- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Spree 5
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This is a spree,
taking a shortcut
through shit and grit,
style and wit to just
suddenly sit there,
on a tormented paper
staring up at me.
This is not poetry.
No, this
is a poet's spree.
Watch the poet flee
into a dark comfortable corner
where a warm muted nothing
lulls him to sleep,
while muse and soul,
paper, hand and pen
grind bare, bold,
bloodrush beautiful,
in their own
enigmatic,
eruptic,
erotic
pace,
putting words on paper
that the poet later reads
amazed,
sometimes aghast
but always amused
albeit sometimes,
at the same time,
equally abused.
This is a spree.
It starts where it wish
and ends as it please.
That is not,
not I say,
up to me.
- COMMENTS
echoes_sover 20 years agotold me I had guts to post any poems, but could never read them. It felt too intrusive. I never really understood that. Say what you think, feel what you feel, be who you are. I love how you do this...
Linbidoover 20 years agoLet your muse roam free, go hide in that dark corner. Gimmie more spree, baby!
Icingsugarover 20 years agoAuthorI have this framed hanging in the hall:
"Some people cower
and wince and shrink,
owing to fear of
what people may think.
There is one answer
to worries like these:
people may think
what the devil they please."
Angelineover 20 years agoand magically musical. I revel in the rollicking rhythms. And I think I understand what you mean by Spree now. Word spree sung in a duet of poet and muse? Will that work? I hear a shade of Piet Hein in your writing sometimes--it's the clever whimsicality. I like it a lot. :)
