Voyeur On The Wall ( Date Rape ??)

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Oh!

Desiring your memories,

desperate to see, to feel, to smell

touch and tremble.

Watching undisturbed, listening to every word.

With every response, your eyes shine to a body language,

 rhythmic and liquid.

 

Lip to mouth, hear your voice, how it changes.

 

Squirming, unsteady, heady

beneath his embraces.

 

 Reciprocating hands, his hands, your hands, what to do?

 Surrender or encourage?

Disengaging, breathing changing, a gasp, a moan, you had wanted none of this,

just a kiss.

 

You wanted to go, you are still complaining, explaining again and again

 

The mood is changing, rearranging shirt buttons, undoing, pursuing, undone.

Breasts pinched, breasts suckled, legs shaking, Knees buckled.

 Nipples engorged, stiffening erogenous pleasure zones.

 

 ‘If I say no, I mean no

I really don't want to do this.’

 

He listens you are thinking quickly, too quickly, obvious and easily read.

 

‘Just this far then

no further.’

 

Kissing, tongues entwined, hands between your legs, sliding, hiding

Skirting, flirting in the damp folds of your underwear.

Everywhere, fingers are everywhere seeking the liquid source.

You object, consider tears, buy time.

 

‘Not here

please

I don’t want to

Not here’

 

You are a whimpering, simpering, silly girl.

 Now his fingers reply, becoming rougher, tougher, urgent.

A wet tobacco mouth smothering flickering protest, your body is surrounded

by probing, fingering, lingering beyond taboo.

Your body betrays you, wetter now, hungry mind, greedy, needy.

Hands reach out begin their searching, feeling, exploring the maleness.

Touching enjoying his prick, finding his zip he has found yours.

Fingers, peeling, probing, hotter now body heat, fingers, fingers are inside of you.

 

Gasping, grasping, probing a prick’s bulge loving the hardness released wet and shining, it jumps and throbs.

Slowly kneading liquid sensation, all the while fingers dipping, slipping in and out there is no doubt wet, wetter is so much better.

 

You’re pushing your mound to meet his frigging digging finger.

He takes up your hair pulling your head forward you know what he wants, watching you tongue his prick. Suck and bob salty lips, beckoning tongue

He doesn’t want to come; he pulls away, leaving your wet gaping mouth gobbling the night.  A wet trail glistening hangs dripping from your chin.

 

Clawing and pulling, ripping, stripping, tearing one another in a frenzy.

 Clawing, you are falling one into the other in passionate tongue sucking kisses.

You open your legs wide his cock enters you, he’s inside.

 Oh God!

 It feels so good dip, dip, dip.

God!

He is fucking you and you hardly know him.

You don’t care tonight, not now, cancel conscience.

Straddled, his pelvis thrusts are powerful grinding slowly pushing and spreading wider, his fingers are inter locked with yours, pinning you to down.

 

You rub and push, twist cock humping, thumping, pumping can’t stop it now.

Thrust enjoy what you can the sex is good, it’s is so good right now.

 Biting, fighting, pulling, pinching, breathing faster, slowing, blowing, you

feel him struggle.

 

It gives pleasure so much pleasure his face contorted foretelling his coming,

you scream for more

 It doesn’t come, he withdraws glides a shining cock over your clitoris, stroking,

rubbing, pushing, you sense delay a need to prolong the act

 

Fuck!

Me

Fuck me

 

Words shock, they are urgent, trembling, you are surprising yourself

 

Trembling, lust driven desire, Lust, you can trust lust.

 

Love?

There is no love there is nothing’ nothing, it’s just a fuck a forced fuck.

 

Keep telling yourself;

 

‘I am being forced

to have sex

against my will

 

I am being forced.’

His cock slides back into you

I’m being forced

 fucked and fucked

Against

My

Will.

 

He eagerly meets your thrashing crashing thrusts,

 

Yes! Yes!

 Come

It’s so good.

 

It’s happening, he is trembling, and he is losing the fight.

Fuck me

Fuck my cunt!

