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In honor of Emily C's mind boggilingly gorgeous new folio, where I tried and failed to post one of e.e. cummings' most erotic poems, please, a poetry thread. And here is another nice one.
i like my body when it is with your
e.e. cummings
i like my body when it is with your
body. It is so quite new a thing.
Muscles better and nerves more.
i like your body. i like what it does,
i like its hows. i like to feel the spine
of your body and its bones, and the trembling
-firm-smooth ness and which i will
again and again and again
kiss, i like kissing this and that of you,
i like, slowly stroking the, shocking fuzz
of your electric fur, and what-is-it comes
over parting flesh
And eyes big love-crumbs,
and possibly i like the thrill
of under me you so quite new
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Here's one from Walt Whitman! It's a portion of I Sing The Body Electric about the female form. Seems rather fitting for ISM..
This is the female form;
A divine nimbus exhales from it from head to foot;
It attracts with fierce undeniable attraction!
I am drawn by its breath as if I were no more than a helpless vaporall falls aside but myself and it;
Books, art, religion, time, the visible and solid earth, the atmosphere and the clouds, and what was expected of heaven or feard of hell, are now consumed;
Mad filaments, ungovernable shoots play out of itthe response likewise ungovernable;
Hair, bosom, hips, bend of legs, negligent falling hands, all diffusedmine too diffused;
Ebb stung by the flow, and flow stung by the ebblove-flesh swelling and deliciously aching;
Limitless limpid jets of love hot and enormous, quivering jelly of love, white-blow and delirious juice;
Bridegroom night of love, working surely and softly into the prostrate dawn;
Undulating into the willing and yielding day,
Lost in the cleave of the clasping and sweet-fleshd day.
This is the nucleusafter the child is born of woman, the man is born of woman;
This is the bath of birththis is the merge of small and large, and the outlet again.
Be not ashamed, womenyour privilege encloses the rest, and is the exit of the rest;
You are the gates of the body, and you are the gates of the soul.
The female contains all qualities, and tempers themshe is in her place, and moves with perfect balance;
She is all things duly veildshe is both passive and active;
She is to conceive daughters as well as sons, and sons as well as daughters.
As I see my soul reflected in nature;
As I see through a mist, one with inexpressible completeness and beauty,
See the bent head, and arms folded over the breastthe female I see.
Also! If there are any Emily Dickinson fans out there I invite you to revisit one of my old folios featuring some of her most famous lines
http://ishotmyself.com/public/view_gall … ?g=shimbun
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Here's another poem by e. e. cummings that I find erotic...
"she being Brand"
e. e. cummings
she being Brand
-new;and you
know consequently a
little stiff I was
careful of her and (having
thoroughly oiled the universal
joint tested my gas felt of
her radiator made sure her springs were O.
K.)i went right to it flooded-the-carburetor cranked her
up,slipped the
clutch (and then somehow got into reverse she
kicked what
the hell) next
minute i was back in neutral tried and
again slo-wly;bare,ly nudg. ing(my
lev-er Right-
oh and her gears being in
A 1 shape passed
from low through
second-in-to-high like
greasedlightning) just as we turned the corner of Divinity
avenue i touched the accelerator and give
her the juice,good
(it
was the first ride and believe I we was
happy to see how nice and acted right up to
the last minute coming back down by the Public
Gardens I slammed on
the
internalexpanding
&
externalcontracting
breaks Bothatonce and
brought allofher tremB
-ling
to a:dead.
stand-
;Still)
Last edited by fluffbunny (January 26th, 2013 05:11 PM)
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Yeah thats the hot poem that inspired this thread.. I tried to post it in Emily_c's folio as a comment, but without the line breaks, so essential to cummings' work, it just kind of mashed up and got weird.
Thanks fluffbunny for reminding me...
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I wonder if you know yet that youll leave me. That you
are a child playing with matches and I have a paper body.
You will meet a girl with a softer voice and stronger arms and she
will not have violent secrets or an affection for red wine or eyes
that never stay dry. You will fall into her bed and Ill go back
to spending Friday nights with boys who never learn my last name.
I have chased off every fool who has tried to sleep beside me
You think its romantic to fuck the girl who writes poems about you.
You think Ill understand your sadness because I live inside my own.
But I will show up at your door at 2 am, wild-eyed and sleepless.
and try and find some semblance of peace in your breastbone
and you will not let me in. You will tell me to go home.
Clementine von Radics
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Artemesia... wow.
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SNORTT!!!! read this Roman poetry! SO DIRTY DIRTY POETRY!
http://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Catullus_16
I will sodomize you and face-fuck you,
Cocksucking Aurelius and bottom-man Furius,
You who think that I'm a pussy
Because of my delicate verses.
It's right for the devoted poet
To be chaste himself, but it's not
Necessary for his verses to be so.
Verses which then have taste and charm,
If they are delicate and sexy,
And when they can incite an itch,
And I don't mean for boys, but in
Those hairy old men who can't get their dicks up.
You, because you have read of my thousand kisses,
You think I'm a pussy?
I will sodomize you and face-fuck you.
Latin:
Pedicabo ego vos et irrumabo,
Aureli pathice et cinaede Furi,
qui me ex versiculis meis putastis,
quod sunt molliculi, parum pudicum.
Nam castum esse decet pium poetam
ipsum, versiculos nihil necessest;
qui tum denique habent salem ac leporem,
si sunt molliculi ac parum pudici
et quod pruriat incitare possunt,
non dico pueris, sed his pilosis
qui duros nequeunt movere lumbos.
Vos, quod milia multa basiorum
legistis, male me marem putatis?
Pedicabo ego vos et irrumabo.
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