Mimi-Mona Poetry: Crazy Doth Protest too Much, Methinks!

©Crazy Doth Protest too Much, Methinks!

Mimi Wolske

All Rights Reserved

  

Dead frogs on the porch.

It can mean only one thing—

predator has met predator.

C'est what?

Crazy, my cat, was

on the prowl again?

Typically, it is only

dead birds through the cat door;

Crazy gets her Twitterer.

Now, it's a plague of frogs?

See how she walks by them?

Snubs them? Her nose in the air?

Yes, it can mean only one thing.

Crazy doth protest too much, methinks!

(Using the original meaning of "Protest" as used in Hamlet (to vow or declare solemnly) or the current meaning (to deny), Mimi lets you wonder (as the narrator smiles slyly) — was it the cat...or not?)

Mimi-Mona Erotic Poetry: Spinning Bed

©Spinning Bed

Mona Arizona

All Rights Reserved

  

We tend to get carried away—

naked, you open my robe

to appreciate my nudeness,

permitting both of us

to briskly slip into intimacy,

and I'm not sure we'll recover;

I'm not sure I want to recover.

I close my mouth and speak to you in

a hundred different ways.

I sing to the man in my room —

in my nakedness —the man

who is cupping my hills to the light.

Barely an inch apart, our lips

linger and I sigh for the man

about to demand my mouth,

the man whose breath tickles

the tiny hairs near one ear.

My warm, dulcet voice whispers

words of praise and adoration

when the man before me

pulls my nakedness

into his embrace of passion

with promises of untold

pleasures. The fulcrum of

this man's throbbing heat

forces me to moan as it finds

the pulsing heart of my sex.

The substantial erection of the man

in my room tears loud and forceful

screams from my tight throat

when he throws me into the abyss.

I cry out your name, the name

of the only man with the only cock

who is capable of making the

bed spin in my room, of orchestrating

so many melodic sounds from me.

(erotic painting by Lori Klassen)