Stiletto StenchA Poem by KWPoh mary!Stiletto Stench A muse appears when one least expects. The birth of muse creates an obsession. Like a beagle to the shot-dead-duck. That’s what happened to me. I first saw Mary Magdalene working / walking / working / walking on a street near Galilee. Certain she could feel me sniffing at her six inch patent leather, with silver studs on the sides stiletto's that gave off her well worn, yet ever so welcoming fragrance called ‘The Chosen One.’ I wanted to know her, I needed to paint her. To feel the silkiness of her bosom, to translate onto my canvas the colour of lust. To caress her inner thigh, and notice where shadows fall as she lay in wait, Run my fingers through her hair, I’d depict strand by strand by strand. Ah, Mary, my muse, you push me to rebellion, I love you, I don’t love you. You are the bouquet of my life’s garden. Forever tend to you I must. © 2017 KWPReviews
|
Stats
436 Views
8 Reviews Added on November 1, 2017 Last Updated on November 1, 2017 AuthorKWPSydney, NSW, AustraliaAbout'The kernel, the soul — let us go further and say the substance, the bulk, the actual and valuable material of all human utterances — is plagiarism. For substantially all ideas are sec.. more..Writing
Related WritingPeople who liked this story also liked..
|