Shall I compare thee to a pile of dung
Left, still warm and steaming, by my horse?
So graceful, so well groomed, so well hung.
I describe the creature not myself of course
And pray my words may not, my darling, cause dismay.
Oh forgive a fool whose ardour outruns his tongue.
Should my simple similes offend thee what can I say
But that ’tis from untrimm’d spontaneity they’ve sprung?
If thou wrinkle thy nose at the smell, even sight
Of manure let my lips bid you reconsider the conceit.
Coming upon such ordure to the gardener is a delight
To be shovelled up and carried away tout de suite
For forking it into a bed is surely only but meet.
Without such sustenance would a rose smell so sweet?
~~~~~ ~ ~~~~~
This was written especially for Jamie Dides’ Wednesday Writing Prompt. This week’s prompt is ‘Reinvention’.
PUSILLANIMITY? … OR WISDOM?
I don’t hoard any furtive hopes
Beneath my cosy feather pillow
Nor dreams, nor wistful wishes
For fear they will make it lumpy
And give me a pain in the neck
A so innocent word need
Yet freighted with illusion
So intoxicated with desire
Go check any dictionary
Its explanation of toxic
Casts a light on the dark
Recognise: need is like fire
Good servant, a cruel master
“In order to …” master key
He sees her
Dance … delightfully
He thinks of
Asking her …
A disorienting thought …
Fills him with terror!
MÉCANIQUE DE LA SOLITUDE
All alone after pollination
Having relieved my aggression to the air
And gentle towards you now
Nothing remains but despair
I think of getting drunk
Like I think of suicide (So there!)
Or my present state – alone and emptied
Any way I can hurt you without appearing to care
… Hoping you will find out later
While beneath the gentleness, feebly, I think bad thoughts of you
Though you have not done anything
Just accepted me, as I asked you to
Dissatisfied all beknown
I wish to hurt you too
As you hurt me by not needing me
Desperately, as I need you