Just For You Poetry

they know only the rumor of me,
not the truth of my skin,
not the weight of my bones.

what it is they know is less than naught.

taste, then, taste of the longing in my blood, realized.

pure thought speaks with ravaged voice
through veins, filled steaming, with spurting juices.
dice that give semblance of choice are fingered, cupped
in a palm whose life line has been, irrevocably, given new life.

know, then, of the fullness of my anguish
through eyes made red-rimmed, yet brighter with joyance,
at my beleaguered, consuming thoughts of you.

they tremble at the rumor of me,
yet i wish nothing more than to see
the tremulous quivers that overtake you, my Love,
when it is that your lips, whetted, touch mine.

come into my arms and know the authenticity of my skin,
calloused, yet soft, intermixed with the soil of a day's hard labor.
feel the raw weight of these pining bones made deliriously mad
at the image, seared within my mind, of you
holding me, and the conflagration that ensues!

taste, then, taste of the Love i hold
for none other than you, than you, my Love,
as the rumor of me dissipates in your sighs.

Oh, so sensual and beautiful as always Richard.

Only you and her know the essence of you and your passion for her knows no bounds,
the outside world sees only the husk but not the seed within...

Beautiful and sensuous indeed Richard. You write with an intensity that takes the breath away. Stirring my friend, stirring. Nishu

As always Richard your vocabulary is most impressive, and added to your voluptuous penning, this is such a treat to read and savor. I admire the title, passion of the poem, and how that rumor dissipates with your sighs at the conclusion. Nobody does sensuality better than you Richard.