Siren Whispers

Siren Song



He balances

on the edge of my sensuality,

precariously close and yet

too far

breathing in my essence

letting it saturate


allowing my taste 

to settle 

upon his tongue, savoring me

senses alive with




yet not touching

knowing I’d pull him into the flames

with me


Copyright ©SirenSong1208

All rights reserved.

Photograph taken from Pinterest, unsourced.


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He balances

on the edge of my sensuality.

Precariously close

and yet

too far.

Breathing in

my essence.

Letting it

saturate him.

Allowing my taste

to settle

upon his tongue.

Savouring me

with sight


and taste.


not touching.


I’d pull him into the flames

with me.



Photograph taken from Pinterest, unsourced 


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The strike of a match


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It’s the strike of a match

that signals the beginning.

Silent to all

but them

as it echoes

over the miles.

Fire starters with words

that nourish each other’s hungry souls.

Imagination becomes saturated

with desire-rich suggestion

that teases the senses

with the darkest of intent

becoming gasoline to tinder

as they erupt in flames

at the first touch.


Created and recorded for Whispering Neds on Twitter, a spoken word poetry prompt.


Photograph taken from Pinterest


By Firelight


She is laid out before the fire

The flickering flames dancing upon her naked skin

He surveys her

This beauty he calls his own

From the top of her dark head to her scarlet toes

She is all his

As his gaze moves over her he catches her eye

She looks steadily at him from under her lashes

Desire reflected in her eyes

Her mouth is rosy and moist

Begging to be kissed

To be bitten

A blush has crept up her chest to her cheekbones

He finds this delicious

He reaches out to touch her

Running his fingers along her elegant neck

Fingering the pulse he can see flickering madly

Her chest rises and falls rapidly

As she waits to see where his fingers will fall next

She does not have long to wait

He caresses her shoulders

Enjoying the satiny feel of her skin under his fingertips

Her breasts, which he adores

Fit perfectly into his hands

Her nipples are erect rosebuds he cannot help but pinch

Between his thumb and forefinger

Which elicits a gasp from her

Her belly, flat and defined begs for his touch

And as he caresses her

The muscles dance under his fingers

He replaces his fingers with his lips and tongue

Causing her to sigh and writhe before him

As his mouth maps her belly and hips,

His fingers find her silky thighs and ease them apart

She bites her lip and her head falls back

He strokes her with the softest of touches

Enjoying the way she feels

How aroused she has gotten

His need to feel her skin with his skin

Is overwhelming

He undresses and takes her in his arms

Hands, limbs, tongues entwine

The firelight the only witness to their union

Photo taken from Pinterest






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Passion’s Grip


Caught in passion’s grip

It’s fingers gripping her tightly

Coiling inside of her core

She is unable to control

The depth of her desire for him

She feels the flames

Lick at her heels daily


She is afraid of the intensity

Of her arousal

And exultant

In the feelings it brings forth

She surrenders to the bliss

She knows her passion for him

Will bring her

Photo taken from Pinterest