An Erotic Art Challenge - Poems Only

Feel free to comment in the other thread entitled "An Erotic Art Challenge."

#1

AlwaysHungry


A Mediterranean Ride

Chaste Europa would never, ever consent to
Take a Mediterranean ride upon those
Taurine shoulders, and feel that furnace-breathing,
Rampant muscular beast between her haunches.
Out there, over her head in distant waters,
Far away from her native soil, it was a
Non-consensual act, we all agreed that
Only this could explain it. But her
Puzzling facial expression, well, perhaps it
Seemed ambiguous. I suspect she loved it.

http://www.getty.edu/art/collection...n-of-europa-dutch-1632/?dz=0.2121,0.6386,3.20

(Link is to close-up of Europa. Zoom out for the complete painting.)

#2

greenmountaineer


Pretty Woman

You mind I join you, Sugar Man,
alone at the bar loitering?
It's cold outside, the winter's ice
and no birds sing.

You have a bad day, Sugar Man?
It's Friday, payday, have some fun,
your pockets stuffed with dollar bills
more than Washingtons?

My name is Jane, a working stiff,
well, wink, wink, you know what I mean,
so why not come, my Sugar Man?
Come see about me.


I met a pretty woman once.
She looked an awful lot like you.
Her hair was long, her skin was tight,
red nail polish too.

My heart said she was heaven sent,
my desire hard as a bone;
and though I didn't say word
she made me moan

inside my mind and there she rode
that nothing else saw all night long,
and no one else could up and down
make me moan

as she did me, her nectar sweet
upon my tongue the whole night through.
She made me feel, if just a while,
that love is true.

We sat together in my room,
and there she cried, I wondered why?
She had no money for her child
was her reply.

And there we slept the night away
and there I dream'd--For love of Christ!
the strangest dream I ever dream'd
my entire life.

I saw a ghost that made a moan
without a tongue and then it said,
"That pretty woman took my heart
and then she fled."

And then it opened up its ribs
to show a ghost child made of clay,
and I awoke and found me where
Lady walked away.

And that is why I come back here,
alone and palely loitering,
since she hasn't come back to me
and no birds sing.

http://johannaost.com/955-la-belle-dame-sans-merci

#3

GuiltyPleasure


The Soloist

He must be a great lover,
with his nimble, tender fingers,
a face registering such ecstatic emotion.

the bow caresses throbbing strings
in a long, drawn out sigh,
his eyes close as if feeling
the slow slide into wet warmth.

Head thrown back, neck stretched
in orgasmic tension. Mouth in an O
of surprise, we feel like voyeurs,
witnesses to a private, intense moment.

In faster more passionate
passages his whole body moves
as if driven by desire, sweat,
like lust, glistens on his flesh.

At the finish he collapses,
his instrument left leaning
into him, replete at last.
A cigarette would not be
out of place but cellos
don’t smoke.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GsqdXVr3Zcc

#4

Piscator


Semijazz

The beat quickens here
as we ride the wave
all is possible,
yet after the crest
we return to
where we started.

I have no answer
to your silence
to reply in kind
only feeds the void,
yet my words ring
hollow.

Lost in a minor cord
the beat forgotten
we play alone,
together,
to an empty room.


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lr2ZYTsgCbk

#5

Angeline


Somewhere I Have Never Traveled

Looking down at her,
knowing that water surges and laps,
that the crash is soft
so deep in this fertile sea,
she so salty in all their mouths
ripe and swollen. She is ravaged
it would seem

by monstrous avid eyes,
her tender buttons tugged,
suckled by tentacles and slithering.
She is penetrated, she floats
soundlessly surrounded by words
that tell her ecstasy.

She is expressionless
gripping inhumanity.



Hokusai’s Shunga: The Dream of the Fisherman’s Wife

http://enterjapan.me/fishermans-wife/

#6

greenmountaineer


Modigliani and his Nude in Paris

I am not to be a facsimile of
L'Origine du Monde, n'est-ce pas?
although I have felt its pain.

