An Ode To Harry's Cock
O well-planed chest! O bounteous butt!
O thighs of muscled, shapely grace!
O shoulders strong! O tapered arms!
O handsome and expressive face!
But of these parts, not one can match
The center of his fiery core
The upthrust spire of piercing heat
Of which, one could not dream of more.
How splendidly it rises true
And swells, when with a care one strokes,
How firmly it doth fill one's hand
With fullness that such touch provokes.
From nest of curls the tower springs
And points toward its sole desire
And quivers with each moment passed
And heats, as with an inner fire.
In pleasure building, it doth stand
Erect and proud, a monument
To passion felt and spurred to flame,
and flash! as passion's fire is spent.
With ev'ry pulse, the river flows,
its stream of seed to gently mark
That one who brought the need to end
and wrung complete that fiery spark.
Now nestled soft, it seems no threat,
The merest part of such a man,
But when again the fire doth build
The conqueror shall rise again.
O thighs of muscled, shapely grace!
O shoulders strong! O tapered arms!
O handsome and expressive face!
But of these parts, not one can match
The center of his fiery core
The upthrust spire of piercing heat
Of which, one could not dream of more.
How splendidly it rises true
And swells, when with a care one strokes,
How firmly it doth fill one's hand
With fullness that such touch provokes.
From nest of curls the tower springs
And points toward its sole desire
And quivers with each moment passed
And heats, as with an inner fire.
In pleasure building, it doth stand
Erect and proud, a monument
To passion felt and spurred to flame,
and flash! as passion's fire is spent.
With ev'ry pulse, the river flows,
its stream of seed to gently mark
That one who brought the need to end
and wrung complete that fiery spark.
Now nestled soft, it seems no threat,
The merest part of such a man,
But when again the fire doth build
The conqueror shall rise again.