad as the first in the thread. Poems are often meant to capture an emotional state, and I suppose one could argue that "arousal" qualifies. It's not exactly as pure as a sonnet, but it ain't chopped liver, either.

[Riesa]

every single one of you will never be as gifted a poet as myself. Case closed. So stop arguing.:redface:

Wow! I wish I had your confidence. :lol:

To Turk, I apologize for getting all offended by what you seem to mean as a compliment to femininity. It is just very easy to read that signature as offensive. :)

[Bakiryu]

What's the point of erotic poetry anyway, why read what you can just watch on tv?

[Turk]

To Turk, I apologize for getting all offended by what you seem to mean as a compliment to femininity. It is just very easy to read that signature as offensive. :)

No, i actually posted it as a semi joke, not offense; i like jokes which carries truth in it.

[Mortis Anarchy]

Wow! I wish I had your confidence. :lol:

To Turk, I apologize for getting all offended by what you seem to mean as a compliment to femininity. It is just very easy to read that signature as offensive. :)

Yeah...I think I got the same answer from him a couple days ago...It still makes me get a bit edgy at times...:)

[Scheherazade]

Since this thread no longer addressing the OP, it will now be closed.

If anyone would like to discuss the subject further, they can start another thread.