deepundergroundpoetry.com
Circe
I'm tired, a husk,
worn out, bowed down
and seer.
So be subduing Circe now
and take me,
slake me, in your arms
and, like a low breeze coursing
slowly over Summer's golden fields,
waft yourself along my limbs
gently, warm,
until I,
leisured, drowsy,
loosened, cursive,
sigh
content with you,
and waves of welcome sleep,
seal up my eyes.
worn out, bowed down
and seer.
So be subduing Circe now
and take me,
slake me, in your arms
and, like a low breeze coursing
slowly over Summer's golden fields,
waft yourself along my limbs
gently, warm,
until I,
leisured, drowsy,
loosened, cursive,
sigh
content with you,
and waves of welcome sleep,
seal up my eyes.
Published 25th Sep 2021
Author's Note
In asking for honest criticism, what I am requesting is a thoughtful and articulate analysis of how and why my submission does or does not make a reader see with his/her eyes shut and does (or does not) display the literary and linguistic features that a writing must have (i.e., concrete imagery, appeals to the senses through the use of metaphor and simile, evocative language, pleasing and unhalting rhythm, etc.), if it is to be considered poetry.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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