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Poems will sweep women off their feet. Take them out of your pockets and recite. Or send them in a letter. You can also memorise them if you really want to impress her but even the real poets almost never recite their own poems by heart. By reading them from a piece of paper they can be sure it will be just as beautiful as it was when they created it and instead they can concentrate on the tonality of reciting (which is probably even more important than the poems themselves:).
You can turn to classic love-poetry (libraries etc.) or - once you get a grasp of patterns, you can start writing your own poems with the themes and messages that you wish to include.
There is always the moral dilemma of whether to present someone else's poetry as your own. Presenting it as your own will make her feel much more intense about the messages and pictures painted in the poem, but if such insincerity bothers you, it might make you feel that much worse. Then again, being able to make her feel even better should make you feel just as much better about it, so I leave it to thee to decide, how to go about this problem.
If you do present them as your own though, don't forget to add, that you're not really much of a poet and you write extremely seldom and only when you really deeply feel like it. Otherwise she might ask you to write something for HER (she might do it anyway, but this way you at least have an explanation for stalling:).
And here are a few poems to get you started:
Some say the world will end in fire
Some say 'twill end in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire,
I hold with those who favour fire,
That fire within your eyes.
I wish a was your tear-drop,
Conceived in your heart,
Born in your eyes,
Lived on your cheeks,
And died on your lips.
Poem 3 by Jacques Prévert (no, that name is not a joke, that is actually a famous French poet:)
Une orange sur la table
Ta robe sur le tapis
Et toi dans mon lit
Doux présent du présent
Fraîcheur de la nuit
Chaleur de ma vie.
Poem 3 translation (so that you can tell her when she sighs: "oh… that was so beautiful… what was it about?":)
An orange on the table
A dress on the carpet
And you on my bed
A delicate present of the present
The coolness of night
The warmth of my life.
Poem 4 by Jacques Prévert
Trois allumettes une à une allumees dans la nuit
La première pour voir ton visage tout entier
La seconde pour voir tes yeux
La dernière pour voir ta bouche
Et l'obscurité toute entiere pour me rappeler tout cela
En te serrant dans mes bras.
Poem 4 translation
One by one, three matches are lit in the night
The first to see your face
The second to see your eyes
The last to see your lips
So when its dark all around, I can remember it all
While holding you in my arms.
by Ross Jeffries
Have you ever been fascinated
by someone whose words just seemed to
You FIND YOURSELF LOOKING
and you can't look away
and the more that you try
the more that GAZE STAYS
where you want it to be
cause you know that there's something
you just have to see
As you LISTEN SO CLOSE
and you START TO WONDER
what would it feel like
to be FALLING UNDER
A spell, mm...so magic
being spun by the sound
of a voice whose rich warmth
was spreading on down.
Have you ever experienced
To the point where your thoughts moved in
Just one direction?
People sometimes ask,
"Please...just a kiss!"
Funny how you find yourself
WISHING THE SAME WISH
Your mine is amazing
when you really
LET IT GO
As you FIND YOURSELF PICTURING
As the warmth of that voice
takes on a glow
spreading and pulsating
where you want it to go
I will tell you all you desire...
You step out of what was
Invited, slipped inside
Feels like warm rain
Between your sighs
And it's not important
that you find
is left far behind.
As you recall how it feels
To be SO IN LOVE
And you SEE THAT IMAGE of us
(point to it)
You see at last
who you've finally found
what you've looked for
and longed for
has finally COME round.
When you begin to listen
And hang on every word,
You get an intuition.
Your mind is now your lord.
You hear this voice, inside you,
The voice you've heard before.
This voice has been there for you.
This voice has opened doors.
As just a little girl,
You found a special friend,
This voice told you "Just do it!
Your joy will never end!"
Remember all those times
This voice was in your mind.
It will be there forever,
Until the end of time.
In only a few seconds,
If you should hear this voice,
You can really trust it,
Let it make your choice.
This voice now whispers to you
The thoughts that come between
Your thoughts, inside your heart,
The wishes deep within.
The wishes you're denying,
The ones you're longing for.
This voice tells you, "Just do it.
Step through that open door.
Leave all your cares behind you,
Your future now unfolds.
You're free from inhibition.
Free from society's holds.
Take in what is before you,
Embrace it in your soul.
Allow it deep inside you,
And let it fill that hole."
This voice knows what you're thinking.
This voice is very wise.
Just trust your intuition,
And follow its advice.
Rose in Your Heart
by Dan Steward
What is it like to close your eyes
As deep inside you fantasize,
These feelings which your body knows
That stem from just this single rose.
You feel a smile bloom on your lips,
Feel velvet brush your fingertips,
Feel pleasure building, blood afire,
As eyes gaze deep on heart's desire.
You sense a fragrance in the air,
and see this one who'll take you there.
a laugh of joy, a sigh of bliss,
My lips meet yours in perfect kiss.
And feeling now this dream so right
That keeps on growing, night on night
The key you've yearned for from the start
To free this rose held in your heart.
The Warrior's Bottle
There exists a tradition, centuries gone by
Of a warrior's bottle, and a lover's night cry
The tradition is said, to determine the fate
Of the mighty warrior, and his beautiful mate
A small bottle is given, from he to his lover
Made of delicate glass, and a cork for a cover
Then off he would go, into a long bloodied war
His mate left to worry, and long for him more
She kept the bottle close, and warm by her heart
Then like the falling rain, her tears would now start
Flowing from her cheeks, she wiped none away
Into the bottle, is where they must lay
Day into night, then night into day
Every new tear, being stored away
If the warrior survived, and returned from his quest
He would remove the bottle, that lay near her chest
If tears filled the bottle, near overflow
Nothing was said, for now he did know
It was without question, she loved only he
And had been faithful, despite being free
They would make love, until first light
Their spirits would soar, their fires ignite.
