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CHANDRA'S WOOD
An erotic poem

 

 

The Autumn wood has golden grace,

As we walk, seeing each other's face,

Reflected in the beauty around.

Though a warm Sun removes any chill,

The warmth from entwined hands,

Would melt the ice of Hyborean glaciers.

The path dips and turns,

By fragrant trees of fir.

And there to a dell, by a river,

Lit by orange star and radiant bliss,

We sit and laze, and there we kiss.

And while the trees sing their whispering grace,

Eyes flash, fingers caress, and hearts race.

The Lady rises, teasing smiles,

As like a diamond, she removes the silken wrapping.

Dark hair as a midnight ocean,

Eyes of enchanting, welcoming grace,

Lips as the colour of a secret mine's glittering jet,

Skin made from a glacial ice and honey.

Her lover follows her entreaties,

And they are sky clad,

And the world no longer exists.

She laughs,

And toys with the wild hair on his broad chest.

His hand glides over smooth neck,

The pulse beating fast,

And to the slope of a breast,

More wonderous shaped,

Than any work of man,

Crowned with crimson,

That reaches out,

To touch that welcome hand.

Enfolding one another, first they kiss,

And then around the the entire world turns.

Hot breaths and the a lip's caress,

He groans in passion,

His eyes now set on the rose of love,

It's sweet, precious dew,

Thick with the scent of wondrous desire.

All senses gone as she engulfs him,

He seeks the rose's bud....

Passion like molten gold,

Joins them in a ring.

A cool breeze plays a tingle,

On the Lady's rising, curving back.

They part before they lose themselves,

But only to join in wonderous harmony.

With a laughing smile, she srtaddles him,

Imprisoning him between her glistening thighs.

Soft movements, and like the setting Sun,

The Lady settles onto the rugged mountain,

Cries escape both their lips,

Then, her hair flowing across the curved peaks

Of her feminine grace, she moves.

The rising and dips as she pleasures them both,

The curl and and thrust of his hips....

Souls float, she slows, each joining an eternity,

Each parting a century.

Their bodies glisten with the water of life,

Pouring from their skin, as it too,

Wants to be free to mingle with the other....

Sounds of no language from both,

Though words of love and passion,

Occassionally escape their lips.

At last too much, he can stand it no more,

Over foxgloves they roll.

As a woman she opens,

As a man he gives.

No time for subtle pleasures,

Now only their roaring, aching,

Yearning, desire burns.

She signals her need, sucking,

Biting his throat and shoulders,

Clawing, dragging,

At his labouring back.

He is agonized by her desire,

And his own.

They hurl themselves together,

And their mingled screams,

And cries awake the forest,

Together in perfection,

They have no shame,

Beyond all caring...

When the world begins to turn,

Once more,

He kisses her eyes,

The windows of her soul,

Where she is, where he is.

Dozing they embrace,

Until the skies darken,

And the dance begins again....



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All original art, writing on this site, copyright of Steven James, "Silverblade the Enchanter" ©2012