The H(owl) Of The Night
The bird of worst hour
delivers an empty box of kisses.
On feathered wings with round
feathers so silent, so not even
the mice hear a thing
The bowl of raspberries to deliver.
But your lips burn with a scent of ecstacy.
Flesh shudders when your hot lips touch my skin
H(old) to hug, then kiss.
My lip to your lips, eye into eyes, bliss.
Take my love as I devour yours.
Giving all that is yours.
Wrestle down love to it's lowest core,
make you feel desired once more.
Midnights Voice's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (The H(owl) Of The Night by Midnights Voice )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
William Ernest Henley
Did you read them?
- Rain, Neela Nath
- Somehow...Someway, Charles Hancock
- Truly Inspiring, Electric Lady
- Unrest Soul: Before Ebola Comes, Onyekachukwu Vincent Onyeche
- मन साफ़ करता है।man saaf karta hai, hasmukh amathalal
- The Communists Recognize Only The Two, C.., Bijay Kant Dubey
- I AM, hasmukh amathalal
- Tales Of A Wife: Yes I Do, Onyekachukwu Vincent Onyeche
- television, smriti chhibber
- Grass, smriti chhibber