Lesson 6

Behold, her single in the field,
some beauty with a striking figure,
standing facing the dusk-down sun,
unaware how she’s the trigger
to some hellishly perverse thoughts
that plague me now and leave me hot
and bothered, though all she has done
is just exist. I am the son

of lust and boredom intertwined,
and my eyes have now weaved a web
where, in the middle, she is trapped,
as my ill thoughts come flow and ebb,
or like a filthy wave crash on
her self in whatever fashion
I please, and I do it quite well,
while hating myself for this hell

I’ve made my bed. It’s not my choice.
I was quite simply born this way.
This is how men are, and that’s true,
but isn’t that what they all say?
Those men who harm, hurt and abuse?
I’m not the same, but still the fuse
that lights their cannon’s in me too.
I am the son of love so skewed

that when I see a lovely lass
lay, lie, or linger, all my mind
can comprehend is nothing more
than how I’d like to get behind
her being and like animals
do what nature has deemed a call
we humans share with any beast.
When I behold I see a feast.




Poetry by Sameen The PoetBay support member heart!
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Written on 2024-07-26 at 09:15

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one trick pony The PoetBay support member heart!
Sameen, it strikes that poetry has become so modern, such a vehicle for self-express or opinion or grievance, and rhyme and meter is used so seldomly, that it may go unnoticed. What you're doing in Lesson 6 is subtly woven into the narrative, it's easy to miss. I missed it the first read through.
2024-07-26


D G Moody The PoetBay support member heart!
How do you do it! Composing poems of such rewarding reading; whatever - keep them coming Sameen!
2024-07-26


Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
At our cores, we are just little double helices which are desperate to keep replicating.
2024-07-26