Erotic shadows move in silent ecstasy.
If only walls could speak and tell of what they see.
White lights highlight motions of passion;
The figures on the wall move fluidly,
As if in a coordinated ballet of sensuality.
In rhythmic fashion they move fast, and then slowly;
If only walls could hear the exchanges of intimate whispers
And untamed screams of ecstasy—
Still, they keep long records of unrestricted pleasure
Of lovers in secret diaries.
-
-
It’s never over, even after the last passionate breaths are breathed,
Even after the last words in ecstasy are uninhibitedly screamed;
You linger on me; the taste of you, a constant reminder of intense intimacy.
I inhale you deeply, waiting to exhale, right up until I burst at the seams,
And then again, and again, and again, and again.
I remember the most sensual moments, and then I store them away for later replay;
The canvas of my mind a willing recipient of the beautiful pictures that you paint.
Take me in your rapture and hold me there for an eternity,
Let me dwell in unfettered sensuality and contemplate your mystery.
The scent of your perfume heightens my senses when you kiss me,
And euphoria takes over in primal carnality.
Blue silk falls away from your shimmering body so easily;
Your long curls, become waterfalls over erotic contours.
I must please you. Every inch of your body must be accounted for.
-
She dances to expel the pain,
her fingers moving in motion
through the air delicately.
Though her heart aches, she will not break;
There is a wondrous beauty
in her fragility.
-
In euphoric tones I hear you speak to me;
In intimate whispers you let go,
And reveal your long hidden intricacies.
In your loud passionate release,
You cannot lie.
Your intensity immerses me in the depths of you.
I bathe in the sounds of your ecstasy.
I Listen intently, to capture the rare pieces of you;
My souls screams.You intrigue me in mystery.
I adore you in wonderful simplicity;
Like when your hair is pulled up as you lather yourself gracefully,
Or how your blue silk robe seductively moves against your body.
In my love for you, I give you all that is within me.
The scent of your perfume is floral and heavenly.
To capture your essence, I kiss you,
And hold onto you tightly. -
Oh the emotions that surface
when affectionate fingers
caress still faces in memorable pictures.
Scented candles are lit; tears run after heartfelt kisses.
She lies down, her hair sprawled on white linen in darkness.
If only the dead could hear beautiful utterances
and loving whispers. -
2 AM eyes look up and down the block; only the fire from a glass pipe can be seen. After the last inhale, the blue flame disappears like magic. Like vampires they retreat into pitch darkness. High rise buildings tower over women of the night with torn stockings. The bitter cold outside combined with strong cigarette smoke, causes redness of the eyes. An old man drinks a bottle of beer, and in-between his raspy lament he cries. The 2 train stops and continues on its way to 149th street. The homeless seek warmth in building hallways so they can sleep. Children of the night in crowded bedrooms from tiny eyes peep. Snow starts to fall and covers all like a white shawl. Heroin addicts inject black tar that would make the devil crawl. Empty buses roll down White Plains road with lights off in ghostlike form. A hole–in–the–wall bar offers a strange silence with unfriendly faces that are listless. The darkness stalks from under the subway overpass; the sound of old train tracks are haunting. Snow keeps falling.
Large rats move in the shadows undeterred and stake their claim. A woman talks to herself loudly, because she is in pain. The wind that blows on the train platforms chills the bones; it is cold. Tired eyes cast off the thousand yard star. Eyes gaze at the lights of an approaching train and are caught in the glare. The gritty winters are harsh, and even the poor find a way to have at least one decent coat to wear. The snow that falls over the Bronx River with bordering trees, makes it look like a winter wonderland. A white pigeon sits atop of an old Lower Manhattan street light. Lady Liberty stands still over New York Harbor with a torch in her hand.
-
The Crow takes the stage and caws;
After an uneasy silence within a long pause,
The crowd erupts with shouts of adulation
And thunderous applause.
-
The scent of her is so familiar;
A particularly wonderful French perfume
Gracefully sprayed over a matching vintage dusting powder.
Bath oils cause her soft skin to shimmer;
A deep inhale.
A passionate kiss.
Sweet words are spoken from passionate lips.
A seductive whisper;
The heart beats faster.
Another kiss,
Then 3 AM euphoria. -
Through subtle looks of longing I hold on to you.
Through delicate movements, I approach you in measured passion.
The tones of you are like vast fields of fuchsia flowers
Accented with white gardenias.
On lush green pastures heaven’s rain falls in ultramarine blue.
The balance of our intimacy is a precise ballet,
With beautiful silk ribbons and lace embroidery;
The silhouette of your neck captures the essence of your femininity.
Chandelier earrings compliment your dress like large raindrops
That fall gracefully over the tall lights of New York City.
I fall; I fall without inhibitions, releasing all my love to you, willingly.
I fall without fear, because I know the depths of you will save me.
In your immersion, the waves of you wash over me.
I give to you every part of me, yet I am not empty,
For it is your love that … -
You are loved.
You are beautiful flowers
arrayed in different colors.You are precious.
You are worth more than beryl,
gold, and diamonds.You are priceless.
The light in you, shines brightly.
You are like the moon in the sky
that shines nightly.Though you may not have many gifts this year,
or any at all, remember in your heart there is a song;
remember, you might shed tears and be sad,
but it will not last long.You are not less than, you are more than
you can ever imagine.Always stand tall, even in the face
of cruel whispers and mockery
from those with more material possessions.The angels look upon you.
You are heaven’s passion.
— Merry Christmas
Intimate Compositions 