If not a madonna unclothed,
What am I then, Signore,
your youth in the streets of Rome?

Will my almond eyes and slope of my nose
accentuate the rouge in my lips

and will the length of my neck
draw the eyes of hungry men
or my son to the nipples on my breasts
at midnight in l'arondissement?

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/art...d-story-portrait-s-just-sold-113-million.html

#7

Tzara


Portrait Painted in a Room with No Furniture
After a work by Eric Fischl


She's laid across his lap as casually
as the newspaper he might have opened
to scan at breakfast while

he sipped a macchiato and ate an orange
or some blueberries
with dry toast.

In the painting, it seems
that her body lies there as an afterthought, as if
she were a suit he forgot to pick up

at the Chinese laundry on Grand Street.
Certainly he won't fuck her now,
as he is dressed

and clearly impatient
for the artist to capture this moment
because he has something to sell, downtown.

She needs to dress as well,
at least minimally, for that yoga class, the one
where first they drink some herbal tea

before stretching
their too tight libidos, trying to relax
themselves into something resembling happiness.

#8

Magnetron


Warped Frames of Mind

Resize

make it fit

Warped
is the frame of mind
narrowed with forced perspective

Simple enough is the photograph
featuring a bare naked lady
innocently posed

sharing what God gave

hers to give

Likewise

I am glad to display it

Though her beauty is lost upon you
deemed sexually explicit
BAD
due to her labia showing
shaven smooth clit exposed
in plain view of everyone's knowing

And the cost of dealing with such ignorance?

The threadbare remainder of my patience

A reminder we're still living in Claustroburbia
where erected high into sky
this fence around which keeps
people like you and I apart
when
it comes
to the definition
answer to the question,

What is art?

Apparently
whatever that may be
since the first woman was painted
decorating the granite surface of a cave
should
never
EVER
in a few million years of evolution
involve a particular visible lady part



Reference

#9

GuiltyPleasure


http://media1.picsearch.com/is?LEUNajNX1DEaEecyiLbAS-3Xx0hzgTayVMCbG8ckmPI&height=240

Shell

This tender pink
illusion of softness
smoothly seductive
begging to be touched
explored
penetrated
even lips yearn
to kiss the sheen
vacated of life
it lies half dressed
by weeds and sand
in the shallows
waiting
to be lifted
cleansed
cherished.

#10

Piscator


Chet

The horse is roaring through his veins
and his nerves are all 220 V DC
as he's caught in the rush.

His face impassive, careful
not to drop ash on perfection
his fingers idly diddle the twat
of the broad stretch across his lap
her dark pubic hair belying her blond curls.

Aroused by her growing moisture,
his semi-tumescent dick twitches
under her gyrations, leaking
pre or cum or piss, it doesn't matter.

He only hopes the stain won't show
on his white linen trousers
when the cigarette is finished
and he goes out to play the next set.


http://www.imageweb.ws/media/images/19/boobs/boobs-510492.jpg

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vP02sgYrHsw

#11

Magnetron


Younger Women And Older Girls

Without seeing proof of her age
the more girlish in figure a woman is
then the more womanly in figure a girl can be

Which poses the question
concerning the nude female on display
if I find her nakedness beautiful,
is there something wrong with me?

Leaving you questioning
the young lady having posed nude
If I desire to explore her body now exposed
from every angle possible,
with as many God given senses available,
will I burn in Hell for all Eternity?

