SUBMIT A STORY

Hello Guest, Register now!
  
HOME :: MY STORIES :: FORUMS :: CONTESTS :: GAMES :: HELP :: VOD :: RSS/PODCASTS :: xPEEPS :: TOYS



Username:

Password:


username/pass are case sensitive.

Keep me logged in.
Lost Password?

Register now!


Search by:
story title
story text
story author
search members
Advanced Search

Poetry: Lust:
  Into Thunderclouds (1/1)  

2 votes
Author: homonymph  Published: 12/5/2005  story views: 382
 


Share This Story: BlinkList - del.icio.us - Furl - ma.gnolia - Spurl - Yahoo MyWeb - StumbleUpon
 
Not for his handsome looks,
not just the clouds I like
but the power in his storm.
Never for his brooding eyes alone,
but for the static of the stuff inside.

All that I ache for in a man
is like earth and evolution.
There's more than hearts
that men can break,
Masculinity's a thunderstorm,
makes me promise rainbows every time.

Sexuality is polarity, not morality.
So it's about the charge, not its purpose.
The body reacts to nature first
and later hones the mind.

I feel it in my bones
when he's about to come.
I am brittle with anticiption
for his electricity in atmospheric scale.
The way he unfurls his
fearsome, heavy clouds so high above
the limits of this ground.

Shadows signal his attack.
Then torrential, relentless sheets of rain
fall down upon me like layered linens of satin black
flowing down to cover up the bed
that is a field on which I flee in vain.

Anticipation stops this escape
that's was never meant to be.
I'm at the threshhold of my biology,
about to lose my logic
in the rolling boil of my blood.

I'll lie right down firm and tense,
submit completely to his dominance.
To be so ready yet still so oddly prone,
submission is not without its intensity,
it's the impact I await.
The thing I can't predict.

Bring down onto me the violence
of heaven finding home once more,
I'll withstand the thrashing
so that we may grow again.

Thunder patterned in echoed roar
is the wincing of the ground, not the sky.
Lightning leaps down and lashes madly
whipping bitter, barren soil sore.
Come down on me in all your rage
and laugh at my tundra torn!
Pick me up by my dust
and throw me down again,
so destruction's spinning all around.

Force the floods of your burdened ego,
flow them uncontrolled and misdirected,
ignore my ancient riverbed as if to drown,
then quickly disappear in my disorientation.
To other plains your dread.

Dazed and dripping with debris,
I'm scarred but not so deeply as I groan.
I'm saturated with his energy
and he with the satisfaction of its vent.

Printer Friendly Page Tell a Friend


 
Vote:
Total Votes: 2
Steamy
(1 vote)
Hot
(2 votes)
Blazing
(3 votes)
Poster Thread
Montana Norman
Posted: 2007/7/4 14:02  Updated: 2007/7/4 14:02
Lusty Librarian's Pet
Joined: 2007/6/11
From: Dallas Texas
Posts: 815
 I'll tell ya one thing...
You REALLY like men! .......... I have to say that I have never read any poem before, written by a woman that complimented the male and all he stands for. Strength, and absalute power. Not that you reconize it, you adore it. Thank you.
fairverona
Posted: 2006/5/16 21:18  Updated: 2006/5/16 21:18
Virgin
Joined: 2006/5/4
From: usa
Posts: 1
 so erotic
I loves your poem! I felt electricity when I read it.