Touch Me

Slowly touch me, caress my body with your fingers, let this tingling feeling linger. Let this feeling resonate like the voice of a singer. Feel me shudder as sweet words I utter and free my mind from daily clutter. Just concentrating on where you choose to wallow, savouring each and every hollow.

Calming my spirit, my racing heart, that sensation I love right from the start. You move in patterns as though it is some kind of art, this feeling is tearing me apart. I want to touch you caress and hold you, but I never want this feeling to depart. So, I lay there just admiring the painter applying her art.

Then comes the climax there is no holding back as you find the erogenous pathway and I struggle to hold my emotions at bay. Until finally I must let go, to show you what you have done, the final rush of feeling, the moan, the sigh as I realise that the end of this feeling is nigh.

© All rights reserved Mark Symmonds 2018

 

 

American Dream, Iowa Queen

I dream of holding you tight, of taking a dream flight to an Iowa girl who waits for me every night, even though I’m thousands of miles out of sight. Oh, my American dream Atlantic charm radiant beam. How we long to embrace across the ocean face to face.

But, we both remain in different places, separated by vast space, yet we speak every day, we find a way and it hurts when we must go away. Our times are different in the day. You believe in angels and pray that I will come to you someday. I disbelieve but for you I arrive and wish I was by your side.

American dream of walking by the stream hand in hand as sun beams. Of laying my head on a distant shore and knowing that I am all yours. Alas this dream is worth fighting for to see your face when you answer that knock at the door. My American dream, Iowa queen.

© All Rights Reserved Mark Symmonds 2017

 

Across the Aisle

Their eyes met in wonder lust, trying to avoid each other’s gaze on the bus. She looked down, as if to frown, he took his time, before looking away. She looked up briefly and gave a smile, he caught it from across the Aisle. He bowed his head as if to ignore, but, knew he wanted to explore.

He returned his head to her glance with a smile, thinking he missed her attention by a mile? She clocked it out the corner of her eye, the look on her face was rye. She uncrossed her legs to fold them the other way, he saw the body language saying come to play. He stared at her fine legs, and wondered would she join him in bed. She knew the message was read but, saw his face full of dread.

As she was getting off the bus he turned his head to watch her leave with nothing said. But, she had a plan and dropped her number in his hand. He texted her to say hi! She responded, suggested he get off the bus, so, he alighted without asking why. Behind him he heard a sigh, she was waiting, the end was nigh. Their lips met with a passion so high, this love had started to fly.

 

© All Rights Reserved Mark Symmonds 2017

Love That Is

One step closer to complete love, the love that lasts and defines you, it’s hue absorbs you takes your breath away enthralls you. Love that will crawl to you no matter how hard struggling over ever yard, just to be by your side, being part of this roller coaster ride.

Love that commits with pride, that will never hide, love that’s knowing, seed sowing so it goes stronger, lasts longer chained to lovers under the covers, blossoming fruit, made to suit. Never looting, always routing, sometimes disputing, but never abusing.

Love like tomorrow, a love never borrowed, hollowed, mellowed. A love that is fierce intense makes sense. Love that makes no difference what you drive or rent, whether you borrow or how much you lent. Love that lets you be heard, to venture, to be angry and spent. Love that holds its arms out, pulls you away, knows what to say with no delay. A love for every day and every way; a love that’s implied without having to say. Love that is here to stay

©All rights reserved Mark Symmonds 2017

 

Lonely Bird

Lonely bird on the top of the tree tell me please what do you see. Is it the sky that catches your eye with fluffy white clouds floating by? Is it me watching you wondering what you will do, can you see me looking at you? Do you see the tree below bark all gnarled and base all hollow or is it another bird you see, maybe an owl or a swallow?

Tell me lonely bird up above, what is the thing you most love? Is it your chicks all nestled snuggle in the nest while you go to find food and feed them before you rest? Is it being free on the wing sawing above surveying everything? Do you like to sit all day wondering when to fly away until you reach another place on another day?

Finally, lonely bird, to think it’s absurd that all day long you are seldom heard yet you chirp all day but never utter a word. Oh, little lonely bird, can you teach me of your world? Let me see what it’s like to fly, king of everything that I spy, on the wing way up high.

