Hey daughter, the poem, the story

[KillerMuffin]

This was one of those, wow, I wrote a good bit of prose, wonder what it'd look like as a poem? It had lots of imagery in it.

The poem:

I felt silly
standing naked in front of him
he sat fully clothed
my fingers
slowly moving from my arm
to my breast
gently sweeping
my body didn't respond
keyed up with nervousness
lost from the sensuality
of the moment.

He seemed displeased
"try this
close your eyes
let yourself imagine
think about me
my hands over your body
and then do it."

It was too foreign
he'd never touched me before tonight
I thought about the darkened door
the safety that lay beyond
no, I was strong
determined
I neither ran nor hid.

My fingers lifted again
more sure of themselves
I thought about soothing sounds
a waterfall deep in a secluded jungle
in my mind
I could hear the cries of the birds
smell the lush greenery around me
lifting my face
I imagined the warm, tropical water
washing over me
taking all of my cares
I lifted my hands
letting the beat of the fantasy water
pour over my body
I could feel my nipples pebbling
the rush of sensuality.

My fingers glided
down my forearms
gently teasing
my skin until it felt hypersensitive
in my daydream
I imagined him swimming
in the pool of water beneath the falls
watching me intently
that thought brought a surge
searing heat through my body
my hands slowly curled
along my biceps
down my shoulders
my back
curving along my neck
tracing along my cheekbones.

I heard him shift in his seat
I vaguely wondered
what was he thinking.

Did he like it?

The prose:

I felt silly standing there naked in front of him while he sat fully clothed. My fingers slowly moved from my arm to my breast, gently sweeping along the outside slope. My body didn't respond, it was too keyed up with nervousness to feel the sensuality of the moment.

His feet shifted until both rested firmly on the carpet. He seemed displeased. "Try this, close your eyes and let yourself imagine. Think about how you want me to run my hands over your body and then do it."

I closed my eyes and tried to imagine his hands on my body. It was too foreign. He'd never touched me sexually before tonight. I thought about the darkened door and the safety that lay beyond it. My spine straightened, despite my hanging head. No, I was a strong, determined woman. I neither ran nor hid. I heard him breathing, but thankfully he said nothing.

My fingers lifted again, this time more sure of themselves. I thought about the soothing sounds of a waterfall deep in a secluded jungle. In my mind I could hear the cries of the birds and smell the lush greenery around me. Lifting my face to the ceiling above me, I imagined the warm, tropical water washing over me and taking all of my cares with it. I lifted my hands above me, letting the beat of the fantasy water pour over my body. I could feel my nipples pebbling against the rush of sensuality.

My fingers glided down my forearms, gently teasing the skin until it felt hypersensitive. In my daydream, I imagined him swimming in the pool of water beneath the falls, watching me intently. That thought brought a surge of searing heat through my body. My hands slowly curled along my biceps, down my shoulders and back, then curving along my neck to trace along my cheekbones.

I heard him shift in his seat and vaguely wondered what he was thinking. Did he like it?

I guess this is why I don't think my poetry is any good, because it comes mostly from prose like this. I just hack out the unimportant bits that transition prose and figure out a good spot to change lines. This is, by the way, a piece of what looks like a 15,000 wordish story. Believe it or not, it's BDSM though the poem is, I think, auto-erotic. Not sure why I'm posting this, but I think it's too long to clog up a PM box with. Just thought you might find this little factoid interesting.

 

[daughter]

knowledge

KM--

Thanks for the fyi. I think just a little study into what constitutes poetry would build your confidence in your ability and how you see yourself as a poet.

I'm all for learning the technical aspects of writing poetry, but that doesn't mean that lacking study means that we're incapable of writing it.

Btw, there is a form called prose poetry and prose often has a 'poetic' feel. I recognized as well as I believe UP did, the BDSM element in this piece. That doesn't diminish the erotic quality of this work for me.

So maybe you're like the kid who paints and creates something beautiful even though she doesn't even know all her colors let alone know anything about technique. I'd say encourage that artist to keep painting and with age introduce the tools of the art.

Peace,

daughter

 

[Guest]

Actually...........

I rather enjoyed it KM........

The visualization was good....and that's difficult to accomplish in alot of poetry. Of course, I'm certainly no expert, but I do enjoy a good story. And a poem is a way to tell a story....just quicker with a little more passion and depth behind the meaning.

To sleep.......perchance to dream - William Shakespear

I remain.......