Donna Hill lives
in British Columbia, Canada with her three sons. She has been seriously
writing poetry for two years now, drawing much of her writing style for
realism from life around her, her family, and her work as a children's
educator. Ms. Hill's poems have appeared in print in One Dog Press,
Sex
in Public, Poems Niederngrasse and Peshekee River. She's
published online in Thunder Sandwich, Mind Fire Journal,
the
HOLD, Writer's Choice, Disquieting Muses, Rogue Scholars
- East Village, Horsethief's Journal, and in Clean Sheets.
Her
poetry won first and seventh prizes in
Comrades annual contest and
will appear in Comrades anthology, 2001.
Correspond
with Donna Hill. Visit her webzine, Erosha,
a
literary journal of the erotic, of which she is editor.
crescendo
sultry waters
cascade down
pulsate my skin
like the beating
of your heart
wash over me
like the warmth
of your breath
my hands habitually
follow the flow of my curves
round of my belly
as if in your
presence
my stance widens
to lingering thoughts of
you
on your knees before me
your lips
beckon
at my voluptuous
womanhood
passion's dew rains
upon your tongue
slowly
with lightness of touch
bow across a violin
crescendo
into blazing urgency
you send me over
the edge
filling me
with an afterglow
of delicious
human
flame
wishbone
if by the suppleness
of my flesh
I could bend into a
wishbone
porcelain white
for us to tease
and tug of war on
decide
in this very moment
whether I should be there
or you here
in one another's arms
a dance would
begin
and as bodies moved
to the rhythm of colliding
heat
fingertips blazed trails
through parched skin
and mouths sought fields
and valleys
of thirst quenching desires
your hips would lead me
sure and gentle as a beckoning
hand.
something new, something
more
there is nothing new or exciting
about when I do laundry,
bending
down sorting lights from
darks.
I do this weekly, sometimes
daily
though in this dream I find
something
new, something more among
our
pile of clothing I begin
to reach for.
two silk scarves, deep blue
as the sea
as the depth of your green
eyes longing
and I know instantly what
these scarves
are for. now this is new
to me but I want
it still. I want my wrists
tied to our bed.
not roughly, but with the
same softness
you have for me, the same
that we share
but this time I want more,
the way you
pin my slender hands above
my head as
we make love. I want to
be submissive
and know that I am yours,
that
you want to take me. in
this dream
the laundry is gone and
now I am tied.
I need this dream to end.
I want
this to be real, where I
can see the
love in your eyes as you
take me,
spread my legs, yearn for
my wetness,
and take me, fill me with
your cock,
fuck me in this dream.
"crescendo", "something new,
something more" and "wishbone" Copyright © 2001 Donna Hill. All rights
reserved. Do not copy or post. |