My nakedness is yours to seize Strip me bare Strip me please Legs wide for your tongue to feast Devour deliciousness

To escape reality Inevitably, I fall asleep Sometimes undisturbed peace Sometimes my dreams come vividly alive Yet, I am still asleep

Born with two hearts Born with too much love to give My hearts are often torn apart Deciding where my love should live

A naked write In a poetic bed You touch my soft skin I leave it up to you where to begin My naked flow

A circle of cubism Naked art The circular room Straight lines of red Straight lines of green Her circular naked scars

The cursed wizard Not allowed to own his very own face Stealing magical golden faces Hundreds of wizards

What a beautiful day To compose some naked poetry Out in the aromatic colourful garden today Out in the cool breezy fresh air

Let’s paint the world a rainbow Paintbrushes and brushstrokes of the world unite

The Garden of Eden is where I sleep The flowers and leaves cover me The sweet aroma of flowers sends me to sleep

You smouldered for her desire Her love for you a wild burning fire She would burn you with her sensual touch

Let us dance in the light fantastic We only have this moment to live Brought alive in just one moment of light

The girl sat in the tree in the sky Playing her flute all the time Ravens and crows Circle the girl in the dark skeleton tree

The beautiful mermaid Swimming in our dreams Floating in the deep blue sea Seaweed dancing like reflective mirrors

As I sit alone In lockdown Christmas is about to arrive Yet, this year it is missed again Called off! Just dissed! As I sit eating my tu

A bathing babe Standing in the cool lake Her naked white curves Plain to see A headdress of red deep roses and bottle green leaves

As he swims in the milk of love Flowers of white Flowers of blue Bloom in the milk of love His dark flowing hair

Mr Toad taking a walk The wind does blow his yellow umbrella Inside out Upside down His umbrella tries desperately to take flight

I wish she was me The elegant lady of mystery Who is she? A Governess? A mourning widow? A beautiful Queen? A murderess?

As I climb this rugged mountain It somehow feels familiar to me I can’t quite put my finger on it Yet, as I climb

Life is too short to learn a different way I write freehand my uniquely fantabulous imaginary poetry