Sex with Dead Poets

Dead great poets: who can resist them?

You came to me at arms length
crooked and tame
like a horny old mutt;
rare and diseased like I like

brilliant and crawling with
sun-scented veins
not even your wildest dreams
knew anything about.

 

I can still smell the fingerprints
defining your skin as existence:
acidic and stained
with booze
and too many long nights
inside genius;

 

and too many tears
from too many lovers who died
in your arms, spent,

while you watched
but could do
little else.

 

Without them
you’d be just a lonely old crow
without warning!
a message without
a messenger.

 

And now here you lay in my bed
like a diamond
shining as if you exist
just for me!
as if I were your one and only;
whispering of magic inside my fool head,
your naked pressed up
against mine

until we are both heaving

and I have no body at all!

 

And when you have twisted and turned me
spent me like books of old bunny-eared matches
you press your mouth to my breast,

and drink my heart
between pages:

of sex and love
and hands and sin

 

and truth!

 

and the breath
of moments expanding;
condensing inside
of themselves.

 

And of long ago
current lovers,
not even you
ever knew
existed.

 

But fear not, my indelible love,
I shall keep you inside
of my heart and my hands
eating your passion alive.

 

 

© Kristin Reynolds 11 19 2010

 

 

This is a poem about making love to the dead poet " the one with his soul inside his book"about the pure love/joy I feel when reading their words, their hearts"that I feel that I know them, so intimately…as if we were connected through time and space. Sounds a bit corny, I know…but do you know what I mean? Or am I just a crazy poet-romantic in love with words and the ones who wrote them?

Author's Note

This will be in my first upcoming book of poetry called: Waking the Dead.

Reviews

[Alessander]

First off, let me say, that even though the theme is familiar, your spin on it is quite unique. The work may be about "dead" poets, but you pack it with many tactile detail, which make the poets return to life in an almost grotesque fashion, like a zombie, both eerie and fascinating:

your skin as existence
acidic and stained
with booze

sun-scented vein

And then later, the narrator is in the dead poet's arms, which if taken literally, can be quite a scene lol I also can appreciate the depth of some of the lines and the stanzas, I esp like this one:

and too many tears
from too many lovers who died
in your arms, spent,

while you watched
but could do
little else.

You use a variety of similes, metaphors and anologies, which is good cuz sometimes writers pigeon hole themselves to one theme/metaphor, and it becomes as convoluted as a Donne poem. Although I can hear my Profs grumbling about "mixed" metaphors lol

Somethings I don't like or which I would change...the quotation marks...I'm assuming that there was problem with the copy and pasting and they really should be hyphens or something else, because the quotes seem too random. I also think the instances of the exclamation mark disrupt the flow of the poem, and are unnecessary IMO. There are a few other minor details, but this is my first review of your work, so I'll take it easy lol

Good stuff. A cut above most of the other work on this site.

[Kristin Reynolds]

thanks guys--all of you, for reading the newbie's work. :)

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Poetic Voice is Announcing the first Poetic Voice Cash Prize Contest for Poetry. Awards will be given to the writers who submit for consideration the most outstanding poems within the context of Poetry and Word Art.

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[.]

. wow ... super spectacular ... in parts ... and super, super spectacular in parts ... this is truly amazing and i am amazed ...

[Inkcognito]

Love the raw intensity, brilliant imagery and unbridled passion in this write. Great job, Kristin

[Wondering Mind]

Fascinating! and you used indelible.
I look forward to read more from you.