deepundergroundpoetry.com
What the Sun Said
What the Sun Said
Although the sun
did not confess,
it's shadows shone
upon the dress,
whose features peaked
in darkened sighs
and made to stare
those wanton eyes.
For what was lost
to vantage gained
became a plot
to stories named.
How sun dress fell
upon the sand
at coaxing from
a moonlit hand.
Although the sun
did not confess,
it's shadows shone
upon the dress,
whose features peaked
in darkened sighs
and made to stare
those wanton eyes.
For what was lost
to vantage gained
became a plot
to stories named.
How sun dress fell
upon the sand
at coaxing from
a moonlit hand.
Published 4th Jun 2022
Author's Note
Sundresses have that property of a single point of access being the whole point. Pulling a single string with your teeth..
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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4th Jun 2022 10:16pm
Still pondering the title and what the sun said, since there was no confession. The warmth and gentle sensuality here is appealing, and I like that it starts in the sunshine and ends in the moonlight. It's a lovely piece. :-)
Still pondering the title and what the sun said, since there was no confession. The warmth and gentle sensuality here is appealing, and I like that it starts in the sunshine and ends in the moonlight. It's a lovely piece. :-)
Thanks for this. Perhaps I have not communicated well. Also, I had just seen this friend of mine in this....sundress, as nd I was very inspired to write it all out....my memory lapses, so if I get inspired l, I have about as long as I can hold my breath to get it down on my phone or on paper. It's a race with forgetfulness.
What the Sun Said
..........Although the sun
...........did not confess,
it's shadows shone
...........upon the dress,
......whose features peaked
.......in darkened sighs
.......and made to stare
.......those wanton eyes.
.........For
what was lost
.........to vantage gained
became a plot
...........to stories named.
How sun dress fell
...........upon the sand
.......at coaxing from
...........a moonlit hand.
Rrrrrrrrrrrrrr
......For
what was lost
.........to vantage gained
became a plot
...........to stories named,
how sun dress fell
...........upon the sand
.......at coaxing from
...........a moonlit hand.
This makes the last stanza an example of a story of the stories named.
Thank you, that did make it clearer... I'll take it.
Yes, you're right.
The last line is not a sentence.
I am questioning the reality of the dress once the hand has pulled the knotted string and the dress fell to the ground. Is it still a dress out of use and abandoned?
This is the nature of the modern juggernaut of human relations. How do we define gender based on arbitrary attributes that are learned behavior or in any case I'll conceived. The day of the patriarchy has arrived. Its day is come.
The dress is still an object, unless emotionally attached to, then a subject, is allowed space on the floor, unseeable by those who are preoccuppied.
Nevertheless, the slaves years of service have value and interest. Housework is a valuable job.
Many things held as truths become in fact items of debate. The entire concept of marriage as an institution has become a vestige at best of a relationship matrix that has played out, an artifact of capitalism.
Yet, a little moonlight on that hand and tequila, and that dress falls off. Guys, as a herd or deck, really have barely any skin in the game. They don't get pregnant...
See, the whole sleeve falls off.
Anyway....you're correct. I truncated the last sentence....
This sundress was scarcely a veil, and she had these just rock hard nipples. She's deservedly proud of her skin, which speaks to a certain knowledge of the sun, and so....a sundress. It is the sun on her, and when the dress drops down, the hands are seen then as not in the sun and therefore moonlit by her skin, now revealed.
And this is the confession. She began nearly nude, and that is the affect of lingerie. Next to the skin.
But she has mutually met, allowed her dress removed and has an intimate moment of naked disclosure.
This is the nature of the sundress, the confidante of summer.
And the Sun said, "Yes!"
And that is how what became lost became a plot.
Thanks for this. Perhaps I have not communicated well. Also, I had just seen this friend of mine in this....sundress, as nd I was very inspired to write it all out....my memory lapses, so if I get inspired l, I have about as long as I can hold my breath to get it down on my phone or on paper. It's a race with forgetfulness.
What the Sun Said
..........Although the sun
...........did not confess,
it's shadows shone
...........upon the dress,
......whose features peaked
.......in darkened sighs
.......and made to stare
.......those wanton eyes.
.........For
what was lost
.........to vantage gained
became a plot
...........to stories named.
How sun dress fell
...........upon the sand
.......at coaxing from
...........a moonlit hand.
Rrrrrrrrrrrrrr
......For
what was lost
.........to vantage gained
became a plot
...........to stories named,
how sun dress fell
...........upon the sand
.......at coaxing from
...........a moonlit hand.
This makes the last stanza an example of a story of the stories named.
Thank you, that did make it clearer... I'll take it.
Yes, you're right.
The last line is not a sentence.
I am questioning the reality of the dress once the hand has pulled the knotted string and the dress fell to the ground. Is it still a dress out of use and abandoned?
This is the nature of the modern juggernaut of human relations. How do we define gender based on arbitrary attributes that are learned behavior or in any case I'll conceived. The day of the patriarchy has arrived. Its day is come.
The dress is still an object, unless emotionally attached to, then a subject, is allowed space on the floor, unseeable by those who are preoccuppied.
Nevertheless, the slaves years of service have value and interest. Housework is a valuable job.
Many things held as truths become in fact items of debate. The entire concept of marriage as an institution has become a vestige at best of a relationship matrix that has played out, an artifact of capitalism.
Yet, a little moonlight on that hand and tequila, and that dress falls off. Guys, as a herd or deck, really have barely any skin in the game. They don't get pregnant...
See, the whole sleeve falls off.
Anyway....you're correct. I truncated the last sentence....
This sundress was scarcely a veil, and she had these just rock hard nipples. She's deservedly proud of her skin, which speaks to a certain knowledge of the sun, and so....a sundress. It is the sun on her, and when the dress drops down, the hands are seen then as not in the sun and therefore moonlit by her skin, now revealed.
And this is the confession. She began nearly nude, and that is the affect of lingerie. Next to the skin.
But she has mutually met, allowed her dress removed and has an intimate moment of naked disclosure.
This is the nature of the sundress, the confidante of summer.
And the Sun said, "Yes!"
And that is how what became lost became a plot.
6th Jun 2022 4:11am
Just wanted to drop in and say this poem was sexy, touching and beautiful. I thoroughly enjoyed your explanation/inspired sources/thought processes above... What a treat that was to review and explore.... Much appreciated and thank you for the extremely informative and utterly enjoyable read.
🌹-B
🌹-B
6th Jun 2022 4:18am
Sundresses form a complicated subject....funny, they appear simple....at first. Lol.
Thanks for following along... I'm not usually someone who pays much attention to fashion.
Thanks for following along... I'm not usually someone who pays much attention to fashion.
6th Jun 2022 4:24am
It was more your creative substance and writing craftsmanship that swept me up than a 'hat tip' to fashion... Although, being in FL, I do love a slip of a sundress... ;)
🌹-👗
🌹-👗
6th Jun 2022 1:12pm
