 |
 |
| Home Poetry About Events Workshops A fracking conspiracy Poetic Portraits Instructions Shop Gallery Contact |
| The Nightshade Riots |
|
|
|
Wednesday 14th November - what would everyone like to hear about today - yesterday's poem is below, (Back in the Old House) and is really really juicy! Keep your responses coming in and please share this post far and wide and get your friends to join - Simon Welsh Poetry - so far I have included EVERY suggestion and written a new piece every day. I intend to keep doing it indefinitely so get your friends on board! Very much love, Simon x
He looked at her across the room. Her shape was pleasing, yes.
Through the window moonlight spilt upon her shapely dress.
She slipped it off and stood for him; the moonshine on her skin.
She knew she’d known what she was doing when she let him in.
Slowly he outstretched an arm and beckoned her to come.
She loved his strength, his torso and his nearly perfect bum.
He ran his fingers slowly through her locks of curly hair.
They held each other perfectly in one another’s stare.
His jeans fit snugly round him. They were Nightshades - made for men.
She ran her fingers down them as she counted down from ten.
By eight she’d found the belt line and the button at the top.
She knew what she was doing and she didn’t to stop:
Finally she’d found her peacock. Handsome, tall and strong,
Not for life but just for Christmas: not for very long.
“Pull the Nightshades down,” he whispered deeply in her ear.
“I promise to be nice to you. With me’s no place for fear.”
She knew his words were real as she sank back on the bed.
She always led these games yet here she was being led.
He lay down beside her on the fleece-like flannel sheets,
To the noise of bottles smashing from the riots in the streets.
Outside everything was chaos. Here it was calm,
And both of them felt safe as he caressed and kissed her arm.
She was aching to be closer. So she spooned against his frame.
And he held her firm against his chest because he felt the same.
“You can pull’em down tomorrow,” he whispered with a smile.
“And then I’d LOVE to make you feel special for a while.
“So even if there’s riot police, I reckon you won’t care
“‘Cause your life will change forever when you see my underwear.”
Wednesday 14th November 2012 ©Simon Welsh Poetry
 |
|
|
| |
|
|
|
 |
| |
| Please leave comments here using your Facebook account |
|
|
| |
| |
