Naked Reflections Poetry: Shameless and Unapologetic

Category Archives: Poetry

She Will Shine

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Every glance
every smirk
she read
from his face.
Every insult
every chastisement
she bore
into her core.
He knew not the pain he birthed
in the angel child he claimed
he cherished.
She sought his approval
his attention
his unconditional love.
He spat advice
tainted by drunken sermons
while his own damaged child inside
cried behind feigned strength.
He never knew 
how to give
how to live
how to grow
as a man.
But one day 
she will shine
in spite of his shame
and his eyes will close
by force
while his heart opens
by chance
and his soul departs
by design.
Inspire Me for 30 Days, Day 3

Hot Link

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A big thick link
roasting on the grill
The blackness
Sealing in the juices
Everything that makes it hot
Is confined within the skin
of that big thick link

Between my buns
It rests
I hold it
the warmth permeating
to my hands
The heat inside can’t be contained
I have to bite it

Opening wide
Anticipating a burst of flavor
I wrap my lips around it
and let my tongue caress it
I bite down gently
And all the spicy juices
run from my tongue
to my lips
down my face
dripping from my chin
snaking its way down my neck
to rest in my cleavage

I devour
that big thick link
and it leaves me wanting more

Morena’s Main Course (Part 3) from the Morena Series

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Morena, I will taste all of you

Starting here at your beautiful feet

Franco holds my heels in his palms
Moist lips kissing my toes
Leaving me somewhat breathless

as his tongue tenderly touches each tip

“Franco, don’t stop.”

I hold the edges of the table

halting the sensation of levitation

His hands caress my calves

holding each leg as if a work of art

He explores the backs of my knees

that quiet erogenous zone

lighting my fire

and all I can do is moan

and hold on tighter

to control my scorching desire

With eyes covered

My imagination soars

Sliding on top of me

overtaking my existence 

with his pleasuring persistence

feeding me

all of his tantalizing secrets

The sweetness of his tongue

and the saltiness of his neck

Morena, your legs are delectable

but I have to sample your main dish

“Franco, I need to see you

I want to watch you please me.”

Princesa, feel the joy

Let it overcome you

as I have been completely possessed by you

My dress no longer hid my hunger
He has bared my want for him
Listening, smelling, anticipating
Where he will go next

His tongue and fingers massage my inner thighs

and warmth from his own body heat

escapes through his pores

My legs lock around his broad shoulders

Subduing his head behind a facade of my control

He breathes in and out with urgency

In and out, I pant

Moisture seeps and drips
from the depths of my cravings
and teases his tongue
I attempt to speak

But all that escapes

are the sounds of satisfaction


to an orgasmic impact

that my hot walls will endure.

Thai (Part 2: Dessert) from the Morena series

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Last bites remain 
unclaimed on our plates
Franco’s eyes entice mine
his hunger permeating the room
synergic with my sensibilities
Would you like dessert, Franco?
What might that be, Morena?
An assortment of berries
with delicious sweet cream.
I would love your berries and cream, Morena
Let me help you clear the table
To make room for Fruta y Crema.

The cherrywood table
welcomes the fruit platter in its center
Franco stands behind me 
almost close enough
to channel his heat through my dress
Restraining my waist
he whispers on the back of my neck, 
Se ve bien rico, Morena.

Do you trust me, my love?
Of course I do
Why would you ask?
I want to know the depth of your trust
and see if you are willing to let go.
I am willing
I am ready
I can barely wait.
He has no idea how much I want this
Whatever it is.

As I turn to face him
He covers my eyes with what feels like a silk scarf
Don’t worry, Morena
Experience this without your eyes
Releasing your visual control is mutually erotic.
Mmmm, I give you permission 
to create new vision for me, Franco
I want to feel what I can not see.
Relax. I will lay you down 
where we can enjoy dessert.

He gently whisks me off of my feet
What I thought would be the couch
is the cool hardness of cherrywood 
seeping through my dress
The unexpected creates mysterious intensity
Before I can speak
the warmth of his lips 
covers mine.
Let me feed you
Please you
Satiate your sweet wants.

Open your mouth
and savor what you taste
Allow it to fill you completely.
My lips part enough to accept a cream-covered cherry
The sweetness on the end of my tongue
and the solid wholeness of the berry
entice me to chew slowly
appreciating the newness
in its rawness.
Don’t swallow the seed, Morena.
The seed balances 
between my tongue
and my lips
He sucks it out but leaves my mouth
craving him more.

