- Erotic Poetry
- First Love, Lost Love.
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The word goodbye lies bitter on my tongue.
Our night of love under the August moon
Is ending; perhaps the coming of dawn
Will not silence the repeating echoes,
But rather enshrine them. I pray our dance
Is more than a vain promise of love’s taste.
Never before in life had I tasted
A woman, nor bid my curious tongue
Explore her mysteries. Yet when we danced
Rapturously under that silent moon,
I knew the August sky would soon echo
With passion’s first symphony until dawn.
Could we extend the night and stall the dawn,
I would enjoy the fragrant, heady taste
Of your sweet dew. I’d renew the echoes
Of our zeal, witnessed only by the moon.
I’d touch your hidden lips with molten tongue
And submit to nature’s erotic dance.
When night sheds its cloak, what then of our dance?
Will its memory dissipate with the dawn?
Never again will the hot August moon
Witness a truer love, nor shall it taste
The sweet essence of love upon its tongue.
All loves after this are merely echoes.
But, should the night remember the echoes
That originated with our first dance,
Could it plead our love's case, having no tongue?
No soul lies behind either dusk or dawn,
No mouth to rhapsodize your secret taste,
No eye besides the lonely constant moon.
In August’s heat when I gaze at the moon
–The sole witness of our tender echoes
–The sole attestant of your lovely taste
–The sole choreographer of our dance
–Companion in our pilgrimage to dawn,
She serenades me with her lustrous tongue.
The moon sings to me of our only dance
Which echoes from that bitter, distant dawn,
While your taste lies unabated on my tongue.
- COMMENTS
Pureotica10 months agoDuh. Ignore my completely obtuse question in my earlier comment. I says its a sestina in the description, but somehow I missed it.
I even tried writing one once, although the effort less than successful.
MargotPayge11 months agoAuthorYes. This is a late medieval French form you can find the rules several places online. The pattern is complex, and I won't explain it here, but you choose six words that are going to end every line, follow the pattern and end with a three line envoi. Notice the last word of every stanza is the first word ending the first line of the next.
I started with a word bank of about 12 words and wrote the ending first. After that I mapped out the pattern of what word had to end every line, then just kept refining until I got something I liked.
If you have studied any medieval music, it very much feels early polyphony to me. The musical structures hang together by using an established plainchant, but the polyphonic parts just kind of swirl around it. I can't explain it any better than that. But I felt like I got into that mindset, at least as much as I could with words. And then the words kept swirling around in a different order.
I purposefully broke the pentameter in the last line (11 syllables) and I agonized about whether I should, But it is hard to notice, and it mirrors my first line, and I just liked it better than leaving out a syllable. It felt more complete in thought and in rhythm.
I think it's my best poem.
Pureotica11 months agoI like everything.
This is a question, Not a criticism. Is this an established form?
It has a meter, but I can't place the repetition scheme. I like formal poetry, and occasionally take a ham-fisted crack at it, but my background is free verse so I don't feign any expertise.
But the images are strong the words are gorgeous, and the rhythm never so much as wobbles.
Flawless.
My favorite line
"The moon sings to me of our only dance"
