Tag Archives: lust


Why is the heart associated with love, I wonder

Why not the brain

I can think of other body parts

If you’re going to pick internal organs to represent that feeling

That divine state of bliss we call love

Or even tarnished affection for your familiar co-accused

Why pick that steadfast pump in the middle of your chest

As a grand metaphor for the mercurial arc of love

Love, weaving infatuation into lust

Followed by mutual seduction

If you’re lucky some romance but that wears off

At some point you learn to compromise

Come to some kind of understanding and acceptance

Then you learn to give and receive forgiveness

Taking comfort in care and affection bestowed and shared


The heart is definitely important

But it’s really not adequate to portray love’s tumultuous adventures

The stomach might work better as a proxy

Considering its capacity, appetite and potential for amorous metaphor

But then what kind of symbol would we use for it

Not that the stylized version for heart bears any relation to reality

Looking nothing at all like a real heart

Actually it takes its shape from the emblematic seed case of a plant called silphium

Used as a contraceptive by the ancient people of Cyrene

It worked so well that it was used to extinction

Yet lives on to embellish boxes of chocolate on Valentine’s day

Fittingly adorning ritualistic displays of romantic attraction

It’s quite charming to consider how those unbridled orgasms

From twenty six hundred years ago are still echoing today

Propelling meaning across centuries and tongues

Into the synchronicity of love



David Trudel   ©  2013



Leave a comment

Filed under Cardiology, Poetry


Today I won’t let my fantasies run wild

I won’t think about your open-toed sandals

Or unslipping them and raising your foot to my mouth

To kiss your high-arched instep while fondling your toes

I refuse to think about your hand reaching out to the back of my head

And pulling me close

Into the best kiss I’ve ever tasted

I won’t dream about unbuttoning your blouse

Or slipping off your bra so that I can run my tongue

First this way then that around the velvet smoothness of your aureoles

While your nipples rise to attention, which I give them

I won’t imagine my hand rubbing your crotch through your jeans

Or your hand pressing down on mine

Worrying that you want to stop my naughtiness

Until you start applying your own intentional pressure

Teaching me your rhythms and tipping points

I won’t dream about belts unbuckled and the sweet over the hip slide

Pants pooling on the floor

I won’t visualize your panties already darkly wet

Or skin shimmering with the perspiration of hot pleasure

I don’t think labial lapping thoughts today

Or wonder about the sensitivity of your clitoris to my fingers and tongue

This isn’t the day to breathe your smells into being

Or to taste you on my lips

This is a day to pull back from fantasies

To a place where smiles are just smiles and not an invitation



David Trudel    ©  2013



Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry


You say you have your moments

I agree

Mostly you see your life as mundane

Boring, even

Of course I don’t agree

Since I find value in the small

Beauty in the commonplace

I treasure quiet moments

Genuine living beats phony glamour in my estimation


Yet you say you have your moments

Your one percent times

37 minutes of white hot passion

Full frontal intensity

Making memories for eternity

Unbridled, you gallop as fast as the wind

As carelessly as a twister barreling across the plains

Ravaging everything beneath you, savagely


In the 38th minute you start to apologize

For the violence of your passion

But I press my finger to your lips

Pull you to me

This moment is a jeweled treasure

I say, softly

This moment is one I’ll always remember

This moment is brilliant cut


You are my diamond, adamant

This moment is forever

This moment can’t be traded

This moment is one to hold on to

Like you



David Trudel   ©  2012




Filed under Poetry


She sashays down the street

Her hips rolling

Each step a revelation of sensual certitude

Lighting up this quiet town quicker than a cowboy twists up a smoke

Attracting looks and veiled glances

That strip her naked in seconds flat

She chuckles at the reaction

Flattered and just a little fearful

That her musky pheromones are attracting all the males in town

Thankful for the restraining hands

Wives reaching out

Pulling their men back to their slackened breasts

Catching their arched and jealous looks

Quicker than a shortstop’s golden glove on gameday

Smiling, she lets them think what they will

Knowing that her shadowman is waiting

With the only eyes that matter

Long away



David Trudel   ©  2012



Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry