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deepundergroundpoetry.com
Poetess, Undressed
Delicious seclusion of lovers entwined in a sonnet
Her poems against my skin
All day into flesh they rained,
Come sail your verse around me
Drench my shores, where tides never reach.
Neon words as fireflies on screen
Indigo insects crawl over language, body
^/
Temptation lies in the hung sentence.
From behind, verbs unbuckle me from denim
Clit circles lumbar, vulva turns inside-out
She squeezes and strokes to chapter edge and prologue.
Slowly unpeeling her cloth to reveal constellations of flesh
Bytes names of dead comets into my neck.
Penetrates me with plastic punctuation
Blood trickles as speared ellipsis --------
Become the night for me,
Leave your open thighs across pillows
As broken’spined novels fallen from skies.
Dark is the wine never to be tasted.
Become the night for me,
Pack the stars into your purse
Spare my universe, no wasted sleep.
Arch over a 1940s typewriter
Let me shred negligee into ribbons.
Pearly morning dew-drops wets the grass
Ropes a crime scene around midnight’s groin,
Fuck every unwritten poem out of me
Canvas desires you have never painted.
From the Ice Age to the Covid Age
Passion is the refuge for the hopelessly lost.
Poets write of forever, but
As stone-faced clocks become chalk,
It seems never in our lifetimes.
Her poems against my skin
All day into flesh they rained,
Come sail your verse around me
Drench my shores, where tides never reach.
Neon words as fireflies on screen
Indigo insects crawl over language, body
^/
Temptation lies in the hung sentence.
From behind, verbs unbuckle me from denim
Clit circles lumbar, vulva turns inside-out
She squeezes and strokes to chapter edge and prologue.
Slowly unpeeling her cloth to reveal constellations of flesh
Bytes names of dead comets into my neck.
Penetrates me with plastic punctuation
Blood trickles as speared ellipsis --------
Become the night for me,
Leave your open thighs across pillows
As broken’spined novels fallen from skies.
Dark is the wine never to be tasted.
Become the night for me,
Pack the stars into your purse
Spare my universe, no wasted sleep.
Arch over a 1940s typewriter
Let me shred negligee into ribbons.
Pearly morning dew-drops wets the grass
Ropes a crime scene around midnight’s groin,
Fuck every unwritten poem out of me
Canvas desires you have never painted.
From the Ice Age to the Covid Age
Passion is the refuge for the hopelessly lost.
Poets write of forever, but
As stone-faced clocks become chalk,
It seems never in our lifetimes.
Published 10th Jan 2023
Author's Note
ERULGCT 179. As erotic as it gets from me. As the old bloke in the Pub very nearly said, "I'd rather live it, than write it." But that's just me.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 10
reading list entries 7
comments 22
reads 167
Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.
10th Jan 2023 2:45pm
The last two verses are my favourite, they have a striking clarity of image. I feel that the poem would flow a lot better if it was all lower-case and removed the couple of grammatical anomalies (“^/“ and the multiple hyphens together), although the latter point may just be a personal preference.
It definitely feels like you’re writing a bit out of your comfort zone, reminding me of the old Manny Farber quote about auteurs trying to push art up into the crevices of dreck. I’ve seen you write naturally about sex before, so the subject matter isn’t an issue.
As always in your work the sensual use of image and atmos shines through.
It definitely feels like you’re writing a bit out of your comfort zone, reminding me of the old Manny Farber quote about auteurs trying to push art up into the crevices of dreck. I’ve seen you write naturally about sex before, so the subject matter isn’t an issue.
As always in your work the sensual use of image and atmos shines through.
10th Jan 2023 6:02pm
As usual Mr R, your insight is appreciated and perceptive. Totally agree about the grammos, but as it will simply waste to nothingness in my list, won’t change. The hyphens are a visual representation of being pegged. Lol. I will tell you of Wendy’s wand some day.
Don’t feel uncomfortable writing about sex, but the erotic tag sits uneasily. It can appear as a fantasist’s wank-bag. If you get my drift.
“Crevices of drek.” I’m just loving that. Where do you unearth these obscure artists / critics?
Don’t feel uncomfortable writing about sex, but the erotic tag sits uneasily. It can appear as a fantasist’s wank-bag. If you get my drift.
“Crevices of drek.” I’m just loving that. Where do you unearth these obscure artists / critics?
