Skip to main content

A Monk And His Wet Dreams | Stefn Sylvester Anyatonwu


POEM 214: A MONK AND HIS WET DREAMS
does it tingle when it wiggles?

that was the first words to escape my vocal department
when to the left and to the right
she sauntered

this is how I fell head over hips


Part 1:
always eavesdropping on her soft purrs
when wandering fingers finds spots

Part 2:
I sit on a hard bed foot tapping at her slow meanderings
back and forth my mind's forte

Part 3:
around the curves of my member
sits the core of her desire

Part 4:
she always with methodical approaches
fling winks across the stone walls of my monastery

Part 5:
count down to anticipation
adrenaline of lust points to illusion

Part 6:
she makes my butterflies flutter
like the tail of an excited puppy

Part 7:
I let her scent linger while I unravel
the Bermuda Triangle like Lot in Gomorrah

Part 8:
one touch at a time
another wonderful side of raw and hidden tenderness
lifts our heads into the clouds

LIGHT FADES

...and when all was imagined and done
I whistled from my lonely dorm
"does it tingle when it wiggles?"

her silence reminds me that wet dreams are not for the castrated mind.

#365DaysOfPoetry
#Pengician
#SSA


Enjoyed reading? Commenting is now easy. 
I introduced Facebook Comment feature. 
Please help my blog grow by leaving a comment and sharing with friends. Thank you!

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Fiction | The Tripod Effect

THE TRIPOD EFFECT The Smiths were unable to conceive children and decided to use a surrogate father to start their family. On the day the surrogate father was to arrive, Mr. Smith kissed his wife and said, "I'm off. The man should be here soon" Half an hour later, just by chance a door- to-door baby photographer rang the doorbell, hoping to make a sale.  "Good morning, madam. I've come to...." "Oh, no need to explain. I've been expecting you," Mrs. Smith cut in. "Really?" the photographer asked. "Well, good. I've made a speciality of babies"  "That's what my husband and I had hoped. Please come in and have a seat"  After a moment, she asked, blushing, "Well, where do we start?"  "Leave everything to me. I usually try two in the bathtub, one on the couch and perhaps a couple on the bed. Sometimes the living room floor is fun too; you can really spread out!" "Bathtub, living room floo...

Letter To My Son

Dear Son Try to forget that nothing waits in the dark, raise your shoulder high wave off the frea and step into that lane. Won't you rather be gone in there than stay out here playing the coward? Get up now, son everyone falls. #Pengician #SSA http://bit.ly/2haEhoj

Floating - Stefn Sylvester Anyatonwu

POEM 146: FLOATING Sometimes I feel like a piece of lead dropped in the ocean Sinking to rise no more Other times I feel like the Titanic riding on ocean waves  but a hole of flaws  bored by their quest for faults leaves me sinking to rise no more. But tonight, I feel like I'm just f      l             o a       t               i   n                    ­     g in a stream of your voice surrounded about by smiling stars touching my skin and caressing my heart. Though I fear sinking again like before I know you're waiting arms open in the ocean bed to engulf me in mindless kisses until my feet forget to flee until I make in you my home for nowhere, there is, to go when I'm floating in your love. (Dedicated to Endie) #365DaysOfPoetry #Pengician #SSA