Pigalle

Steaming like an oven-fresh tart,
lying there, waiting, legs apart,
Gitanes and absinth on your breath,
your fleshy serpent ambassador
flickering a Cancan over ruby lipstick,
moistening teeth white with lust

Your half-mast gaze on me,
lush lashes fanning leisurely
your pair of gleaming coals;
your husky moans and groans
lick my ears, your throaty whispers
grow staccato, oh yeah, big boy

Sensual, lavish, rose scented:
your silhouette sashays
on stained velvet, curbs and points,
scarlet-nailed fingers circle around
the grotto of heaven and trade,

Ooh, yeah, a well learned rattle
to increase the rhythm,
harder, faster, come on,
until the masks shatter
to a last grimace

that sets us free at last
and throws us back out,
one poorer, one richer,
into the rain-splashed streets
of Paris by night

A tad over-written Dieter. I'd trim it like this:

"Steaming like an oven-fresh tart,
lying there, waiting, legs apart,
Gitanes and absinth on your breath,
your ambassador flicks a Cancan
over teeth and lipstick
glistening with lust

Your half-mast gaze on me,
lashes fanning gleaming coals;
your throaty whispers lick my ears,
your husky moans and groans
staccato, oh yeah, big boy

Sensual, lavish, rose scented:
your silhouette sashays
on the curb in stained velvet
and scarlet-nailed fingers circle
the grotto of heaven's trade."

I'd leave the rest alone.

Lines I particularly liked: "Steaming like an oven-fresh tart" and "your half-mast gaze on me" classic!

Live and be well - H

Hawkman, "a tad over-written" is a perfectly nice little piece of understatement. I've plain got carried away... by my fertile imagination, I guess. The difficulty, for a guy like me, to write about the attraction of female flesh, no doubt ;-)) But you liked the same lines I'm rather fond of, too; and your re-write keeps the shady-steamy atmosphere, without my verbal-verbose "climaxing". Thanks for always being such a steady & precious help!

your imagination IS sure fertile, though these days things tend to happen more Rue Saint Denis, Paris new trade centre... Pigalle is preserved for tourists mostly.

I loved how you let yourself be carried away and though a bit of trimming does but good to your poem, I also like it as it is, colourful, dark, uncontrolled - "plain carried away"!:smile5:

You're welcome Dieter. 30 years ago Pig Alley was like this. Crumbling render on neglected walls, cobbles missing from the streets, and shadowy presences of dubious charm, lurking in doorways. Another line I forgot to mention I liked, "One poorer, one richer..." Resonant of the marriage service and neatly inverted. Good stuff.


Live and be well - H

This one is almost too hot for your ol' auntie to handle, the same blushing reaction yours fooly had to Hawkman's recent verse about the stocking tops.

I've never been to Paris (not even Paris, Texas) but your description of pig alle is evocative. Can't say I identfy the description of the lady herself. Whenever I read praises of outward beauty, I feel a bit dowdy by comparison.

I do wonder if the exaltation is a bit over the top? Meanwhile,see if you can find Lawrence Durrell's notoriously lurid characterization of D.H. Lawrence.

PS--(It's not in the Google machine. Maybe 'cause of the censorable word.)