By Peter Christopher Raymond
Copyright 2016
Expounding on every arousal in order of which it occurred
Urges stirred and surging with each provocative word
Repressed and resting now requesting pressing palms
At your clear and well-aware behest disturbing your calm
While not well-endowed I gained entry to your shroud
As you shuffled me away from the condescending crowd
Could I imagine or fathom the tender moistness of your lips
Any complaint or sense of restraint in thorough eclipse
Fabric plastered to your warm and sweat-drenched skin
Rules rudely retooled and improvised surprise and conjure a grin
Heels slide smoothly out as you shed your shoes
Sparks part the darkness with each motion from my muse
Divulging fond indulgences displaying childlike craving
Betraying your maturity in merry misbehaving
Engaged in brazen naughty games as babies in a nursery
To stave off the staleness of endless anniversaries
Don't taint your plaintive beauty with too much paint
Some grateful restraint for the light is so faint
Head pressed and loved slightly less than one from your womb
The consuming scent flooding the room when lavender blooms
Rubbing my temple with gentle sentimental strokes
Kept from drifting drowsily to sleep by playful pokes
With an onslaught of thoughts prodded by hormonal release
I'll collect your affections however long they be on lease
(No subject)
Yes Pete
The drudgery of life.
Your work is well received
Thus being a viable release
And confirmation that you
Are doing something write.
On to knowing your work
Does have the shelf-life
You have hoped for.
KS
You remind me of
Stephen King.
I love your ability to write
I love your ability to write spontaneously. I met Stepehn King once, but I didn't know it at the time. I was working at Tower Records in Boston and he came in to buy a bunch of books. It was summer and he was kind of dressed like a tourist in a tropical shirt and he had sunglasses. After he left someone pointed out that it was him.
What can I say ?
But there He is
In the Building
KS
Stages it was carried out
And in the end
There stood a Pyramid.
That's beautiful!:)
That's beautiful!:)
Thanks
I like to say a little more
At times when I comment
But sometimes people might
Take things the wrong way.
Glad you got it.
You have been being
Mysterious lately.
I have seen you around but no posts .
Working on your masterpieces.
( like a mad scientist )
Haha later.
KS
I feel badly the long
I feel badly about the long stretches of time between my poems sometimes. When I was much younger, say, nineteen and twenty, I would write poetry constantly because I felt as though I had a lot to say and a lot of ideas to draw upon. But nowadays life has become some mundane that anything I manage to write is almost invariably fiction because if I do draw upon my own life it would be dull as dishwater.
I think you touch on an
I think you touch on an important aspect, here, that personal poetry (that is, the confessional poem centered around the capital I) is usually as dull as dishwater. This is an innovation mostly of the 20th century---Plath, Sexton, Lowell, etc. In centuries past, the greatest poets told stories in their poems, stories that were obviously fictive. Wallace Stevens, in the 20th century, struck a good balance between the two, but he is that rarest of examples.
Starward
Nice to read you after the long break
Enigmatic Suzannne
©bishu
Thank you, Bishu. I never
Thank you, Bishu. I never mean to take so long between poems. It's partly because I'm trying not to repeat myself too much thematically or use words and phrases I've used many times before.
I Wrote That!
As in I heard that! I am revising a (hopefully) final novel and find words and word groupings often repeated. I am going back and substuting better words, more creatively constructed alternate word groups - substantive with solid emotional impact. It's a challenge, but absorbing and expanding personally. I will be living in a thesaurus for a while longer. See u around the site. "I" poems can be challenging. I am a Stevens fan. B well. - :D slc