Wednesday, April 2, 2008

Poison Passion

Ariah Hari Terry

Alone at last, no one in sight

I cannot sleep, it's late at night.

The moon shines bright, there are a million stars.

Venus is here, but make room for mars.

I wonder what's this feeling I feel,

Is it loneliness, longing or just fear?

How do I stop this rapid heart beat?

Beating so loud, I hear it in my ear.

The sweltering heat is early this year,

It causes excitement in people everywhere.

Cats on heat, their wailing a curse,

Cricket sounds piercing, that's the worst.

I sit at my window and close my eyes,

And there you stand, so tall with pride.

I reach out to you, excited already,

But touch the window, that's cold and sturdy.

This night is so long; I wish you were here,

Passions taken over, I need you near.

My lips are parched, my tongue so dry,

Wet kisses from you, I'll not deny.

Tiny pink lingerie, lots of leg to show,

Seductive exotic perfume, for whom, I don't know.

French manicure nails and pedicure toes,

I feel like a princess, and smell like a rose.

Ninety eight degrees is my body's heat,

My hands are sweaty, and so are my feet.

Perspiration runs down my back and face,

But my heart's still beating at a rapid pace.

Moments like these I despise the most,

The scent of my perfume, the feel of my clothes.

I touch my lips, my breasts, my legs,

This pleasure I feel, out of control it gets.

I close mine eyes, and start to imagine,

You in my arms, it's close to heaven.

Will I ignite the flames of this fire?

Will I submit to your every desire?

Your warm wet body I touch and kiss,

Your manhood aroused by the softness of my lips.

Your breathe is musty, your tongue so sweet,

Your kisses strong, your bite so deep.

I run my hands on your face and breast,

I feel your heart beat inside your chest.

Your hands are trembling in your embrace,

My velvet skin you slowly caress.

This agonizing desire, I can't endure,

These years of loneliness, can't take no more.

Ecstasy divine has reached the sky,

I feel my love, my passions on fire.

These magical moments were all a dream,

My incredible obsessions of you and me.

This insatiable desire, this burning inside

This scandalous pleasure, so hard to deny.

(From Urban Voice III: Bombay. Terry, of Indian descent, lives in South Africa, and is a film-maker, she has spent some time in Bombay's Bandra)

1 comment:

Laju K. said...

Passion can be a poisonous nectar, just like some types of honey.

Dreams have a way of turning into reality, so....enjoyed reading your poem. Laju K.