Hark! Do I hear orders bellowed from the boudoir? “I’m coming, Dear!”
Egad! Must I satisfy that lusty wench at her every beck and call?
Alas, a man’s work is never done. But I have work to do here, deadlines to meet!
I can’t drop everything and run to her every time her hormones act up!
I have to get this poem in the mail tomorrow. Let’s see:
‘I read, entranced, transfixed by the pusillanimous non-entities
Enjoying their didactic asceticism incognito between the lines…’
No, no. This is supposed to be a Traditional Verse. Hmm…..
Maybe I can write something using the name of a great poet.
That always works on the judges, makes them feel important.
“Alright! Alright! I’ll be there in a minute!”
Crom! How can I write a winning poem in weather like this?!?
Maybe I can build a love poem, they’re always in vogue.
Especially if one of the judges is a woman. How about:
‘I was feeling really down on my luck, like I’d just french kissed a Mack truck,
When her eyes met mine in a clash of cobalt and jade.’
Ok, that’s a good start, if I can find a line that rhymes with jade.
“Woman, if I’m not there in five minutes, start without me!”
Jesus! I think I will bat out my brains if she bothers me one more time!
Maybe if I ignore her she will go to sleep!
Aye, but Fate is a strange task master, whose twists and turns astound me still.
When my wife and I first wed, our lusts caused quite a stir in the old neighborhood,
As our lovemaking rang to the heavens night after night after night.
But all too soon her passion ran cold, while mine continued to boil time and time again.
And lying beside a beautiful body that didn’t want me
Drove me away from the nuptial bed and into the arms of another,
And another and another.
While she spent lonely nights at home and scarcely seemed to notice,
I drank my fill of honey freely offered, and such a big thirst it was!
But each conquest was a hollow victory, an eternity of guilty tears
That far outweighed the joy.
And so I bridled my errant passions and stayed home by the fire
That had never really died, small but steady, comforting in its glow.
True, thin was the veneer which covered the flames smouldering in my blood,
Kept barely in check, threatening to erupt at the slightest provocation.
But I found these potent lusts to be a powerful impetus in my writings
As they strove desperately to be expressed!
And I felt this raw energy transmute itself over the years into a mighty force for Good,
As it evolved from a physical wantonness to a great love for all mankind.
And then slowly, ever so slowly, the undertow of mighty cosmic currents
Pulled me toward an all-consuming quest for the very godhead Itself!
Now comes the grandest irony of all!
My wife’s passion, dormant these many years, is rearing its lovely head to be scratched
By a part of me thought lost long ago, sacrificed on the altar of matrimonial peace!
She waits for me now, as I waited for her so, so many times.
And though I have thought seriously of taking the gold out of her teeth,
The silver out of her hair, the lead out of her ass, and junking the rest of her,
I love her still. And so I will go to her, and give of myself,
For I know the agony of unfulfilled desire held in limbo.
Some days it seems:
‘My heart is rent in two, torn between my loves,
And I slowly die as the halves grind my soul to dust.’
Hay! That’ll make a good poem! Maybe I will write it……. afterward.
“Yes, yes, I am coming, my little dumpling!”
©1984 Larry Brinkley