This Poem was Submitted By: Mary J Coffman On Date: 2007-08-08 18:35:45 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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A Slow Dance with Death

I yearn for him in those ominous waning hours   when the dark arts still hold sway   as shadows lengthen   consuming domains           and silence holds the lease like a rapier     long      cold      sharp night slashes beginning into end       while iniquity inhabits the air I tango with temptation         in a carnal choreography beguiled by his toxic love                         (…..I stand on the verge                                    paralyzed by portent seduction)         with every breath comes desperate desire           eroticism  dripping with alizarin aspirations body beside body     in chanceful covenant I partake in his ruddled recital       ~ a perilous pirouette ~ lips musingly brush mine             filled with feverish promise of alluring exploits    away from the physical toils of existence                     (…..another step closer to threshold)     embodied  in eternal ecstasy            where misery is myth         aroused by abandon inextricably entwined in his exhilarating embrace                   under the influence   of the sweet taste of sovereignty          swallowed      in illicit illusions     ~ a ritualistic pas seul  ~ intoxicated by euphoria      titillation teases my every sense I tremble in delectation         and revel  in the ravishment of release                     (…..closer and closer                                           boundary draws nearer) the abyss summons as I dangle on the precipice      in pruriency   no further      shall I wander                     (…..hesitating at the brink) to do so would end this erotic escapade transforming elation               into agony fantasy        to reality triumph          to collapse a lethal life, indeed toward retreat, I am obliged                     (…..stepping rearward from the rim)                        and I am transmuted             in an instant banished to the realm of legend                                                                         leaving only traces                                            of who I used to be ~

Copyright © August 2007 Mary J Coffman

Additional Notes:
The prompt was "flirtations," and I took a different approach... LOL!


This Poem was Critiqued By: Lora Silvey On Date: 2007-09-07 20:01:41
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Mary, Only you could come up with such a delicious flirtation that few would ever entertain or even voice that they've entertained such a thought or delved deep inside far enough to glimpse what is. Your verbiage and lines are fresh, original and give way to all types of thoughts and hypothisis...ah, yes I'm enamored of your write....your dark side glows with illiterations and not only do you flirt but you seem to also be tempting the fates to an extent...always on the edge in life and in your writing. Brava! I will keep a copy of this with your permission. Best, Lora


This Poem was Critiqued By: Claire H. Currier On Date: 2007-08-29 16:52:03
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.95238
WOW......what a read poet......from one word to the next this just moved along bringing forth images, feelings, emotions, thoughts of perhaps days gone by and for some days yet to come. Interesting way of creating this one too.......sorry if my brain appears slower then usual today; I do believe it may be....all that cardio problem and lack of oxygen in this hot humid weather. Thanks for posting and sharing your flirtatious mood........God Bless, Claire
This Poem was Critiqued By: Thomas H. Smihula On Date: 2007-08-22 09:24:12
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Mary, The additional notes seemed to help me understand this piece much better. My only issue with it is the format and presentation not the wording. When I reach the end of a line that drifts, I drift and fall into the crevasse that has been created. Remember it is only this reader speaking and other will have different viewpoints but for me my mind could not keep up with the presentation. Love the wording though for it makes one think of infatuation. Thanks, for sharing. Thomas
This Poem was Critiqued By: marilyn terwilleger On Date: 2007-08-18 16:37:44
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Hi Mary....I believe it was Shakespear that defined the result of sex (tried to clean it up a bit!) as the "little death." This is an erotic and sensual poem and one that is impossible to stop reading after the beginning lines. Your short lines and line placement make it slip down the page with ease and your word choices are superb. You have suggested much to this reader without actually writing it which is why mastering the art of 'showing' instead of 'telling' is such a challenge. This is one of your best writes and that says much about your talent as I have never read anything, from you pen, that I thought was less than excellent. Well done....brava....will be on my list. Blessings....Marilyn
This Poem was Critiqued By: James C. Horak On Date: 2007-08-10 09:22:13
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 1.00000
It is seldom a poem holds so well, "true to itself". As upon the canvas of a master, no stroke here departs either the tone or message of nearing close to "abandon". Your title is equally sustaining for "death" is the totality of where such an absorption leaves self-identity. "dark arts still hold sway", "as shadows lengthen/consuming domains"... even the spaced placement of the attributes of a rapier, set a tone for the rest that abstracts the play of "ravishment of release" against, the "...dangle on the precipice" where is threatened, "transforming elation/ into agony". The sensual flair you uniquely have (shown in others of your poems) is so often reflected in the delicious word placement you select. The sounds of enunciating the lines turned produce their own illiteration in ways that bring the reader's tongue, as well as his/her mind, into the associations. "I tango with temptation/in a carnal choreography" not just does this, but produces imagery that nears that quality the poet once defined as, "the dancer becoming the dance". My favorite, in this respect, is the line, "as I dangle on the precipice/in pruriency". You've caught the universality of the aspect AND placed it in our minds through the back-door our own mouths offer the same pleasures. Just as the more anal of the grammatics minded might fault with some of these expressions, so the more traditional might find your structure of line and verse too "unrestricted". Both, however, have, to me, even further enhanced the sensual adventure upon which you have taken me. JCH
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