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Meta
Tag Archives: sensual
Breeze
It was the way she danced with words when no one was looking, the slant and tease, fastening my burn to the summer dress spelling out her form to my fingers, their covet to brand and possess, breezing lightly the … Continue reading
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged boy, girl, John Biscello, passion, poem, Poetry, sensual, skin, summer love
8 Comments
Brink
Her hips, bladed just so, moved sharply in sync to the slothful slake of honey, slowpoured to christen the edge and brink of longing. Lazy Sundays between her thighs were my favorite holidays away from me in the nearest heaven … Continue reading
Cinemate
Tinder, how tongues snake flames to debut summer’s flick– Burn Slow While Kissing.
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged Cinema, Desire, haiku, John Biscello, kiss, passion, Poetry, sensual
5 Comments
Initiate
It was only when her thighs caught fire that he began to understand the laws of arson as practiced by goddesses imitating sirens.
Claim
Some kind of tender, hard to find its truest name– words fail to claim touch.
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged claim, haiku, John Biscello, love, name, passion, Poetry, sensual, tender, touch, words
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Medicine
No exam needed, she just wanted to be held– Medicine through touch.
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged affection, doctor, exam, haiku, heart, John Biscello, love, medicine, nurse, poem, sensual, touch
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Seize
It is how the mouth plays chords the lips keep time to– Kiss, erring to seize.
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged chords, erring, John Biscello, kiss, lips, mouth, music, passion, poemm haiku, pulse, sensual
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Knead
From hips to belly, the distance between longing and bare knead, swelling.
Sheath
Dancing blue-black flame soloing among soft sheaths– ballet’s fragrant leaps. (Artwork by Georgia O’ Keefe)
Posted in Artwork, Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged Artwork, ballet, blue rose, flower, Georgia O' Keefe, haiku, John Biscello, painter, painting, poem, sensual
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Burn While Reading
Touch, how her body becomes a pulsing slate of Braille, your fingers, unfinished, running on
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged body, Braille, erotic, John Biscello, kiss, love, lust, play, poem, sensual
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John Biscello 