Necking

[letterman999]

One boy, one girl. Let necking be thy guide.
The ache for love requires no less. Kissing style
is antidote. Rank and sloppy spit must subside
or else the boys at school will babble and defile
your deliberative craft. All saliva streams,
crude-fashioned from the throat, are best put down
to haste and ignorance. Although erection schemes,
the strength of Levi grip can’t subdue cock's crown--
blueballs perhaps, or groinal discontent. But cop a feel?
That cool, super-kiss summons but a few
to service, and some say the smooch (performed by herds
of pretenders at Drive-In picture shows) can inbue
the ordinary high school boy with a night-of-bliss
beyond itself. "Damn Mindy, stop! Now I've got to piss."


letterman999

 

[PandoraGlitters]

The edge of breath alone defines his mouth
as different from my own apart from this
tongue and pair of lips and teeth, all mine.
Now breathe the kiss to taste the difference.

In his breath I can taste the different books
he's read, the different instruments he's played.
I curl my tongue to cup his history, taste
remembered breasts of other women loved.

In his inhale my difference too is shared.
His tongue presses on mine, making me give
him more of who I am as we become
a new note in the exhale we have lived.

(20 minute sonnet. Sorry if it sucks and yeah no final couplet so sue me. )

 

[Tzara]

http://www.danieldorff.com/images/kiss-lo-res.jpg

A kiss can be a gesture, or a wish
For intimacy, a thing brusque or blessed

Or even open as a wound—distressed,
Uneasy, fretful—placid as dead flesh

Laid upon a lab technician’s desk,
Made ready for dissection. A kiss is risk,

Not of disease as such, but that the rush
Hits just one’s veins, not both, to the distress,

Perhaps, of each in their two differing ways.
I only hope to have sufficient skill

To win at least some modicum of praise
From your half-opened lips. For love begins

(Or ends, if insufficient is your thrill)
With this light brush of skin upon your skin.

 

[champagne1982]

Do- do you remember me?
I was that girl you kissed an afternoon
away with under the bridge.
Remember? I don't remember
your name, I think it was Bill or maybe...
Oh! John! Your name is John!

And even though your name slips
in and out of my memory I remember
that kiss. It was a KISS
that stirrred feelings better left
to adults and not a child, ill-
prepared to understand just what in hell
all that good sensation meant.

Do you remember how I seemed to fit
every curve and puffy nippled softness
against you and how hard, oh my god
how hard you grew and I remember,
I remember that my stomach did flip flops
at the thought of how fucking good
you felt and if it would be alright to fuck you.

Do- do you know that I would have, too.
But we were under the bridge and it rained
and you had to drive back to Toronto
and but for that, you would have been
my first. Instead, I had a different
lover and I wished that he could have made
me feel that kiss like you did. I remember
your kiss, John and yes, I remember you.

 

[GuiltyPleasure]

Barberian's

That swan-like sweep of her long neck
as she turned away to exhale the plume
of smoke, perfect unblemished flesh.
His fingers long to trace the line
down to the shadowed hollow at her collar,
draw her face back to meet his gaze,
lower his lips to hers
but he is frozen across the room.
A sea of self-absorption divides them,
an ocean of possibilities die in a split second.

 

[UnderYourSpell]

I cannot understand her lust
my ears are large my nose is bust,
but something in her melds to me
a sure attraction she can see.
My hand is drawn to hold her breast
nipples aroused and to me pressed
her kisses fervent, don't let me fail
surely the fear of every male.
She will not wait clothes tear and split
as if a raging fire now lit
cannot be quenched, thank God I rise
fulfill those needs between her thighs.

 

[PandoraGlitters]

Whittled some . . .

http://www.danieldorff.com/images/kiss-lo-res.jpg

a thing brusque or blessed . . .
—distressed, placid flesh

Laid upon desk,
. . . . . . . . . kiss is rush
to the distress,

two differing ways.
I only hope

To win
your half-opened lips.

begins

your thrill this
light brush of skin .

 

[Tzara]

Whittled some . . .

Interesting. How about:

a thing brusque or blessed
—this distressed and placid flesh

laid upon my desk,
..............each kiss a rush
to impress

two differing ways.
I only hope

to win
.......your half-opened lips,

spill

....in uneven-tempered thrill this
light brush of skin​

I dunno. Just playing.

It's what I do.

 

[PandoraGlitters]

Playing is a mighty fine thing to do. Better than drugs.