Archive for the ‘Poetry’ Category

Love

Sunday, August 1st, 2010

Mass-produced colour photolithography on paper...
Image via Wikipedia

Through summer’s heat
I find relief
in eyes so deep
I see me in thee
and she in me
lovers and friends
nights are timeless
days never end
her kiss is classic
Shakespearean romance
Romeo and Juliet
We were given their chance
To Live Happily Ever After
Caught in Love’s Trance

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Clarity

Sunday, July 18th, 2010

The Dead of Night
Image by Scott Ableman via Flickr

Clarity
Alone with my thoughts
I walk through the night

Brevity
She appears by my side
Illustriously divine

Carefully
She asks my name
I’m reluctant to reply

Warily
I offer it up
“Malcolm” I say, staring into her eyes

Magically
I feel a connection
Impossible to deny

Classically
She takes my hand
I struggle in my mind

Casually
She pulls me close
To my fate, I now resign

Sinfully
Our bodies become one
And her lips touch mine

Pleasurably
The night becomes day
With our legs intertwined

Immeasurably
The passion we shared
Words can’t easily define

Delicately
She sneaks off into the dawn
As Clarity once again becomes mine

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Passion

Saturday, July 10th, 2010

Mons pubis of a black woman. Work by Dutch art...
Image via Wikipedia

What is it? Is it the spark in the eye of your lover as you caress her body under the sky?

Is it the whisper in her voice as she moans your name, the way your bodies touch as they erupt in flame?

Is it the physical attraction that made you speak to her anyway, even after she cut her eyes and her attitude shoo’d you away?

Do you know it when you see it, lust for it when you read it?  Does it touch the core of your being and make you not want it but need it?

Is it the sound of my voice as I escort you to fantasy, taking hold of your mind, discarding your reality?

Is it the way my words caress you like a form fitting dress, accentuating your curves until you look your very best?

Is it a warm summer’s breeze, captivating, intriguing?  The origination a mystery but it’s existence divine indeed?

Do you crave the attention from a lovers words as well as his touch? Do you need him to say I love you as he enters you with his thrusts?

Is passion the touch of his lips on yours with the lights down low? Slowly as his mouth starts to explore your body down low.

Do you miss it when it’s gone like a echo in your soul? A hunger burning your throat, a story only half told?

Is it the ending you crave? Is that what drives you insane? When your heart beats crazy and pleasure overwhelms your brain?

Do your neighbors know your name? Like thunder with the pouring rain. Repeating every letter, every night, frame by frame.

Is passion what you claim? Or is it the gift that you bring? Is it what matters most, is it what consumes your brain?

I know what passion is, I’ve seen it in her eyes.  And with every kiss I feel I’ve died to be reborn between her thighs.

With every touch I feel I can fly, her lips making me so high. My toes curl and my voice moans and when she asks, I can not lie.  I am hers and she is mine.  I am in love with her body and too, with her mind.

With her pleasure and her games, her creativity drives me insane.  She is my muse and responsible for every word I write on every page.

Passion, without her I’d never be the same

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Salvation

Sunday, January 4th, 2009

Duane Francis took a look at this topic with the excellent read “Inner City State of Mind” on his site here. It inspired me to post one I’d written months ago with a similar, if more controversial context.  I hope you like it.

Churches and Liquor stores
booze and God
explore with me the path
of the neighborhood that is ours
I count a store every mile
at least twenty churches in that same time
a liquor store to match
I guess even salvation isn’t a strong enough patch

everyone wants to escape
no one moves away
they deflect it with the thoughts
“where would I go anyway?”
It’s sad
the way this place exists
poverty mixed with pleasure
street peddlers of bliss
in small enough packages
the soul is abandoned

(more…)

Time…

Friday, January 18th, 2008

Time flows
It’s direction opposite
Where I need to go
I find it…Obstinate

It doesn’t bend to my will
It did when I was young
It would always accelerate
As each year came along

Now I want to return
It doesn’t heed my cry
I call out at night
I call out…out of fright

I need to go back
Theres so much I don’t know
To see him again
Theres so much he doesn’t know

Time takes flight
It no longer heeds my call
Only in my dreams
And even then not for long

-Malcolm Lloyd

The Smile Inside

Monday, December 31st, 2007

Genxster's self-portrait 

Wavy hair and intelligent eyes
Features stern, she’s soft inside
An old soul, still with very young eyes
She sees right through your pack of lies

Eternal beauty, infinitely wise
Silently curious, without disguise
Passionate gaze, returned in kind
To those who see the smile inside

 

-Malcolm Lloyd

 

Inspiration should be shared and yet jealously guarded,  Thanks to Genxster for being my inspiration for this one!

