Eroticism

[NivKay]

I love her because she walks away from me, leaves me for another, delights others’ eyes. I long for her more, crave for the sight of her, any opportunity to catch a glimpse, taste the elixir, catch the lightning, so I could say to myself, I felt her, I took the fire from the gods.

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I think I know what you’re saying. The absence fuels the longing!

 

[NivKay]

Today, I am feeling brittle, in need of being wrapped, kept, held. Perhaps it’s the overcast sky, the soft gloom of an a cloudy afternoon, but I feel like crying, of being swept away by something, someone, annihilated, in some strange paradoxical desire for negation. If someone grabbed my wrist now and pulled me into darkness, I would follow.

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Such days are lonely ones aren’t they? Interminable and lonely. I won’t say it will get better. You already know this. But I hold you in my mind in simpatico

 

[NivKay]

How evocative. Your words are quite beautiful, rapturous, even? The idea of a stranger and the protracted dance of restraint before the leap outside, all this is what this thread has been about- the sublime distance between desire and consummation, the liminal spaces. I live your writing, and I love you for being here.

I love all of you for being here!

We love being here!

 

[femboitessa]

Oh my...I think this must be the most goosebumpy thread!

 

[softbird]

Oh my...I think this must be the most goosebumpy thread!

It’s very sweet of you to say.. I’m sure there are other threads like this one!

 

[softbird]

Such days are lonely ones aren’t they? Interminable and lonely. I won’t say it will get better. You already know this. But I hold you in my mind in simpatico

 

[softbird]

“On moonless nights, her keeper lets her out into the garden. This garden, an exceedingly sombre place, bears a strong resemblance to a burial ground and all the roses her dead mother planted have grown up into a huge, spiked wall that incarcerates her in the castle of her inheritance. When the back door opens, the Countess will sniff the air and howl. She drops, now, on all fours. Crouching, quivering, she catches the scent of her prey. Delicious crunch of the fragile bones of rabbits and small, furry things she pursues with fleet, four-footed speed; she will creep home, whimpering, with blood smeared on her cheeks. She pours water from the ewer in her bedroom into the bowl, she washes her face with the wincing, fastidious gestures of a cat.

The voracious margin of huntress’s nights in the gloomy garden, crouch and pounce, surrounds her habitual tormented somnambulism, her life or imitation of life. The eyes of this nocturnal creature enlarge and glow. All claws and teeth, she strikes, she gorges; but nothing can console her for the ghastliness of her condition, nothing. She resorts to the magic comfort of the Tarot pack and shuffles the cards, lays them out, reads them, gathers them up with a sigh, shuffles them again, constantly constructing hypotheses about a future which is irreversible.” - From Lady of the House of Love, Angela Carter.

 

[femboitessa]

“On moonless nights, her keeper lets her out into the garden. This garden, an exceedingly sombre place, bears a strong resemblance to a burial ground and all the roses her dead mother planted have grown up into a huge, spiked wall that incarcerates her in the castle of her inheritance. When the back door opens, the Countess will sniff the air and howl. She drops, now, on all fours. Crouching, quivering, she catches the scent of her prey. Delicious crunch of the fragile bones of rabbits and small, furry things she pursues with fleet, four-footed speed; she will creep home, whimpering, with blood smeared on her cheeks. She pours water from the ewer in her bedroom into the bowl, she washes her face with the wincing, fastidious gestures of a cat.

The voracious margin of huntress’s nights in the gloomy garden, crouch and pounce, surrounds her habitual tormented somnambulism, her life or imitation of life. The eyes of this nocturnal creature enlarge and glow. All claws and teeth, she strikes, she gorges; but nothing can console her for the ghastliness of her condition, nothing. She resorts to the magic comfort of the Tarot pack and shuffles the cards, lays them out, reads them, gathers them up with a sigh, shuffles them again, constantly constructing hypotheses about a future which is irreversible.” - From Lady of the House of Love, Angela Carter.

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Ok you can stop hurting me with all this beauty now!

 

[Coconutty70]

Just to make it up to @softbird for the more clumsy images earlier. Maybe these will make amends.

Bobs! They’re so gorgeous! For many reasons, mostly apparent in these pictures… other reasons more subtle or personal. But aren’t they just utterly beautiful?

 

[Coconutty70]

For something said.
x

 

[Coconutty70]

So… I’m going for three posts in a row… do I get a hat trick?

Dodie. You know how I adore musical women. Oh my gosh, there are no words to describe how absolutely lovely Dodie is (generally, but in this video especially - I’m sure you’ll get straight away why this arrives here). I dare you to watch the last thirty seconds without totally melting!

 

[Pad_Foot]

He takes good pictures

He has a lovely model

 

[Pad_Foot]

It’s very sweet of you to say.. I’m sure there are other threads like this one!

Hardly!
Your words and choice of images.
Just scroll in awe at your eye and eloquence in description.

 

[softbird]

So… I’m going for three posts in a row… do I get a hat trick?

Dodie. You know how I adore musical women. Oh my gosh, there are no words to describe how absolutely lovely Dodie is (generally, but in this video especially - I’m sure you’ll get straight away why this arrives here). I dare you to watch the last thirty seconds without totally melting!

I didn’t just melt. I cried. I’m crying now..

 

[softbird]

Hardly!
Your words and choice of images.
Just scroll in awe at your eye and eloquence in description.

