Frogged a sonnet by Dan Standing My clothes swallow up my receding form, Webbing spreads between each shrinking finger. The cavernous fabric folds down, still warm, Blonde strands vanish; none up or down linger. Milky skin dampens, gains deep shades[…]↓ Read the rest of this entry…
Archive for sonnet
Dark Patch a sonnet by Dan Standing I now know that she did not want to share. She cried out, “I cast this curse upon you!” Now it makes no difference what I wear. However thick, I always soak it[…]↓ Read the rest of this entry…
Sonnet: Accessory Wishing
Accessory Wishing a sonnet by Dan Standing Now, constantly, my breasts bounce and jiggle. Moving even when I am standing still. In the tightest bra they always wiggle. Attracting all men’s eyes, against my will. I wished to have a[…]↓ Read the rest of this entry…
Unexpected a sonnet by Dan Standing I wake and find it happened while I slept. Back stretched out, another pair of legs kick. I could not stand at first, and so I wept. Awake, not a dream, sure this was[…]↓ Read the rest of this entry…
Keep It Up a sonnet by Dan Standing Smooth soft flesh makes Technicolor look pale. Floating form shifts gently in the cold breeze. Body flows from epic breasts to thin tail, Which slips into her glass bottle with ease. “What do[…]↓ Read the rest of this entry…
Eternal Heat a sonnet by Dan Standing The sweat now drips down my back in small streams, Warm steam gently wrapped around both my legs, Happier in this sauna than in dreams, I loath returning to the world’s sad dregs.[…]↓ Read the rest of this entry…
Troublesome Trident a sonnet by Dan Standing My hair flows around me in the current, Surrounded by a curtain of bubbles. Within the chest is a golden trident, And that is what begins all my troubles. Light flashes as my[…]↓ Read the rest of this entry…
I, Sex Doll a sonnet by Dan Standing Now I wait. Naked. Open. Spread. Helpless. This is what I wanted, right? Made for sex. Silicon. Rubbery skin to caress. I asked for my roommate to cast this hex. Failing classes.[…]↓ Read the rest of this entry…
Little on the Lamb a sonnet by Dan Standing My feet barely make prints in the wet sand, Gulls spy on me in the early sunlight, Lying out I’d get cooked instead of tanned, I get close, feathers fly, cast[…]↓ Read the rest of this entry…