Quote from Charlie Charles IV on August 30, 2022, 10:50 pm

Thanks CC ! I can't remember if they even had a headstone up but do remember the location.

Quote from Charlie Charles IV on August 30, 2022, 11:20 pm

You've obviously been there more often than me CC and you took photos to prove it too !😜

From what I've read the wooden cross was there for at least a year, BR. I'm guessing that's what you would have seen? Can’t take credit, the photos came from blogs and articles like these…

https://www.thomasdkersting.com/2014/09/some-thoughts-on-seamus-heaney-one-year.html

Seamus Heaney – Walk on Air

Quote from Charlie Charles IV on August 30, 2022, 11:37 pm

From what I’ve read the wooden cross was there for at least a year, BR. I’m guessing that’s what you would have seen? Can’t take credit, the photos came from blogs and articles like these…

https://www.thomasdkersting.com/2014/09/some-thoughts-on-seamus-heaney-one-year.html

 

Seamus Heaney – Walk on Air

 

I think I was there a couple of months after he died so that would explain why I don't remember the headstone. 

It wasn't like I was on some sort of pilgrimage or anything like that, just happened to be in the area and called in.

And I didn't really think you took the photos yourself !😉

1 September 1967. Siegfried Sassoon, died (aged 80). Decorated for bravery on the Western Front, he became one of the leading poets of the First World War. His poetry described the horrors of the trenches and satirised jingoism. pic.twitter.com/f3fibvV0ph

— Prof. Frank McDonough (@FXMC1957) September 1, 2022

This day 105 years ago – 8 September 1913 – W.B. Yeats's poem September 1913 was published in The Irish Times.

It repeats the line “Romantic Ireland's dead and gone/It's with O'Leary in the grave”, referencing John O'Leary, a leading member of the Irish Republican Brotherhood. pic.twitter.com/6py6NobwlH

— This Day in Irish History (@ThisDayIrish) September 8, 2018

A Taste of Honey

Drawn by scent
Like a bee
To a flower
Probing, amidst
Pink open petals
I sip the nectar

__________________________

Kiss

I meet her gaze I help her stand
I hold my breath and kiss her hand
I see her blush her cheeks red now
I smell her hair and kiss her brow
It brings me joy to hear her speak
I take her hand and kiss her cheek
I feel her skin ‘neath my finger tips
I hold her face and kiss her lips
Our love’s true passions now begin
I caress her form and kiss her skin
Our passions flow like summer rain
Our love’s fulfilled as we kiss again
In the afterglow in fond embrace
We speak of love and I kiss her face

Heat

We came together
In a frenzied embrace
Mouths locked, nostrils flared
Snorting like fighting bulls
Kissing, stroking, groping
Fumbling with buttons and belts
Hooks and eyes
Until we lay in a heap
Disordered in our semi nakedness
I caressed her breasts
Teasing her nipples
First with fingers
Before attending to them orally
I moved my hand across her soft belly
And pulled up her skirt
My mouth alternated between
Her swollen nipples and her eager mouth
My hand slipped under her skirt
And I reached up
Until I felt the silk of her underwear
I pulled them down to her ankles urgently
Then I moved my hand steadily
Up her long stockinged leg
From ankle to calf to her inner thigh
The soft naked flesh above her stocking
Before combing my fingers through
Her luxuriant growth
She turned her attentions once again
To my ear frantically exploring it with her tongue
I cupped her pubic bone in my hand
And rocked it gently
Then I slipped my fingers between her lips
Into the creamy wetness
She moaned gently in my ear
And slid her fingers around my swollen shaft
Tugging roughly at me
As I worked her wet flesh
Until her rhythmic moaning reached crescendo
And she came
Her thighs closed on me
Then she rolled onto her back
For me to mount her
She wanted me so badly
And my balls ached for the want of her
I lay on her and we kissed
And I probed at her wetness
Teasing her lips with my tip
Then in her urgency
with her slender legs wrapped around me
She pulled me in until she enveloped me
Then she gripped me
Vice like with her slim yet powerful thighs
Preventing my withdrawal
Her mouth was again on my ear
Licking and chewing
Her razor like nails dug into my skin
I arched my back
And entered her deeper
Then her grip on my hips lessened
I withdrew and thrust into her again
She writhed beneath me moaning
As she tongued my ear
I thrust again
She bit my lobe
Her nails were now in my buttocks
I thrust again and again
Then again faster and faster
We moan loudly in unison
Until I exploded inside her
And she clung to me like a limpet
There we lay in the afterglow of passion
Locked in fond embrace
For a timeless period
Until our passions were again aroused

Beautiful. Is there an author or authors we can link to, F and send some attention their way? 🤗

It's possible they're on some site that hasn't credited the writer but the first one seems to be Paul Curtis — not sure about the others.

https://allpoetry.com/poem/5419373-a-Taste-of-Honey-by-Biggus-adult

This is the site, Charlie, and there’s some information on Paul Curtis included https://eroticpoetry.co.uk/

Point of view

I look at her and in my mind
She is naked
Her great round breasts
Nipples like organ stops
Her lush bush
Then I see her bending
Straight legged
Her lips in full view
I kneel and with my tongue
Part her curtains
Tasting her juice
Then she is on all fours
My cock deep in her
Her buttocks slapping against my belly
My hands cupping her breasts
Then I am back
This is no way to look at my mother in law

