15·Oct·2006 · "Normandy" · neonflux

[Lauren Hynde]

Normandy

I dream of this as we hand-fuck each other on the train,
Looking out of the window, lust heightened
By the fear of getting caught,

I take you,
Hair gripped,
Legs spread,
Back arched.
Hands forcibly plastered against
The remnants of stone Roman aqueducts.
Joyfully unprotected and fecund,
Our vaginal juices mix,
Fertilizing the fields as
We pay homage
With breasts and bellies,
Buttocks, thighs and cunts
To the myriads who have come before.

In this warplace,
Desire invades me.
With eye-holds and
Finger steps,
Feet flexings and
And cleft kisses,
We follow Centurions
And blue painted Guals,
SS Officers and U.S. Marines,
Grrl Joan, conscripted farmhands,
Dukes and virgin peasant girls,
The last surviving despite
Rights of First Night.

In this farmplace,
Desire expands me.
In Celtic times
Fucking consecrated.
We rutt in the earth,
Joining milkmaids and farmwives,
Burying our desire in black soil
With tearing hands,
Pulling them out full of
Carrots, cabbages and herbs.
Our appendages entwine,
Disentangle, entwine again,
Becoming branch ends and rootlegs
We plant ourselves
In the field,
Bearing Eve-fruit,
Fermenting Calvados.

I dreamt of this as we hand-fucked each other on the train,
Looking out of the window, lust heightened
By the fear of getting caught.​

Notes by the author:

Thank you for consideration of the following, written as a gift to my 2nd woman lover who is beset by life's difficulties right now. Please don't be afraid to be as rigorous as possible in your critique - and, if wish, to vote for it in it's current state.

 

[champagne1982]

Hello neonflux, welcome to the PF&D forum. I read your poem a couple of times and I love how you're reliving your journey through the central countryside of Europe.

My thoughts and suggestions are given to you here to use or discard as you see fit. I offer them to indicate what I feel would make the poem better for me as a reader. Thankyou for letting me share my ideas.

Normandy

I dream of this as we hand-fuck each other on the train,
Looking out of the window, lust heightened
By the fear of getting caught,
I don't think this strophe is neccessary, it tells us you're being lusty on a train and really doesn't show us anything. Its narrative style doesn't welcome me into the poetry, instead, I feel like I am about to read a sexy love story, which is fine, except the rest is structurally a conventional sort of poem. A prose poem would be adventurous and I think you could find enough metaphor to make such a work quite beautiful.
I take you,
Hair gripped,
Legs spread,
Back arched.
Hands forcibly plastered against
The remnants of stone Roman aqueducts.
Joyfully unprotected and fecund,
Our vaginal juices mix,
This line is jarring, it is too clinical, in my mind. Do you and your lover really call your lubrication "vaginal juices"? I think if you need to use the usual words that indicate arousal, you could simply say juices and leave off the adjective. Consider telling us how it felt to be knuckle-deep inside her intimacy. How does it feel, taste, smell?
Fertilizing the fields as
We pay homage
With breasts and bellies,
Buttocks, thighs and cunts
To the myriads who have come before.

In this warplace,
Desire invades me.
With eye-holds and
Finger steps,
Feet flexings and
And cleft kisses,
We follow Centurions
And blue painted Guals, note: spelling of Gaul.
SS Officers and U.S. Marines,
Grrl Joan, conscripted farmhands,
I don't understand the reference to "Grrl Joan". Is this a typo that should read Girl Joan, as in Jean d'Arc?
Dukes and virgin peasant girls,
The last surviving despite
Rights of First Night.

I'd like to offer you a couple of ideas that I consider more indicative of your meaning in these two strophes. In the one above, if, as I suspect, you're referring to the act of the Landlord being given first denial to the village maidens' deflowering then, perhaps, you could use the French term "le droit de seigneur".
And in the next strophe there are a couple of names to call the celebration described here. The Roman's had Floralia and the ancient Celts/Gauls had Beltane, welcoming the Sun God, Belanos or since these festivals occur in May, Mayday would be another choice. I'm sure you've thought on these ideas already, but IMHO, these other terms are more evocative of the symbolism of sexual union.

In this farmplace,
Desire expands me.
In Celtic times
Fucking consecrated.
We rutt in the earth,
Joining milkmaids and farmwives,
Burying our desire in black soil
With tearing hands,
Pulling them out full of
Carrots, cabbages and herbs.
Our appendages entwine,
Disentangle, entwine again,
Becoming branch ends and rootlegs
We plant ourselves
In the field,
Bearing Eve-fruit,
Fermenting Calvados.

