Panties: A Romance Ruined

This is a small poem I made up spontaneously today. It may or may not be any good but I like it!

Secret and pretty panties,

Belonging to a secretive and pretty woman,

Are a pleasure to behold,

Precious like gold,

One can never be too old,

To smartly snap them or obssess,

On every floral filigree no less,

And to feel through them,

And to undo them,

To play, and now we get edgy,

I give my Love a super-atomic wedgie!

Poetry and Me

This is another silly experiment with no breaks till the end; hold your breath!

I could not write a poem,
More than I could make a golem,
I do not have the power,
To even describe a flower,
I’ve been rotten at verse,
Since I was born first,
I can’t make a rhyme,
With all the world and time,
My vocabulary is restricted,
My vision constricted,
Eloquence eludes me,
“Incompetent” concludes me,
I try to find inside me,
Words that would please thee,
Instead there are toys,
And things and worlds made for boys,
Nothing that I could show,
A woman so she should know,
That I am not just an empty vessel,
A whistling kettle,
Or a dirty ladle,
A plain thing by any label,
Or a stray dog,
Or a passing fog,
But I am myself,
Who cannot rhyme or much else,
But who is trying his best,
To live up to the test,
Of contradicting myself,
And before I say anything else,
I plead that though illiterate,
I am not inadequate,
To be your friend,
To the end,
My words are not doves,
But I can love,
Like a moth does fire,
Like a bard his lyre,
Like a warrior his blade,
A man a maid,
So sample this simple taste,
Slowly, without haste,
And then decide and see,
If my love pleases thee.