A girl’s innocence is divine.
Her purity attracts. Distracts.
And oft, after wine,
To sin, is truly divine.
A Girl’s Innocence
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Tag Archives: sin
Sin
On my way home alone,
At night,
In the rain,
I met 2 young women.
Oh The delight
Of sin.
But only rain
Fell that night.
I Heard A Click of Heels
I heard a click of heels,
And thought of skin,
Slippery as eels.
I heard a knocking in the night
And thought how thin
Is the material separating one from
The delight
Of sin.
Virtue wears the same, Boring
Old smile.
She will have you snoring.
But sin, she has style!
The Line
Whilst speaking with a young lady
My imagination has roamed free,
And I have thought how slim
Is she,
And how thin
The dress
Twixt her and me.
I walk the line
‘Twixt virtue and sin
And sometimes stray
For the line
Is gosamer fine,
And to sin,
Can be divine.
Punting
Some men love the horserace.
‘Tis the thrill of winning
After which they chase.
Others prefer another kind of punting,
A hunting
After fallen women.
‘Tis a type of bet,
Which some call sinning,
Which may end in regret
Or pleasure, but never winning
Your Hand Can Command A Fire
Your hand
Can command
A fire.
Desire burns
Ere it turns
Into pools
Where fools
Drown in sin
While the devil of lust
And dust
Looks on with a woolfish grin.
The Rose
The rose, not yet opened, carries within
The seeds of it’s own destruction. For you see
The bee
Must sin
In the flower’s crimson heart
And the poet will call that art?
Sin
Through thick and thin
I shall oppose sin
For I am pure
As the snow covered moor
Ere footfall
Spoils all.
I am a saint
(Which is rather quaint
In this age).
But open the pristine cover
And look beyond the page
And you will discover
A man much like his brother …
If Each Glass Told A Tale
If each glass told a tale
We would turn pale
And take
Care
To avoid their
Impassive stare.
Many a glass would break.
Such an easy mistake
To make
To catch a mirror, with an elbow
And watch it go
A-spinning,
And see our sinning
In fragments on the floor,
To be spoken of no more
By the all-seeing eye …
If I Told You What I Dream
If I told you what I dream
You would move the conversation on to the weather
Or any subject but that
Of which I dream.
But why so?
For you know
That every man has his craze,
The secret fire that does blaze within.
Some are driven mad
And are almost glad
To give in
And sin.
