Claude Monet

Soleil levant (Impression, Sunrise)

My River Runs to Thee

My river runs to thee:

Blue sea, wilt welcome me?

My river waits reply.

Oh sea, look graciously!

I’ll fetch thee brooks

From spotted nooks,—

Say, sea,

Take me!

~ Emily Dickinson ~

may i feel said he

Marc Chagall

At the Dawn of Love

may i feel said he

may i feel said he

(i'll squeal said she

just once said he)

it's fun said she

(may i touch said he

how much said she

a lot said he)

why not said she

(let's go said he

not too far said she

what's too far said he

where you are said she)

may i stay said he

(which way said she

like this said he

if you kiss said she

may i move said he

is it love said she)

if you're willing said he

(but you're killing said she

but it's life said he

but your wife said she

now said he)

ow said she

(tiptop said he

don't stop said she

oh no said he)

go slow said she

(cccome?said he

ummm said she)

you're divine! said he

(you are Mine said she)

~ e. e. cummings ~

Touch

Amedeo Modigliani
Nude on a Red Cushion

Touch

My hands

open the curtains of your being

clothe you in a further nudity

uncover the bodies of your body

My hands

invent another body for your body

~ Octavio Paz ~

I like my body when...

Edvard Munch

Cupido

I like my body when...

I like my body when it is with your body.
It is so quite a new thing.

Muscles better and nerves more.

I like your body. I like what it does,

I like its hows. I like to feel the spine

of your body and its bones, and the trembling

-firm-smooth ness and which i will

again and again and again

kiss, i like kissing this and that of you,

I like, slowly stroking the, shocking fuzz

of your electric fur, and what-is-it comes

over parting flesh . . . . And eyes big love-crumbs,

and possibly i like the thrill

of under me you quite so new

~ e. e. cummings ~

Come Slowly

Edvard Munch

Amor and Psyche

Come Slowly

Come slowly, Eden

Lips unused to thee.

Bashful, sip thy jasmines,

As the fainting bee,

Reaching late his flower,

Round her chamber hums,

Counts his nectars - alights,

And is lost in balms!

~ Emily Dickinson ~

The Farmer's Daughter

John Everett Millais

The Farmer’s Daughter

The Farmer's Daughter

The Rector met a little lass

Who led a heifer by a rope.

Said he: "Why don't you go to Mass?

Do you not want to please the Pope?"

The village maiden made reply,

As on the rope she ceased to pull:

"My father said this morning I

Must take Paquerette to see the bull."

The Rector frowned. ";Tis wrong, I wist

To leave your prayer-book on the shelf.

Your father has a stronger wrist;

Why can't he do the job himself?"

Then lovely in her innocence,

With gaze as pure as meadow pool,

The maid spoke in her sire's defense:

"But Daddy, please your Reverence,

Would rather leave it to the bull."

~ Robert William Service ~

Pied Booty

Andre Louis Derain

The Surprise

Pied Booty

Glory be to God for sexy things—
For cries of coupled lovers as they bind and bow;
For moles that on her hip’ll make his dolphin swim,
Fresh and fired up; nutty balls; G-strings;
Lovescapes pulsing and flesh-shoaled—furrow and plow;
And all shapes, their leer and freckle and whim.

All people dumpy, bald, regressive, strange;
Whoever is fickle, faithful (who knows how?)
With slick, abrasive; sweet, sour; disheveled, trim;
Who father-forth and mother-forth all change—
Praise Him.

~ Dabney Stuart ~