Lust is about more than passion.
Passion is about more than desire. Both, at their root, are divine fire: holy transports accessed only through mutual or un-confused bliss. Enjoy!
I let down my silken hair over my shoulders and open my thighs over my lover….Winter skies are cold and low, with harsh winds and freezing sleet. But when we make love beneath our quilt, we make three summer months of heat. ~ Tzu Yeh
And to my lips’
Bright crimson rim
The passion slips,
And down my slim
White body drips
The shining hymn…
~ D.H. Lawrence, “Mystery”
O happiest transport, dearest blessing,
Sweetest-rapture past expressing!
Who can tell the thrilling pleasure,
When the nymph resigns her treasure!
When she melts in ripen’d blisses,
Breathing out her soul in kisses!…
~ William Pattison, “The Enjoyment,” 1728
Let me lie,
let me die on thy snow-covered bosom,
I would eat of thy flesh as a delicate fruit,
I am drunk of its smell, and the scent
of thy tresses
Is a flame that devours.
~ George Moore
I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.
Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.
Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day
I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.
I hunger for your sleek laugh,
your hands the color of a savage harvest,
hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails,
I want to eat your skin like a whole almond.
I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body,
the sovereign nose of your arrogant face,
I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes,
and I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight,
hunting for you, for your hot heart,
like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue.
~ Pablo Neruda
A red rose peeping through a white?
Or else a cherry (double graced)
Within a lily? Centre placed?
Or ever marked the pretty beam,
A strawberry shows, half drowned in cream?
Or seen rich rubies blushing through
A pure smooth pearl, and orient too?
So like to this, nay all the rest,
Is each neat niplet of her breast.
I will cover you with love when next I see you, with caresses, with ecstasy. I want to gorge you with all the joys of the flesh, so that you faint and die. I want you to be amazed by me, and to confess to yourself that you had never even dreamed of such transports…. When you are old, I want you to recall those few hours, I want your dry bones to quiver with joy when you think of them.
~ Gustave Flaubert, letter to his wife Louise Colet, 1846
i like my body when it is with your
body…. which i will
again and again and again
kiss, i like kissing this and that of you,
i like, slowly stroking the, shocking fuzz
of your electric fur…
~ e.e. cummings
(Anonymous, from The Point of View)
THOU art a flower, dear heart, a fragrant flower
And I, the wandering, hair-clad, amorous bee.
’Mongst all the regal beauties of the bower,
I seek but thee.
I feel the ivory of thy petals fair
Brush lightly on my belly as I woo
And I would sting thee, if I did but dare,
So sweet are you.
I’ll be a park, and thou shalt be my deer;
Feed where thou wilt, on mountain or in dale:
Graze on my lips, and if those hills be dry,
Stray lower, where the pleasant fountains lie.
~ William Shakespeare