 

Breathing faster, anguished vanquished grunts crashing trashing beneath him, you are humping and pumping.

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

 

Together screams, his high and guttural yours low and sobbing his prick jumps inside of you it jumps, it jumps again and again.

Pumping thrusts the warmth of his ejaculation spilling, filling you.

As he waiting, pulsating above you back arched his head thrown back.

 

Two fingers slowly begin tracing, pleasure zones smart and tingle and fluids mingle.

It’s hot so hot the recent fire is still burning bright within’.

 Moisture sucking he slowly withdraws shrinking sliding out onto your outer lips,

Pearls of semen ooze from shell pink portals.

Dribbling, piddling out and under you down, down, down, onto the bed sheet.

Who cares? It’s not your bed.

 

 

He’s turns his head to face wall saying nothing to you at all, its dark and quiet

You both reach for cigarettes.

 

You could use the moment to dress quickly but you don’t, you lay naked

night smoking in the silence.

 

Nothing, but the static of stillness.

 

You feel very warm, claustrophobic, stifled the smell of sex pervades invades your conscience, butterflies of guilt flutter in your gut.

You grind your cigarette into the ashtray gather up your clothes, flimsy layers

 of whom you used to be and head for the bathroom.

Sitting upon a cracked lavatory seat weeping hot tears into a smear of cold morning light.

 

◄ A Thousand Oceans More

Hand to Mouth Haiku ►

Comments

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Jeff Dawson

Sat 19th Dec 2009 23:10

Hi Augusta, its been a chaotic week gigging in one way or another but finally got round to reading this. Despite the cold weather I had to open a window or two but coped ok as you thought!

I'm not getting into any arguments, its obviously wrong if it is rape, but I'm sure you knew posting this would get understandable reaction, one way or another, as its such an emotive subject, with the victim coming off worse.

I think you may have swayed from one way to the other to ask questions that make the whole issue a nightmare to sort out and lead to many incidents not being reported, suppose there could be lots of issues involved that complicate matters, and of course I'm sure you're not trying to say its okay if forced.

It does start as poetry in my mind but longer it goes on it becomes a passage of prose, and I actually felt like I was reading a Shaun Hutson book to be honest, he would probably be proud of it in the context of how he writes his books, if you have read them you will know what I mean.

Anyway, keep writing, don't think all your work will get this number of comments but I'm sure it will continue to be well read as its very good! Jeff X

<Deleted User> (7140)

Fri 4th Dec 2009 00:23

Hope A.D. reads this at an open mic and reviews can be posted up here of the night.


Fassbinder

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Patricia and Stefan Wilde

Sun 29th Nov 2009 10:08

woops! Mr Potato head made a boo-boo this morning.I thought you had deleted my apology from these comments-a little mistaken volcano erupted,that i have since pissed on,very quickly! please do read my original comment -beneath your profile-it is sincere,and unconditional-thank you-Stef (kicks self very hard up the trumper)

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John Aikman

Thu 26th Nov 2009 15:56

quote;Please be aware that this is a POEM please except (I think you meant 'accept') that as read and written; Unquote

Sorry, no can do. In order to be a poem, it needs to be a poem, something that you sadly do not seem to understand.

I have been reading and writing poems...of a sort, for much longer than you have been on this earth (I would guess)...I have just chosen to study the form 'academically' in the last year or so, and 'post' only those that I think may contain a whit of poetry...but I am happy for others, more ept and able to disagree.

I have read your entire oeuvre on here, many, many, many, times (a 'Round The Horne' reference...for any of those of the same vintage!) and, 'One Night Stanza' has a palpably poetic edge to it, but you do come across (I use these words ill-advisedly) as a bit of a one trick pony...and, I'm afraid, for me, in this instance, without undue prejudice, in my humble opinion, with no evidence to the contrary...you fucked up big time!

It's not a poem....and scweaming and scweaming until you are sick...will not make it so.Unless, of course...someone, please god, someone....can point me to the poetry.I am your obedient, and less self-published servant.