I want to taste you Franco.
Not yet, mi amor
You have more fruta y crema.
He touches my bottom lip
Igniting a fire in the pit of my stomach
my tongue searches blindly
He holds a strawberry in my mouth
Bite gently.
As my teeth slowly penetrate, 
he pinches my nipple
exposed behind my dress
and my thighs tremble
from carnal anticipation
I chew but his tongue intervenes
forcing its way around 
the cream
the bits of berry
and my liquid desire.

The feel of you
The sight of you
Makes me want to taste all of you.

Thai (Part 1) another poem from the Morena series

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Thai Take-Out.
Chilled Riesling.
Vanilla and Jasmine.
Sexy Songs.

My first dinner with Franco
at my place
Hesitant to wow him with my cooking
Insistent to fill him with my loving
He loves Thai
Serving a spicy sweet mix tonight
Skin caressed by silky smooth satin
My natural female scent
pheromones in his Thai appetizer
Our meal
Grilled chicken
Pad Thai noodles
Stir-fried mixed vegetables
TBD if we get that far
Table set
candlelight waving
as shadows paint the walls.

His ringtone jolts me into anxious excitement
Morena, I’m downstairs, let me in.
Pacing a few times
before pushing the buzzer
Heartbeat quickens
Checking my reflection once more
Before old becomes new
I’m smiling inside
He knocks like taps
I turn the knob
to open my space to him.

Franco, dressed so handsomely
a smiling stance
with flowers in one hand
the other extended
to reach mine
As he enters
he pulls me close
into his gentle kiss
My lips don’t part
taming my tongue
the night has just begun.

Leading him to the table
Set for two
I put the flowers
in a crystal vase
He watches every move I make
You are beautiful tonight, Morena
More beautiful than my memory of yesterday
I catch his molten smile
soothing like an elixir
warming my stomach inside out

I adorn the empty table
with delectable dishes
and give him the Riesling to open and pour
A toast to us and to tonight
We finally begin dinner
Nourishment a necessity
for what I have planned on Friday’s menu
Every savory bite prolonging
every unspoken emotion
Sensing his wanting
Confirming my own
I change the music
to quiet tones that won’t mask
my own tender moans.

In a Room with Eleven Candles Lit (from the Morena series in progress)

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I lie in a room
with eleven candles lit
eagerly awaiting my masseur
completely naked
shoulders tense
harp tones flowing
subliminally soothing
as lavender and eucalyptus
seduce me into momentary peace.

Gentle knock
my readiness
don’t let him feel my nerves
just my tension
that is his
to knead
and rub

No verbal introduction
The clicky pump of the bottle
brings essential oils
to my skin
accompanying the melody
of a tactile welcome
from fingers
trained and created
to bring bliss
through pressure.

Hearing his gentle breathing
cloaked in the essence
of lubricated friction,
he masterfully strokes
my stress
Beginning with my shoulders
a deliberate rubbing
in circular motions
across my spine
caressing the small of my back
where his weight
is expertly applied
signaling inner effects
of blood rushing
inside my legs.

Smooth hands
paint jasmine oil
down my thighs
Aphrodisiac episodes
and fantasy-laden thoughts
trigger tingling in my feet
they start to shake.

With both hands
warmed by my slippery skin
and his own body heat
he held my feet
as the electric fire in them
shot desire to each
oily fingertip
massaging my toes
one at a time
gently pulling my leg
separating it from contact
with the cloth beneath it
raising just high enough
to expose my wetness
to unexpected oxygen.

My body’s aromatic power
triggered his response
Morena, I love your scent
I have given you essential oils
But I need you
I crave your essence
I want to be inside of your aura.

Franco, you are my masseur
I love you in a room
with 11 candles lit
Come inside me.

