The Elegant Fruit
Paradise lies between her thighs.
No need to question why
Her love I got to try before I die
Spread like the river Nile
Sleek, luscious in bonny profile
Hidden from view in silken wardrobe landscaped in a stubble canyon
Draped by ferny sprouts cut in style Portuguese neat
Unadorned speaking to me in dialects I listen carefully
Flowers bloom in seasons due facing of the butterfly
No longer from my eyes forsaken beauty’s fondness
I adore to absolute its lack of consistent uniformity
No painting picture perfect truth in concepts beholding I never
Gauguin, Rembrandt, Monet, Van Gough, could not capture grace so splendid
Given an ear to linger aimlessly casting ones eyes on my deliverance
Caught in your flame dazzled eyes outreach yearning scents desirable
Glancing diligently gaze mystified by such beauty I tremble for chance one touch
Shakespeare would be at lost for words to descried such magnificent pondering
Lotus flower opening sends sensations downward spine travels chills inspiriting
Vanilla floats the man in the boat not yet sunken treasure possessed by you
As motions turns yond gentry stabilized footing resist oceans turbulent seas
Graceful the folds that hold back gentle tides savored auspicious lips bearing east to west
Apart persuaded by fingers nimble reveal fruit of heavenly body
Sights so gallant causes emotions lifted skyward bound
At rest ones head lay between caverns so majestic sends new sensation warm
Cerebral cortex inflames only to the satisfaction of an injection
Glands swollen that speech apparatus utters nonsense aloud
I stumbling and mumbling for eyes cannot me moved
Knees fall from inflamed feet as her majesty promoted to goddess of the morning
Knees almost buckling from such sights of glamour bestowed
Once again castaway to silk coverings smile the valiant knight
The mere pleasure found mine eyes seeing the glory of it all
Reaffirming life’s beginning revealed mother earth to her loyal subject
Panting from such excitement in utter disbelief silent sounds loud roar
Haven been privy to a miracle of creation ones lips run dry
Nothing more beautiful can be beheld nor made by man for perfect incarnate
So, what truly lies between her thighs?
The beginning, the middle, and the end of creation
Priceless flower of pedestals gentle sweet in pinked state
She has it all but yet not knowingly for thoughts compromised
Eyes now opened to the prize she cries tears of joy
Magnanimous appreciations given now to the butterfly
poem by Wilfred Mellers
Added by Poetry Lover
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