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You don't miss the water untill the well runs dry,
sometimes I miss the well.
Just musing. Not a poem.
 Nov 2017 Whisper Yes
Cné
he once said to me...

                 “I would blow warm
                         moist breath through
                                          your toes...
                           I would do all the
                  wonderful things
                to your big toes
                  that you do to me.
                      And most certainly
                         all the tension would  
                             drain onto me...
                               I would draw
                                every last drop
                               from your toes
                          with little messages
                         along the way of my
                      charted course
                         to come up
                      your inner channels.
        Resting in the sensitive eddies  
      behind your knees
  we both breathe fire
    wafting up and down
                         your thighs.”


.... like drips of seduction off his tongue.

And he lingered on, saying...

                   “Flaming lips wafting
             together with desire,
       reaching and pulling
          with firey licks.
       As I slide
   my wet tongue
    on up and hover,
           breathing
                     you in
                           deeply...
                           through my nostrils
                         filling my *** senses.
                       Drunk on your fumes,
                I'm consumed.
           Circling the tip
       of my nose
   around
your hard,
   pearly knot
       feeling the heat
             from your butterfly wings
            my parted lips surounding
          and easing the warmth
     of my soul onto you
with wet hot breath.
   And I ease the length
          of my tongue to rest
      completely over
    your fire breathing wings ,
               warm capable and ready..
                   leaving you in suspense.
                      Sliding ever so slightly
                           and slowly up your      
                              slick silky lips,
                     tightening the tip
                   of my tongue -
                      flick flick
                             flick flick...
             And I look deeply
           into your eyes,
                  into depths
                    you've never known.
                       And then I'll take you
                        all in, with a suction
                           you'll never escape
                             or ever want to.
      Never breaking eye contact
my tongue slides from bottom
        and presses, emphasis
         at the top slowly
        over and over
            settling you in.
                We fall into
                   a oneness
                        and find  
                        our groove.”


And I said...

“I wish I wasn't
still irritated with you
so I could fully
enjoy your seduction.”


It’s my 100th poem and thought I’d do something different. Be kind! XD
 Nov 2017 Whisper Yes
Pagan Paul
.
Soothing winds from the north
spread neatly across the world.
Bringing chills and ice and quiet,
hailing the arrival of the Winter Girl.

Her sire, Jack Frost, so proud.
Her mother, the Moon, is waiting.
Her silver white hair grows wild,
a testament to their Spring mating.

Her eyes sparkle and smile,
orbs riding on a golden tide.
Her head bows with mute consent
like a first time blushing bride.

And her entrance is most stately,
announced with a carpet of snow.
The Winter Girl is birthed anew
as northern winds begin to blow.



© Pagan Paul (2015/16/17)
.
Old poem previously unpublished
.
Ease my anger and frustration
Light up a cigarette
Take a drag
And just forget
Fill my lungs with toxic waste
I don’t give a ****
I love the taste
Let the smoke billow out of my mouth
Releasing the evil deep inside
I come to the end and put it out
I’ll come back for another
When my angers high so I don’t scream or shout
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