Erotic Poetry

Pleasure that’s poetic. In this selection of erotic poetry, our community puts their sensuality into words for a different kind of sexual expression.

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Learning to Love to Learn Yourself by MosesThePoet

Kiss it,
those dark parts of yourself,
before anyone else does.
Let your curious hands, first wade
the wet web of magic
that can mamaguy* mouths to make water.
Watch the steam kettle off their tongues,
whistling, boiling. Their heated bodies wishing
to understand and mold the magi potency of your masterpiece
to their skulls forever
like a mural or message lost a long time ago.
They seem to still be searching
for the mechanics, the spell behind it all.

Let them
wonder, while you wander,
while you look at yourself for yourself,
while you mount up a mirror
between the valley of your thighs and watch,
know that the key to the kaleidoscope
of your curled toes hovers above the entrance and responds lightly to your fingertips.
Lick them,
you have permission,
the right to taste what you have to offer.

Like a keyboardist who has keenly studied each stroke,
you know which one is your favorite.
So touch,
marvel at the staccato
of your breath
as it hitches,
as it catches
and cover your mouth.
Moan quietly into your palm
as you bridge yourself like a knotted accordion.
Don't break
eye contact with the mirror.
You will need to look back with love,
at the way you loosened to your own touch,
making yourself a mountain,
a sea, a liquid solid,
A Poet.
Loving every line of their own lyric,
taking pleasure in the climax
and kneeling in worship
at the finally finished stanza.

You can only teach them how to play if you practice.

*mamaguy - Word from West Indian dialect meaning to try to deceive (someone), especially with flattery or untruths.

He Then She by Ruby Woo

He wanted to play trap
I insisted Erykah Badu
He said that’s far too girly
I wanna feel like a man when I’m fucking you
I felt trapped
A sexual cocoon
Oh and I want you to wax
I am not going down there unless you are soft n smooth
That’s it, I'm done
I walked out of the room.

She wanted Angie stone
A free spirit
That knew how to take me to the ozone
I said I hadn't shaved
She laughed
Said that’s okay
I don't care
I just want to make you moan
great, I'm gonna make your legs shake
Shall we go home?

Now when I’m alone I have epic gay wanks Listening to Angie stone.

Intertwined by Anonymous

I feel your breasts in my hands.

You feel mine on your back.

I let the water run down our bodies.

Wash away everything.

As I bite the back of your neck,

I tilt your head backwards towards me.

I kiss your face.

I lick your lips.

I bite your chin.

You pull me around.

You sit me on your lap.

My legs around your hips.

Our breasts touch.

Our nipples hard.

Our minds lost.

We scratch our backs in sync - as if we wished to make our way in.

All the way in.

Through flash,

and bones,

and feelings.

We gaze at each other.

We grab ourselves tighter.

And as if we could read each other’s minds, we whisper:

“MINE!”

We kiss deeply, we moan louder, we taste ourselves in each other’s lips and it feels...

Right.

Our brain is our first sexual organ. It plays a major role when we are engaged in sexual activity. Through mental framing, we can enhance our experience of sex. Nurturing our erotic imagination is yet another way to take care of our sexual wellbeing. If you liked this poem, explore our library of erotica for women, written by female authors and based on real fantasies.