11 Gay Poems That Are Totally Steamy Text Worthy
| 08/02/23
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Poetry is lyrics in written form, and poets often have an object of their affection in mind when they sit down to write. They can also get a little, ahem, spicy — especially when the poet writing them is part of our gay little family. And sure you can enjoy the art form on the page. But you can also put them to a more modern use, we're talking about sexting, but, ya know in a classy way.
With that in mind, here's a look at 11 gay poems that are totally worth quoting to your significant other or crush, when you're ready to bring the high-brow heat.
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It is in his limbs and joints also, it is curiously in the joints of his hips and wrists,
It is in his walk, the carriage of his neck, the flex of his waist and knees, dress does not hide him,
The strong sweet quality he has strikes through the cotton and broadcloth,
To see him pass conveys as much as the best poem, perhaps more,
You linger to see his back, and the back of his neck and shoulder-side.
"please master press my mouth to your prick-heart
please master press my face into your belly, pull me slowly strong thumbed
till your dumb hardness fills my throat to the base
till I swallow and taste your delicate flesh-hot prick barrel veined Please
Mater push my shoulders away and stare in my eyes, & make me bend over
the table
please master grab my thighs and lift my ass to your waist
please master your hand's rough stroke on my neck your palm down to my
backside"
"beautiful Signor
the kiln-blaze
in my body,
the turning heaven
beautiful Signor
you cover me with pollen
beautiful Signor
into your sweet mouth—"
"I wanted to take him home
and rough him up and get my hands inside him, drive my body into his
like a crash test car.
I wanted to be wanted and he was
very beautiful, kissed with his eyes closed, and only felt good while moving."
"scream
my name. Tighter,
my reach pulls the rope.
Please, don’t stop. Bodies
ring in harmony with
the rope’s singing chord."
"I plunged with a rhythmical lunge steady and slow,
And at every stroke made a corkscrew roll with my tongue.
His soul reeled in the feeling. He whimpered 'Oh!'
As I tongued and squeezed and rolled and tickled and swung."
"They’re two hims in a bedroom
off Second Avenue and it’s summer.
They are grab and grab, suck
and thrust, is that his cock?
is that his cock? They are chest
to chest, stomach to stomach,
his hand on his ass, then him
on his knees, then him on his"
"I lick the sycamore inked onto his sternum.
Hard, sweet ridge of the chest, valley I send sweat into."
"An ocean is nothing, there is no separation
between two lovers."
"It’s a question of inertia: shifting gravel
behind a large beech, catcalls and headlights from the
party
still perceivable where you stumble
as he wrestles you into gray bark. You yield
like the braids of a wrought iron fence."
"In the name of
Man, member,
and the holy fluid,
AMEN"
Andrew J. Stillman is a freelance writer and yoga instructor exploring the world. Check him out at andrewjstillman.com or follow him @andrewjstillman on all the things.
Andrew J. Stillman is a freelance writer and yoga instructor exploring the world. Check him out at andrewjstillman.com or follow him @andrewjstillman on all the things.