Under my fingertips your lips were moist.
I was certain I heard your pleasure voiced
Those goose bumps were real, I felt at your door.
That brief stolen kiss whispering one more
My feet in the door, one more kiss to gain
Hands slid down your frame I knew you’d abstain
Intoxicating scent left on my hands
I left rather quickly fearing quicksand
©2011 Michael Yost 04/28
Posted in Poetry
Tagged Choices, Confusion, Consequences, Dreams, Embrace, Expectations, Friendship, Lonliness, Love, Lust, Michael Yost, Poetry, Writing
Pushing on past time and space
Touched by fire with her radiant embrace
Chest to breast, hearts synced in a race
Never ever wanting, to leave this place
Scent of her hair ear, lobe cool to the touch
Loins rushing red, our lips about to brush
Breathe quickened now, soon to combust
These feelings must not only, be given to lust
Fingers running down, her arms to her hands
Our eyes locked in smile, lingering in stand
We were almost part of something banned
As time stood still for a moment, in our glass of sand
©2011 Michael Yost
Posted in Poetry
Tagged Banned, Dreams, Embracing, Expectations, Friendship, Lust, Michael Yost, Our Glass of Sand, Poetry, Revised
I’ll never forget her presence it made me shiver;
Working the room she leads a trail of puppies
The wonder of her awe made her puppies whimper
It’s a gift watching her self confidence glow
I thought my life had been unfulfilled until now
It seems I’ll always be the tortured soul in the crowd
but I may find my solace and love from within her
And her image has burned into my eye’s retinas
She approaches me as I try to shrink away
Cornered she wonders aloud, “Why are you so shy?”
“Aren’t you satisfied with all your suitors”,I ask
The leashes dropped and the puppies scampered away
(c) 2013 Michael Yost 03/18
Posted in Free Verse
Tagged Awe, Lust, Shy, Solace, The Wonder of Her Awe, Tortured Soul, Working the Room
Pushing on past time and space
Touched by fire with her radiant embrace
Chest to breast, hearts synced in a race
Never ever wanting, to leave this place
Scent of her hair ear, lobe cool to the touch
Loins rushing red, our lips about to brush
Breathe quickened now, soon to combust
These feelings must not only, be given to lust
Fingers running down, her arms to her hands
Our eyes locked in smile, lingering in stand
We were almost part of something banned
As time stood still for a moment, in our glass of sand
©2011 Michael Yost
Lovers two cradled crying, infantile desires
Serenading wishes rising through the choirs
Each others expectations, pricked by the briar
Finally recognizing the other was a liar
© 2011 Michael Yost
Does the Phoenix feel the pull of the fire?
As the ashes draw flesh and feathers together
The image of flight has the Phoenix fixed
On the thermals of lust and wonder
Fully engaged he shoots with flames trailing
Straight towards the thermals to scan for his first lover
Looking over the skies he sees a dove and dives
Upon catching the dove he drives home his seed
Then as the dove reaches ecstasy she bursts into flames
As the Phoenix slowly circles his way to the rocks below
The dove just burns away and upon landing
He begins to strip the cooked dove of its tender flesh
© 2011 Michael Yost
Wished away the reality of my life
Torn asunder with banality’s strife
Babies, bosses and most always the wife
My cup runneth over bubbling with rife
I point my own finger at me, my mind
Putting pen to paper I did consign
In fact if it wasn’t for me, my con line
Who at twenty doesn’t think it will be fine
I fell to bottom of a deep deep mine
Said what I had to and it’s time to choose
The next rhyming word, please choose not to lose
© 2011 Michael Yost
The siren’s pen beckons for affection
Drawing you close by his direction
With the promise of confection
And no sense of deception
Or feeling rejection
Only election
To elation
Perfection
Erect
Shun?
© 2011 Michael Yost
I have to touch you
Evaporating moisture
Merging our pulses
Enlivening thoughts
Sensual kaleidoscopes
Slipping into lust
Anticipating
Immediately your needs
Desires fulfilled
©2010-2011 Michael Yost booguloo@live.com
Pushing on past the distinction and space
To be touched by fire her radiant embrace
Chest to breast both our hearts synced in a race
Never wanting to ever leave this place
Scent of her hair ear lobe cool to the touch
Loins rushing red my lips about to brush
Breathe quickened now body soon to combust
This must not only be given to lust
Running fingers down her arms to her hands
Our eyes locked in smile lingering in stand
As if we were part of something banned
Time is all present in our glass of sand
© 2010-2011 Michael Yost booguloo@live.com
Michael's Lair 