And if you look up, on such a magical night
You would see a star born, and burning so bright.
The Lover's Dance
Come with me, my lovely, as we start The Lover's Dance.
Take hold of my hand, and rise up with me.
Our wings spread wide, and our passions laid bare.
Higher we soar, with each heated breath.
And upon the clouds we sit, looking over our kingdom below.
Me upon you, for we have begun The Lover's Dance.
Words never spoken, yet images abound
Time does not hold us here, so we dance without a care
And all that you have dreamed, shines brightly into reality
Then once we are done, we embrace with just one thought
That we have entered the garden, and planted a tree
The Lover's Dance 2: To The Garden Once More
[Warning by Bishop: Only use/send it AFTER you have sent her the first "Lover's
Dance" poem, and she's expressed a positive reaction to it, or else you'll
freak her out! My personal signal that I have the green light, is if she
makes ANY kind of sexual reference in her response to the first poem. Then I
send them "A Warm Fuzzy" and then "Lover's Dance 2")
As I lay down inside the warm water of a soothing bath,
feeling those muscles relaxing...surrendering...I sense you watching me.
Watching me like a cat...purring seductively...preparing to pounce.
My muscles twitch in nervous excitement...and I become aroused.
You leap from your hiding place, an animalistic gleam in your eyes.
Landing with a splash, you wrap your arms around me.
The wetness...the nakedness...of our bodies...is like slippery silk.
I thrust my tongue between your parted lips, and we share a passionate kiss.
As I share a deep thought in each others eyes, you put your hands into the water...and explore.
You guide the object of your desire to where you want it..and..let out a pleased moan.
Our bodies blend into one, as we seem to float...to travel...back.
Back to the garden we have gone...another tree to plant.
I gently bite your neck, as you apply the pressure from your nails in my back.
The Dance of Lover's, we have learned it well together.
There are no words to be said, instinct and primal desire make the decisions.
You kiss my chest, and I rub your wet hair across my face.
Our motions intensify, and you grab my shoulders.
You tease my mouth with fleeting contact from your chest...then again...and again.
This passion we have created...in this moment...is beyond words...
beyond anything... your mind will concoct deep inside you.
I pull you down...then under me...in one fluid motion.
The Lover's Dance continues.
By the time we both...release...and return once again to our shared bath,
there is little water left inside the tub.
We take our time exiting, never disconnecting.
I carry you...dripping wet...out of the room...and onto the bed.
You turn me over, laying me on my back...keeping our connection...
and taking the upper spot...the balcony seat.
I cannot budge, you have me pinned.
You create the rhythm...a hard...long...series of motions.
I thrust my head back in pleasure...and the room spins.
You shudder with an explosion...deep within you...taking in the passion.
Then you disconnect...and let me taste.
With not a single word spoken, we become even more animalistic,
flying off of the bed and onto the floor.
The passion continues to intensify...as we work...ourselves...up..along...the wall.
You continue up...while I linger down.
You grab my head and grip my hair between your fingers.
I feel the rush of your next release...and accept it all.
Returning to meet you, I turn you around...to face the wall.
I reach around and cup you...as we begin our Lover's Dance anew.
Our legs tighten in fatigue...but we refuse to relent.
The Dance lasts for several more moments...then...you reach around...
take ahold of me...and accept my release.
We share in our gifts to each other, as we once again fall onto the bed.
Laying together, we take pleasure...in the warmth...of our heated bodies.
And as we listen closely...for a moment...the twin beats of our hearts...unite as one.
Soon, the relaxing wind will put us in slumber...and we will sleep.
Within that sleep...our Lover's Dance continues.
We will never know for sure...when we were dreaming...and when we were not.
The night will give way to day...and our next Dance will begin.
I stare now deep into my lover's eyes
Our foreheads meet, her breath is mixed with mine.
We share that bond, a touch felt deep within.
We feel desire, to touch with love again.
She pulls me slowly down and to her mouth
To taste her tongue. Her wetness does not douse
The heat she feels is growing hard to stop
Consumes us both, our passion burns our thoughts.
I lay her gently on her bed, and then
I slowly take off all her clothes, again
To taste the flavor of her skin, my lips
Caress each inch from throat to breast to hip.
I slowly bring her gasping to that peak
My tongue it probes her lips with pleasure seeks
To make her feel so good she cannot bear
For me to stop, I kiss her 'till she's there.
Our breath now comes in hot quick pants, we move
As one, our souls complete. Our passion proves
Our love beyond all spoken words, we've touched
that depth, and lay secure in naked touch.
Imagine [insert her name here]
by D.L. Whited
Imagine [insert her name here], if you can
The silky softness of my hand
Trembling lips against your cheek
Tender kiss to make you weak
Pushing close not asking why
Bodies melting with a sigh
Burning ache turns into flame
As I gently speak your name
Begging you to feed the fire
With every inch of your desire
Breathing deep the smell of lust
Crying out with every thrust
Then as the waves take us away
Together after we shall lay
You more woman, I more man
Imagine [insert her name here], if you can
Reading the Poem pattern
David Shade's real-life seduction
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