Assumption (Remove filter)
Ten Thousand Pricks at her Fingertips
She’s got ten thousand pricks
at her finger tips
Ruby red lips and swaying hips
A true Rubenesque beauty when she strips
Heads turn, Jaws drop and eyes pop out on stalks
Wolf whistles follow her whenever and wherever she walks
Her extensive list
of superlatives
ranges from exquisite to divine
She’s out a sight
She’s dynamite
This girl would blow your mind
When s...
Thursday 21st February 2019 2:45 am
Recent Comments
John Coopey on I SHAN’T ALWAYS BE LOVELY
11 minutes ago
John F Keane on August 2025 Collage Poem: A Cut Above
1 hour ago
John F Keane on A Cut Above
1 hour ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on I SHAN’T ALWAYS BE LOVELY
3 hours ago
Mike McPeek on Fallen Leaf
7 hours ago
Graham Sherwood on The Forgotten
9 hours ago
Rolph David on Sonnet: Imigh Hotovely, Imigh Smál Damnaithe! Imigh is Póg mo Thóin! [Out Hotovely, Out Damned Spot! Out and Kiss my Arse!]
9 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on His Majesty’s Stay Out of Hell Cards: “Divine Right” and “Convention”
10 hours ago
Hélène on Elementary
10 hours ago
Rolph David on Spinocracy – The Art of the Fall*
11 hours ago