Poetry Wednesday – “The Kiss” by Anne Sexton from the anthology intimate kisses: The Poetry of Sexual Pleasure, edited by Wendy Maltz
also from erotic poems
wild (at our first) beasts uttered human words
—our second coming made stones sing like birds—
but o the starhushed silence with our third’s
from the brand-new collection erotic poems, edited by George Firmage, and containing an assortment of Cummings’ erotic drawings. I want to learn to write original, singing, sizzling sex poems, so am reading some of the best.
when i have thought of you somewhat too
much and am become perfectly and
simply Lustful….sense a gradual stir
of beginning muscle,and what it will do
to me before shutting….understand
i love you….feel your suddenly body reach
for me with a speed of white speech
(the simple instant of perfect hunger
how beautifully swims
the fooling world in my huge blood,
cracking brains A swiftlyenormous light
—and furiously puzzling through,prismatic,whims,
the chattering self perceives with hysterical fright
a comic tadpole wriggling in delicious mud
from Jordan’s Things I Do in the Dark, 1977
and even the stars and even the snow and even
do not amount to much
unless these things submit to some disturbance
some derangement such
as when I yield myself/belonging
to your unmistaken
Finally I See Your Skin
Eleanor Lerman in Amazon Poetry, 1975
Finally I see your skin so scarred
by my use that I can close my eyes and tell you
where the constant embrace of my fingers is turned to gold
on your stomach, and the press of my legs
has turned your thighs to polished glass
No one else thinks of touching you now
Your body mentions me in all its movements
and has come to fit only my hands
I once told you that I had celestial information
cut on the inside of my mouth and it was years
before you wore it smooth enough to keep from
bleeding your tongue
Mindful of this
you come to kiss me one morning and find
I am old and brittle and pure
my mouth cracks open and planets start to pour out
universes form and begin to show
signs of life
one of my sister-poets was reading a collection of erotic/love poems by Sandra Ciscernos. I opened it and found this. And another I really loved that was just too long to copy out by hand. I gotta go buy the book now to have it for myself. The Spanish words should have accent marks I’ve not yet learned enough HTML to create. Soon, really.
You Like to Give and Watch Me My Pleasure
You like to give and watch me my
pleasure. Machete me in two.
Take for the taking what is yours.
This is how you like to have me.
I’m as naked as a field of cane,
as alone as all of Cuba
You could descend like rain
destroy like fire
if you chose to.
If you chose to,
I could rise like hurracan.
I could erupt as sudden as
a coup d’etat of trumpets,
the sleepless eye of ocean,
a sky of black urracas.
If I chose to.
I don’t choose to.
I let myself be taken.
The power is my gift to you.
May you sleep
on your tender girlfriend’s breasts
you can always borrow this, from Apuleius’ Apology, written about Sappho:
She was a woman of Lesbos too, who wrote lasciviously yet with such grace that she reconciles us to her outrageous speech through the sweetness of her songs.