©All rights reserved Mark Symmonds 2017

Woman in Black

All in black, mystery woman tell me all you have in your soul, let me be your mole digging out what’s inside of you, as I have not a clue what is true. I see you standing by your door I say hello but am scared to ask anymore.

Lady in black where are you from, are you weak or are you strong? Let me hold you tight at night and explore your body until daylight. Let me discover the mysteries of you, how you work; every nut, bolt and screw, wanting to disassemble that barricade to get to the real you.

Woman in black don’t knock me back, let me write my name into your heart so we never drift apart. Let me smother you with cloaked love, sliding you in like a well-fitting glove, let me reach deep into you and pull through what’s trapped and hidden away, let love come out to play.

Woman in black I long to know who you are, let me see your healing scars, call me in from afar, to drink from your mysterious spa.

© All rights reserved Mark Symmonds 2017

Love’s Orbit

Circling around my body, your love is in orbit waiting to be absorbed within it. Then, travelling through space and time through this body of mine, finding my history, and searching the mysteries around my clogged-up highways, occasionally detouring to explore the byways. Through the nerves and up into the brain, cruising your love at breakneck speed, no blockage can impede.

Your love explores my intricate grey matter, spaghetti junction controlling feelings and function. Giving up secrets to your passing craft, pushing on in dense traffic fore and aft, stopping off to check out a laugh, on the way to the highway to my heart.

The autobahn with no speed limit, no highspeed warning alarm as you travel down to my heart, the pumping station in four parts. The final destination, the car park for your love, crashing your craft from the road above. Permanently stuck in this beating car park keeping the engine running providing a spark. No fee to pay, stay there all day and never fly away, through my body traces of you will all ways stay.

© All rights reserved Mark Symmonds 2017

Entry to your Heart

Where is the entrance to your heart one way in one way out and I don’t know where to start, let alone till death us do part? Chat to you, walk in the park, wine and dine you, the dating lark, but deep within you hold it all in, tucked away in its warm safe cabin. Not daring to venture out, it can’t take another clout. Any explorer you ignore keeping secrets and strangers apart.

Tired of questions of robbers of heart, borrow your feelings and depart leaving them scattered all over your heart. Silence is your wall you build high so it won’t fall, crashing down like tears of a clown vulnerable and broken, used, yet another token.

Smash and grab, or knock on the entrance for ever and a day, thick barricade keeps me at bay, nothing to say, it’s safer that way; leaving the hurt locked away, hoping someday it may decay taking the anger and dismay. The exit is open for explorers to run away, exit from your heart before we even start. Tell me darling what is the key to unlock the door for you and me, so your true colours in a rain bow we see, sharing the pot of gold just between you and me.

Magic Weaver

Lost in your shadow, your billowing love, free as a bird, not pure as a dove. Come find me tonight, in the dim candle light, open your mind and dictate my plight. Make me tingle and writhe in pleasure, let me feel your warmth and caress in good measure. Run your fingers through my hair, down my body and anywhere you dare. Let passion flare, you won’t scare.

Tempt me with your fruit, make my passage to it an easy route. Caress my body with your lips, work your magic with your hips, make me scream in your magic dreams. Love me until I am coming apart at the seams, until I can take no more, but pleasure screams. When you think my body has had enough, come find me again a little rough.

Send me to heaven, open the gate, don’t make me anticipate. Lay with me in the afterglow, my body twitching, sending a signal of contentment so you know, you have been responsible for setting me alight and making me feel high as a kite. I want to weave magic with you every night.

 

 

The Corners of my Brain

In the far corners of my mind live thoughts and feelings of many kinds, running around forming rhymes, wanting to be on time. Synapses fire signals around the wire, some inspire and some drop me in the mire, sending signals of desire and that my heart is on fire.

 Free radicals firing around the dusty corners of my mind, trying to find some place to bind and save a memory. Sometimes, there is dark matter and my brain begins to clatter. All the negative clatter, not sure what’s the matter. The dark places in the corner of my brain are where I go when I’m in emotional pain.

 In the corners of my brain is an area full of love, of doves and words that are cozy and kind and gentle. Then there are travelers, that move around and flick thoughts into my head. Sometimes absurd, they hound and pound, as they wiz around transmitting sound and messages from the ground. Yes, in the four corners of my mind there are thoughts of many kinds; long and short; good and bad and some that I ought not to have had.