Tuesday, 23 July 2013

Smolt - A Poem

Let me drop my eyes
Aligned, to the edge at the touch of your skin
Where your thick thighs
Descend to where my passions begin

Hinged to the rapturous wait
Along the contours of your exterior meat
Acoustically humming to the tingling
Of sensors awakened below my man-ness
As my eyes near your pleasure’s end

I feel your nails etch gently into my skin

My palms bury your firm posterior
My lips perch in your crotch
Inching in on your labium
My tongue cursorily flick its orifice
Continually: gates of joy flow: a drizzle-drozzle
Wet, we lose our-selves in unguided accuracy


23 July 2013. Ridge

6 comments:

Efo Dela said...

Eish!! Sɛ wa'yi diɛɛ, erotica oh

Nana said...

Hahaha Boss. Enjoy.

ImageNations said...

This is graphic. LOL... It's good for the upcoming reading.

Roxanne said...

Whoa, now! *Tinglies in the no-no area*

Nana said...

Fredua yes o.

Roxanne eii *with thick Ghanaian accent*

Unknown said...

But NY, am yet to be 16, u just defiled my thoughts, lol. The lady who inspired this eehh... *clears throat*

"I would be quite satisfied if my novels (especially the ones i set in the past) did no more than teach my readers that their past - with all its imperfections - was not one long night of savagery from which the first Europeans acting on God's behalf saved them from."
Morning Yet on Creation Day, 1975. Chinua Achebe.

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