I dreamt of this as we hand-fucked each other on the train,
Looking out of the window, lust heightened
By the fear of getting caught.
I don't think you need the entire stanza as a mirror here, although, now I feel the train moving through the landscape, as I'm sure you want me to. But, I would have enjoyed the acceleration and sway of the car on the tracks more, if you'd chosen to show us that at the opening of the piece.

Again, I'd like to offer my thanks for the read and I hope that you will continue to edit and work on this poem to make it an even more beautiful tribute to your lover.

 

[Cub4ucme]

I'd look at the line breaks. Eliminate a few of the lines that
add redundancy to the poem and take the reader out of bounds.

I am taking the quick liberty of reformatting your poem just
to give you an idea of what I am trying to get across.

Take it; leave it; but know I wouldn't take the time
if it didn't talk to me to begin with.


I dream of this (what is this?)----
as we hand-fuck
each other on the train,
Looking out of the window,
lust ignited
in the fear of getting caught,

I take you,
Legs spread,
Back arched.
Hands forcibly plastered against
The remnants of stone aqueducts.
Joyfully unprotected and fecund,

Our vaginal juices mix,
Fertilizing the fields as
We pay homage
to breasts and bellies,
buttocks and cunts
To the myriads
who have cum before.

In this warplace
desire invades me.

We follow Centurions
the blue painted Guals,
SS Officers, U.S. Marines,
Grrl Joan, conscripted farmhands,
Dukes beside virgin peasant girls,
The last survivor of the
rights of First Night.

In this farmplace,
Desire expands me.
In Celtic times
Fucking consecrated.
We rutt in the earth.

Joining milkmaids and farmwives,
Burying our desire in black soil
With tearing hands,
Pulling them out full of
Carrots, cabbage and herbs.
Our appendages entwine,
Disentangle, entwine again,
Becoming branch ends then rootlegs

We plant ourselves
In the field,
Bearing Eve-fruit,
Fermenting Calvados.

I dreamt of this
as we hand-fucked each other on the train,
Looking out of the window,
lust exploded ignited by
the fear of getting caught.<<<<<<<<<

 

[neonflux]

Thank you!

Lauren, thank you for posting this!

champagne1982, cub4ucme, thank you for the feedback - it is greatly appreciated. Am in the middle of a big project, but will respond more later when I can respond in a more thoughtful way.

now, for others on the poetry boards:

"Please sir (madam), could I have some more?"

Neon

 

[cherries_on_snow]

Focus

I like the graphic eroticism of the piece, but get confused by the need to post one exotic locale upon another exotic locale (exotic in terms of a private act, anyway). I'd keep it focused on one locale or the other and fully exploit what makes the locale echo the feeling or idea of the poem. I hope that makes sense. If not, you are welcome to PM me.

Cheers and thanks for the chance to read your poetry.

C.o.S.

 

[neonflux]

I like the graphic eroticism of the piece, but get confused by the need to post one exotic locale upon another exotic locale (exotic in terms of a private act, anyway). I'd keep it focused on one locale or the other and fully exploit what makes the locale echo the feeling or idea of the poem. I hope that makes sense. If not, you are welcome to PM me.

Cheers and thanks for the chance to read your poetry.

C.o.S.

Hey Cherries, thank you for commenting!

I'm a bit confused. The whole poem takes place in Normancy. The imagery refers to the history and produce of the place - feeling one with it during sex. Do you feel it necessary to draw attention to this with a line? I would not want to hit the reader over the head with it....

 

[neonflux]

Thank you... some comments / questions...
And I will definitely use some, leave others, but all were greatly appreciated, as was your time...

Normandy
I dream of this as we hand-fuck each other on the train,
Looking out of the window, lust heightened
By the fear of getting caught,
I don't think this strophe is neccessary, it tells us you're being lusty on a train and really doesn't show us anything. Its narrative style doesn't welcome me into the poetry, instead, I feel like I am about to read a sexy love story, which is fine, except the rest is structurally a conventional sort of poem. A prose poem would be adventurous and I think you could find enough metaphor to make such a work quite beautiful.

This is interesting - I put it in twice because of comments I received from my queer writing group in SF (none of whom are poets). I agree with your point, and will work with your final suggestions.

