Poetry: He Gave Me Ben-Wa Balls* For Christmas by Marcy Sheiner

Gold-toned Ben Wa balls.

Gold-toned Ben Wa balls. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

He gave me ben-wa balls for Christmas
encased in a black velvet box.
It might have been a wedding ring
but I knew right away that it wasn’t.

Lifeless globes of icy brass
throbbed hot and molten inside.
Their transformation, temporary,
Reminded me of him.

He gave me ben-wall balls for Christmas.
He must have known I was planning to leave.
He joked that they might replace him one day
and shortly thereafter they did.

*****

*Japanese masturbation equipment for women

Marcy Sheiner has written five novels, ghost written eight full-length works of non-fiction and one ebook, and edited a dozen anthologies of women’s erotica.  She maintains tow blogs: DIRTY LAUNDRY at http://www.marcys.wordpress.com and BOOKBUSTER at http://ww.marcysbookbuster.wordpress.com. She is available for ghostwriting, editing and other jobs pertaining to the written word and the business of publishing.

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Poetry by Marcy Sheiner

Woman As Art

Woman As Art

Riding Up The Thruway

In the fresh October morning
struck by the splendor
of sun and sky and mountains
my nipples pulsed
with yesterday’s rhythms.
 
I was a lute
a harpsichord
a joyous screaming horn
wailing for your fingers
and your tongue.
 
Miles never played as sweetly
nor Coltrane as intensely
as you my fine musician
celebrating passion
upon this throbbing drum.
 
The End
 
*****
Marcy Sheiner has written five novels, ghostwritten eight full-length works of non-fiction and one ebook, and edited a dozen anthologies of women’s erotica.  She maintains two blogs: Dirty Laundry and Bookbuster.  She is available for ghostwriting, editing and other jobs pertaining to the written word and the business of publishing. 

Erotic Poetry: Motel Sex by John Grey

It’s a cheap motel

but the passion doesn’t know that.

Your lush breasts,

juicy thighs…

they’d be equally at home

on a palace four-poster,

a blanket by a Maine Lake,

five miles high in an airplane

or the back seat of a car.

My body plunges your depths.

My kisses break your every surface.

You moan with pleasure.

I groan with delight.

The mattress rocks

like an ancient washing machine.

Guy in the room next door

is banging on the wall,

shouting, “Can you keep it down in there!”

But keeping it down

is the last thing I want to do.

 *****

Bio: John Grey is an Australian born poet, works as a financial systems analyst.  Recently published in Bryant Poetry Review, Tribeca Poetry Review, Hurricane Review and Pinyon.

 *****

Woman As Art

Woman As Art

The Pittsburgh Flash Fiction Gazette is an online magazine of serious writing and brazen sexuality.

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