Bi-Poetry at A Bi-Friendly Place

bisexualThree Sensual Poemsbisexual
by Lisa Darcy

bisexual


Poetry in Motion

My pen glides across the paper
A silky caress like fingers
Whispers tiny songs to your skin.

Ink flows warmly from my pen as
I flow into and onto you
My hair cascading around us
Gently trapping the heat of our thoughts
Our bodies lost to the rhythm
Of rocking and riding the wave
Poetry in motion, my loves.
Poetry in motion.

The hot, heady, sweaty smell
Hangs pungent 
In the air, in my hair, 
In the sheets as we sleep, 
Silent and sated,
Spooning in threes as the trees
Shake gently their branches in dances 
As they whisper in wonder
At the wind.

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Writing on Silk, Part One 

Soft, elegant hands reach in
And pull out the silk
White, pure, untouched,
It flows out of her hands towards the floor.
Biting a full, red lip in expectation,
She lifts the garment up
And over her head
A virgin sacrifice.
Her naked skin tingles as she waits
Pausing in anticipation.
The hem moves slowly
Teasing 
Past her shoulders
To rest briefly on her breasts.
It falls in an opaline cascade
Drenching her body
In a slippery pool of pleasure.

bisexual

Writing on Silk, Part Two

Silk covers my woman's body.
Pristine, shimmering delectation
Draped over and around
Soft, creamy flesh.
The barest hint of colour
Showing through.
The faint pink of skin
A dark shadow in
The delta of Venus
The interplay of silk and skin.
Slippery silk
To hide an excited flush
Rippling silk
To display an aroused nipple
Filmy silk
To cling to aching loins
I think of the silk I find
In your hair
In your mouth
In your body
The musky scent
Of womanhood wafts
Up from your silken dress.
Oh, how I long to be there.

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Awake at Midnight, Remembering

Stroking, caressing
Suppressing me –
I sublimate my desire for you.
Industry, industry, industry
Idle hands are the Devil’s workshop,
I remind myself.
In your absence I tend to the house.
The sweeping broom in my hands
Becomes your cock as I stand
Idly stroking it,
Staring out the window.
“Be my good girl,” you said on parting
My lips to kiss me goodbye.
Doing your laundry is safe,
Even Freud must remain silent there.
But folding your clothes,
Every shirt is your skin.
Jeans remind me of your legs
Wrapped around me,
Each pair of underwear held you
Even more closely than I.
Sighing, I slip them on
The cloth, which gently held you
Now covers me – a chastity belt implied
Locked on tight by your jeans.
Your shirt completes me, confines me
Loosely comfortable, surrounded by you,
I can almost forget the churning desire
You left in your wake.
God, I can’t wait until three.

Copyright © 2001 Lisa Darcy. All Rights Reserved. 



bisexualAbout The Author:
Lisa Darcy is a previously unpublished writer currently masquerading as a housewife in Roswell, GA. Though she has dabbled for years, she has only been seriously writing for the past two. A woman of some talent and many dreams, she finds that most of her interests center around the pen, the kitchen, the library, and the bedroom. She also enjoys singing Irish folksongs and running around naked.

bisexualAbout The Poem:
The preceeding poems are A Bi-Friendly Place exclusive written regarding Lisa Darcy's sensual thoughts, her two happy men and their bisexual triad relationship.

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Email  the author. 



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