Beneath his fingers I am like a string
pulled tight upon my maestro's violin
He strokes me and my body starts to sing
As flames of passion lick along my skin
His music fills me and my soul takes wing
His tongue burns fire searing deep within
and from my loins abandon he must wring
knowing only in sweet death can life begin
At symphonies my lover is a king
Placing rapture where the silence should have been
Who knew the ecstasy his touch would bring
That in his hands I'd die and live again
Author notes
Thanks to my Joe, I am very familiar with the little death. As you will see if you read some of my other love poetry.
In a list
A contest entry
- i watched her die many times. by Death of the Author.
700 points, ended November 16, 2008, 18 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - i watched her die in rhyme. by Death of the Author.
700 points, ended November 21, 2008, 5 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
constructive criticism is desired
Comments
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I didn't think that the same/similar rhyme would work all the way through but it did.
Erotica can be awful, it really can, but this was excellent. The metaphors you used, the phrasing ("as flames of passion lick along my skin" is probably my favourite line), the rhythm...
I really liked how you referenced la petite mort in "knowing only in sweet death can life begin" - that's a really excellent line.
I was worried when I opened this contest that I was going to get a lot of poorly done erotica, and I may still get that, but this was a breath of fresh air. Really good, thank you for entering
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