:)

Jx

<Deleted User> (6292)

Thu 26th Nov 2009 15:37

I have never written a Dear John letter but here goes
,Dear John,
Please be aware that this is a POEM please accept that as read and written.I understand from previous posts and comments that you have just completed your 2nd poem, and are coming hard and fast on the rails to catch up to your third not withstanding that you have undertaken an OU course on Poetry no less where they advise you to omit adjectives and avoid purple patches. Sounds good to me, Good luck with your third.Once again many thanks for your comments.Augusta x

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John Aikman

Thu 26th Nov 2009 15:14

quote: Moisture sucking he slowly withdraws shrinking sliding out onto your outer lips,

Pearls of semen ooze from shell pink portals.

Dribbling, piddling out and under you down, down, down, onto the bed sheet.
:Unquote

I can't believe this debate (mass-debate?) is still going on. IT'S NOT A POEM!

Please, someone, just for me...point to the poetry...please. Just show me what I'm missing...please...honest, I cannot see or hear a single poetic aspect to the entire edifice. Stuff the content (which, as I have already said, is an admirable attempt to tackle a difficult subject) just explain to me how, in any way shape or form this is a poem. It's a dribbling, piddling thing.

: )

Jx

<Deleted User> (6292)

Thu 26th Nov 2009 14:51

Good afternoon,Steve
Thank you so much for reading my poem and your generous comments. .The question of honesty is a doubt throughout the poem, is the girl being honest with herself, her emotions are saying one thing her fear another and foremost her lust and sexual arousal quite another. The honesty of the writer is paramount and of course I am being honest many girls are placed or place them selves in this situation, between a rock and a hard place.The writer in this instance was the young girl within the poem.Once again many thanks for your honesty and comment..Augusta x

<Deleted User> (6292)

Thu 26th Nov 2009 14:38

My, my What to do, Stefan I do hope you remembered to wash your hands thoroughly after utilising my poem for your lavatorial ends. I would ask, if you are not still busy, that you read my other postings on WOL and any future postings insofar as I believe my ability as a poet is possibly more obvious to a relatively new poet/writer.

Your opinion, albeit harsh, is nonetheless valid and as a consequence I would never wish upon you or verbalise a ‘Good Bollocking’. My Idea and imagery of a good bollocking is an altogether different set of circumstances.

Hey Ho, press on with your poetry Stefan I’m sure you’ll get to where you deserve to be eventually…
After all your great, great, great namesake Oscar had his ups and downs, and stayed up, so we are led to believe, right to the end.
Many Thanks for at least taking the time to read and comment.

Augusta x

Steve Smith

Wed 25th Nov 2009 23:13

Steve Smith

Wed 25th Nov 2009 23:04

I rather liked this..it seemed honest. As for the paradigms of poetic form, I have views on that which would conflict with this writer , but as free form has been accepted on many occasions, I see no reason to draw up regulations now. The difference between this and the "fisting" poem of Ernesto, against which I railed, is that this poem seeks to relay the emotional dilemma of a submissive partner in a sexual act in which the power relationship is determined by society..not the callous expression of detachment by someone who has inflicted pain on a partner and then says " I told you so!" That's sadism, which I hate.
I think the poetess is honest and I trust I haven't been deceived.Steve Smith

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Anthony Emmerson

Wed 25th Nov 2009 22:38

Seems I arrived too late to join in. Maybe just as well . . . I'll get my coat.

Regards,

A.E.

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Isobel

Tue 24th Nov 2009 21:13

What I am championing more than anything Chris, is honesty. I have no problem with people disliking the moral content of this poem and think that questionable date rape is a difficult subject to handle without some backlash. I just think that people should not be afraid to say exactly why they don't like a poem or ignore their over-riding concerns. Through discussions I've had with people, there seems to be a concern that this poem promotes the idea that women enjoy being raped. I can understand that fear - there are clearly fine lines not to cross when writing poetry or prose. What are we to do? Last month we had the whole hoo ha of the censorship saga because a controversial poem was taken off our home page. There don't seem to be any easy answers.

