Two poems about (pant! gasp!) Jamie Bell



1.
toe, and finger, nails

jamie bell
is letting me watch while he jerks himself off.
jamie bell
has been a point of fixation of mine
for many years. jamie bell is
a very sexy sweet cute handsome young actor.
i think his body is marvelous.
his crooked little smile just
sweet and endearingly sensuous.
the only time i've seen him almost
naked is in his movie "mr. foe" --
he's
almost totally naked in
that movie, but not quite totally.
anyhow i nearly lost it when
i saw that scene of him
almost naked. second only
to the scene in which
he paints red circles around
his nipples with lipstick.
**
anyhow, at this
moment i am watching jamie bell
jerk himself off, and i am
kind of
going mad
while
jamie bell is jerking himself off for me,
and,
when he spurts cum,
he smiles real big,
his eyes sparkle,
and then
he lets me smell the puddle
of cum he's left
on the bed -- in fact,
he insists that
i stick my
nose right
into it,
so that he
can see his cum
on the tip
of my nose.
at this moment
it strikes me that life is certainly very strange,
but really, quite
good.

--Carl Miller Daniels (This poem also appears in my book Saline, published by Interior Noise Press in 2014.)


*******************************************


2.
indulgence is the sincerest form of saying yes

Jamie Bell (star of BILLY ELLIOT and THE CHUMSCRUBBER
and MISTER FOE), are you secretly reading my poetry?
Jamie Bell, you beautiful big-dicked young man, are
you secretly reading my poetry
about beautiful big-dicked young men,
beautiful big-dicked young men just like you?
**
Jamie Bell, i hope you're flattered, and
not creeped out, that i can so easily
picture you totally naked, lying on
your back atop your bed, and you
are so gently oh you are
so gently tugging on your big
hard smooth dick. when you spurt
cum, your eyes flash like
mystical sparks and your
sweet charming crooked little grin peeks
through your wet tongue-licked
lips.
**
Jamie Bell, are you secretly
reading my poetry about
beautiful big-dicked young men
who do the sort of things
that i imagine you do,
in the privacy of your
own room, on your bed,
alone, experiencing
the joy you experience
at touching your beautiful
body in the respectful
and reverent ways that
you touch your nipples,
and dick, and balls,
and let your fingers
linger over just the
tips of your untrimmed
pubic hair.
you are
a wild man, there
all alone, thrashing
about, dreaming of
my sweet
sexy poems,
and me.

--Carl Miller Daniels (This poem first appeared in Assaracus #3, June 2011. It also appears in my book Saline, published by Interior Noise Press in 2014.)