- Non-Erotic Poetry
- I do not remember where we are
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I do not remember where we are
Scattered like leaves
that still hold their autumn colors,
I gather you up and bind our stems;
wear your wreath like a crown.
Is there anything better
than a poet, my lover?
Answers weave a yarn
that binds us while we sleep.
In the morning, twisted braids
of spring weathered words
bud and blossom around our ankles.
- COMMENTS
normal jeanabout 19 years agobraided, weathered words. a clear, and haunting image, yet one with hope. glad to see you back posting, seattle-rain, ive missed your elusive, erotic self :)
Anonymousabout 19 years agothis is wonderful, SR! Such beautiful play with its own solution. I am not bothered by the wreath/crown image.
Fly
Wanton Vixxxenabout 19 years agoNO - there is nothing better than a poet because a poet is love sensitive and you can't beat that! A lovely poem that only proves My point. <smile>
Vixxx
dcpoet44about 19 years agoand i have fallen victim to these two lines as they are sooooo wonderful:
Is there anything better
than a poet, my lover?
*****
nice job!!........don
Anonymousabout 19 years agoNice work here.. very visual and enticing in the lace of a dream..or is that reality?...
ty
du~
mentioned in the sunday reviews..
Anonymousabout 19 years agohmmmm thank you both, too kind, trying to figure out what else to do with those leaves... thanks for the honesty, you are right on target with the crown. SR
Tathagataabout 19 years agois like a kiss.
Beautiful.
"wreath like a crown" was a tad cliché' for you..but the image and feeling are correct.
One of your most straightforward and lyrical pieces..and I liked it very much
twelveooneabout 19 years agoPoetry relies on tricks, tactics, aka techiques, all based on repition. Easiest to spot: simple repition i.e. word, phrase, not here; next rhyme, not here; alliteration, a little
wear your wreath
weathered words
bud and blossom
These are obvious tricks. After that the consistency and interplay of images, theme. Judge for yourself, I think quite nicely done. This is the weakest point:
"wear your wreath like a crown."
a little shopworn, but not offending, buried as it is.
After that it is the sound itself, I notice the W's the R's.
This purrs, (note TH's; not growls) at me with wonderment.
I love the focus of this, the supposed simple question.
"Is there anything better
than a poet, my lover?"
there...better...poet...lover...
Although it answers itself, it still asks.
If it was you,
Nothing better, I can think of nothing better.
Such is the power of this person's poetry.