I take you,
Hair gripped,
Legs spread,
Back arched.
Hands forcibly plastered against
The remnants of stone Roman aqueducts.
Joyfully unprotected and fecund,
Our vaginal juices mix,
[/b]This line is jarring, it is too clinical, in my mind. Do you and your lover really call your lubrication "vaginal juices"? I think if you need to use the usual words that indicate arousal, you could simply say juices and leave off the adjective. Consider telling us how it felt to be knuckle-deep inside her intimacy. How does it feel, taste, smell?

Ok, now this is funny - I actually do mix medical and slang terms all of the time when fucking, playing, making love... favorite is vulva, lol. I suspect that it's the health educator in me - feel pretty comfortable with any kind of sexual language besides childish or polite terms. however, point is verywell taken & i will experiment... not sure that talking about how it feels to be insider here makes sense, only because the poem isn't about the act itself but rather how having sex in Normandy made me feel connected to all of the others who had preceeded us.

Fertilizing the fields as
We pay homage
With breasts and bellies,
Buttocks, thighs and cunts
To the myriads who have come before.

In this warplace,
Desire invades me.
With eye-holds and
Finger steps,
Feet flexings and
And cleft kisses,
We follow Centurions
And blue painted Guals,

note: spelling of Gaul.
SS Officers and U.S. Marines,
Grrl Joan, conscripted farmhands,
I don't understand the reference to "Grrl Joan". Is this a typo that should read Girl Joan, as in Jean d'Arc?
Dukes and virgin peasant girls,
The last surviving despite
Rights of First Night.

I'd like to offer you a couple of ideas that I consider more indicative of your meaning in these two strophes. In the one above, if, as I suspect, you're referring to the act of the Landlord being given first denial to the village maidens' deflowering then, perhaps, you could use the French term "le droit de seigneur".
And in the next strophe there are a couple of names to call the celebration described here. The Roman's had Floralia and the ancient Celts/Gauls had Beltane, welcoming the Sun God, Belanos or since these festivals occur in May, Mayday would be another choice. I'm sure you've thought on these ideas already, but IMHO, these other terms are more evocative of the symbolism of sexual union.

Re: Guals - OOOPS!

Re: Grrl Joan - this isn't a typo but a cultural reference - Grrl is a feminist and lesbian reappropriation of the spelling. Originally coined by a group of renegade women artists and art activists it's designed to give the word power.

Re: "Right of First Nights" I used this specifically because I don't want it to sound romantic. While the French term is similar, the sounds and rhythms of the language are more inviting for many. In addition, I want to ensure that folks who don't understand French will get it - it is a standard term so if they don't know what it means, at least it will be easier for them to look up. This was an incredibly violent act, both sexually and socially, thus the use of the word "despite" before "Rights of First Night." My sense is that women often bore the brunt of the violent history of this region. The stanza is about inhabiting that violence and allowing it to inhabit me during sex, why I begin the piece with the image of forcing my lover against the walls of an aqueduct as I take her. I practice BDSM and in this case see the use of a roughness that outsiders might see as violent transforming the history into a consensual act in which the exercise of power becomes part of a conscious and ultimately equal exchange of energy. (Hmmmm.... perhaps I need to play with that idea a little more in this section - thank you!) In the next strophe, I am turning violence into something else entirely by connecting it to the fecundity of the place and to the women who nurtured it. (Hey, just had a thought for a better transition between the two... Thank you again.)

In this farmplace,
Desire expands me.
In Celtic times
Fucking consecrated.
We rutt in the earth,
Joining milkmaids and farmwives,
Burying our desire in black soil
With tearing hands,
Pulling them out full of
Carrots, cabbages and herbs.
Our appendages entwine,
Disentangle, entwine again,
Becoming branch ends and rootlegs
We plant ourselves
In the field,
Bearing Eve-fruit,
Fermenting Calvados.

I dreamt of this as we hand-fucked each other on the train,
Looking out of the window, lust heightened
By the fear of getting caught.

I don't think you need the entire stanza as a mirror here, although, now I feel the train moving through the landscape, as I'm sure you want me to. But, I would have enjoyed the acceleration and sway of the car on the tracks more, if you'd chosen to show us that at the opening of the piece.

Again, I'd like to offer my thanks for the read and I hope that you will continue to edit and work on this poem to make it an even more beautiful tribute to your lover.