<Deleted User> (6292)

Tue 24th Nov 2009 19:31

Dear Chris, You are indeed both kind and generous in word and spirit not to mention gallant, an eloquent gentleman.

Thank you so much for your warm and encouraging support.

Yours forever in poetry

Augusta x

<Deleted User> (6292)

Sat 21st Nov 2009 00:40

I am amazed that femininity has not come out in droves to rescue me. You all know that there have been times a plenty that we’ve (Females) all been subjected to a situation similar to this… what ever the boys of the moment are stating it cannot ever capture the pain and fears of what we, as women, are subjected to on an almost daily basis…. If this is not a poem … so be it! Please read my previous posts and judge me, a mere woman, poet or no… I know I could buy and sell the best of you… But that is really not the argument here, it is the moral that I am trying to convey within my poem… please I implore you listen rather than hear.

Dismayed and just a little mis -understood

Augusta x

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Isobel

Fri 20th Nov 2009 21:30

Sorry to disappoint you Darren. Much as I love the Stranglers, this isn't my style. My protagonist would have to be a decisive woman, capable of either enjoying herself or inflicting grievous bodily harm. In fact I might well have had the bloke sat on the toilet weaping hot tears...Glad to hear you might make the Tudor. I must remember to dig out a few of my bunny poems...

steve mellor

Fri 20th Nov 2009 20:58

Neck above the parapet again
Is this really racey and risque? I can't say I found it either.
Back to the knitting

darren thomas

Fri 20th Nov 2009 20:58

Hmmm - I smell a Rattus Norvegicus...

maybe we'll hear it tomorrow at The Arty Types?

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Isobel

Fri 20th Nov 2009 20:41

I doubt it Darren - we've never come to blows yet...Let's leave off Augusta boys - it's not her fault she's capable of writing racey, risque stuff. Go back to your knitting the lot of you.

darren thomas

Fri 20th Nov 2009 20:31

Well, my money is on 'Augusta' being none other than DG.

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Dave Bradley

Fri 20th Nov 2009 19:41

I can't escape the feeling that Augusta is playing games with us. Augusta, has anyone from WOL ever met you in the flesh? Why not come along to an open mic night and get to know us? If you can write stuff like this, you must be robust enough to cope with one of WOL's relatively tame nights out (well, tame compared to this). Come and wow us. See you there?

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Isobel

Fri 20th Nov 2009 18:26

Well finally the ball rolled somewhere - if it was only a roulette wheel....John - I loved your quoting and unquoting - Steve - I love the fact that you have stuck your neck over the line - LOL. Poems like this, at least get us motivated to bother commenting. Has anyone ever listened to Bob Geldoff's 'Great Song of Indifference' - one of his greatest in my opinion. xx

steve mellor

Fri 20th Nov 2009 17:05

If I could write as well as Darren, I would agree almost word for word, except I see this 'poem' more as 'Emmanuelle Goes To...'.
I disagree with Winston, in that I don't think WOL, or this poem, is necessarily a place for a 'starting point for a moral discussion.'
'unbelievable wonderment?'

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John Aikman

Fri 20th Nov 2009 16:40

You are so wrong....just point me at its poetry and I will recant.

Quote 'It's nothing to do with the content, I can swear and fuck with the best of them...it's about its poverty of imagination, style and ...poetry!' Unquote

The 'static of stillness' is a passingly poetic line...and....err, that's about it.

: )


Jx

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Isobel

Fri 20th Nov 2009 16:13

Windy bugger - aren't you? So we get to the crux of it. You don't like or approve of the subject matter - as I suspected. Had the poem been a crap one about love lost, death or depression, you might have moved on without commenting... You are of course quite entitled to your opinion but let's not wrap it up and disguise the inspiration for your outburst.Could I just challenge one comment 'Poetry shows, it shouldn't tell' Who says? Is there a rule book? I think that is probably just your opinion and very many people may agree with you but it will still be just an opinion.

