She is draped over a chair,
Artfully fashioned
Like a fine piece
Of silk.
He imagines that her softness
Would sweetly mould into
His hands
Like ripe fruit.
She stays still and silent,
Letting him consume her
With his hungry eyes.
He drinks her in,
The fullness of her breast,
The gentle curve of her hip
And the honeyed tones of her
Naked skin.
Her natural beauty
Has him mesmerised....
Lips apart,
Heart pounding,
Motionless.
He feels the heat of creation rise in him
And with power and purpose,
His eyes break contact as
He touches
His brush
To the canvas.
© 2012
You really were in the zone when you wrote this - fully evocative, - while reading it my heart rate even increased there for a second or two. and the first line is brilliant. - I will also say, (since I am also a moonlight magician) that you employed the powers of misdirection perfectly in this poem. the final line made me feel like a little kid again :)
Transforms something essentially animal into such clever art. Fantastic
What an incredible imagination you have. I could not guess what was going to happen. Thank You
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This poem is simply amazing! I've rated it 10/10. 'He imagines that her softness Would sweetly mould into His hands Like ripe fruit.' - A truly poetic diction. 'He feels the heat of creation rise in him And with power and purpose, His eyes break contact as He touches His brush To the canvas..' - An anti climax?