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Sensual Poems

Sensual Love

Sensual, Romantic and Passionate Love Poems

Love heightens our emotions and awakens our senses. What we feel is sometimes sweet like the aroma of flowers and earth after a spring storm. Sometime it is stimulating like the first sip of coffee in the morning. It can feel heavy, drowning us in just a whisper. It will displace your reality. We begin to awaken each day with a ravenous hunger for our lovers touch and an insatiable thirst to caress them. The sight of that person and their scent send unspoken and yet shouted signals to our body. No wonder love is so powerfully addictive.


Poem of the Week
By Sutekh Adamah

I can only tell you: "The heart has its reasons which reason knows nothing of." - Blaise Pascal

If I was to read for you, My Dear Rose.
A poem of beauty, as only few words could show.
Like Picasso as a writer, let me paint your body.
A whisper of grace and elegance, without noise of gaudy.

See her breast cupped; stretch the stitches of her blouse.
As if swollen with milk, my flame only her water could douse.
Lingers of secluded comfort, like a forest cottage house.
My fingers warm between her soft cleavage, like a hiding mouse.

Her nipples harden from my whispers in the air.
As her body heats up, her sweat gives off a scent so rare.
Undress her body, sounds of her clothes as they tear.
Like electric musical notes, rise from her body like hair.
No other woman has ever had a skin so fair.
Like a roses petals, no other flower could compare.
Taunting Eden's apple, as if to rival a pear.

See her sway her thighs and hips.
Like a rose in the wind, petals swell from the tips.
Softest leather feel, back arched like a crack from the whip.
Tall smooth legs, like a mast of a ship.
And the rain on her sails, taste of honey to lips.

Your arms like shields, rose's petal points lifted.
Touch of your fingers, ten angel pianists, heavenly gifted.
Easily make a man's emotions feel shifted.
Dancing in the mind of every dream he has drifted.

Those smooth long legs spread like the wings of a flyer.
Inner thighs speak a truth that would mute a liar.
And drip sweet smelling nectar that excites a man's desires.
Like an addictive drug, that makes him only want to get higher.

Her smooth bottled neck, over her soft shoulders
Holds a face of beauty, eyed in all beholders.
A rose lost in the forest, graceful, triumphant, and wild.
Enchanted mystic youth, pretty, majestic, like a fairy's child.

Beautiful arms even Hercules could not grace.
Like two pythons, leave a man breathless in embrace.
And the pressure they do impart,
Have the power to forever imprison your lover in your heart.

I could never forget her sweet smelling perfumed hair.
Blowing in the air as if God's winds, were trying to stare.
Her eyes which contact made you frozen,
Put you in a spell that made you swear that you were chosen.
Trapped in fleeting notions,
Her lips tasting of Love's potions.

If I was to read for you, My Dear Rose.
A poem of beauty, as only few words could show.
Like Picasso as a writer, let me paint your body.
A whisper of grace and elegance, without noise of gaudy.

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Rating: 4.26

Votes: 34

Poem of the Week
By Richard Jeffrey Newman

This poem was originally published by Cavankerry Press in the book "The Silence of Men", Poems by Richard Jeffrey Newman. It is published here with the permission of the poet.

In the dream, my life was smoke: I couldn’t breathe.
So I ran, unwrap­ping myself down the beach
till your skin, the ocean, lapped at my knees.
I dove in. Your voice was a cur­rent,
a melody gath­er­ing words to itself
for us to sing, and we sang them,
and they swirled around us, iri­des­cent fish
bring­ing light to the world you were for me;

and then I was water, a river
wash­ing the night from your flesh,
and I cra­dled your body ris­ing in me
till you were clean, glow­ing,
and when you sur­faced, glis­ten­ing,
there was not an inch of you I didn’t cling to.

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Rating: 4.15

Votes: 26

By Courtney Bleu

Unhurried love deepens the experience. I like to play with ways to express passion.

I took a long time
to choose what I wanted
Soup, hot soup
A cup? No a bowl
of sustenance dark, rich,
full bodied and aromatic

So I took the time
to inhale deeply and swallow slowly,
letting soup sips caress
my taste buds before sliding
swiftly down my throat
splash landing a smile into a sigh

And in the last minutes of time
I tipped the bowl, smoothly
rocking end drops into the concave curve
and with my head tilted back,
lips slightly parted, I sucked the last
good-as-the-first satisfying drops

From that bowl,

Of hot soup

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Rating: 4.09

Votes: 22

We two form a multitude

- Ovid

Love is composed of a single soul inhabiting two bodies.

- Aristotle