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THE HEART OF THE MATTER

By Evalds. E

Choose your weapons well sir!
When approaching an affaire de coeur!
For it's a fool who chooses a bludgeon,
Oh, that ought to be the simple deduction,
Words are what matter in the language of love,
And the sharp ones choose their words with care,
When enticing their love to a love affaire,
For where the coarse and crass, won't get past love's cuirass,
The wise wordsmith forges a sharper edge,
That will penetrate to the heart of the matter!
The poor curmudgeon with a brutish bludgeon,
And the otiose oaf who wont use his loaf,
To dazzle fair maid with brilliant plumage,
And who knows not the power of intelligent wordage,
Will often cede the field to an articulate man's seed,
For a woman wants to be wooed, that is her need,
To feel lust shiver down her spine,
Until, to a lover's arms she surrenders, supine,
Giving herself totally in passionate embrace,
And before the deed is done,
And the seed is sown,
It was the seed of a thought, that you will find,
That was implanted into her fertile mind,
And it all begins with words, artfully chosen. Well?

Copyright. Evalds. E. 2001

THE PLOUGH INN

By Evalds. E.

Loud nosies, raucous voices,
As bodies bounce to the beat,
Of music pulsing with the dancing feet,
Of couples gyrating singularly,
Moving to a rythm,
And lyrics that transport them,
Closer and closer, in body and mind,
hoping to meld, to weld together fast
With a body heat,
So intense, that with that oneness, they will find,
Each other for love, fun and romance,
At this weaving, heaving, frenetic dance,
Letting inhibitons go,
And going with the flow,
Of raw, unbridled, energy,
Lovers and others, sisters and brothers,
Looking, laughing, living and giving,
Of themselves and to each other,
On and on, all night long,
Until at last,they dance to bed,
Alone, or together,
For stocktaking, or lovemaking,
Or the blessed deep sleep,
That comes, in the arms of Morpheus.

Copyright: Evalds. E 2001