kburkhal66

attentive

unquestionably

resisting

deliberately

sliding

Drenched

I have to agree 100%. I've seen a lot of attractive women that were not sexy in my opinion. Women of all shapes, sizes, age, etc. can be sexy. It's the eyes, the lips, the smile, the walk...it's not the clothes they wear, it's the way they wear their clothes. Of course, thigh high boots don't hurt either...

No Worries - just didn't want to get mired down. I'd rather focus on things that make me smile....like sun flowers for instance... ;-) I need to go read some more Walt

True, religion can - when it's foundation is formed from rules instead of faith. But that is a topic for another time and another place I think.

Bite

Yeah, music can so make the mood and intensify the emotion. There are times I hear a song and it instantly reminds of something in my past. I can feel exactly how I felt at that moment and remember details like they were yesterday. Then there's some music just makes me want to have sex!......LOL (Jose Nunez - Bilingual)

I'm happy to oblige the diversion I did visit your blog a long time ago...I need to get back and check it out though. Thanks for the reminder. Maybe I'll post some original stuff some time for your literary opinion

You are so right. It seems the mark of great poet is that each person can find their own meaning in the words of another. That makes it transcend time, culture, circumstances, etc. Thank you for sharing your favorites...Professor Mikayla ;-)

Thanks Mikayla! Poetry allows us to express our passions and desires and struggles when the world around us seeks only to minimize us to some etheral standard of normality...Okay, that was a little out there - must be the wine talking... I also love Unfolded out of the Folds and O Me, O Life!

Not a sexy story but it speaks of passion, desire, desparation, pursuit, The Dalliance of the Eagles Skirting the river road, (my forenoon walk, my rest,) Skyward in air a sudden muffled sound, the dalliance of the eagles, The rushing amorous contact high in space together, The clinching interlocking claws, a living, fierce, gyrating wheel, Four beating wings, two beaks, a swirling mass tight grappling, In tumbling turning clustering loops, straight downward falling. Till o'er the river pois'd, the twain yet one, a moment's lull, A motionless still balance in the air, then parting, talons loosing, Upward again on slow-firm pinions slanting, their separate diverse flight, She hers, he his, pursuing. Walt Whitman