August MacGregor

Celebrating Sensuality. Intended for mature audiences, 18 and over


In That Song

it’s in hearing that song
that brings you back to the time
when you felt you lived
inside that song

its lyrics somehow
reflected what was going on
around you

the ache for things to be different
no matter how many prayers
your heart whispered,
they went unanswered

each prayer seeming more like
a shovel full of dirt
tossed to the side
to deepen the hole
in an attempt to bury your hopes

or maybe discover
water down there
to make a well

where you could stand
and listen to others
whisper down their prayers

you could softly answer
with that song
that wraps around them
and says the ache
is part of you

and it can help you treasure
the good times.

now the ache is a memory
among many memories
sweet and sad and precious
brought back by the melody

in that song.


She Was a Mystery

She was a mystery
of sidelong glances
Hair in front of her eyes
Eyes daring rather than agreeing
Lips slightly parted
as if nearly saying something
but for some reason not
When she did speak
it was smoke curling around your ear
words getting to touch you
as you wished to touch her
She seemed more suited for the night
with more places to hide
Although you wished to meet her
in the bright spots of the day
see her more clearly
But that might’ve dispelled
some of her mystery
And she alone chooses
when to let her clues out.


Bowlful of Cherries

cherries by Walid Mahfoudh (Flickr)

Naked and bedded
they fed each other cherries

Pinching a stem and holding the cherry
as if bait for a tiger

Lips spread wide, teeth bared,
they plucked the fruit from its stem

(First, she tickled under each cherry
with her tongue tip because she loved his reaction)

They used to be careful of the cherry juice,
so it wouldn’t get on the white sheet

But they decided pink explosive stains on the sheets
would be good reminders of this afternoon

The rule was tossed aside, and
spraying cherry juice added to the sensual fun

Cherry and cherry, back and forth, feeding and teasing,
the sweet flesh delightful in their mouths

He moved the wide bowl from between them
to the nightstand

As it was time to feast on each other.


Photo by Walid Mahfoudh (Flickr)


Frame by Frame

Le Moulin de la Galette, by Renoir

She visits the paintings in the art museum,
her imagination diving into the
landscapes and seascapes,
people dancing in a courtyard
or eating lunch in lush gardens.

How lovely to envision herself in these settings:
see clouds arrive over the tops of mountains,
feel the breeze off the ocean,
hear music and the other dancers chatting,
taste triangular sandwiches,
smell the perfume of flowers.

A stroll in the museum offers a variety of fantasies,
frame by frame
old-fashioned and unhurried.

Unlike the sprinting frames of movies
where you vicariously live
as a superhero or spy
or beautiful person falling in love with another beautiful person
or someone who always says the witty thing
that makes everyone else laugh
or the detective who always finds the guilty person
or the unlikely hero who always saves the world.

Here, inside the paintings,
she can be something more nuanced:
herself in a different world,
seeing how it fits.


Le Moulin de la Galette by Pierre-Auguste Renoir (1876).