No, thank you. You cannot imagine how much I value your feedback

 

[champagne1982]

ahhh. I understand your lifestyle references now but, please consider, if I, being a straight and vanilla woman, didn't get them, how does that impact the message I got from the piece?

The rite of first night was originally "celebrated" by the Romans, seriously, not the rough dishonouring of the ancient union between Gaia and Belanos that rape and coercive sex are. You can see where the homophone rite and right can lead to trouble in this instance.

Thanks for the explanations, though and I'm very glad I gave you some ideas about how your poem will all fit together. I look forward to, possibly?, seeing a rewrite.

 

[neonflux]

Serious response to serious comments, would love to discuss this more.

ahhh. I understand your lifestyle references now but, please consider, if I, being a straight and vanilla woman, didn't get them, how does that impact the message I got from the piece?

The rite of first night was originally "celebrated" by the Romans, seriously, not the rough dishonouring of the ancient union between Gaia and Belanos that rape and coercive sex are. You can see where the homophone rite and right can lead to trouble in this instance.

Re: bdsm, that informs my sense of sexuality and therefore the emotional arch of the piece, but the kind of power exchange that we play with is also found in less "conscious" form in many "nilla" relationships. I made no direct BDSM references beyond those related to rough sex (in which lots of vanilla folks also indulge) because BDSM per se is not part of this piece. What I think is missing is a clearer emphasis on this emotional arc - and I am thankful to you for helping me see that.

Re: "Right of First Night," yes, there is a difference between Rite and right and what they reference... To further complicate this, people often confuse the two terms without understanding the difference between right and rite. From Wikipedia:

"Droit du seigneur is often interpreted today as a synonym for ius primae noctis, although it originally referred to a number of other rights as well, including hunting, taxation, and farming. Popular culture, as discussed below, has led to an inappropriate conflation of these two concepts.

The existence of a "right of the first night" in the Middle Ages was a disputed topic in the nineteenth century. Although most historians today would agree that there is no authentic proof of the actual exercise of the custom in the Middle Ages, disagreement continues about the origin, the meaning, and the development of the widespread popular belief in this alleged right and the actual prevalence of symbolic gestures referring to this right.

In fact the ius primae noctis was, in the European late medieval context, a widespread popular belief in an ancient privilege of the lord of a manor to share the bed with his peasants' newlywed brides on their wedding nights. Symbolic gestures, reflecting this belief, were developed by the lords and used as humiliating signs of superiority over the dependent peasants in a time of disappearing status differences. Actual intercourse on behalf of the alleged right is difficult to prove."

Of course, your comments about both "first night" and the term grrl bring up an interesting question regarding how personal or idiosyncratic one should allow one's metaphors to be. I am undecided on the answer to this question.

In the case of the use of the term grrl, it is not only a queer term. It is widely used among straight feminist women, particularly those who are younger. I don't know how to communicate what I did with it's use here in any other way that would be so concise - the term implies ferocity, an unwillingness to bow to patriarchy, the rebellion of punk and other women artists to male hegemony, which connects St. Joan to modern women and to my own expression of gender and sense of myself as a woman artist. The term is common enough to be included in Wikipeda, but as your initial comment makes clear, many people aren't familiar with it.

One question regarding this particular phrase, if you assume that grrl isn't a typo, doesn't the grr give some sense of the meaning? (serious, not rhetorical)

This also, of course, becomes a problem with the use of phrases like "Droit du seigneur" or "Right of the First Night," with which many people won't be familiar or from which different people take different meanings. My own bias is that there is a difference between using a term or phrase with which at least some will readers will be familiar and will invite others to look it up and using a phrase that is so singularly symbolic that it is inaccessible to anyone else... I am also not so sure that I mind using a word or phrase that has multiple references.

questions, questions, questions...

and yes, you will see a rewrite once I get more comments

Thank you again for taking the time to engage in discussion.

Neon

 

[champagne1982]

Good morning neon . I am happy to help clarify the subtle commentary I feel in the poem.

The grrl context is strong enough to shine through here, even without your explanation, but since you haven't referenced any powerful feminist characters apart from Jean d'Arc prior to her name here, I was curious as to how it fit together with Nazis and Centurions.

I have to protest St Joan's inclusion as a symbol of feminine strength though. I don't think her story is told as a portrayal of feminism so much as it is an illustration of faith overcoming constraints placed on the soul by consequence of birth, ie sex, station and size.

