An Edit a Day - getting back on track

[Angeline]

This is such a great idea, WSO, may I? I wrote this years ago and was never satisfied.

Reflections on a shaved ham sandwich

Small package
flimsily wrapped in transparency
carefully
he opens
and gently reveals
pink folds,
succulent and moist
lie waiting
making him salivate.

Tenderly
with two fingers
he separates the folds
tasting the saltiness.

Gently pulling, dividing,
he arranges the pink flesh
as he wants.
Licking his fingers
lowering his mouth to bite.

Spicy sea-taste
moistened sheen
creamy filled furrows
the act complete

he stoops to devour this
his lunch.

Too obvious, not suptle enough.

edit:

He’s thinking of her
as he opens
this small package
wrapped in transparency
and gently reveals
pink folds,
succulent and moist
making him salivate.

Tenderly
with two fingers
he separates the folds
tasting the saltiness.
No sweet pink pearl waits
here for mutual pleasure.

Gently pulling, dividing,
he arranges the pink flesh
as he wants.
Licking his fingers,
lowering his mouth to taste.

Spicy sea-taste
moistened sheen
the act complete
creamy filled furrows.

I always thought it was great erotic poetry, Tess. I'd have edited the first draft to read more like sentences that slide ascross line breaks, much as you've done in the revised version.

Be interesting to hear what others think.

 

[PandoraGlitters]

I always thought it was great erotic poetry, Tess. I'd have edited the first draft to read more like sentences that slide ascross line breaks, much as you've done in the revised version.

Be interesting to hear what others think.

Never has ham been so sexy.

 

[wildsweetone]

7/05/09

sun sets much as the last sigh
of a dying child's body, slowly. softly.
as if the most important act
is the sign itself
and not the silence after.
Peace rays fan the horizon
reaching overhead and behind
me, long fingers losing their grip
on this day. There is beauty
in the lingering, and the aftermath too
beauty
and tenacity
and faith
that tomorrow night
it will happen again.


edit 29/08/09

7/05/09

Sun sets much as the last sigh
of a dying child's body, slowly, softly
as if the most important act
is the sigh itself
and not the silence after.
Peace rays fan the horizon
reaching overhead and behind
long fingers losing their grip
on this day. There is beauty
in the lingering, and the aftermath too
beauty
and tenacity
and faith.

 

[wildsweetone]

This is such a great idea, WSO, may I?

by all means. anyone can do anything. i'm just doing my own thing.

 

[wildsweetone]

3/05/09

ona a meandering path, sculptures
wait, sun-dappled white
stark against nikau trunks
naked green of coastal bush
and silent while the tui called
its own powhiri to us, the visitor
on her land. The slow sun
shed its light, the breeze whispered
quiet words of wisdom, blue
stayed high, beyond green leaf cups
waiting to collect Autumn's tears
as they tumble.


edit 30/08/09

Bush Art

On a meandering path, sculptures
wait, sun-dappled white
stark against nikau trunks
naked green of coastal bush
and silent while the tui calls
its own powhiri to us, the visitor
on her land. The slow sun
sloughed its light, the breeze whispered
quiet words of wisdom, blue
strayed high, beyond green leaf cups
waiting to collect Autumn's tears
as they tumble.


(nikau = palm, tui = native NZ bird, powhiri = Maori welcome)

 

[BooMerengue]

WSO!!! Tzara and12:01!!! Hi you guys!! Hi Dora- nice to meet you, and read you! And Ange me old buddy. We gotta catch up! I have a poem I'm working on. But I can't edit my work. Ask Ange- she'll tell you I'm hopeless. I just figure it is what it is when I write/feel it and thats that. If someone would like to edit for me though I would love it! What say you all???

 

[PandoraGlitters]

Hey, Boo, nice to meet you.

This is an edit of the poem on the 007 thread yesterday.

High School Reunion

One man with light bones fiddles with a camera.
Pumpkincheese tarts solicit fingers on a repurposed
holiday tray but not the fingers of the Japanese ceramicist
who holds my breast in the kitchen. Flash. The much loved girl
who came up two doors down takes the tray when she goes.

Under our feet sand cools and shifts. Pumpkincheese
tarts spice our lips and everyone talks
too much, even the ceramicist who mainly signs.
Eyes glow with lantern and camera flash;
I sleep on her best friend's couch.

One saturday morning it is twenty years after
we tubed down Ozark rivers in bikinis and I led
the girl down bank to the smoking van.