Thursday, August 20, 2015

Some Poems

    (          )
by Helen Borel

HIPS ARE ARMS.

[circa 1999 (c) Copyright Helen Borel. All rights reserved.]



 Him       by Helen Borel

 His face
Shines at mine 
like a burning sun
Wet with incipient 
love-making
My mouth waters
My lips drip with
the dew of expectation
The hips of  my soul
ache with longing
to enfold his gems
between the thighs 
of my heart.

 Composed August 19, 2015 
(c) Copyright 2015 Helen Borel. All rights reserved.
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3 comments:

  1. hvrenjaFebruary 8, 2016 at 2:22 AM

    This comment has been removed by the author.

    ReplyDelete
  2. hvrenjaFebruary 8, 2016 at 2:25 AM

    Его лицо
    Сияет мне
    как жгучее солнце
    Влажное от занимающейся
    любви
    Мой рот влажен
    Губы сочатся
    росой ожидания
    Чресла души
    томятся в тоске
    Укрыть драгоценные камни его
    меж бедер
    моего сердца.

    ReplyDelete
  3. UnknownNovember 3, 2016 at 9:33 PM

    Love this Helen!! Enjoyed this Alot!!
    Take Care!!

    ReplyDelete

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