That's merely how I see it and I could be brainwashed by the male heirarchy. Any Church authors and any secular storytellers I've read, who write about St Joan, don't really delve into the feminist aspects of her story. Although, her visitations of Mary and how she translated those gifts into military action could, most probably, be construed that way.

I appreciate the rough sex you opened S2 with but I remain confused. If you were on the train and merely psychically linked to the countryside and any other sexual currents you felt as you passed by, how could you translate that to a physical encounter against an aquaduct without actually having got off the train? I think this may have been what distorted how COS percieved the linear progression of the poem as well.

Thanks for taking the time to research and reply to my rites vs rights observation too. I think that the term droit de seigneur has been anglosized enough that anyone would read it as the sexual definition without any confusion at all....

Now, thinking on it, I believe I have found the same enlightenment you have and I can't wait to see if I'm rite as to how you're going to tie the 2 strophes together.

 

[Tzara]

Normandy

I dream of this as we hand-fuck each other on the train,
Looking out of the window, lust heightened
By the fear of getting caught,

I take you,
Hair gripped,
Legs spread,
Back arched.
Hands forcibly plastered against
The remnants of stone Roman aqueducts.
Joyfully unprotected and fecund,
Our vaginal juices mix,
Fertilizing the fields as
We pay homage
With breasts and bellies,
Buttocks, thighs and cunts
To the myriads who have come before.

In this warplace,
Desire invades me.
With eye-holds and
Finger steps,
Feet flexings and
And cleft kisses,
We follow Centurions
And blue painted Guals,
SS Officers and U.S. Marines,
Grrl Joan, conscripted farmhands,
Dukes and virgin peasant girls,
The last surviving despite
Rights of First Night.

In this farmplace,
Desire expands me.
In Celtic times
Fucking consecrated.
We rutt in the earth,
Joining milkmaids and farmwives,
Burying our desire in black soil
With tearing hands,
Pulling them out full of
Carrots, cabbages and herbs.
Our appendages entwine,
Disentangle, entwine again,
Becoming branch ends and rootlegs
We plant ourselves
In the field,
Bearing Eve-fruit,
Fermenting Calvados.

I dreamt of this as we hand-fucked each other on the train,
Looking out of the window, lust heightened
By the fear of getting caught.

Let me make some brief comments. I'll try and be more thorough later. And, as always, these are just my opinions and reactions. Feel free to ignore any or all of them.

• I happen to like the bracketing of the narrative by the first and last strophes. I also like the change from "dream" to "dreamt". I think I would replace the comma ending the first S with a period, though, or maybe a colon or em dash.
• I was a little confused at first at the transition from the narrator hand-fucking on the train to her taking her partner against the aqueduct, but that is probably just me being dim. You do tell us you are dreaming. Also, the "vaginal juices mix" is confusing to me. It doesn't seem to follow from the position of the lovers as I visualize it (one bent forward against the stonework, the other behind), but I'm a guy so am by definition clueless.
• Grrl Joan is perfectly clear to me. I associate the term with the Riot Grrrl punk rock movement. Champ already noted "Guals" should be "Gauls".
• "The last surviving despite / Rights of First Night": "Surviving" seems wrong to me. I assume you mean something like "having endured" but it seems overstated to me. Edited to add: Ignore the preceding comment. I re-read the entire passage. The previous line makes clear what you meant.
• I quite like the imagery in the penultimate S, especially "Pulling them out full of / Carrots, cabbages and herbs" and the Calvados reference. "Rut" is spelled wrong.

All in all, I like it very much. You handle the explicit language much better than it is usually handled around here, where it is merely dull. And it fits the violence of the imagery.

Welcome to the PDF.

 

[MyNecroticSnail]

Welcome, I am a little embarrassed following the other critiquers. They are good, you are good. Just want to make two points, and offer something else for consideration.
Back arched.
Hands forcibly plastered against
The remnants of stone Roman aqueducts.
Joyfully unprotected and fecund,
Our vaginal juices mix,
Fertilizing the fields as
We pay homage
With breasts and bellies,
Buttocks, thighs and cunts

I like this: arched - aqueducts
you do a nice thing with fecund (horrible word) by stringing it with Fertilizing and cunt.

We pay homage...thighs and cunts, chanted. Blue painted Gauls and Celts, ruts - I can see it now - Bravecunt. Seriously, I would even consider a repeat
with variations.


