Poets In Love

[ChrisWard]

If anyone wants to join in telling of our fiery love.
Write 6 ten syllable couplets which attach to the following: Have fun.
[CLOSED AFTER FIRST REPLY]

Sweet Meg and I on wings of love did fly;
And travelled swift the nightly shifting sky.
The planet, comets, one and all were ours,
The canopy of night our passion’s bowers.
In her loves garden ,seeds I strove to plant
With gentle word and lusty bestial rant.
My staff of joy she wrapped in her sweet cave
And I, no ounce of self did will to save.
Did night, or week, or year, or life slide past
As Meg and I sailed forth upon my mast?
Oh, answer Meg and here we both shall tell
In couplets fair how ribald love befell.

 

[Maid of Marvels]

An onerous task you offer us here,
Give me some time and I'll answer you, dear.
I'm better at silly than serious,
It's likely I'll sound quite delirious.
But try it I will, I just can't resist
A tryst with a wordly contortionist.
Half of a poem is better than none,
It's an uphill battle, but nearly done.
Don't even say I am wasting my time,
By playing with this instead of your rhyme.
I'll get in the mood by trying this style,
And hope to return in just a short while.

This could be a lot of fun, Chris. I just have to think a bit... (Why does that sound like I was headed for Limerick? )

 

[ChrisWard]

With breath abated I await you now.
Your rhymes, our loving plight all plain to trow.
Our breaths a mingled word which shows our love
To mortals here or thrown 'fore gods above.
We'll write of limbs entwined and bodies wrapped
By lovers mundane - never to be capped,
Of kisses hung on lips so ripe for sin,
Of deep caresses which your entrance win.
How long I cry your fortress to acquire
To move my life from base and worldly mire.
Your swanlike breasts my pillow I will make
Please answer, answer, end this sweet love's ache.

 

[ididitallforthe]

My breasts are as small as my freaky feet
tied beside my head while you beat-beat-beat
down below; dare I even speak aloud
such crass language to such a formal crowd?
It strikes me like cattail in fantasy
that ecstasy includes the scholarly.
There is great need to provide specifics:
great to rhyme and also cum; terrific!
And formal dresses, tight enough, have places
to come undone and stun strangers faces--
But I would choose free verse over structure.
It wins me fast-- and faster means fucking.

 

[ChrisWard]

Thanks "Ididitallforthe" for replying to the thread and for composing such a scintillating poem. But I was looking for one player in the thread and someone had already answered. PM me if you want to get together on a thread and we'll try to work up something. Thanks again.
ChrisWard

 

[Maid of Marvels]

Sweet Meg, a maiden chaste and fair, espied
A tall, dark stranger as he walked beside
The village well. Her water pail withdrawn.
"A drink, fair maid?" he beseeched her anon.
"Take your fill, stranger. And welcome to it."
Dipping a ladle for his benefit.
He smiled and drank. Quenching his eyes on her
Sleek form and shapely breasts, his blood did stir.
The cool liquid doing little to slake
Enkindled flames. The sight of her bespake
Of the maid's hidden treasures. He would seek
Them, caring nothing of her innocence.

 

[ChrisWard]

“Take your fill” the statement left me reeling
To quench a stronger thirst sans depth or ceiling.
This maid the ladle, I the handle wide:
Just this, could slake the need she stirred inside.
Her hand I touched though burnt my anxious skin;
And smiled then peered, her soul’s wealth I would kin
“This act of kindness, drink to one unknown
Will prove a poison to both heart and bone
If you will not entrust me with your name.
Without that, fast death becomes my aim.
Your name and site where we can meet again
This sacred plea I beg you not profane.”