My Present

There she is…
The most beautiful girl in the world.
Just looking at me.
Smiling.
With Portal eyes of secret dreams.

I can’t but gaze upon her.
Dream of the things she says & does to me.
She wants to work with me.
She wants to be with me.
Flirtatiously lovely, she wants to wear skirts for me.

She’s my luscious tease.
‘No!’ she declares with a wide open grin
& the look of love bursting through her happy eyes.
& she stands by me
Or close before.

& I breathe her in.
Her fragrant hair,
Her warmth & closeness.
I pull her closer,
I cup her bum.

& I want to caress her perfect face,
Tilt my head & kiss her lips.
Seduce her body young,
& tell her of the thoughts I keep for her,
& forever keep this day the same.

I love her deeply.
My daily present wrapped & fine.
I haven’t told her what happens to every gift
How slowly I’d unwrap & gaze upon
& how, how I’d love my gift for evermore.

– & what does she want for xmas this year I asked? – to be with me she said. She’s killing me!
© ed simkins 2016

Death

Death is a girl who lies naked & happy on my blanketed sofa.
Smiling thighs protrude like spies below the edges of her delicacy.
I worship her.
A Crimson throw cushions her flesh of youth & protects her joyful modesty from longing & my gaze.
Wrapped up in fun, she waits patiently as I write for her this gentle, little ode.

She promises me a kiss.
A slow tender, succulent intoxication of lust.
I desire her.
& I will caress her hair soon in moments of fond seduction.
Smooth warm shoulders watch my steady hand type.
I can see from here
Her undressed super sternum notch & the gentle descent of where I’d like to be.

Immaculate & pretty
Her face warms my sordid imagination.
I can see love in her eyes.
Sparkling pools of dreams.
I thirst for her kiss.
Her blood red finger nails await my pleasure.
Torn flesh will cry.
Her marbled curves of delight will sigh in soft abatement.
& I will fall.

She wakes me up from dreaming here.
She smiles.
She says I should finish & come sit beside her & join her far beneath the blanket surrounding her.
I am captivated.
Foolish.
& in love.

I can sit with her in paradise.
Slow kisses & perfect dreams.
For hours we will gaze upon the beauty of what we represent.
& with that, I bid you farewell.
My siren beckons
& I am hers.

~ The girl on my couch.
© ed simkins

Morning LOVE

It was the story of a smile that led me on.
Her naked charms below the covers.
She teased me! She breathed and she was awake.
The night was over. & Simple joy!

I could see her face from my subterranean vantage point,
A blanket made of silken flesh.
I crawled towards her.
Snuggled. Breathed her in. returned her smile & winked.

As the sun flew, in my virgin blinds allowed the world to see,
Every sinew, every muscle, every delectation of her perfect skin.
She flicked her hair.
Imagination gasped & instinct approached.

Snow filled room with dreams of love,
She lay there curled up, smiling widely, a happy grin.
I brought her close, her waist so ripe.
I took her firmly within my grasp. Enjoyment mounted.

Her eyes alight, her lips they moistened,
I fell in love and tasted her.
Tiger’s claws pawed my back,
The scars were felt, desire roared.

Happy moments took their time, a dream fulfilled with lust.
Her beautiful face stared achingly, egging me on, a squirming child teasing beneath,
I obliged with force, though succinct and tender,
Led arching back, withdrawing eyes.

Her voice so carnal, she sang such words,
That neighbours praised the joys of youth.
Her fingers clenched, I bit her neck,
Her tongue was mine, her sweat assured.

We slowed in pace, our breathing merged,
A time it passed as girl rolled round.
And lover’s brace she held me close
And love was born in sweetest taste.

I see her face & I am God.
Her perfect face my epitaph.

~ a beautiful morning with a beautiful girl

© Ed Simkins

The girl with yellow hair

Quickly!

Smile & you’ll see the face of two darling strangers running, playing.