SS Officers, U.S. Marines,

Sorry, no Marines. Airbourne and regular Army
at Normandy

I would think about dropping that line. What does it do? Am I missing anything by having it there?

 

[naamplao]

I am new to Literotica but not new to poetry. I am not a "technical" poet though and definately fall into the category of any art is fine if it appeals to you. Afterall I was reading about a guy who had a passion for collecting velvet paintings....go figure!

So please take my critical review with a grain of salt if you will...I am fullfilling the requirement of posting reviews before posting one of my own poems.

Unlike others I did not have a problem with the structure of the poem with the prose introduction and ending. Funny though, I had this mental image of a capital "I" with the body of the poem capped top/bottom with these sections.

I do have a problem with the image of "hand-fuck" though. To me it is an animal impression of sexual intercourse. It is not something that leads one to reverie. I think of two dogs going at it in the street. They have a single-minded purpose in mind, I doubt there is reverie in thier minds.

Now replace this phrase with "pleasured" and I could imagine being lost in a dream world while making love to a partner.

Like the previous writer I also have a problem with the reference to the US Marine/SS officers in the line.

"SS Officers and U.S. Marines,"

Why is this reference so specific, aside from the fact that the marines were not there, as pointed out by MyNecroticSnail. Canada and Britian were certainly major players in this theatre of war. Why are they left out? As for Germany, I doubt that most of the Germany fightingmen were Nazis. They were probably just countrymen fighting for their government, albeit an evil one at the time. So again I wonder as to why you mention just these two players in that conflict...but then again maybe it is just my Canadian blood feeling snubbed so you may feel free to ignore this rant.

On the positive side I liked the flow of the piece and was drawn into reading the whole poem once I started. Nice write.

 

[Cub4ucme]

Just for the record Lauren,

I've read the critiques through.

I don't see stonewall aquaducts
or, Joan of Arc as any problem.

Reaching in poetry is what expands the poem.
That's why poetry speaks louder than words.

That's why metaphor is often a valuable tool.

The idea that every line and word is to be taken
literally is not for a poet.

I do agree that certain terms known to those
that work in certain professions should be used
sparringly.

It's important to consider your readers when you
author a poem. I for one don't enjoy reading
words that are technically rooted to specific
occupations because, most of them aren't
words I'll use again.

Just my take!

Came back for a second bite and I'm glad I did.

I like the poem.

It's alive and kept my attention.

best,
andy

 

[FifthFlower]

Here are some comments:

Normandy

I dream of this as we hand-fuck each other on the train,
Looking out of the window, lust heightened
By the fear of getting caught,Full stop/period?

I take you,
Hair gripped,
Legs spread,
Back arched.
Hands forcibly plastered against
The remnants of stone Roman aqueducts. Not a sentence.
Joyfully unprotected and fecund,
Our vaginal juices mix,
Fertilizing the fields as How is the field being "fertilized"?
We pay homage "Homage" does sound like something the peasant gives the lord, but I'm not sure that is your intent here.
With breasts and bellies,
Buttocks, thighs and cunts
To the myriads who have come before.

In this warplace,
Desire invades me.
With eye-holds and
Finger steps,
Feet flexings and
And cleft kisses, I'm not sure what a "cleft" kiss is.
We follow Centurions
And blue painted Guals,
SS Officers and U.S. Marines,
Grrl Joan, conscripted farmhands,
Dukes and virgin peasant girls,
The last surviving despiteDon't they "survive", that is remain virgins, until their wedding night? There should be just as many with or without those "Rights".
Rights of First Night.

In this farmplace,
Desire expands me.
In Celtic times
Fucking consecrated. Not a sentence.
We rutt in the earth,
Joining milkmaids and farmwives,
Burying our desire in black soil
With tearing hands,
Pulling them out full of
Carrots, cabbages and herbs.
Our appendages entwine,
Disentangle, entwine again,
Becoming branch ends and rootlegs
We plant ourselves
In the field,
Bearing Eve-fruit,I don't know what "Eve-fruit" is as distinct from Adam-fruit.
Fermenting Calvados.