 

[softbird]

Just to make it up to @softbird for the more clumsy images earlier. Maybe these will make amends.

Bobs! They’re so gorgeous! For many reasons, mostly apparent in these pictures… other reasons more subtle or personal. But aren’t they just utterly beautiful?

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To be clear, you were not expected to make amends. But, bobs are the most beautiful things. I am a very ardent fan of the Bob. I swear by it. You have redeemed yourself!

 

[softbird]

For something said.
x

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Thank you .. thank you…xx

 

[sunset_dreaming]

Not to derail any mood formed in here but just sometimes EDM can strike that balance between making you move and making you sway.

Rufus Du Sol’s vocalist has that ability to drift you between both.
(plus I am biased as I have this on pink vinyl )

 

[softbird]

Not to derail any mood formed in here but just sometimes EDM can strike that balance between making you move and making you sway.

Rufus Du Sol’s vocalist has that ability to drift you between both.
(plus I am biased as I have this on pink vinyl )

I thought it began quite beautifully, but as it got up-tempoed, I felt the sensuality of the opening seemed to dissipate, but oh my the visuals though...the visuals!!

 

[softbird]

We've talked about the bobs, and I for one am partial to them, you may have noticed. But unruly, wild, exuberant hair can only be carried by a special woman. She embodies the vastness of Gaia, the raw ferocity of a Kali, the dark unreachability of an Isis. How can such polar axes converge in one being? yet, there are women who walk among us, who exude such grace, one would think they are the embodiments of Thomistic hylopmorphsm.


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[femboitessa]

We've talked about the bobs, and I for one am partial to them, you may have noticed. But unruly, wild, exuberant hair can only be carried by a special woman. She embodies the vastness of Gaia, the raw ferocity of a Kali, the dark unreachability of an Isis. How can such polar axes converge in one being? yet, there are women who walk among us, who exude such grace, one would think they are the embodiments of Thomistic hylopmorphsm.
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You make everything so beautiful. Your words, your mind, your images..

 

[femboitessa]

For something said.
x

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So soft!!!

 

[softbird]

You make everything so beautiful. Your words, your mind, your images..

You’re too sweet!

 

[Coconutty70]

Release, by Poppy Ackroyd.

This came on in the car today, as I pulled up and parked. It was hidden away on a playlist. I sat and listened, watching the rain fall on the windscreen.

It is the beauty of watching cherry blossoms released from the tree, blowing across our path and getting caught in your hair as you dance.

It is the dandelion seeds, dancing after being blown away from the soft globe of their home, while you ask if the person you desire loves you.

It is the balooning feeling of breathing in, more than breathing out, as you walk up to someone you adore, and releasing your breath in acceptance as they smile at you and gather your hands into theirs.

It is the returning hands and lips of a lover who has been gone for too long.

It is being held and crying deeply into the shoulder of a gentle soulmate.

It is the kiss that has been locked inside of you for years and finally released by someone you hope you will fall in love with.

It is getting so lost in conversation with someone you admire, as you drive them home, that you drive past their street and laugh knowingly at yourselves together.

It is stepping outside from a place of hurt, and feeling the rain against your cheeks, disguising your tears from the sky.

It is discovering that you are loved more than you thought you were.

It is standing on the shingle, with outstretched arms, exclaiming your pain to the sea, so that her ebbing tide might take it away from you.

It is an outpouring of sentiment after being moved beyond your stillness.

It is being touched by your lover in a way which makes your soul spill out of you in a shuddering, passionate, vociferous climax.

It is finding your voice when you thought it was lost, and singing your heart out.

It is the feeling of radiance after telling someone you cherish that you think they are beautiful.

It’s all of these things, my beautiful, erotic friends.

 

[softbird]

Release, by Poppy Ackroyd.

This came on in the car today, as I pulled up and parked. It was hidden away on a playlist. I sat and listened, watching the rain fall on the windscreen.

It is the beauty of watching cherry blossoms released from the tree, blowing across our path and getting caught in your hair as you dance.

It is the dandelion seeds, dancing after being blown away from the soft globe of their home, while you ask if the person you desire loves you.

It is the balooning feeling of breathing in, more than breathing out, as you walk up to someone you adore, and releasing your breath in acceptance as they smile at you and gather your hands into theirs.

It is the returning hands and lips of a lover who has been gone for too long.

It is being held and crying deeply into the shoulder of a gentle soulmate.

It is the kiss that has been locked inside of you for years and finally released by someone you hope you will fall in love with.

It is getting so lost in conversation with someone you admire, as you drive them home, that you drive past their street and laugh knowingly at yourselves together.

It is stepping outside from a place of hurt, and feeling the rain against your cheeks, disguising your tears from the sky.

It is discovering that you are loved more than you thought you were.

It is standing on the shingle, with outstretched arms, exclaiming your pain to the sea, so that her ebbing tide might take it away from you.

It is an outpouring of sentiment after being moved beyond your stillness.

It is being touched by your lover in a way which makes your soul spill out of you in a shuddering, passionate, vociferous climax.

It is finding your voice when you thought it was lost, and singing your heart out.

It is the feeling of radiance after telling someone you cherish that you think they are beautiful.

It’s all of these things, my beautiful, erotic friends.

This is a poem. It is a poem.. thank you for this flinging of your soul upon the gloom xx