Do Trees Snore?
.
As freezing snow encapsulates and smothers
the dropped dying leaves of Autumn's gaiety,
trees gather their bark overcoats tightly in,
protecting sap and rings from Winter's thrall,
and as ramblers walk the woodland rides
is that gentle snore they hear, the waiting trees
or just a nocturnal Badger at his daytime rest?
.
.
A woodland ride is a linear trackway designed for access.

 

The Tree


as i was walking round one day
this thing in front began to sway,
twas big and old , gnarled and rent
limbs askew , broken and bent
but scented flower and beauty be
she is my love, my love the tree

 

I've started an Erotic short stories thread, hope you'll visit and enjoy........ and comment!
https://forum.xnxx.com/threads/the-erotic-short-stories-thread.563864/

 

What they undertook to do
They brought to pass
All's a drop of dew
Upon a blade of grass

WBY

 

Italian Sonnet

Oftimes now whenever I should fall asleep,
I dream of you and how our youth was spent
chasing rainbows it seems was our intent,
making memories that were only ours to keep.

But death's dark hallows now about you creep
and scalding tears my only bitter love's lament,
as from my loving arms my aching heart is rent.
I can't follow you through ragged crags so steep.

If you should travel thus so far away from me
and even adoration can't heed my plaintive call,
only one place can keep you close it seems.

There is a place where together we are free
I'll find you whatever now upon us shall befall.
Your love and mine each night within my dreams.

 

Take a line (or two) from a famous poem and add your own ending.
.
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
You'll make the perfect troll on Facebook
none may accuse you of having the common touch.
.
.
.
To be or not to be
that's procrastination.
.
.
.
I thought that I should never see
a sight so lovely as a man upon his knees.
.
.
.
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May;
Her mother’s off to buy a bra today.

 

I will live in Ringsend
With a red-headed whore,
And the fan-light gone in
Where it lights the hall-door;
And listen each night
For her querulous shout,
As at last she streels in
And the pubs empty out.
To soothe that wild breast
With my old-fangled songs,
Till she feels it redressed
From inordinate wrongs,
Imagined, outrageous,
Preposterous wrongs,
Till peace at last comes,
Shall be all I will do,
Where the little lamp blooms
Like a rose in the stew;
And up the back-garden
The sound comes to me
Of the lapsing, unsoilable,
Whispering sea.

Oliver St.John Gogarty

 

An Italian Sonnet

Betrayal of trust, this lost soul lies bleeding
with scars that may never ever truly heal.
Hurt bitter tears that made my senses reel,
he doesn't realise, just carries on unheeding.
.
Insecurities already rife, old bruises feeding,
lost, but terrified to tell you how I now feel,
you still don't realise what you did, I conceal
the shattered joy, left only battered, needing.
.
To think it's come to this and still I can't tell you,
my precious you, just how you've killed my trust.
Vulnerability what I feared, made to feel small.
.
I love you still, for always, my whole life through,
should I have walked away as the betrayed must,
wondering will withheld love yet be my downfall?

 

Her breast soft white,
where she held him nuzzling to suckle
at a nipple erect with longing from
his hardness pressed against her thigh.
Theirs were stolen moments
magnifying a need too strong to forbid,
yet still he teased, his tongue between her lips
and a wandering finger tip entered
her most intimate of places
until her dam swelled, burst
and in a moment's inattention
she threw him on his back,
impaling herself, wanton and wanting.
"Oh my love, my love, heaven must be here
and you are my salvation."

 

He laid her on his silken sheets
desire in his eyes,
her trepidation turned to lust
his tongue between her thighs.

"Oh Master" cried she, virgin still,
"How do you thrill me so?
"Your tongue tip enters now my butt,
why do you stoop so low?"

But answer none, so wet was she,
he spread her with his dong
and with a shriek her wall was breached
he had no sense of wrong.

She fitted like a velvet glove
each thrust brought forth a moan,
till boiling balls exploded there,
her ass was overthrown.

 

He's everything to me, yet not enough
to banish insecurities of being unlovable.
The seeds planted over half a century ago,
still lead me into dark dungeon encounters
where ironically sex is harsh and nothing
to do with love, but does have the kick
of being wanted, if only for the whip crack
were taboo meets reality and at least
the orgasmic, adrenaline rush pain is real.

 

A list poem
.
I like sunshine
also rain
especially in bed
sleep's refrain.
I like thunder,
lightning too.
those loud crashes
make me oooooo!
Only in choc
do I like mint,
sauce on lamb chops
makes me squint.
I love music,
all sorts mind,
but very often
love songs I find
beckon irresistibly
because it's true,
I love them
and I love you.

 

Am I willing to take that chance?
To give into your seductive tone?
Let you touch my body with soft slow strokes.
Submitting myself to an experience
that could be my deepest intimate moment.
You do not rule with 'should nots' or 'cannots',
but rule you most certainly do, so let's be discretely
devoted while your voice gives me the chills.
A sex god willing to pleasure his goddess
behind close doors.

 

A poetry lady in Britain
Confessed on a forum she's smitten
To profess her love
Or interest thereof
She uses bizarre words like bitten.

(Just had some fun with this, it had to rhyme, I made it up.).

 

As I was walking through the wood,
I shit myself.
I knew I would.
I cried for help but no one came.
So I shit myself again

 

A Rugby song @Mostondave?

 

Don't know my dad taught me when I was about 6

 

In a world of everything for a tan,
hers is flawless white alabaster,
and as he passes a thumb over
each soaped erect pink nipple,
she sighs, lying waiting amongst
the bubbles for his hands to seek out
each intimate orifice, to cleanse
for his waiting tongue to later delve
deeply, as her body rises to meet him,
until their dance of writhing limbs
proclaims passion as only lovers can.

 

i walked upon a sandy shore
where foot had never trod before
the water clear the fishes free
the pollution here , me !