Resistance is Futile – by Duane Francis

Monday, December 31st, 2007

I can’t help but tingle when our eyes connect
And holding your hand amplifies the effect
Roses lean to you, just to catch your scent
I go weak in the knees so I pray for strength

And my mind tells me “resistance is futile“

Intoxicated by your ,sweeter than wine kisses
Now I really know, what true bliss is.
hoping for love eternal, love unconditional
A Love so potent it could almost be illegal

And my mind tells me “resistance is futile“

Now I find myself gushing over you
Blabbering about you just being you
I must admit you are my Perfect One
You have even the most beautiful imperfections

And my mind tells me “resistance is futile“

Duane Francis

——–

An outstanding poem by a friend of mine, Duane Francis, that is so visual in it’s telling that the very act of reading it let’s you know that resisting love, and the call of this poem, is indeed futile. – M. Lloyd

Passionate Expression

Friday, December 28th, 2007

Poetry is my passion, the erotic is just a gift. I combine words and terms and give them vision, it’s a gift. I’ve often been told I moonlight by day, compose by night and hold many hearts in sway. My words are erotic, yet still exude taste. My poetry is fire, yet the feeling never melts away. It’s a passion, one I hope never fades. I don’t write for me, I write for those I hope will read this some day. It’s my passion, one of many it seems. I love to act out my words, to taste their imagery. I love to dream up new things, distill the thoughts to words, insert the nouns and verbs and pray the meaning is undisturbed.

Passionate Expression, I call it my secret weapon. It allows you to hear my voice through the ink, my touch through the sheet, the sound when I speak and visualize that feeling is from me. It’s deep, but it’s erotic all the same. I don’t take you to the storm, I become the pouring rain. I don’t make you call my name, I make you sexually insane. All through words and phrases, all through the use of your brain. You’ve never seen me but you crave me still. You don’t know me yet I control your will. You want sex, I deliver it in excess, erotically, passionately, I allow you to submit to my requests.

This isn’t a stop, it’s the journey of your life. This isn’t just sex, it’s an erotic afterlight. Maybe I’m cocky, maybe a bit misunderstood, but of one thing I’m sure, you wouldn’t stop if you could.

-Malcolm Lloyd 

Caution – An Erotic Poem

Wednesday, December 26th, 2007

Still she doesn’t understand my words
I speak to her in prose
She doesn’t understand my verbs
I look into her eyes
Deep into her eyes
The deeper I go
The more I feel inside

Seriously
It’s like communing with the divine
A goddess in my eyes
What man would deny
Her curves I’m entranced with
Her voice just enhances it
I want to touch her
But I’m scared
Of what could possibly happen

Not afraid
Because I know I’d do it in a second
But scared
If only because of the place we romance at
But it’s safer that way
The way is dangerous
We both like the excitement
But we know it’s perilous

Still we walk along that line
Still I can’t deny she’s so damn fine
I want her
I’ll speak it plain
She’s torture
But that torture brings me no pain
Not physical
Not mental
But I think about her more than I should
Would I ever stop?
Not even if I could

So I sit here
Warring within myself
Hoping to win
Wondering if today’s the day
I finally throw caution to the wind

-Malcolm Lloyd 

Foreplay

Wednesday, December 26th, 2007

Before the hour
Yet after the minute
After the word
Yet before the sentence

A leap of faith
Not quite finished
An excited buzz
Not yet diminished

A tender touch
Before a lust filled advance
A soothing kiss
To ease a mental impasse

The heat that fills the room
And steams the glass
The feel of living clay
Molded within my hands

My kiss, her body
Her touch, my soul
The foreword to the novel
The story unfolds…

-Malcolm Lloyd