PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

You know more, Toyo, at seventeen years old than you

did at, say, fifteen years old, and the confidence you

now demonstrate (in your hair's unusual length, your 

body's nakedness, and the way you need to love and be loved 

according to the nature God has given you and not at all

according to societal expectations, or prudes' and haters'

prejudices) has been give you not only by your Poet's words

but also by his Love for you, which expresses itself as

sensual desire for the pleasures innate to your body.

You smile shyly as you think of how you will receive him

tonight (and the encouragement other boyfriend couples take

from this).  You know his vessel is incoming:  there is only

one berth it seeks, that circular tightness that no longer

resists but welcomes, and no longer expels but receives the

iridescent, glistening sweetstuff he needs and wants too deliver.

Your progeny, begotten by him upon and within you, is not descendants

according to the mingling of his flesh with yours, but the Haiku

which neither temporary fashion nor your father the Innkeeper's

impotent rhetoric can suppress.  Like flowers after spring rain, the

land will be full of them; as many words from him as cherry blossoms'

fall.  You, his adolescent Muse, will stride, or glide, or frolic

among them---your bare feet almost, but not quite concealed beneath

your robe's long hem.  Receive him and welcome him into your intimate

self; consider the deployment of every kiss and caress; the taste of

your mouth upon his, to the accompaniment of tongue's swirls; the

warmth produced by the adhesion of his flesh to yours, yours to his; the

varied fragrances and flavors of his body as you playfully collect

them unto the almost cosmic grandeur of his sweetstuff, surging upon or

inside you; and yours, as well, upon or inside him---where the

poems' words are . . . . 

Kyakuchuu

aka

Starward