Poem: "Her Lovely Parts"
Her Lovely Parts
Each one of you owns
that one beautiful curve
caught by the flicker-turn of my gaze
fleshed out as my lashes fall heavy
and follow the trail of your wake.
I blink dream of a world
where time ticks like windless clouds
and I have the leisure
to see that lovely part of you.
Author's note: I put my reasons for writing the poem and my thoughts about it behind a cut because I, personally, like to a read a poem once or twice first without any influence about what it may or may not be about.
Musings:
So, this was in response to another poem that eluded to a bad relationship and, of course, my entire workshop class decided that meant that some guy totally screwed me over. And I'm sitting in this circled DECKED OUT IN RAINBOWS. Okay, really, I get it. Everyone is all about being politically correct and they don't want to assume I'm lesbigay just because I could be the new Rainbow Brite. Still, I'm aware that this poem doesn't expressly say that I love them lady bits, but it wasn't exactly about that anyway.
I get quite a bit of flack from my friends about being "girl crazy." I don't blame them. Nearly every time that I come home from work I'm gushing about the latest woman to knock my socks off. I like to say that I'm just appreciative. Just because I can find something attractive about nearly every woman doesn't mean I'm even remotely interested in dating them or getting into their pants (srsly!).
Nevertheless, the essence of this poem is to capture my own views of women. They're art, they're beautiful, they're enchanting (until they word-vomit something ridiculously superficial and shallow).
Each one of you owns
that one beautiful curve
caught by the flicker-turn of my gaze
fleshed out as my lashes fall heavy
and follow the trail of your wake.
I blink dream of a world
where time ticks like windless clouds
and I have the leisure
to see that lovely part of you.
Author's note: I put my reasons for writing the poem and my thoughts about it behind a cut because I, personally, like to a read a poem once or twice first without any influence about what it may or may not be about.
Musings:
So, this was in response to another poem that eluded to a bad relationship and, of course, my entire workshop class decided that meant that some guy totally screwed me over. And I'm sitting in this circled DECKED OUT IN RAINBOWS. Okay, really, I get it. Everyone is all about being politically correct and they don't want to assume I'm lesbigay just because I could be the new Rainbow Brite. Still, I'm aware that this poem doesn't expressly say that I love them lady bits, but it wasn't exactly about that anyway.
I get quite a bit of flack from my friends about being "girl crazy." I don't blame them. Nearly every time that I come home from work I'm gushing about the latest woman to knock my socks off. I like to say that I'm just appreciative. Just because I can find something attractive about nearly every woman doesn't mean I'm even remotely interested in dating them or getting into their pants (srsly!).
Nevertheless, the essence of this poem is to capture my own views of women. They're art, they're beautiful, they're enchanting (until they word-vomit something ridiculously superficial and shallow).