10th Jan 2023 6:52pm
10th Jan 2023 3:55pm
This is incredibly beautiful. It’s hard to pick a favorite line or verse, but this really stood out to me:
“Become the night for me,
Pack the stars into your purse
Spare my universe, no wasted sleep.”
The flow is perfection. A thoroughly passionate and touching read.
“Become the night for me,
Pack the stars into your purse
Spare my universe, no wasted sleep.”
The flow is perfection. A thoroughly passionate and touching read.
10th Jan 2023 6:05pm
Many thanks LG. Genuinely pleased that you chose the more tender & romantic lines. Erotic poetry can be too wham! bam! thank you mam! and not a realistic representation. Rob
10th Jan 2023 5:11pm
10th Jan 2023 6:06pm
10th Jan 2023 6:12pm
10th Jan 2023 6:04pm
like ink into flesh
tattooed
then bound
in silk.....
poetry
Bytes names of dead comets into my neck.....plastic punctuation
My Goodness I love this
(and of course the vulva turned inside out)
tattooed
then bound
in silk.....
poetry
Bytes names of dead comets into my neck.....plastic punctuation
My Goodness I love this
(and of course the vulva turned inside out)
10th Jan 2023 8:33pm
Spell checker wanted to change vulva into volkswagen. That's an altogether different poem!
Many thanks for the read and kind comments. Rob
Many thanks for the read and kind comments. Rob
10th Jan 2023 8:48pm
11th Jan 2023 10:58am
Hoi hoi
Volkswagen turned themselves inside out. They don’t need any extra help I think.
Your poem may or may not be slightly out of your regular hunting ground, I don’t know about that. To me, the innocent bystander, it doesn’t ‘read’ cramped.
FRom a personal point of view: I may be stamped with ancestry, I like the French school, where you can get away with pretty much anything as long as you use your words carefully.
It’s not that I disapprove of bolder use of language. For the more graphic descriptions I get into cooperations. Besides this, it’s only words. I have a friend whose name is Dick.
As in the Dick van Dyke show. No prudes from Spanish or Anglosaxon territories ever objected that one.
I love your poems. If you were my brother I’d say:
The comfort zone is there for a reason. Don’t force anything if you don’t want to.
Put in a little energy, get a lot of energy back and simply enjoy what it is you do best.
Plus your writes resonate with many people.
Keep them coming please (no pun here)!
Kind regards, Gus
Volkswagen turned themselves inside out. They don’t need any extra help I think.
Your poem may or may not be slightly out of your regular hunting ground, I don’t know about that. To me, the innocent bystander, it doesn’t ‘read’ cramped.
FRom a personal point of view: I may be stamped with ancestry, I like the French school, where you can get away with pretty much anything as long as you use your words carefully.
It’s not that I disapprove of bolder use of language. For the more graphic descriptions I get into cooperations. Besides this, it’s only words. I have a friend whose name is Dick.
As in the Dick van Dyke show. No prudes from Spanish or Anglosaxon territories ever objected that one.
I love your poems. If you were my brother I’d say:
The comfort zone is there for a reason. Don’t force anything if you don’t want to.
Put in a little energy, get a lot of energy back and simply enjoy what it is you do best.
Plus your writes resonate with many people.
Keep them coming please (no pun here)!
Kind regards, Gus
11th Jan 2023 1:05pm
Many thanks Gus. You certainly made me smile.
I'm more than happy writing about sex. It's something we all do. Some more than others. Lol. There is a reputation of the British being reserved (repressed?) about such things. There is a refrain 'No Sex Please. We're British.' Anyways, I'm Welsh first & British second.
Hope all is well. Morrissey is touring Belgium & France shortly. I'm contemplating attending 1 of the concerts, but he has a habit of cancelling at short notice. Shall see. Respect. Rob
I'm more than happy writing about sex. It's something we all do. Some more than others. Lol. There is a reputation of the British being reserved (repressed?) about such things. There is a refrain 'No Sex Please. We're British.' Anyways, I'm Welsh first & British second.
Hope all is well. Morrissey is touring Belgium & France shortly. I'm contemplating attending 1 of the concerts, but he has a habit of cancelling at short notice. Shall see. Respect. Rob
11th Jan 2023 1:44pm
Where to start...
I guess by undressing right? ;)
What better in seclusion, than lovers entwined in a sonnet.
This is like being fucked by a poem. :p
Passion is indeed the refuge for the hopelessly lost.
