Erotic Poetry: Remembrance Day

Remembrance Day

There once was a brave soldier,
He served his country well,
He fought in Flanders trenches,
And he fought in fucking hell.

One night he lay there sleepless,
In a dank and fetid pit,
His comrades snored and farted,
While black rats crawled on his kit.

His thoughts were with his sweetheart,
His fist squeezed around her locket,
Muddy, crumpled love letters,
Were folded in his pocket.

He rose at dawn next morning,
In the thin and soupy light,
He sipped a tin of weak, grey tea,
And shook with cold and fright.

He checked his gun and helmet,
As he lined up in the trench,
Then turned aside to vomit,
From the fear and from the stench

The sergeant's whistle sounded,
At precisely ten past eight.
The soldier climbed the muddy bank,
And walked towards his fate.

Machine guns started firing,
As he stumbled in the mud,
He felt himself get splattered,
With his comrades' brains and blood.

Bravely he crawled onward,
But he got caught on barbed wire.
He heard a shell's shrill whistle,
And he felt a searing fire.

He lay there sick and broken,
Hopeless, filled up with dismay.
The bottom of his left leg,
Had been cruelly blown away.

Bullets tore right through him,
And he couldn't dodge or duck.
He praised his King and country,
But his final word was: "fuck".

He woke up in a hospital,
To soldiers' screams and cries.
He looked down at his bandaged stump,
Through red and bleary eyes.

Three weeks of painful nursing,
And a ship bore him away.
He gazed on Dover's white cliffs,
Twixt a sea and sky so grey.

He walked up to his sweetheart,
Looking awkward on his crutches,
Then dropped them to embrace her,
And to feel her tender touches.

She took him back to her house,
And they made love on the bed,
The couch, the kitchen table,
In the bath, the yard, the shed.

She whispered that she loved him.
As they lay awake in bed.
He felt his ardor rising,
At the next thing that she said:

She had a present for him,
On account of where he'd been:
They'd spend the next night with her friend,
A girl of just nineteen.

The next night they sat kissing,
In front of a roaring fire.
At 9 o'clock the bell rang:
The girl was there to admire.

A smiling, shy, fresh, pretty face,
And red curls piled so high,
Her body was voluptuous;
He gave a hearty sigh.

The three of them sat on the couch,
He told them tales of war,
Both girls tousled with his hair,
And all three longed for more.

His sweetheart rubbed his shoulders,
While the girl massaged his thighs,
Then moved her hands up higher,
As she gazed into his eyes.

He felt his passion rising,
As she gently stroked his crotch,
She leaned and kissed his sweetheart deep,
Allowing him to watch.

He saw the two girls' tongues entwine,
He watched through lustful eyes,
His sweetheart reached down to his lap,
And opened up his flies.

She took his thick hard penis,
And she squeezed it in her hand,
As he had squeezed that locket,
In that godforsaken land.

The young girl took her top off,
With a wicked, wanton pout.
She opened up her brassiere,
And let her breasts spill out.

Both girls sucked him, licked him,
Teased him til his hard cock rose,
It stood as proud and rigid,
As a sergeant major's pose.

His sweetheart raised the young girl's skirt,
And slipped away her pants.
The girl lay by the fire,
Wet and ready for romance.

He lay close in behind her,
Felt her silky wetness slide,
His sweetheart stroked his penis,
Gently guiding it inside.

He fucked the girl so slowly,
To the sighs and cries of bliss,
His sweetheart lay beside her,
Giving her a longing kiss.

He began to feel a tingle,
Through his balls and through his dick,
He pulled out of the young girl,
And his sweetheart squeezed his prick.

She clasped it, yanked it long and hard,
He felt his body brace,
He shot a spurt of semen,
All upon the young girl's face.

She lay there in the firelight,
With his cum still on her cheek,
Until his sweetheart licked it off,
Her tongue so soft and sleek.

"You're beautiful," He murmured,
"I don't know your name however."
"It's Poppy, darling," she replied.
"Remember me, forever."

They made love seven times that night.
Til dawn's first light appeared,
Til all their tender acts of love,
Had conquered all their fears.