x-x-x-x
"You're a lousy speller," she stated, sad. It was inexcusable for a poet to be a bad speller, I knew. "Spell love," she challenged me.
"w-i-n-e?..." I tried, doubtful, hating that big tear rolling down her cheek. She picked up her handbag.
"Try again," she gave me one last chance.
"r-o-s-e?..." I tried again, uncertain. She grabbed the door handle, turning it. "y-o-u!..." I shouted after her, desperately.
My, my, was she heavy, hanging there to my neck kissing and sobbing.
"You are definitely a poet," she said, "you are crazy."
"Crazy," I echoed happily, finally on familiar ground, "l-o-v-e..."
*
s-s-s-s
"Tie my feet to the bedposts," she asked, embarrassed. I obeyed, blushing. "You forgot one s," she giggled, untying then tying the right foot to the other bedpost. "Now... your tongue... to my spot..." she whispered. She must have been crazy.
I got off and touched my tongue to the flowers pot. Smelling good, still...
"Are you s-deaf or what?" she screamed, "I want my wild sex, now!"
This really pissed me off. I gave her all I had, finishing in a hurricane of appreciative grunts. She fell asleep, smiling.
I guess she'll never want her wild ex again. Ever.
*
u-u-u-u
We became friends on the net. Then lovers. Now meeting for the first time, my poem written on paper, ready to be recited to her. You see, I wasn't so sure of my accent.
I unfolded the paper and started reading.
"The beautiful can't..." the slap was less painful than that look of hurt.
"And I thought you were different..." she crumpled the paper.
"But I just wanted to..." I tried to hold her back.
"Butajustawantata..." she mocked me, laying down the crumpled sheet and smoothing it... "...ohh..." she suddenly gasped, turning tomato-red.
My God, was she one hot kisser...
Author notes
this shorties' collection is for the intelligent reader 
, the one with the right amount of imagination to lay claim to poet's status. do you possess the mental balance allowing you to distinguish between smut and reality, thus see the rainbow in the mud? i am sure you do 
In a list
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 18 of 18
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Maybe not.
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and oh I read the word cunt down there lol, I am not a poet, neither do I have the accent
but my my! she's a very demanding lover and she wants it tongue-spelled, Poets must be orally fixated at that case, at least the bonus she is too--she, being a hot kisser
truly enjoyed this
belle
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I don't think I fit the type of poet that you described in your AN. Nonetheless, I did enjoy the poem. The feelings were well conveyed by the words you chose to use.
Mike
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LOLOL you and your romantic interludes,
you've tickled my funny bone tonight, my imagination is turning summersaults with these three shorties, your talent is really showing here!
Let the ink flow!
love and blessings my friend,
Sandi
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you leave a patch of sun wherever you touch, lady, if to read and if to write. thank you
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"Beautiful Cunt"? That was the mispronunciation I got out of it.
There is an exhaustive psychological portrait here- beyond the wit, emotional entanglement, sexual involvement your characters are tangible; their relation to one another feels organic. The bumbling temerity of the tone is executed sensitively. This relationship, in its enormous scope and speed, almost overwhelms the narrator- and we as readers are swept right along with it.
The content of the relationship is a bit garbled- I don't know if the chronology of this piece is intact (which would make the little sex scene a cyber). You might elucidate this somehow.
I really enjoyed this read, great thanks.
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so intelligence is not an exticnt species, thank god for residual pockets of resistance like yours, my friend. oh, and thank you too
ps - i leave the chronology to the reader, either separate characters, or the same ones reminiscing... that's for the many other i's - imagination, intuition, inspiration...
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The bed speller guide... ooops... the bad.
Well, I have a problem with my accent too.
Just wonder how you will spell or pronounce my name, lol...
Your stories are always something worth to read.
The ending of this first shorty reminds me of Van Morrison's beautiful song:
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I can hear her heartbeat
from a thousand miles.
And the heavens open up
every time she smiles.
And when I come to her,
that is where I belong.
And I'm running through her
like a river song.
~
Ok, now back to my comment. If somebody would ask me, this is just a puzzle of your great written poetical opus. Thank you for your rainbow(s)miles...
~Sonja~
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trying to steal my show, lady? well, you can, anytime, and your visit here is a ray of sun...
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Oh I'm sure your accent is always correct...the accent of love in all it's passion and intensity and in all the colours of the rainbow. I so loved this write and all the nuances here. Gorgeous. I must admit though that it spoke to me on more levels than the mental
!! Intriguing indeed!
~ Nicolette
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glad, the other... ahmmm... levels are not less important (and at certain moments even more ) , thank you my dear nic
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I dunno if I possess the required amount of imagination or not, but I know I have enough to fill in any blanks that may arise. 
You are one interesting, inspiring, engaging, intriguing, entertaining Scribe, my Friend.
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imagination AND intelligence my dear, and more... thank you
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This is an absolute joy to read. I really got a kick out of this. Well done and keep it up.
**Ktulu Blackwolfe**
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as your comment is a real joy too, ktulu my friend
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Hahahaha! Omg, this made me giggle, excellent work my dear
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it's one of the reasons you are in my favorites - intelligence... thanks you
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