I love how you have 'written' out sex in so many words.
I definitely get the virtual aspect of this.
And I see this as a power of words piece.
How you can feel them, how you want to touch them...
And if you cannot be together physically at that time.
Then you can come together in other ways, through your words.
Vulva turns inside out, now that sounds like a great time. :p
Become the night for me, like a command...
I love the masculine energy portrayed in this.
Open thighs across pillows so excited and ready to cum...
But not yet, as the words continue to flow.
"Ropes a crime scene around midnight’s groin,
Fuck every unwritten poem out of me"
Oh hell yeah! now that's my kind of crime scene.
And to fuck every unwritten poem out of me,
that just gets me so worked up, damn!
Always want to live it... but I love how you wrote it.
I guess by undressing right? ;)
What better in seclusion, than lovers entwined in a sonnet.
This is like being fucked by a poem. :p
Passion is indeed the refuge for the hopelessly lost.
I love how you have 'written' out sex in so many words.
I definitely get the virtual aspect of this.
And I see this as a power of words piece.
How you can feel them, how you want to touch them...
And if you cannot be together physically at that time.
Then you can come together in other ways, through your words.
Vulva turns inside out, now that sounds like a great time. :p
Become the night for me, like a command...
I love the masculine energy portrayed in this.
Open thighs across pillows so excited and ready to cum...
But not yet, as the words continue to flow.
"Ropes a crime scene around midnight’s groin,
Fuck every unwritten poem out of me"
Oh hell yeah! now that's my kind of crime scene.
And to fuck every unwritten poem out of me,
that just gets me so worked up, damn!
Always want to live it... but I love how you wrote it.
11th Jan 2023 4:25pm
Diolch yn fawr. You understand the groin of my intentions K. Libraries of lust are the future. Nothing beats the intimacy of two flesh, but you know, words can be so often wasted and lazily thrown. They deserve a kinder caress and place in depths of the soul. Appreciate your shimmering reply. Truly. Rob
11th Jan 2023 9:34pm
Holy...damn, that's one helluva hot poem Rob.
I didn't know you had an erotica streak in you, but then I haven't been around much lately so I'm just starting to read you all over again.
Needless to say the language is exquisite and the notes of intimacy with sexual undertones are tastefully done and you brought to life how we fall in love with words and how they translate to us personally, thus falling in love with the person behind those poems.
I guess at one point or another we all have been guilty of that lol
Bravo, very well done!
I didn't know you had an erotica streak in you, but then I haven't been around much lately so I'm just starting to read you all over again.
Needless to say the language is exquisite and the notes of intimacy with sexual undertones are tastefully done and you brought to life how we fall in love with words and how they translate to us personally, thus falling in love with the person behind those poems.
I guess at one point or another we all have been guilty of that lol
Bravo, very well done!
11th Jan 2023 10:59pm
Many thanks for the kind and adroit observations Rina.
I'm an old fashioned romantic at heart, but do enjoy tripping through erotic pastures from time to time. Yip. Writers sow emotions and sometimes reap a harvest (the fruit can be rotten or delicious).
Oh. Diolch too. My intention is to get DU speaking Welsh by the turn of the decade. A Cymru Revolution ;)
I'm an old fashioned romantic at heart, but do enjoy tripping through erotic pastures from time to time. Yip. Writers sow emotions and sometimes reap a harvest (the fruit can be rotten or delicious).
Oh. Diolch too. My intention is to get DU speaking Welsh by the turn of the decade. A Cymru Revolution ;)
12th Jan 2023 10:47pm
You've really raised the benchmark high above the navel in this, absolutely exquisite, amazing sensibilities, imagery, control, flow is on Fahrenheit, love the way it turns from haptics, milieu, metaphor, in constant alchemy. The close has wonderful gravity to bring the whole together. Bravo my friend.
13th Jan 2023 11:58am
Many thanks my friend. I do enjoy the odd romp through papyrus bed sheets.
An ex once said "I love your poetry, but hate your poems." That was ok. I loved her face, but hated her kisses. Lol.
An ex once said "I love your poetry, but hate your poems." That was ok. I loved her face, but hated her kisses. Lol.
13th Jan 2023 6:18pm
lol that is a poem unto itself 💖🙏 just had an idea to start my collab stanzas
14th Jan 2023 10:04pm
14th Jan 2023 10:15pm
