Some girls like bad boys.
Dark pasts, dubious motives.
I’m not one of those girls.
I have a thing for good boys.
Trusting, worshipping, devoting.
Kiss one, wake the wolf inside.
My wolf: the world will never know you.
Myself: the dame who tamed the beast.
A silk scarf around your wrists,
I pull and wrap and tie and twist.
A delicate shimmering of thin strands,
A tight knot to bind your hands.
A cat’s tongue against your neck,
Sleek, pink, velvet wet.
Hungry hands slide down your hips,
Hungry eyes and hungry lips.
Hot skin and soft bites:
Our beautiful, ravenous appetites.
Erotic poetry by
January 6, 2010
by Theodore Wratislaw
I love you for the grief that lurks within
Your languid spirit, and because you wear
Corruption with a vague and childish air,
And with your beauty know the depths of sin;
Because shame cuts and holds you like a gin,
And virtue dies in you slain by despair,
Since evil has you tangled in its snare
And triumphs on the soul good cannot win.
I love you since you know remorse and tears,
And in your troubled loveliness appears
The spot of ancient crimes that writhe and hiss:
I love you for your hands that calm and bless,
The perfume of your sad and slow caress,
The avid poison of your subtle kiss.
La Mélinite: Moulin-Rouge
Arthur Symons, 1895
Olivier Metra’s Waltz of Roses
Sheds in a rhythmic shower
The very petals of the flower;
And all is roses,
The rouge of petals in a shower.
Down the long hall the dance returning
Rounds the full circle, rounds
The perfect rose of lights and sounds,
The rose returning
Into the circle of its rounds.
Alone, apart, one dancer watches
Her mirrored, morbid grace;
Before the mirror, face to face,
Alone she watched
her morbid, vague, ambiguous grace.
Before the mirror’s dance of shadows
She dances in a dream,
And she and they together seem
A dance of shadows,
Alike the shadows of a dream.
The orange-rosy lamps are trembling
Between the robes that turn;
In ruddy flowers of flame that burn
The lights are trembling:
The shadows and the dancers turn.
And, enigmatically smiling,
In the mysterious night,
She dances for her own delight,
A shadow smiling
Back to a shadow in the night.