Some Vaguely Racy Scifi/Fantasy Poetry About Mystical Creatures

I once loved a Nymph. Perhaps a Nymphet?
400 years old. One tiny regret.
(But I’m not ready to talk of it yet.)
Centuries spent on the art of amour?
On this subject, I can speak sure:
The amount of foreplay desired is ‘more’.

___

I once set great store
In a Minotaur
Whose erotic skills were exemplary
You’d never guess
With how little stress
Just how many places those horns can be.

___

Your most battle-scarred Witch
Still won’t date a Lich;
For a reason we all know –
The brain lives on,
The body moves,
But it’s all undead below.

_____

What Vampires do not drink
(or so I’m told)
is wine,
and with that,
I am all right;
I’m fine.

What they suck, so I have heard
(along with a sickening thud)
is not anything I’d prefer;
just blood.

__

Witches do it in circles,
to keep the energy contained
Druids don’t organize at all;
their energy’s sustained

by reading science fiction
and writing fantasy books –
for there’s one thing a Druid knows:
there’s never too many cooks.

___

I once knew a Witch’s Familiar
Who knew just the way to thrill her
(I don’t know whatever you’re inferring,
But what I’m talking about is purring.)