Monday, January 28, 2019

Don't Promise

don't promise me
punctured poems
nor operatic love

don't apologize
for soaking me
in your steeps

they sing of your seed!
this cup is your vessel

swelling me with new
swelling me with becoming

the skin-on-skin
i damn well need to survive


12 comments:

  1. Powerful procreation poem! Excellent!

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  2. Like the opening lines very much!

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    Replies
    1. Thanks for reading the rest too; and for your comment!

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  3. ah operatic love, they appeal to the poet's heart, but never amount to anything when called upon. beautiful words

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  4. Nice line: "swelling me with becoming"

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  5. I’m glad I checked back again and didn’t miss your poem, which isn’t punctured but honest, sensual and fecund. I love the idea of ‘swelling with becoming’ and the looking forward to skin-on-skin. Is this a baby speaking from the womb or a poem waiting to be born?

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  6. I like all the "s" sounds, making it smooth read aloud. I feel strength and resistance in the voice.

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    Replies
    1. Wow. You are an astute reader Mish. Thanks for picking up on this. I do love the sound of things when they go well together

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  7. Beautiful poem, sensual AND poignant, mind wandering now, thanks to you. Still... it seems like a promise is also super sweet, but only if it can be kept.

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  8. Thanks for stopping in Lona. Nice to meet you. Do you link up to Toads?

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