I dreamt of this as we hand-fucked each other on the train,
Looking out of the window, lust heightened
By the fear of getting caught.​

The reference to "Rights of First Night" reminds me of a poem by Laurence Hope, "Droit du Seigneur", where the new wife hopes the lord will actually exercise his right, indeed, impregnate her that night, even though her lord often refuses this privilege. The last stanza of that poem reads:

I am thine own by immemorial right,
Stoop thou and take that privilege of thine;
An hour's dalliance in thy life, Seigneur,
And an eternal memory in mine!

 

[lobomao]

I really enjoyed this poem.

It's a wonderful journey while alos playin got my love of imagry and epics...

so many have had such textual comments i will limit mine to saying that I think there is soo much potential in not only the construct of the train ride, rolling country side and rolling historical context tied with matter of fact eroticism that I would love see it more developed.

I take it that this is a train through english/european country side, and as such the leap through the history and various fertility traditions are indeed very rich and inextricable from the land itself.

but on the whole a wonderful read!!

thanks!

 

[Twelve]

Just cutting in, past the clutter.

Exceedingly strong poem. Visceral, aggressive. The image of flesh as stone-aqueduct was unexpected. I liked it, kind of a crashing feeling at every line break. References to the deep-time of the environment's "place" wighted the poem with gravitas. At no point did it feel like I was hearing wisps or images. Everything was tangible, solid.

We truly do plant ourselves in those fields. The wars, the bodies. The suffering, we're only fertilizer to the rough nature of the relentless past.

I've ridden on that train before-- never like this. But I've been there.
I see no reason to change a poem once its written. Revision is a certainty *in writing* but once its done, the poem becomes a thing in space. It sticks there, and changing it is never right. Like those aqueducts and soldiers-(Come the Spartans!)- its just their place to live in this history. Changing it is never right.

Always fucking- I like it. history rolls forward inexorably Marxist in its determinism... but the apes just keep fucking. Forever. We farm, we till we toil, and we grow with the ground itself. We die, and turn in it.

Alexander died, Alexander was buried,
Alexander returneth into dust; the dust is earth; of
earth we make loam; and why of that loam, whereto he
was converted, might they not stop a beer-barrel?
Imperious Caesar, dead and turn'd to clay,
Might stop a hole to keep the wind away:
O, that that earth, which kept the world in awe,
Should patch a wall to expel the winter flaw!

As always, Shakespeare hits the nail on the head.

Excellent poem.

 

[das_risiko]

All of the previous critiques are excellent. I really liked the imagery in this poem as well as the historical references. I have to agree with champagne1982 with regards to the line "Our vaginal juices mix," This seems a bit akward to me. I also have to agree with champagne's assessment of repeating the last stanza. Otherwise this is a really strong poem. Excellent. I wish I had the ability to write that well.

 

[neonflux]

Thank you everyone - now the final version

Thank you everyone who gave feedback - I know it's been a long time but sometimes one needs to put something away for quite a while before being able to come back to it with fresh eyes - as I did with a whole set of "sex" poems I started writing last year. In any case, I appreciate all of the feedback, whether you see it in the final version or not, it all helped me to clarify my vision. In any case, here it is, am going to start sending it out to publication when I finish editing the others in the "set."

With gratitude
Neonflux

NORMANDY

As I take you on the train,
lust heightened
by the fear of getting caught,
in this warplace
Desire invades me
and I dream of…

Plastering your hands against
remnants of Roman aqueducts,
and hand-fucking you,
your hair gripped,
legs spread,
back arched,
and skin breaking
from the pleasure of rough stone.

In the music of the train wheels,
we follow Centurians and blue-painted Gaels,
knights and conscripted farmhands.
With eye-holds and hand steps,
feet flexings
and cleft kisses,
we become Grrl Joan,
Eleanor leading a woman’s Crusade,
and medieval peasant girls,
the last surviving despite
the Right of First Night.

Rites of First Night…
In Celtic times, the act of
fucking consecrated.
Joyfully unprotected and fecund,
our vaginal juices
fertilize the fields
as we pay homage
with breasts and bellies,
buttocks, thighs and cunts
to the myriads who have come before.

In this farmplace
Desire expands me.
We rutt in the earth,
becoming milkmaids and countesses,
midwives and herbalists.

Burying our cravings
with tearing hands
in black soil,
we pull them out full of
eggplants, carrots and cabbages.
Our appendages entwine,
disentwine, and entwine again,
becoming branch ends and rootlegs.
We plant ourselves
in the field,
bearing Eve-fruit,
fermenting Calvados.

 SMN, 2/28/09