Two eyes across a crowded room,
A spark, electric, in the gloom,
A fleeting glimpse of one with whom,
You could feel truly free.
For one long beat, the contact held,
A time in which you are enspelled,
A time in which two souls could meld,
If only this could be.
Then comes a smile to match those eyes
A gentle voice invites your sighs
A touch as soft as butterflies
That brush you tenderly
A voice that flows like liquid gold
That warms your senses in its folds,
And gives you in your heart to hold
The hope that this could be.
You feel the pulsing of your heart
And then your breathing, and you start
To notice thoughts and pictures dart
That only you can see
All sights and sounds just fade away,
For you, a single voice holds sway,
A single face, as clear as day
Is all your world can be.
As but a child these feelings grew
Inside, as even then you knew
You'd meet one day with someone who
You'd love so tenderly.
A thousand years might come and pass
You'll feel these feelings to the last
And still remember that day past
Those feelings came to be
But then disaster! Has he heard
A careless thought? A thoughtless word?
Can no-one tell you what occurred
To bring such misery?
Those eyes, that voice, their absence rends
A void that nothing else can mend
Oh Lord, how grim! How bleak the end
If this should never be!
And yet if this should be the one,
That perfect loving companion
To love you through those years to come,
You always knew could be.
Those glory years still yet to come
Are surely not to be undone
So simply, not if you be strong
Then you can be make it be.
You feel once more that fire within,
As boldness forges steel therein
Which whispers that you still may win
That love 'twas meant to be.
That fire within you grows and feeds,
And spreading through you, burning, needs
Some consummation in your deeds,
And you can make it be.
If gods and angels could assign
A Perfect Love, let this be thine
The heights of passion to define
Oh Lord, oh let it be!
Hearts and Spirits Intertwined,
A love that glows like Autumn Wine,
A bond that trancends Space and Time,
And you can make it be.
And you can make it be.
N.M. Fortune, 1997.
What can we know about a Rose?
Do you remember the sting of a blood tipped thorn
Or prefer the sweet seduction of its scent?
Perhaps the rich velvet of its petals as they grow
Spiralling inward,
Around and around,
Deeper and deeper,
To the inner mystery of the flower's heart
Its secrets known only to the courting bees.
Ask not the Rose:
Roses, like lovers, keep their secrets.
Why else do lovers choose that bloom
To symbolise this sacred bond
That joins them in their secret hearts, and grows,
Spiralling inward,
Around and around,
Deeper and deeper,
Until it penetrates our souls,
So deep inside that in years to come,
You will feel that special bond,
And remember
A Single
Perfect
Rose.
N.M. Fortune, 1997.
Come with me to the Land of Illusion,
Desire sculpts beauty from the air!
See it clearly! No confusion!
A world as rich as you can dare.
Childhood toys, forgotten treasure,
A lover's note, a lock of hair,
Precious things beyond all measure,
The blossom of a new affair.
Feel that thrill of pure excitement
As your heart becomes aware
How that region's sly incitement
Holds you softly in its snare.
Come with me to the Land of Illusion,
Desire sculpts beauty from the air!
See it clearly! In Profusion!
A world as rich as you can dare.
Hear the sounds and feel the feelings,
Everything two lovers share,
So intense, your senses reeling,
Almost more than you can bear.
Your every wish, your every passion,
Every need and every care,
Each desire your heart can fashion,
You will find them waiting there.
Come with me to the Land of Illusion,
Desire sculpts beauty from the air!
See it clearly! In Profusion!
Come, Now let me take you there!
N.M. Fortune, 1997
If you were to suddenly fall deep in love,
Always Supposing, Always Supposing,
That sudden connection, A bolt from above,
Always Supposing It's True.
Can you feel in your mind as your thoughts steal away,
To a time in your future where passion holds sway,
A rapture that stems from this one special day,
Always Supposing It's True.
If you were to meet with the man of your dreams,
Always Supposing, Always Supposing,
You hear your heart pounding, your head fills with schemes,
Always Supposing It's True.
As you think how your body would feel deep inside,
As it quickens your breath and makes eyes open wide,
Till the flood of your passion grips you in its tide,
Always Supposing It's True.
