Category Archives: Poetry and Prose

Bringing on the Heat

Last night, I read an expanded version of my short vignette “Pheromones and Fornication” at an author’s event in Denver. The theme of the evening was “heat” – and I made sure to significantly raise the temperature level in that room.

mercury3

 

Pheromones and Fornication

There is something invigorating and remarkable about going for a walk, waiting for a latte, browsing through a bookstore, even pushing a grocery cart down the aisle and feeling an inexplicable aura of sexual energy emanating from me, prickling my skin, exuding from my pores like steam rising from a radiator.

Moist. Sizzling. Persistent.

A luminous, palpable heat that glides through the air in waves, enveloping unsuspecting passersby in a blanket of pheromones.

A second glance, a lingering gaze, a brief locking of our eyes, and he is entranced.

Unconsciously drawn into my intricate, mysterious web of seduction.

Wordless flirtations dance in the air between us, expressing all that is silently implied.

A mere few seconds of unspoken innuendos and the world is transformed into a temporary landscape, occupied by only two people:

Me… him… and the smallest fraction of a possibility for fornication that will never come to fruition but which feels enticingly delicious to consider.

Sometimes, if this passerby and I are standing close enough, the sexual energy resonates between our untouched flesh like invisible currents, causing the hair at the nape of my neck to tingle with static electricity.

Even, occasionally, triggering moistness to gather between my thighs.

I am ripe for the picking…

Ready to be plucked…

Savored…

Devoured.

And although the moment is fleeting, the experience leaves me vitalized.

Animated.

Alive in my own skin.

It is a reminder of my abundant femininity.

My female prowess.

My deep, sensual spirit.

And as I walk away from my spellbound passerby with my cup of coffee, my new book, my cart full of groceries, I am aglow, resplendent, in glorious harmony with the inner seductress traveling through my veins.

mercury

 

Photos courtesy of P. Illig and M.B. Lewis

 

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Body as Canvas

“His tongue is a paintbrush

      And I am the canvas

On which

      He fervently works

            To create a masterpiece.”

 

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© 2014 Enchanted Zaftig Poetry

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Filed under A Touch of Inspiration, Poetry and Prose, Visual Delights

Fanning Into Fire

A touch. A caress. The faint, musky scent of attraction.

Everything outward moving inward,

            fanning into fire,

                   culminating into desire.

the statues of Khajuraho

With uninhibited exploration of hills and valleys…

          and the stark sensation of softness

                  pressed against rigidity.

That is how their love unfolds, under the covers.

curly-divider

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In the Depths of Autumn’s Decay

I have discovered many friends lately, some very close to me, who are experiencing a profound and often difficult transition in their lives. This poem was written for you ~ and for everyone going through a life transformation.

In the innermost depths of Autumn,

In the interminable upswirl of leaves and earth,

Comes transition, change, an inevitable onset of life’s temporary slumber.

Different from Spring, this season brings with it the aroma of mortality and decay;

It is pungent and evident and swirls purposefully through the crisp, cool air that we breathe.

Yet with this decay, with this impending introduction to winter’s death,

Appears an opportunity for reawakening –

For rebuilding, refocusing and reexamining;

Like the accumulation of fallen leaves, we gather past thoughts, emotions and memories

And toss them together in a flickering pyre of flames

Proffering them to the earth like an organic offering on the altar of transformation.

By purging them from our bodies, minds and souls, we henceforth allow sufficient space

For a tiny seed of rebirth to germinate within us,

Slowly cultivating in the fertile soul of our acceptance and determination,

Preparing itself for bloom in the restorative sunlight of Spring.

 

© 2012 Enchanted Zaftig

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The Woman In The Dark

Sitting in the Dark With Red Hair ~ by Juan Alcantara

Sitting in the dark, in silence and solitude, tranquility and discernment,

A woman faces her fears,

Her bare flesh resplendent, encouraging her on,

Diminishing her shame and self-loathing.

She needs no mirror, no reflection, to assuage her hesitations

For the vivid truth speaks to her in a language she’s only just now begun to understand.

“I am wonderfully created.

Each and every fold and curve,

          hill and valley,

             rise and fall of my ample flesh

                gives proof to my unique existence.

My beauty shines from within and without and resonates to the world.

I am electric and noticeable, invaluable and admirable, worthy and unashamed.

I am me.

And I am content.”

The woman in the dark has a conversation with herself that alleviates even her most powerful doubts.

It cleanses and awakens her, offers a life-changing, uncharted path  of revelation and acceptance, love and respect, hope and fortitude.

“I am me,” she sings harmoniously to herself.

“And I am content…”

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Sketched

Stripped naked, I lounge on a blanket draped across my black leather couch. I’m languid, exposed, acutely aware of the artist’s gaze as he determines how best to present my flesh on paper.

Every now and then, a shiver runs through me from the cold.

Striving to remain statuesque and still, I watch  from the corner of my eye as his hand whips charcoal across the page; one moment fluid, the next moment sharp.  Determined.

His fingers smooth out the lines.

Diligently, he works to bring my hips and breasts and rotund belly to life. No intention of glossing me over; he depicts me just as I am ~ hefty, curvaceous, plump.

His honesty reverberates across the page. And I am beautifully transformed from flesh to sketch.

~ Enchanted Zaftig

Nathanael A. Lee  ©2012

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Your Worth

Never settle
For the man who purports to adore you
Who worships and reveres you and touches you in the darkness
But hesitates to proclaim his affection for you in the daylight.
For you are worth far more than that, Beautiful One.
… You are worth the moon and the stars and an entire symphony of song
You are worth the adoration of a man who will delight in your presence
Fully and completely, without reservation.
You are worth LOVE.

©2011 Enchanted Zaftig

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Filed under A Touch of Inspiration, Poetry and Prose, Visual Delights