Free ~ 6 words

In my dream…I am free


Romance Me

Romance me with wishes
a story of medieval times
knights in chain mail kisses
thorny roses climbing vines

Tell me of what part I play
your damsel, and my knight
I want to dance with you someday
under shining gibbous moonlight

Your gentlemanly hand in mine
spinning me deep into your chest
whispering a poem into my
ears, line by line at your behest

Melted by your sugar words
that dissolved into my soul
bit by bit ingested downwards
top of head to tingling toes

Feed me more my sweet one
I am lost without your love
you make my bound heart soar
free above love’s battleground

Breaking chains to past flames
my kindle is renewed in you
light my fire, play no games
cut to chase, my passion anew

Tempt me away to meadow green
there to lie me down
I will give my all
my body, soul
for you’ve stolen
them anyhow

I will forever listen
to your words
the poems
the love

Talk me to climax sweet

romance me

with you


~ by Emily Clapper



I masturbated to your words this morning

The last one lingered in my ears, an echo

Reverberating in my head, vibrating my core

Arousing what was recently  hibernating

Shaking me out of dark, into blinding orgasmic release

Waking me up, to the memory of you

Of us, of what we had and could have again


~ Emily Clapper


An Ode To Fuck ~ with Audio

REPOSTING one of my most popular poems with AUDIO. Hey, I’m pretty sure you are smart enough that I don’t have to warn you it’s explicit.

So if you don’t want to hear it, I don’t wanna hear it. 🙂

Just loosen your tie and enjoy.


Pondering the life of the woman I was named after, I wanted to remind myself a little more of Emily Dickinson’s life.  A fascinating one, for sure.

An article on her in Wikipedia highlighted a moment in her life when she was contemplating publication and sent a letter to a literary critic, Mr. Thomas Wentworth Higginson, who had appealed to young creatives in a letter in Atlantic Monthly about how to go into print.

Emily wrote the following letter:

“Mr Higginson,
Are you too deeply occupied to say if my Verse is alive?
The Mind is so near itself – it cannot see, distinctly – and I have none to ask –
Should you think it breathed – and had you the leisure to tell me, I should feel quick gratitude –
If I make the mistake – that you dared to tell me – would give me sincerer honor – toward you –
I enclose my name – asking you, if you please – Sir – to tell me what is true?
That you will not betray me – it is needless to ask – since Honor is it’s [sic] own pawn –”

~Emily Dickinson

From the sound of it, he encouraged her to keep writing before publishing, and she, left without the encouragement she needed, only printed a mere 18 of her later-to-be-discovered tome of 1800 poems.

I wonder what her life would have been like had she had proper support for her art.

I am thankful for the support of mine, and will use her story as fuel to someday publish to the world.

Dear Emily, from another, you should see where you went without even knowing it. A life lived secluded, but a gift to the world in literary perpetuity.

~ Emily Clapper