Warm flesh wrapped in a
State of grace and a white shirt --
Sombre room reflects light in
Her eyes -- rising from perusal of
Her book of dreams
Elegant scent of woman rises
From the open shirt, and
Fills the room with feminine
Mystery
Hair loosely tied -- how effortless
To undo her auburn tresses and let fall
Round her eyes, offering invitation
As the bed waits to be used.
Comments
something
about this poem is drawing and fixing. Something about it has set the tone and the pace, the words all line up together, tresses falling and sombre lighted room, and scent rising... Quite a mesmerising read.
Thanks, cryptic --
Thanks, cryptic --
That was my intention.
Ciao,
Victor
VC!
Warm flesh wrapped in a
State of grace
Loved that opening line... ;) The whole poem unravels with ease... then the word USE kind of makes it smutty! Just my take - perhaps you could re-word it to make it more romantic and fitting with the rest of the tone!
THanks
Well, Bonitaj,
Well, Bonitaj,
". . .then the word USE kind of makes it smutty!"
I don't consider the act of love, even if it is implied, as it is in this piece, smutty. Smutty lives in the mind of the beholder, and there is nothing expressly implied or stated that is "smutty" in this little ditty.
Thank you for the read, and your interesting response.
Sincerely,
Victor
This is a poem that casually
This is a poem that casually assaults me with words and my senses. There is much I can read into it.
Ekphrastic poetry. Thank you, I have learned something new. I wonder what the painting (?) was that inspired this poem. Care to share?
~A
"I wonder what the painting (
"I wonder what the painting (?) was that inspired this poem. Care to share?" I have sent you an email as an attachment. I cannot isolate the image and successfully send it. It always arrives as an empty square box.
Thank you, Anna.
Victor
You pierce fiercely
You Pierce Fiercely
That now any one can see
The piercing of a lovely one openly,
In public shows how pubic the mind
Of the poetic could be
Renders eyes of lust free,
As one roams around the painting,
As it pierces me,
Lovely poetry I can imagine
The covers removed,
Wow, wow they'll say
When I am too
Remotely shooed
Can I come and see
the painter in you,
Who has painted poetry?
So lovely
Brilliantly
so nude
To devour this prude!
A NEOPOET
POETRY LEARNER ME
LOVED
Victor
I agree with Bonitaj. While I would not characterize it as smutty or dirty, imo "use" does not fit with the rest of this piece. it takes the sensual anticipation of passion in the moment described that shouts to me throughout, and brings it abruptly down to the mudane.
Imo, "As the bed awaits" would have been more than sufficient, with its implication of the physical, and culmination of desire.
Please refer to my response
Please refer to my response to Bonitaj.
I will not take the word out.
Please refer to my response
Please refer to my response to Bonitaj.
I will not take the word out for your Puritanical ideas!
LOL@puritanical.
Nice one.
Entirely wrong - I am pagan; "puritanical" is not contained within my dictionary - but a good response nonetheless.
What can I say - opinions vary.
I would point out, for those interested, that I did say "would have"...past tense, as I know that this, for you, is a finished piece.
I would advise, however, that if you have no desire to change a piece, you not ask for raw truth.
Or better yet, explain in a comment that you will not change a piece under any circumstances. That might be better.
I wonder, Jim, does the " raw
I wonder, Jim, does the " raw truth" as you see it include the suspension of courteous discretion when making comments?
Or,
"It is better to remain silent and be thought a fool, than to open your mouth and remove all doubt."
Victor
I believe that you should answer these questions yourself, since you are now being discourteous.
My original opinion stands: the word "use" carries implications that do not fit with the tone and feeling of the rest of the poem.
It is the last one you will receive.
Thank you, Shirley. There is
Thank you, Shirley. There is a painting.
Love,
Victor
The bed is made, unused, and
The bed is made, unused, and the poem a perfect complement to the painting.
Well done, sir!
Besides, I'd like to know one person who hasn't used another for any one of a thousand reasons. We, however, prefer to be less than candid ... speak as if above it all.
~A
Anna,
Anna,
I am glad you were able to see the painting. Without it as a visual aid peoples' minds go off on weird tangents.
Thanks,
Victor