Non-Erotic Self-Indulgent...

[Marilyth]

OK, here's my first official posting of poetry. FYI: It is non-erotic, and was written under diress. I feel it's self-indulgent crap, but you tell me what you think. Thanks

Burned bright
Shining Long
Forever lit to breathe freely
Waxing down
Struggling to stand tall
Needing air
Leaving parts behind
Cold
Hard
Never to burn
Only to melt
To nothingness

March 12, 2002

 

[smithpeter]

Maybe I'm just up too late,

It still seems a bit erotic to me

Hardened pools from the droplets
A special tool from kitchen drawer
Liberated to free and please the landlord

A Midwest thing, no puddle
Of waxy buildup, only happy,
Grinning tenants,
Wickless, flaming

 

[Debbie]

Welcome to the poetry forum!
Thank you for sharing your poem.

Your poem, IMO? Is very good.
Definitely not self indulgent crap.

I see your candle, burning bright!
Watching it as it melts, down to nothingness.

 

[Marilyth]

New Poem

Thanks. I'm very hard on myself when it comes to my literature. I'll send forth one of the others. I drafted three that particular day. That was number 1. Numbers 2 & 3 are very similar in style, but have a different "theme" as it is.

Again, thanks

 

[JUDO]

Post?

Marilyth -

Nice poem. Did you post it as well? I see that you are new to Lit (Welcome, btw), do you need any pointers for posting, etc? If so, just ask. One of us blowhards is bound to answer.


- Judo

 

[Fairytat]

Marilyth

I liked it! The tongue wraps around it so wonderfully in a somewhat erotic manner I cannot seem to write erotic poetry to save my life so trust me, I know non-eroticism. You definitely have the start of something good along erotic lines. What a wonderful way to introduce yourself to us.

My non-erotic poem :

Catholic Moon

I pretend to shoot holes at the
full October moon,
looking so much like a thin wafer
given to heathens to cleanse their souls.
In the back of my memory, a hunchback
pulls on rotting rope so that silvered bells
announce our weekly consumption
of Christ's flesh and blood.
Hoary hands, worn and spotted, probably young
when the Dead Sea Scrolls were placed in
hiding, dole out our renewal.
Our cannibalistic tendencies remnant of ancient matriarchal societies ground beneath the marauding heel of warrior men.
The gentle god who allowed his only son to die for our
sins swallows the moon and I am left in darkness.