may i feel said he(i'll squeal said she
just once said he)
it's fun said she
(may i touch said he
how much said she
a lot said he)
why not said she
(let's go said he
not too far said she
what's too far said he
where you are said she)
may i stay said he
(which way said she
like this said he
if you kiss said she
may i move said he
is it love said she)
if you're willing said he
(but you're killing said she
but it's life said he
but your wife said she
now said he)
ow said she
(tiptop said he
don't stop said she
oh no said he)
go slow said she
(cccome? said he
ummm said she)
you're divine! said he
(you are Mine said she)
Some thoughts…
On this Poem: This playful poem initially startled me with its audacity, but won me over with the combination of sexual tension and humor delivered with such pithy style.
While it may not be the most romantic choice for a Valentine’s Day poem - what with the suggestions of a casual fling, and an unseen wife lurking in the wings portending complications for the relationship - c’est la vie.
What each wants may seem simple enough, except that it may not be quite what the other had in mind. It is not so much a matter of sending mixed messages; rather the message gets scrambled in its reception, weighted down by the burden of opposing desires, expectations, and demands on either side. They’re speaking the same language, yet are on different frequencies.
may i move said he
is it love said she…
…you're divine! said he
(you are Mine said she)
For very real reasons, a no-strings attached relationship is as rare as ever-lasting love. Both die-hard romantics and friends-with-benefits ignore that at their own peril.
Yet, while we live, we will love – start the chase, play the game, take our chances. It may be a risky sport, and how will we define gain or loss? If we emerge slightly singed, and perhaps wiser for the experience does that count as a win? And if we throw away everything and plunge into the heart of the flames, is a phoenix’s death really a loss?
Happy Valentine’s Day.
On this Poem: This playful poem initially startled me with its audacity, but won me over with the combination of sexual tension and humor delivered with such pithy style.
While it may not be the most romantic choice for a Valentine’s Day poem - what with the suggestions of a casual fling, and an unseen wife lurking in the wings portending complications for the relationship - c’est la vie.
What each wants may seem simple enough, except that it may not be quite what the other had in mind. It is not so much a matter of sending mixed messages; rather the message gets scrambled in its reception, weighted down by the burden of opposing desires, expectations, and demands on either side. They’re speaking the same language, yet are on different frequencies.
may i move said he
is it love said she…
…you're divine! said he
(you are Mine said she)
For very real reasons, a no-strings attached relationship is as rare as ever-lasting love. Both die-hard romantics and friends-with-benefits ignore that at their own peril.
Yet, while we live, we will love – start the chase, play the game, take our chances. It may be a risky sport, and how will we define gain or loss? If we emerge slightly singed, and perhaps wiser for the experience does that count as a win? And if we throw away everything and plunge into the heart of the flames, is a phoenix’s death really a loss?
Happy Valentine’s Day.
8 comments:
The poem is indeed overwhelming. I like this poem a lot. I really appreciate your work. "Between the lines" made this poem touch my heart more soothingly! Thank you so much for this.
"Yet, while we live, we will love – start the chase, play the game, take our chances. It may be a risky sport, and how will we define gain or loss? If we emerge slightly singed, and perhaps wiser for the experience does that count as a win? And if we throw away everything and plunge into the heart of the flames, is a phoenix’s death really a loss? "
i love this! and my answer is yes it counts as a win, and no it's not a loss at all :)
My favorite poem!
I love how you can read it both as a story incorporating only the lines within parantheses, just the unparanthesed lines, or take them both together. What a clever, unfettered way to write about sex.
Yes, it's fun. The point is in the sinister last line. Capital M. In a cummings poem? What does that tell you?
Possessive pronoun 'mine' with possessiveness underscored by the use of the upper case 'M'. The lad's going to find soon enough that he's bitten off more than he can chew; he may think that he can just mosey on back home to life with wife whenever this gets old, but he's got another think coming. :)
Thanks for bringing that up, Mr. Bailey.
The possessive pronoun Mine belongs only to God. Interesting.
Yet "you are divine" suggests he has bestowed divinity upon her. Hence "Mine".
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