Mistaken Identity

“Forrest, go to the Hilton” I was told “and meet Sam Barraclough” 
A lunchtime meeting at the Hilton sometimes life was tough
I was expecting a Yorkshire man with whippet on a lead you see
With a copy of the pigeon fanciers weekly laying on his knee
A dour Yorkshire man wearing cloth cap and dressed in tweed
So was not prepared for who it was to greet me I must concede
The whippet wealding Yorkshire man had turned out to be
A very pretty young woman who was called Samantha you see
She was actually a stunningly beautiful petite young blonde
The type of delicious creature it was impossible not to be fond
She introduced herself with a broad smile and a hearty hello
I stuttered out my own introduction by way of a quid pro quo
She offered her hand to me in greeting and I accepted it gladly
Her hand was soft and smooth like silk and gripped mine firmly
In my large paw her little hand was almost like that of a child
In silence we continued to shake hands and we both just smiled
We held each other’s gaze and hand perhaps too long slightly
We both laughed nervously and her cheeks blushed brightly
She then turned away and bade me follow which was no chore
I followed her exotic heady fragrance out thought the door
Silently she led me down a corridor in the lounge direction
I followed mesmerized by her form and admiring its perfection
Even wearing four-inch heels I marveled at her daintiness
Only reaching the dizzy height of five foot three more or less
The straight blonde hair cascaded onto her shoulders softly
A fitted silk blouse complemented her waif-ish frame perfectly 
She had the tiniest of waists and the slenderest of hips to swing
And pert round buttocks contained within the tailored skirting
Then the shapely legs clad in stockings unless I miss my guess
The overall effect was stunning and I was smitten I will confess
Then sunlight illuminated her form through silk and cotton
The sudden transparency left nothing at all to the imagination
Seemingly completely oblivious to the effect she had achieved
On the red-blooded men in her wake she’d never have believed
She stopped by a vacant seat and slowly turned towards me
This caused the illumination of her fine breasts for us to see
The vent on her skirt caught momentarily on a cushion pad
A glimpse of her stocking top confirmed the suspicion that I had
She effortlessly and elegantly slipped into the vacant place
And gestured for me to sit beside her in the neighboring space
Not coy she sat straight-backed upright confident and proud
Her voice was strangely hypnotic clear and soft but not loud
Once again I was completely enveloped in her intoxicating scent
Then she opened her briefcase and deftly removed the document
Like a precious work of art I had admired her from a distance
Now I could examine in detail every brushstroke every nuance
Her blonde hair cascaded onto her slim shoulders like fine rain
The sun was highlighting strands like spun gold again and again
The golden rain tumbled to caress the nape of her neck gently
Coming to rest on her soft silk covered shoulders diffidently   
I was transfixed by the vision of golden hair framing her face
Of pale alabaster like porcelain on a doll or like a Greek grace
Her eyes stunning and captivating were of translucent green
And her nose was small and angular sat perfectly in between
Her mouth was only narrow but the lips were full and luscious
As she spoke the pale pink lips glistened moistly and sensuous
I would blush to my roots if our eyes met however fleetingly
And then a smile would dance about her mouth provocatively
I turned my attention to her slim pale arms naked and bare
The suns illumination fringing like white gold the downy hair
Then her small delicate hands with fingers so elegant and slim
No bitten or false nails just naturally well cared for and prim  
Also no rings adorned her fingers in fact there was no jewelry
But then no jewelry could ever improve on this beauty before me
Suddenly she dropped her pen and leant forwards to retrieve it
Causing her blouse to gape revealing her breast well just a bit
Just the briefest glimpse of breast with a hint of lace and frill
Enough to quicken the pulse and excite the senses and thrill
Then she catches me letching and smiles as I avert my gaze
Now it’s her milky white flesh that blushes in a crimson blaze
All to soon our short business meeting was at a close and done
I felt her soft and delicate hand in mine and then she was gone
So blinded by her beauty and intoxicated by her sweet perfume
I could barely stammer out a sentence before she left the room
I was left with only the exotic fragrance lingering about me
Feeling quite despondent and in a strange way quite empty
In my hand I found her business card as you would expect
Then I turned it over like you would to more closely inspect
A hand written note and number is not what I thought to see
Here’s my number, call me soon, I’d like to see you socially

11 September 1885. D. H. Lawrence, one of the most esteemed English novelists, was born in Eastwood, Nottinghamshire. His best known novels are Sons and Lovers, The Rainbow, Women in Love and Lady Chatterley’s Lover. pic.twitter.com/8EPkbeOlrV

— Prof. Frank McDonough (@FXMC1957) September 11, 2022

11 September 1988. Children’s author, Roger Hargreaves, died (aged 53). He’s best known for the Mr. Men and Little Miss series of books aimed at very young readers. The books have sold over 85 million copies worldwide and been translated into 20 languages. pic.twitter.com/tgfLvnu3Ln

— Prof. Frank McDonough (@FXMC1957) September 11, 2022

13 September 1894. John Boynton (“JB”) Priestley was born in Bradford. His Yorkshire roots were reflected in his writing, most notably, in his first successful novel The Good Companions. He’s also credited with strengthening public morale during the Battle of Britain in 1940. pic.twitter.com/yMemOT8arY

— Prof. Frank McDonough (@FXMC1957) September 13, 2022

Not my chocolate factory... 😭

13 September 1916. Roald Dahl was born in Cardiff, Wales, to Norwegian immigrant parents. His books include, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, Matilda and The BFG. His books have sold over 250 million copies worldwide. pic.twitter.com/fXtazTf1jr

— Prof. Frank McDonough (@FXMC1957) September 13, 2022