UKArchive

UKArchive ID: 35849

A Doting Poetess
by ifyouplease
Originally published on November 23, 2015 in Poetry        


to C.D.


I can feel my noetic virility trapped
in the strophic womb of my mistress,
the one who likes paper cuts,
the cuts that dehypnotize my hand
from writing more thoughts.
Drained, I watch her texture
absorb the frisky shapes of my linguistic sperm.
Filled, she rests exposing my writing
to ready and unready souls.

I’m nothing but a monthly bleeding witness
to her unexpected sharpness,
always ridiculously surprised
by the aggressive way she makes me stop.
Discouraged by her invincible thinness,
I answer to her unspoken invitation,
unable to defy my throbbing devotion,
behaving like a male when my pen, erected, points
at her unwritten whiteness.

She, eclipsed by the shadow of my ideal identity,
stoically tolerates my intellectual ejaculations,
as nothing can surmount her predisposition to infertility
or her contraceptive efforts.
I, chained to my visions,
shall pin my faith on golden commas,
while I gulp her silent space between my words,
daring to dote on our justified inability
to bring into a male world our androgynous scions.

2003 – 2005

© ifyouplease (ifyouplease on OLD UKA)

UKArchive ID: 35849
Archived comments for A Doting Poetess


Nomenklatura on 23-11-2015
A Doting Poetess
Don't think I have a comment that won't sound facile or banal. A splendid poem.

Author’s Reply:
thanks!


Gothicman on 24-11-2015
A Doting Poetess
Lucky C.D. IYP, very special wording, intriguing to we, the rest.

You at your best.

Goth

Author’s Reply:
an old poem slightly edited in 2005, i don't know if it has been included in an anthology, probably not, C.D. is dead.

thank you very much Goth


Supratik on 25-11-2015
A Doting Poetess
Intriguing… the poem is disturbingly handsome.

Author’s Reply:
yes disturbingly charming and perhaps moderately truthful. thanks!


Rosco on 24-06-2016
A Doting Poetess
This isn't a poem; it's a manifesto poetically stated. The engine of half your work. The philosophy is wrestled to the ground, so the lyric line has license to lash and stun; in the other half, the philosophy strangles vice and inconstancy while the lyric line heels like a well-trained purebred.

Author’s Reply:
this poem came too early, the entire poem is some sort of premature ejaculation of the intellect, i was clearly trying to mate with poetry but unfortunately my excitement overcame me with some sort of singular brainstorming.