Touching you with my eyes
looking at you with my hands
swallowing every ounce of flesh
your budding chest can spare
feeling it collapsing in my throat
listening to your nipples
stiffening against my tongue
and snorting the outline of your
dare I say it, boyish form

In the safe haven of imagination
your years make no difference to me

Society says otherwise

demanding proof of your age
granting permission to shed your clothes
before cameras, men and God
all the while informing us
that once upon a time
younger women were older girls
who magically matured in a single night
so as not to confuse us men

and still we are none the wiser


http://www.nakedaspirations.com/how...nude_women_pencil_sketch_naked_girls_0001.jpg

#12

Seanathon


Vermeer's Mystery

Your shy eyes beckon
a fleeting glance made immortal
gazing across the centuries
like a modern-age Mona Lisa
intimacy captured in a poison palette
white lead and vermilion red
colors out of time circled by
lapis lazuli folds and an indigo glaze
framing those soft madder lake lips
as they part gently and whisper
the secret painted there

https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/d/d7/Meisje_met_de_parel.jpg

#13

UnderYourSpell


Her Glorious Hair
Tiptoeing fingers spark ripples of desire
over and across her nubile nipples,
before caressing onwards and downwards
over the flat expanse that titillates, and it flutters
as he draws even nearer and adds
his teasing tongue,till finally, finally
when she screams for mercy,
he buries his mouth in her glorious hair.
.


http://www.fineartamerica.com/featured/sunkissed-kaho-sold-troy-carney.html

#14

Angeline


Pin Up

Tie me up Daddy.

You know what she wants. Does she
even need to say it? Look at her
eyes smouldering at you perfectly
pert breasts ready to spill, just one
smart slap to that rising derrière
and her blushing nipples are bare.

Go on. Grab her wrists, just a little
rough because damn her eyes speak
volumes of I want you. Take me,
and she says it without a word. You
imagine her lips parted as you bind
the ribbons. Her breath on your neck

is quickening. Please. Whisper into her
ear now, tell her the dirty things you want.
She knows you're a bad boy, hell she loves
bad boys so hurry up, get behind her,
tear off that slip and bend her over,
get you some sweet little rock and roll.



http://leeds-artexhibitionscouk.s3.amazonaws.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/06/Vintage-Burlesque-Pin-Up-Girl-Poster-2-0.jpg

#15

legerdemer


The Model's Stare

The look over her naked shoulder,
a smooth expanse of alabaster skin.
A painter's eye examines ever deeper
while I would hardly know where to begin.

The long and supple spine and velvet skin
invite the gentle touch of fingertips.
And yet that gaze denies the hithering
and holds voyeurs at bay with pouty lips.

What calculus did Ingres make
to paint the brimming passion chilled,
the smothered heat? The cool eyes slake
the yearning first aroused, then stilled.


Grande Odalisque


too many vertebrae?

http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC1079534/

#16

UnderYourSpell


Will you wait for me my Lady to sit astride tonight,
where I wait in adoration and sighed tonight?
.
Unclothed in readiness behold my pride tonight,
I beg your wet, silken haven undenied tonight.
.
If thou will only be my bride until the morn, tonight
what magic to unfold as desire builds inside tonight.
.
This loneliness makes fools of mortals, I chide tonight
when all that could be offered is not untied tonight.
.
Your slave slung by the barren wayside tonight
presses forward for what you replied tonight.
.
........ and I, only I, alone and wanting once more
bows head and knows finally hope died tonight.
.



http://www.amazon.com/Figure-Female...201_img_2?ie=UTF8&refRID=16X9JKHEWM0ZZPPFR0QB

#17

legerdemer


The Violin

A woman's body
played upon by the taut bow
of man is only
half a being: missing from his
view is her own sense of self.


Le Violon d'Ingres

#18

greenmountaineer


The Word for Hunger Sounds Like Femme

Since last I played her like a song
that lured thereafter harbor whores
who drank with me in Martinique
stood Genevieve, I had been told,
whose widow's watch in Normandy
had Beauchamp in her heart and soul,
Trafalgar in her rosary.

I would not risk my life thought I
for Emperor Napoleon,
so off I sailed for fortune where
I'd profit as a buccaneer
until in time baptism rained
torrential as the hurricane
that tore apart our brigantine.

With nothing but the brine to drink
nor victuals I had a dream
last night when came my Genevieve,
a mermaid she who swam the sea
to gain this sliver of a reef
and here to make sweet love with me.

