The Poetry of Sex by Sophie Hannah Read Free Book Online

skin like the photocopier code.
    All day she hugs the thought of him close,
    how he knows the word of more in every tongue.

La Noche Oscura
San Juan de la Cruz
        En una noche oscura,
    con ansias en amores inflamada,
    (¡oh dichosa ventura!)
    salí sin ser notada,
    estando ya mi casa sosegada.
        A oscuras y segura,
    por la secreta escala disfrazada,
    (¡oh dichosa ventura!)
    a oscuras y en celada,
    estando ya mi casa sosegada.
        En la noche dichosa,
    en secreto, que nadie me veía,
    ni yo miraba cosa,
    sin otra luz ni guía
    sino la que en el corazón ardía.
        Aquésta me guïaba
    más cierta que la luz del mediodía,
    adonde me esperaba
    quien yo bien me sabía,
    en parte donde nadie parecía.
        ¡Oh noche que me guiaste!,
    ¡oh noche amable más que el alborada!,
    ¡oh noche que juntaste
    amado con amada,
    amada en el amado transformada!
        En mi pecho florido,
    que entero para él solo se guardaba,
    allí quedó dormido,
    y yo le regalaba,
    y el ventalle de cedros aire daba.
        El aire de la almena,
    cuando yo sus cabellos esparcía,
    con su mano serena
    en mi cuello hería,
    y todos mis sentidos suspendía.
        Quedéme y olvidéme,
    el rostro recliné sobre el amado,
    cesó todo, y dejéme,
    dejando mi cuidado
    entre las azucenas olvidado
.
Dark Night
    On a dark night,
    Kindled in love with yearnings
    – oh, happy chance! –
    I went forth without being observed,
    My house being now at rest.
    In darkness and secure,
    By the secret ladder, disguised
    – oh, happy chance! –
    In darkness and in concealment,
    My house being now at rest.
    In the happy night,
    In secret, when none saw me,
    Nor I beheld aught,
    Without light or guide,
    save that which burned in my heart.
    This light guided me
    More surely than the light of noonday
    To the place where he
    (well I knew who!) was awaiting me –
    A place where none appeared.
    Oh, night that guided me,
    Oh, night more lovely than the dawn,
    Oh, night that joined
    Beloved with lover,
    Lover transformed in the Beloved!
    Upon my flowery breast,
    Kept wholly for himself alone,
    There he stayed sleeping,
    and I caressed him,
    And the fanning of the cedars made a breeze.
    The breeze blew from the turret
    As I parted his locks;
    With his gentle hand
    He wounded my neck
    And caused all my senses to be suspended.
    I remained, lost in oblivion;
    My face I reclined on the Beloved.
    All ceased and I abandoned myself,
    Leaving my cares
    forgotten among the lilies.

i like my body
e. e. cummings
    i like my body when it is with your
    body. It is so quite new a thing.
    Muscles better and nerves more.
    i like your body. i like what it does,
    i like its hows. i like to feel the spine
    of your body and its bones, and the trembling
    -firm-smooth ness and which i will
    again and again and again
    kiss, i like kissing this and that of you,
    i like, slowly stroking the, shocking fuzz
    of your electric fur, and what-is-it comes
    over parting flesh … And eyes big love-crumbs,
    and possibly i like the thrill
    of under me you so quite new

Ur Thurs Reidh Ansur
Ros Barber
    To you, I taste like sin; tobacco and alcohol
    mingling hot-foul and exotic. I get you drunk
    against your better judgement, and as I lead you
    out, you sway, say no, giddy with the inevitable.
    You like beaches? I’ve made love by the Med,
    the Channel, the North Atlantic. Then you
    follow me onto the abandoned shingle,
    the daylight biting your retina. It is too cold
    to undress, and when I swallow your cock
    (my mouth so hot it makes you dizzy) you
    thrust your numb fingers into my coat
    to find my breasts. So you’re a poet,
    I whisper, sensing your balls tighten
    under my gloves. Please, you reply.
    Mute, I push your head down,
    you are thirsty, I know you can taste
    this morning’s bath, but traces too
    of another man’s semen, blood,
    the dampness of seaweed.
    The tide is pushing itself towards us;
    a man walking his dog unzips
    his anorak. I straddle you, we sit
    rocking