Franco’s Private Reading (from the series in progress)

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Pages and pages
Of Morena’s Journal
Inked in her own style
Classy on page 10
Dirty and sexy on page 11
and 12, 13, 14, 
and fifteen.
Sixteen’s steam was contained in her dream
of me feeding her Mama’s spicy rice and beans
Against the kitchen wall grinding her
Orgasms on the floor finding her.
Fingering the page
I remembered touching Morena
The soft edges of her lips
The smooth surface of the paper
Right corner turned up on page twenty-three
A poem about the day she fell in love with me
Finding sex intertwined with erotic poetry.
She captures my every move
In rhythmic meters that blur into shades of blue.
I want to write back to expose my heart
But to put my longing on a page
Would betray the mystical fantasy
Between the binding.
Deep, burning desires she tries to conceal
Making me love her harder than what I reveal
The scent of her lives within
Each entry
Each passage
Each thought lying naked in print.
Could she be the woman I prayed for?
The goddess my heart would stay for?
More valuable than the sight I paid for?
I hesitantly read her confessions on page thirty-six
Her body tingles and cries as she craves my fix
I’m yearning to show her all my tongue tricks.
My mouth waters for a chance to douse her fire
Pleasure’s iniquity is my ultimate desire.
My own aura wafted from page thirty-eight
She needs my arms around her waist
Holding her tight in sexy black lace
Smelling our sex all over my face
A swatch of panties she wore hold this page in place
I could barely breathe by page forty-one
Consumed in her essence before love had begun
Morena, don’t make love to the pages anymore…
Let me love you until your poetry becomes jealous
Leave your writing for afterplay
I give you the role you want in foreplay
Metaphors can’t make you the woman you deserve to be
Morena, I acknowledge your worth
To my inspiration you give birth
We are poetry personifying sex
You are my significance
My magnificence
Let me fill you
You moan and whisper that you are scared
Losing me in the sound of your voice
The rhythm of your ride
I feel new
Deep inside you
Contractions gripping my pulsation
I love you
True sensations
I bite your tongue to hold you closer
You can’t let go
I love you
I can’t release you
You gasp as you ride me
With each breath
And each heartbeat
You love me
You can’t release me
My pulse quickens
Your walls thicken
To swallow my essence
I have been consumed by your ecstasy
Until tomorrow,
Your journal is closed
to conceal the wet fingerprints
I intentionally left
on the last page.

Morena’s Reflections (a sample from a series in progress)

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Morena’s Reflections

My Franco is my love

I miss him before he leaves

Miss him when he enters my presence

Regretting that eventually he will depart again

Kissing him, loving him, smelling him

Creating a permanent heart recording

Reserved in my playlist

For the times when he is gone

A love like this can’t be repeated

Can’t be imitated.

Love was born when we first embraced

The first kiss, no holding back

He took me like he wanted me

Touched me

Listened to me

Cared about what mattered to me

He was all about me.

I knew he was falling

But did he know I fell before the second kiss?

His electricity fired my nerves

Giving me the courage to give in to the fall

To go down with my eyes closed

But seeing everything crystal clear

Everything real

And true

And new.

He held me close

And embraced all that was uniquely me

The little things I so easily dismiss

My nose

My eyelashes

The small curve of my lower back

And the alluring expanse of my hips.

My femininity fed his masculinity

His scent catered to my instincts

As we envisioned a night spent

Showing each other in timeless verbs

The explicit meaning

Of every unspoken word.

The Worst Thing?

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Father Boyle, Founder of HomeBoy Industries said,
“All of us are a whole lot more than the worst thing we ever did.”

The worst thing I did was steal some chapstick when I was ten
I vowed never ever to do that again
The worst thing I did was cheat on a test when I was eleven
I worried that cheaters didn’t get admission to Heaven
The worst thing I did was lie when I was fourteen
Liars are never happy making me feel like a fiend

If I am more than the worst thing I ever did
then I am more than a thief
I am more than a cheater
I am more than a liar
who feels like a fiend

If I am more than my past mistakes
there is no reason to lose sleep and worry as I wake

The Many Ways He Wants Me

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He wants to be my underwear
So he can feel me down there
He yearns to know how soft my skin is
How smooth my ass is
He craves to be betwixt 
His lips on mine, kiss for kiss

He wants to be my finger
Where my pleasuring scents linger
Seeking fluency in my body’s unspoken verse
Feeling my beats
Pleasing me first
He wishes to make my love button hot
Bringing verbal vibrations to my G-Spot

He wants to spend the night between my thighs
Where being wet is better at sunrise
And my hot creamy sweetness
Cures his coffee-Jones-kind-of-weakness
He just wants to be inside my heat
There’s only so much cookie he can eat

He wants to make my body his four-course meal
Begs me to savor every bite that I feel
He prepares dessert with my chocolate nipples
We both come twice before the triples
I am his delectable erotic dish
Deep and true intense loving, 
Not some freaky fetish.