I would like to be a writer. I began this site with amorous intentions, and over the course of time, I hope to have evolved as a male in an ever changing society that is today, recognizing the true beauty and elegance of woman. My words and notions will I hope respond in poetic verse of many genre and style. Come along and please share your ideas and insights. Thank you for your visit.


Why Do Men Love?


I can only speak of experience,

of which I’ve been often confused,

wondering if it were resilience,

or a strong desire to not be refused.

I would venture to imagine today

every woman I’ve known in my life,

has been inspirational in a way,

teaching me that advantage is rife.


Oh there were the young first loves

the sort had me by the balls feeling fear,

wondering how to control silly doves,

winged melodic sounds could bring tear.


And the search was on for a lonely man

to find the beauty, elegance, a want to relate,

ah the physicality of passion then so ran

the gamut upon defining a true soul-mate.


When while the life of man becomes real

the ideal, the beauty of her grace sing elegance

we did in time recognize the love surreal

of her, that sweet demeanor is reality’s chance.


Oh I have experienced sweetness, shadows above

Do suggest, her sensuality true, the one I do love

*Great Inspire photography

An Observed Interlude

the wait

I chose her to be delicious, to be vulnerable, to appear lovely,

she could hear me breathe across the room,

I wanted her to settle her heart in anticipation to hear me freely

gasp while her beauty did my eyes consume

She was there only for the thrill of mystique, our desire

to play with a surreal notion of capture,

without worry she is confident no harm while the fire

of swift passion our bodies could endure.

Hers is a vulnerability meant to be designed with a care

for well being, a pleasant elegance is she

wrapped in silks, a lingerie a man would dream to dare

be the rapture of his fantasy only for free.

the blindfold in the moment to allow my rasps would direct

her hands to sweep her arms to taste an air

of sheer coveted need, as damp tease she could sense a perfect

opportunity now as wanton touch might dare.

I did glance the pensive expression on her lovely face

the sort that indicates arousal is indeed

of a quiet climax soon to moans and my own steady pace

would we together intermingle her lead.

For it is I the observer who steams along for this ride,

I watch as soon her beauty unravels a release

as when now our skin touch, sensation begins a tide

gentle storms select surreal … soft is her peace.


*photo found on Tumblr

Finding Beauty





I choose the highlands

that reach toward the sky,

I live to know the heights

where my soul might linger

in a sweet peace of this world,

where it is I am in destiny,

the travels of my mind.

I know so little of what is time,

can only wish and dream perhaps

there might be a delight in line

for all of our heart felt agony.

I wonder often of failure

how the remark contains me

if it were just only a test

a limitless horizon of humanity

would it be so powerful then

once I might understand pathways.


I was once a child of a decade

where screen doors and trails,

soft breeze and playful friends

hot summers and weekend skis

the wisp of romance quite vivid

in the eyes of an older sib.

I remember then when life

could be as transparent as

the picture window in my home.


What happened to muddy the glass,

where is when I did suddenly

come to terms with losing idyllic

prayer and spiritual guidance?

How did I get to be so critical

of simply my own sacred humanity?

Why is it when I wake in the morning sun

my dreams become a starker reality,

a place where hope and beauty

always measured, isn’t a natural

course of my day’s mechanics?


I was watching you one evening

the music pounding my ears,

my body writhing to the rhythm,

yet you miles away in the heights

celebrating love, exploding sensuality

if I could lift my heart to you

like the potion driven magic

of my favorite never found chemist,

might I then find my peak,

while settling into ethereal arms

of passion and grace, would I with a smile

glance upon that valley of my dreams.


*photo credit – allen parseghian

when we touch

a sweet kiss on your cheek, my risk

perhaps yours too, yet I was …

well I didn’t know how you would feel,

then you smiled, my heart skipped, I laughed …


For when she walked away that night,

I knew love, something,

there was this special part of me –

you awakened me in the quiet of my restless world.


‘will you come up for a little while’

that standard set of words that reality that place

where a man wants to rest his body

that beauty of a woman’s invitation.


of course he wants to go up there,

he knows that when they are together,

the world will change, without any need to wonder,

she will open up her world to his eyes.


oh how easy that used to be,

when falling in love meant laying aside

any need to analyze the moment,

oh how easy it was to see her … beauty


‘I’ve been wearing these jeans for eight days,

they fit just right, don’t you think?’

Don’t you think, don’t ever think, don’t let your mind

interrupt this idyllic world of grace and harmony.


We were three floors above the rest of the world,

the door opened, and center stage,

her world, she invited me in, and we shared

our body, spirit, our demons and angels, our love.


sometimes memory just isn’t enough

when we touch we remember how much

we wanted each other,

I remember wanting you – right now.


Sweet Liberty

She would move in puzzles

the sort that might twist my mind,

sinewy legs, rambling arms,

her breasts alive in silks

meant only for my eyes

in a crowd of many,

yet my eyes would find hers,

search inside her world,

where her hips would move

my loins as the sweat would pour

our bodies in unison

moving on marble floors


we could do it right here,

if only for a society that

might allow sweet liberties,

the sort you write home about.


move with me please would

her shoulders plead my hands

her thigh inside my own legs

her hips gyrating to the blues.


I would watch her in a moonlit sky,

move through the breeze with a need

to only release a lovely energy

the sort that if offered may swoon.

we may dance inside each other’s

minds, passion filled, recreating

a seductive sojourn, her sensuality.


if only the dance floor became my reality.

When The Music Played

When I could feel you move,

you danced, and I followed, only holding on,

knowing you were there,

my side brushing yours, chest gracing


I could play all night

if the right melody

brought your eyes inside my own,

if I could be there now,

I would.

When the music played,

I will listen to your gasps,

the delicious nature of a heated exchange

of lips and tongue and grasps and ass,

When the music plays,

I will dance with her.

Modern Minded Muse ~ A duet w/ Wet Bliss


Let’s get better acquainted through cyberspace
On an application that I can see your face
I want to feel and hear the heat of your words
Caress my skin from the moment it begins
As you look upon me through sin of the lens
Exploring my depths and length of your sword

Without denial she offers immediacy of desire
An internal need supports a virtual internal fire
If by words you mean to pique wild abandon
Such is the mystery of a disconnect in society
To lure, to bathe, to surround sweet sensuality
While favoring feverish quiet release is won.

Quick witted tongue speaks with bright eyes
Holding each other’s desires captive with no lies
Sharing in a sweet knowing privacy held by two
Welcoming the distraction of lusty indiscretions
Shutting out societal notions of our own destruction
Naked, tenderness emerges with a brand new view

Constant need shouts validation of our existence
We might always seek outlets with shy insistence
Bold are the tenets of the human condition’s wrath
When lust in spirit and mind break open barriers
We are no longer felt to be the sad-faced carriers
While beyond society’s scope, we shadow the path

Through dark jaded hearts, something good to hold
Onto that restores lost hope, in sweet silence we cope.

* photo found on Pinterest

* a collaboration by Wet Bliss & Erotic Musings

Her work is fabulous, and I am honored again to have the opportunity to collaborate with Wet Bliss and her fond sense of sensuality. Check our her site with the link please. What a delightful ride this can be. We hope you enjoy. -musings