jentoo's profile
AGE:
57
LAST LOGIN: August 09
LAST LOGIN: August 09
If no one reads what a person writes, is that person still a writer? I feel, therefore I write. I am slow to react, therefore I write.
Okay. The real me—just someone who loves to write and wants to touch others with my words. A mother of three children and three mutts. Genealogy is my other passion because I love finding out secrets.
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I don't apologize For the size Of my thighs Nor the round Sumptuous mound Of my big behind. I'm not ashamed Of my nappy mane Nor the bag brown skin That hides beauty within. I won't erase These lines from my face. They're clues that trace My time in this space. I won't try to contain The intellect of my brain Nor restrict my breasts Of their ampleness. But if perchance We dare romance I'll risk rejection For your perception Of my flawed perfection.
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Version 1
6 Reviews
3 Comments
You take my Blank page heart And write on it A symphony And this is what I was meant to be A song of laughing, A song of living. You touch my One note soul And play it like A rhapsody And I hear what Life was meant to be A song of sharing A song of giving. I used to be such a sad tune Always just a little off key But since you waltzed in I don't sing blue songs Because you are my song Now. You heard my Discordant plea And changed it Into harmony And now I know What love is meant to be A song ...
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Version 1
2 Reviews
0 Comments
You practice safe sex Wearing an emotional condom (It's not original But when I heard it I thought of you) Making sure love doesn't impregnate you doesn't contaminate you doesn't touch you Sterility intact.
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Version 1
2 Reviews
1 Comment
Cool heat Probes corners, Melting shadows. Fears Trickle Down Thawing doubt You glance. Target smacked. Bloodless impact. Struck but not stroked. Combustion Nonetheless.
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I really like the tone of this poem. It is wistful and hopeful and light. Good work rhyming. It is very clever. The "cat to confess" is a great pay-off at the end. Excellent.
It's uncanny how alike our voice is. I have a poem written years ago using much the same imagery. So, of course I like it because I get it. Is there a reason for not using punctuations or capitalizing the beginning of some lines? I don't think it would take away from it if you did. I just wonder what your thought process was behind it. As is, you convey a stream of consciousness, a revery.
The poem is seductively simple. It sucked me in. I didn't feel the heat. Was the reader supposed to? The fire is passive just like the thought that you could "ruin his life," this innocent man. It's an afterthought after sex. Interesting.
The poem is as elementary as, well as black and white. It caught my attention because I am black and I wanted to know the other perspective. The last stanza I would have divided the line second line and made it two lines. I did like the sentiment that we are different yet alike.
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Although I am a Christian (different faith, not a JW)I am not sure I get the imagery of this poem. The ecstatic unemployment is a given but after that I'm lost. The words are pretty--"fingers--the softest of petals, feet--the wildest of horses." I just didn't quite understand if you're saying we wouldn't exist or if we would be angels or just another part of the universe. It's probably me not you.
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