The Writing Class

A skein of daring stalks the hall

with expectation as he walks

between the rows of desks and talks

in passing whispers to them all;


approaching one he leans to read,

her hair a glade of forest clear

and, breathing softly in her ear

lets one hand fall at tortoise speed


onto her shoulder, resting there

just long enough to allay doubt

then drifting, shameless, down to flout

propriety without a care


by slipping briefly to her breast.

A moment passes, then is gone

though heat of skin still lingers on

as flesh reacts to this brief test


of contact, blooming like a rose,

with each to each clandestine drawn

as though quite, in that hall, alone

if only in complicit cause.


The moment flees and heartbeats still,

to be replaced by normal time

whilst leaving just a hint sublime

of passion stolen. Such a thrill!


His brazen calm sets her alight

with inspiration’s impetus

and so, pulse racing thinking thus

she opens up and starts to write…

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◄ Stoker Tom



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M.C. Newberry

Fri 17th May 2013 15:01

This has a certain frisson that Betjeman might
have found enjoyable, with his own occasional dalliances in poetic form.
A challenging subject, very well executed.

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John Coopey

Mon 13th May 2013 23:53

Don't do this, Richie. You'll end up with Ken Barlow et al, done for sexual harassment!
Seriously though, an excellent piece of form. I usually find abba rhyme patterns melodically dissatisfying, but this makes an exception.
I agree about the sexual tension. I'm just off to relieve it.

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Jonnie Falafel

Mon 13th May 2013 21:53

I have a bias towards tight form like this. It's a great poem & a great theme. You can feel the sexual tension.

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Mon 13th May 2013 21:16

Well! That's sounds a damn sight more interesting than any writing class I've ever been to ;

Lovely tight rhyming scheme - it's unusual to see formal verse anymore - it must have taken you ages to write this.

Much enjoyed.

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