ReConfigured: Seeking Twilight [Mature]

[after Breanna Shaylee's poem, "Reading An Erotic Novel]


ingenium nobis ipsa puella facit.

---Propertius, Book II, Elegy 9


After a busy Friday afternoon,
show me, Lady Contentment, my sole Muse,
how you passed the the intervening hours
before your friends arrived to celebrate
Ladies Night In, a casual custom.
Senecent old minors may object to this,
but I seek to be admitted to this mystery
because I love you so very ardently.
And so she disclosed to me the precious vision.


First, as I might have thought, her shoes lay near
the entrance---eagerly kicked off, abandoned,
along with the cares of the workweek's last day.
Awaiting the arrival of her friends,
she opens the book she had bought earlier,
Erotic Poems Of Ancient Rome, translated
by the Scholiast (of Stars and Curves)
his mundane name not very much used,
even by this uncooperative, unliterary world,
and crochety old farts who claim to rule it.



She begins to turn the pages, reading
intently, pronouncing the words to herself---
almost unaware of her pulse and breathing
becoming a bit elevated. The room, also, seems
a bit too warm, so she removes her
white singlet, or tank top; and, soon after,
her baggy, beige cargo pants leaving only
her pink lace panties and choicest midnight blue
socks (darker than her cerulean tresses
(that now fall gently over her bare, aroused breasts);
her choicest socks, their length nearly to the
patella (mentioned for those who might care to know). 



From time to time, the hand that turns the pages,
also serves to toy with her hair's lower ringlets;
also, in the same touch, caressing both breasts
without even thinking much about it,
except to enjoy the shudder it drives
through her body and among those fulsome curves
that are now so vulnerably naked to the poems
and to the pleasures that her flesh has craved
while she awaits Ladies Night In with great
joy, a mounting, pleasant anticipation
of an evening of feminine, ample delectation
that Rubens might have been glad to depict;
but that is for another poem in the offing.


With neither shane nor prudes' inhibitions,
one of her hands slips beneath the wasitband
of those lace panties, as her soft sighs
becine more radical moans, and then loud cries.
She will not tell me what poem brought the peak
of bliss to her, nor is that anyone's concern.
I think of Vergil's phrase, Cum Juno,
the only Latin I learned my sophomore year
in college. And as I left that class behind,
so I will take my leave of this epyllion,
and of the vision Lady Contentment has bestowed,
as she awaits the coming commencement
of Ladies Night In; and that is another poem.



Author's Notes/Comments: 

Although I have proofread this, please advise me of any typos that might remain.


Some of Breanna Shaylee's beautiful erotic poems are here on postpoems.

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patriciajj's picture

Must read that very "moving"

Must read that very "moving" poem! This was extremely well done. You chose just the right details, drawing us into the almost unbearable crescendo of desire, and leaving the rest to our imagination. An experience. Great work. 

Starward's picture

Thank you so very much. 

Thank you so very much.  Coming from you, given your poetic achievement, that comment is high praise indeed.  I hope to post its sequel, about the Ladies Night In, either tomorrow or Monday.  Again, thank you for the encouraging comment---I always appreciate your words.