If you were to find yourself filled with desire,
Always Supposing, Always Supposing,
Your knees turn to water, elsewhere you're on fire,
Always Supposing It's True.
Would you think as you feel yourself tremble with need,
You'd surrender to passion or would you conceed,
To the urge to take action with maximum speed,
Always Supposing,
Always Supposing,
Always Supposing It's True.
N.M. Fortune, 1997.
Home Alone
Safe and secure
Unplugged the phone
In solitude pure
This night is yours
To do as you will
These languid hours
That you long to fill
With Indulgence.
A hot scented bath
Fragrant with foam
A warmth that relaxes
Penetrates to the bone
A chilled glass of wine
Tasting sweet on your tounge
This night is for pleasure
This night is yet young
That's Indulgence.
One last piece of chocolate
A last treasured sweet
A pleasure you've hoarded
A sensual treat
A tease on your lips
A delight on your tounge
This night is for pleasure
This night is yet young
That's Indulgence.
Now relaxed and languid
Your thoughts steal away
To a pleasure deferred
To some forthcoming day
That first brush of lips
And a soft touch of tounge
This night is for pleasure
This night is yet young
Sweet Indulgence.
This night is for pleasure
This night is yet young
So surrender to pleasure
Before the night's done.
That's Indulgence.
N.M. Fortune, 1997.
In my mind, I see us dancing
Dressed in red
You flit across the floor, a living flame
I follow, poor clumsy moth that I am
Spiralling helpless to my doom
The music changes
You advance towards me
I retreat before your passion
Or is it perhaps that the candle
Now finds itself drawn inexorably toward the moth?
All motion is relative.
Perhaps flame yearns for moth
Just as surely as moth is drawn to flame
Both blown upon the winds of destiny
Until this moment of consummation
Stands revealed as communion
As moth and flame become one
For a single trancendant moment
And I think of you and I wonder
In this single timeless instant
Just how do you see us together
In that special place in your mind.
N.M. Fortune, 1997.
Were I a mechanic
I would build a Machine
Hard Steel and Soft Leather
Warm Fur and Cold Logic
To Lead you to your highest planes of pleasure
Not programmed for compassion
It takes you to the brink
And holds you there
Touching and Teasing
Holding and Carressing
Stimulating and Penetrating
With a hundred hands
a hundred mouths
(and lips) (and toungues)
And all those other things you need
To find your sexuality being manipulated
With the virtuosity of a concert pianist
Calibrated with precision
It takes you again and again
To that point of release
(but no further)
As you strive in vain for that moment
That hovers, tantalising, just beyond your reach
Frenzied and Frantic
You feel the moment slip away
Only to find the process beginning again
As you feel yourself being taken
higher and higher
Over And Over Again
All this I would do
So that I might memorise your face
As you tremble upon the brink
Made oh, so beautiful by your need
All of this, I do, that I might remember:
Remember the sound of your breathing at that moment
Remember the flush of your skin
Remember the perfume of your arousal
Remember the taste of your sweat as it beads your upper lip
Remember the way in which passion clouds your eyes
Remember each and every facet of your ultimate arousal
Over And Over Again...
No mechanic am I
But merely a poet
Verbs and Adjectives
Adverbs and Nouns
Must suffice in place of Leather and Steel
Constructing my mechanism inside your mind
To caress the sensitive areas of your imagination
Can you feel it now?
The soft brush of a vowel?
The tender kiss of a constonant?
Moving softly within you
In each of those places where
You respond most strongly
Words are more subtle than brute hydraulics
They can allow and invite you
entice and incite you
To hear those sounds
see those images
feel those feelings
That you need
In precisely the order that you need them
That allow you to come
Again and again
To that highest point of arousal
As you:
Imagine the feelings that throb inside your body
Imagine the sound that escape from your lips
Imagine the taste of my flesh on your tounge
Imagine the scent of my body on yours
Imagine my face as you reach that point
Over And Over Again
No machine am I
But merely a man
In place of Cold Steel and Hard Plastic
Warm Flesh and Hot Blood must be pressed into service
Against that moment when you finally beg for release.
There are six billion people on the planet
Which serves to suggest
That my simple flesh shall prove sufficient...
Over And Over Again
N.M. Fortune, 1997.
All poems copyright Nick Fortune, 2001.
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