Quick! There they go! Hurry, catch them! Running & falling in love quicker than I can ever write!

& Oh the joy of how they skip, two lovers run.

I want their beauty captured, their time immortalised,

Set the sun. Capture it. Frame it! Place the faces of the young all over the walls and watch the darkness turn back in time.

That pretty girl in youth in full state of charming grace, a strong man of words her chosen fate.

They smile.  & Still you need to watch their faces burn!

Flowers in the streets & corridors of colour. Simple echos of sounds of silent laughter.

They pause & turn, his hand stops hers.

Firm & right, her wrist is small. Their veins pulsate, their breathe resists.

& Within her eyes he says a shortened word, her face reacts with a blood red hue.

& this is love!

Yes, this is fantasy and dreams and bounds & screams of youth. This is freedom!

This is escape!

Her golden hair the daffodils friend. Her pure white cheeks, her crimson lips.

There’s no need for kiss though man would seek. Their secret radiance intensifies.

Her shining dress, her blacked gown, a floral princess in summer’s dance.

But shush!.

Quiet. The crowds are back!

Girl and boy do gaze and part & watching them; a beating a heart.

This girl is mine, though she says no name.

& I watch her.

& smile.

(c) Ed Simkins

~ A secret girl inspires

Death in The Snow

I was scared that time would drive her away, this ghost i met on snow filled day

a challenge drawn between two friends, a distant smile that seemed to end

i called her name, reply not made, seems death had brought it’s famous grave

to bury any stint of love, by destruction, pull and fatal shove

when others entered & spread their lies, i knew that person’s friendship ties

were stronger and deeper than any fact; a web of hatred across my tract

for when approach was lonely done, no sight revealed the golden sun,

and so that girl with dreams and fears, retracted footsteps and stalked with spears

her eyes did burn and her mouth turned sour, alone i was in that mortal hour

the final pain began to flow, when laughing witch did cackle so

she saw her power, she knew the scent, of a fear induced where love was meant

she pointed at wondered beast that roared, and smiled in solemn victory of course

that fake princess, her silken whip, her deceit revealed from bum to lip

my fault of course, i turned to see, those salacious curves of destiny

but fate is cruel, my death was known & God’s fixed hatred a long time sown

& so i lie in falling white, a bitter end in frozen night

i cry no more for my end is here, the perk of this no final tear

a huddled lump, i lie in snow, a buried fool for you to know.

(c) Ed Simkins

To laugh or to Smile

To laugh or to smile? – I’m undecided!

You see…

Be it the gun in your hand or the look on your face, I love how you stalk me from my work to my place,

& you’re a funny girl just like cute Taylor Swift; a rebellious lover & a beautiful gift

You know how to fight, you know how to play. You know how to deliver a spiritual bouquet!

So why point that thing straight up at me, when you know that i’ll kiss you without a need for a plea?

You know that I’ll bow & I’ll hug and I’ll chase, You know you’re my girl, my own mental case.

& You’re lipstick is perfect, my favourite delight. I breathe you in and my god, I’m Buddha tonight!

I am laughing my girl, & it’s true that I am! You’re a princess you see, just look at this man!

But seriously Delia, you gotta put down that gun. That pistol with vengeance is teasing no-one!

Sigh – for you hold me, your nails entwine, & your hair is approaching & your senses are mine.

Will you kiss me again with that look on your face? Or you likely to shoot me, paint hate on my face?

But now that you’re grinning, I’m feeling alive & wondering my love if you’ll keep me alive!

You’re playful & teasing & naughty my rogue, & your cute little mannerisms, completely in vogue

With you I’m in love though you still hold that gun, & you wont give it back til you’ve milked it just some!

So an impasse it seems between true love & hate, & I wonder Dear Reader, what you’d write down as fate?

For us to be one and a happy dream in your mind, or just a fucked up mess, another fantasy resigned.

–  I wonder.

(c) Ed Simkins