Showing posts with label erotic poetry by Mimi Wolske. Show all posts
Showing posts with label erotic poetry by Mimi Wolske. Show all posts

Monday, September 28, 2015

Mimi - Mona Erotic Poetry: Our Harmless Secret



©Our Harmless Secret

Love’s echo trails behind my footsteps
as I race up the stairs two at a time,
perhaps lacking a little finesse
and a sparkling Ginger Rogers’ dress.
Will you be too enraptured
by the sight of me as you wet
those luscious lips ravenously
and trace the paltry flesh
of my naked shoulder with those
sultry eyes and telling grin, my Fred Astaire?
What we’ll remember in the light
of morning will be our harmless secret.

by Mimi Wolske
All Rights Reserved

Sunday, July 19, 2015

Mimi-Mona Poetry: Starry, Starry Night



Starry, Starry Night
Mimi Wolske
All Rights Reserved


Sitting
naked,
spotted by only
the light
of the stars,
counting
kisses
I remember
from you,
and
thanking God
I'm not
doing so
on falling stars.

Are you
entranced?

Would a shower
entice you
to appear?



Tuesday, April 7, 2015

Mimi-Mona Erotic Poetry: Untitled



©Untitled
Mimi Wolske
All Rights Reserved

Restless, she dove into that beckoning pond
That some find deep in the sunny woodland;
Dove twice into depths of which she was fond.

A young girl, in her innocence donned,
Shied ever closer fore being cautioned;
Restless, she dove into that beckoning pond.

Liking the company of those who fawned
Over her with a knowledge well burgeoned,
Dove twice into depths of which she was fond.

Understanding of the meaning now dawned.
She laughed, but back to the woods she hastened;
Restless, she dove into that beckoning pond.

Her parents cried, "What has that water spawned?"
She returned to the woods where she'd been ruined,
Dove twice into depths of which she was fond.

Lured by the lapping waves, she made a bond
And stayed close to the pool that had beckoned.
Restless, she dove into that beckoning pond;
Dove twice into depths of which she was fond.




(the fallen angel touches water by diceglia)

Saturday, July 5, 2014

Mimi-Mona's Erotic Poetry: DIRTY



©Dirty

Mimi Wolske
Mimi Wolske - Mona Arizona™
July 2014 - All Rights Reserved


You make me love being dirty
not just words or deeds —
well, yes, I want those, too —
But I want to be the dirty
you want to go out and spend
every day with, the dirty
you want to plant life into
and watch it grow, the dirty
that gets under your nails
and you don't want to wash out
Because it defines who you are
and what I mean to you
It announces proudly that you
were with me and I filled
your days from the soles of
your feet to the sweat on your brow
It's the way poets express it with words
knowing you will feel what they say
It's the way an artist paints so
that lump in your throat
becomes a gasp of awe
The way a musician holds those notes
until his breath becomes so
weak the note fades away
but you're still clinging to it
It's the way a dancer performs
and you become the beat of each leap
It's the way all of them
create beauty that haunts
your thoughts until you
are driven back to me
You know me so well, well enough
to know I'm not just saying
I'll be here for you
I will be here and I will be
what you want to caress
and fondle and bathe
with love, what you want to eat
sun up, sun down, and midnight snack
I will be here for you
when you work so hard
to help me produce everything
your knees can't stay
bent a moment longer
your hands cannot find
purchase with me
and your back begins
to ache from being
arched forward in
hours of expressed love
Let me kiss you —
I want to kiss your toes
your knees and your fingertips
I want to kiss away
the pain in your back
so you'll understand
I mean it when I say
I'll be here for you —
dirty as the first time
your toys plowed into me —
dirty as the first time
your eyes craved my fruits —
dirty as the first time
you tossed away the toys
and got on your
hands and knees and
molded me the way of
your heart's desire
and later, the way you
nibbled at my fruits
like ant with a purpose
wanting the best
I had to offer
selfishly wanting all
I had to give
Standing over me
dominating
in control
and I submit willingly
to the owner of
all I have to give
of all I am
Still, believe me,
I am here for you.
Your Garden

Sunday, February 9, 2014

POETRY - EROTIC

Erotic Dance

Copyright © Mimi Wolske 2012
All Rights Reserved
Mimi Wolske – Mona Arizona™



 He wraps her in a blanket
Dances her around
In a horizontal dance that
Is nothing if not profound

Feelings born of flame
As he gazes into emerald orbs
‘Tis her lust he hopes to reclaim
Her cries in his mouth he absorbs

A dancer, covered eyes,
Restrained arms
Legs spread, wide are her thighs,
He’s drawn by all those charms

Toes on pointe, in a chair
He knows she sits waiting
For that moment she can share
His breath when he’s penetrating

Posted 23rd March 2012 by Mimi

Intellectual Property Rights: © 1999 - 2014 Mimi Wolske-Mona Arizona™. All rights reserved.

You may contact me concerning permissions via email. This copyright notice overrides, negates, and renders void any alleged copyright or license claimed by any person or entity, specifically including but not limited to any claim of right or license by any individual, group of individuals, companies and corporations, or web hosting service, except when I have transferred such rights with a signed writing that complies with the requirements for transferring the entire copyright as specified in Title 17 of the United States Code. This includes, but is not limited to, translation or other creation of derivative works, use in advertising or other publicity materials without prior authorization in writing, or any other non-private use that falls outside the fair use exception specified in Title 17 of the United States Code.

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Saturday, February 1, 2014

POETRY - EROTIC: FRIENDLY FIRE UNDER PRESSURE



FRIENDLY FIRE UNDER PRESSURE
©Mimi Wolske, January 2014
All Rights Reserved
(art by Orla Whelan)

Touching herself in the mirror
She enjoys his dicktation and
Seeing the battle of the bulge
In his pants with prospects of
Friendly fire under pressure
Two right hands cling to his slippery slopes
One tied behind her back
With love and with sacrifice
No one speaks while dancing
Bodies tremble
Fingers become travelers
Stepping into the labyrinth
Meeting the curve and angles of
Latitude and longitude
A map in two different hands
The shell is finally home
Helmet and both guns sliding in
Like a sacrificing soldier
The sea recedes in an all-night vigil
Heart and fingers beat
The flute empties its notes
Mountains rise breathing
Shimmering crevices cool
The drying river weaves a pattern
Snaking through the bush
The flute shrinks in warm perfume
Two shriveled sisters soften atop their hills