As once pled she, so now I plead
that God to whom I never prayed
might change the heart I once betrayed
while I bemoan the splinters of
a shipwreck with its treasure trove
I'd give the Pope for Genevieve.

http://wallpaper.mob.org/image/devushki-fentezi-rusalki-29117.html



.

#19

Sinseria


Bound in Sin


To you I must confess
The burdens on my chest
And as I bear this cross
To find solace from guilt

My lips have tasted sin
As I have spoken them
Accepted with kisses
The bitter fruit of man

My eyes have looked on sin
With envy and desire
Nights in lust I have spent
Begging to be sired

My hands carry the sin
From his will to my bed
To touch upon my flesh
The silken scarf’s of him

My flesh has consumed sin
Upon and within me
The caustic ruin of pain
In forfeit of myself

My soul accepts the sin
Coveted in my heart
The passion and rapture
In ecstasy of life

To you I must confess
The burdens on my chest
And as I bear this cross
Know, I am bound in sin



https://wearesodroee.files.wordpress.com/2012/09/erotica-9.jpg

#20

GuiltyPleasure


Andromache comforts Hector

Lovingly she lifts away
his battle crusted linen,
palming his furred chest as she
feels him rise against her.
Her lips graze the stripes and scars
of past carnage, now memories
that only he recalls.

In the silence her breath is a sigh,
his a groan as he lies back,
weary of the fight,
eager for love.

She takes him inside her
kneeling astride his muscled thighs,
his knotted strength is heat on her.
Leaning in,
she sweeps her hair aside,
her breasts yearn towards his.

Course hands cover her hips
as he deepens their bond.
Outside the walls
Achilles waits but, for now,
he is hers.

http://media3.picsearch.com/is?tzhoYEV9N4lo1js4DKXH8pbUorxkndKoYxUeKxFDw08&height=224

#21

Tzara


Helga

It is a form of love to kneel, head
turned just so, as if I were too shy
to look back at him inspecting my body,

to expose my every flaw to his skill
in capturing each blemish or blush, to trust
that any future viewer will see

me simply as a woman, no longer young
and never beautiful, but one who gave
herself over to his art, an act more intimate

than even lying back and opening my legs.

On Her Knees by Andrew Wyeth

#22

AlwaysHungry


Standstill

The moment has frozen her heat.
The burnished gleam upon her skin
betrays a fire within, held in check
by some cosmic surge
that caused the clock to cease.
Her frenzied fingers, locked in place,
her furious neurons, interrupted in their race,
her muscles clenched, her world
seized up --
Just look, it's plain to see.
Her rapture halted time.


http://static1.therichestimages.com/cdn/864/648/90/cw/wp-content/uploads/2014/05/Jeju-Korea.jpg

#23

Sinseria


His Grace


Bound
Collared
Veiled from vision
Splayed in pose
Restrained

Exquisite
Raw domination
In the debauchery of senses
Obscured by the rule of control
The fatal potency rapt
In the thrones of his hand

In the screeching cries of your body
The feral taction of his touch
To the edging of your soul
In the absolution of power
Given to the core of sensations
When the world ceases to exist

You are no longer of flesh
No longer bound or restrained
No longer imprisoned by self
You are free as the wind
You are fierce and trembling
Caressing oblivions exhilaration
Ecstasy is your name

Euphoria

A spasm raging in the veins of life
The whimpered breathe of seduction
Bedeviled by his will
And preserved by his grace

http://bdsmcafe.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/02/sue-surprise-for-master.jpg

#24

legerdemer


Entwined

Man supplicates before a woman,
embraces flesh made marble, warmed
by superheated breath.

Lips lost in love, in lust, arms wound
tight, tighter, melt into each other
to share beating hearts and throbs.

What soothe will you caress her with,
bestow that fleeting melding of the soul
beyond which it's impossible to go?

What mere material gift can render
whole the feeling that you're hers
and she is yours?

And, when lost in thought, you mourn
her loss, what memory will bring her back?
The art embodies all of that, and more.


Vertumnus and Pomona