When your feet
are dragging on the pavement
and your rattling kettle
whistles
boils over
with hot
harrowed
liquid
steam
Jump on the mole-skin saddle
of your red haired steed
and ride the mother ship west
up to the gossamer sinewy yonder
wheels turning
dinner's burning
Oh please murmur
sweet nothings
to me
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5 comments:
Ahem.
that poem is just plain lewd
a lil' hot around me collar
a playful word romp.
Great finale!
heh heh.
you think THAT's lewd? i was recently listening to this captain goldstar chap-- he has a line where he sings...
"she's so full of herself
i have to fill her up
with what's
inside of me."
now THAT's lewd. hee hee.
very good poem. sexy.
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