Sexy erotic poetry...
"Vegetable Curry For One," an erotic poem by Tapestry Lange
The sizzle of onion strings
Competes only with the tumbling
Of towels from the laundry closet
And the thoughts battering themselves
Mercilessly against my skull
In a futile attempt to escape
The fire of synapses and memory,
Gray matter saturated with longing
And the acute ache of loneliness.
With an intensified crackle and spit,
A myriad of flavors mingle and merge;
As I add my ingredients – zucchini, tomato,
Slightly rotted red bell pepper – I remember
The blessings I might have forgotten.
I recall the first caress of my lover’s lips,
The same lover who I wed, thinking I forever
Would be the insatiable goddess who enraptures,
The muse who inspires and the creatrix
Of dreams and spontaneous poetry.
Though I yearn to set fire to the loins
Of the one to whom my life is devoted,
Tonight, miles stretch between us.
How infuriated, caged and lost I become
While left within these empty walls,
Only me and the slowly spoiling remnants
From our last trip to the farmer’s market,
When you took the time to truly know me,
To consider me more than an afterthought.
As the red wine flows from the bottle
Into this solitary glass, I challenge you
To leave me in your waning moon shadows;
For, as I spoon in the curry and cumin,
The aromas of earth, desire and passion
Enter my nostrils and beckon me, once more,
To become the woman I knew myself to be.
I feel myself sensuous beneath my skin,
My core awakening to the kundalini flowing
Through chakras I’ve long thought dead.
Awaken me! Let the serpent writhe and coil
About my arm, slithering down and yet around
My waist, tightening his grasp upon me
Just as my thighs would wrap and firmly draw
My lover toward me, if only he were here.
As I emerge, expanding and unfolding,
I crave the sensation of earth and sky
Penetrating my depths and inviting me
To embrace the bounty of the natural world
And myself as woman, who forever shall be
The insatiable goddess who enraptures,
The muse who inspires, and the creatrix
Of dreams and spontaneous poetry,
Dependent upon nothing and no one
Outside herself to validate her femininity.
Go! Slay your dragons and steal their gold.
My soul is awakened, and my body is alive.
As I wrap my thighs around the spirit of the serpent,
You need not worry about me, waiting humbly
Within the shadows, for I am no longer there.
Originally published June 2009