Love Poetry: The sweet craved while worlds slumber

by John Marks
(Johannesburg, South Africa)

'A body I crave to place grip upon hips,
To trail contours ascending the elegant ripples of ribs.
A naval ripe for soft planted kisses, symmetrical toward chest,
The very center of lush breasts.
The silk feel of her neck, inducing goose bumps in effect.
Lips poised, slightly parted awaiting the utmost sensual,
Forms warm in our movements, a twisting contortion consensual.

A soul I crave hidden mysteriously, behind eyes of many tales.
Swimming gently in reflection, as her touch more than unveils.
Our thighs locked, in friction crossed tight,
As pounding hearts and fingertip-touch do take flight.

Oh how I crave, involuntary movement of our bodies,
Accompanying voluntary movement of the other.
Lost in passionate writhing, subtle frenzies.
A place worlds cannot fathom lost in one another.

A moment I crave, her scent and glimmer of skin somewhat mystical.
Where our souls float above a bed set on fire, above all that we know as physical.


A realm I crave, not of taste for mere comings, such comings oh so meek.
Such pathetic, such lonely such meaningless? Such a debaucherous fashion.

A realm I crave, where the moon's blushing glows, lips exploring to find what I seek.
In fire fuelled crimson, the perfection of pure, an immensity of the deepest passion.'

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