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John Aikman

Fri 20th Nov 2009 15:11

Whilst folks can post whatever they like, poems, prose, annotated Patagonian Nose Flute music, this is principally a poetry site and the offending (and I mean that 'offending') article was posted as a poem and was read as such. It's vile. Clearly, that is an unambiguous opinion on my part, and I could begin to deconstruct its vileness at length but that is surely unnecessary...it really does 'speak for itself'.

If some folks find such graphic tosh tittilating they can find far better examples on elsewhere on websites devoted to badly written pseudo porn...at least there it's not posing as poetry.

As a 'starting point for moral discussion' well, it's done that. I think it is immoral to not challenge such dreadful stuff. It's nothing to do with the content, I can swear and fuck with the best of them...it's about its poverty of imagination, style and ...poetry!

This 'the rules is...there are no rules' attitude to poetry is just plain wrong. Poetry does have 'essences' that set it aside from other forms of writing. Augusta's argument that it is repetitious because life is repetitious exactly demonstrates that...if it had shown how repetitious life is without being repetitious itself...then it might have been a poem. If you can communicate the dark contracts that lovers are often negotiating during sex without writing them out in tedious long hand, then it might have been a poem. Poetry shows...it shouldn't tell.

Read it again Winston...

‘I am being forced

to have sex

against my will



I am being forced.’

His cock slides back into you

I’m being forced
fucked and fucked
Against

My

Will.



He eagerly meets your thrashing crashing thrusts,


Yes! Yes!
Come

It’s so good.


It’s happening, he is trembling, and he is losing the fight.Fuck me

Fuck my cunt!



Breathing faster, anguished vanquished grunts crashing trashing beneath him, you are humping and pumping.

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!



Together screams, his high and guttural yours low and sobbing his prick jumps inside of you it jumps, it jumps again and again.

Pumping thrusts the warmth of his ejaculation spilling, filling you.

As he waiting, pulsating above you back arched his head thrown back.



Two fingers slowly begin tracing, pleasure zones smart and tingle and fluids mingle.

It’s hot so hot the recent fire is still burning bright within’.

Moisture sucking he slowly withdraws shrinking sliding out onto your outer lips,

Pearls of semen ooze from shell pink portals.

Dribbling, piddling out and under you down, down, down, onto the bed sheet.

Who cares? It’s not your bed.


It's a nonsense poem at best...and, no, it isn't even one of those.

: )

Jx

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winston plowes

Fri 20th Nov 2009 13:11

Hi Everyone... I am going to stick to considering the words themselves and not comment on anyone elses comments. I do not consider this a poem. Whether it is or not however is not an issue for me. All styles and forms of writting can have a place here.In my opinion this blog entry will apeal and make an impact on many people reading it and for different reasons. some may be shocked, others identify with either of the characters involved or what has happened in the story. Others still get enjoyment from reading graphic writing of this type. It may also be a starting point for moral discussion. For these reasons I think it has a valid place on here. Win

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Isobel

Fri 20th Nov 2009 12:55

Yes – you are going to need that hat. This is not an Ernesto type thread cos the poem is tucked away in blogs and no-one is claiming that it should be THE poem of the month.
Since when did anyone’s work on this site have to be poetry in classical format in order for it to be posted? I would love to see the rules on that. Over the past few weeks I have seen adverts for flats and shoes which seem to have gone largely unchallenged. Very many poets choose to post prose and I would never discourage them from doing that, particularly if it is amusing. I see Augusta’s piece as a flow of consciousness, somewhere between poetry and prose. In fact I don’t see why we even have to label it.
I find you, Darren, lecturing ME on how to encourage fledgling poets on the site quite amusing – are you doing that tongue in cheek? Your critiques can be quite caustic and very personal, if rattled by something. The comments I made were general, homing in on nobody in particular. I am often supportive of new joiners and will, where time permits, comment on the work of strangers.

I will end by re-iterating my earlier point. I am surprised that this piece should receive such a violent reaction, when there are poems around far more worthy of your negative comment.

darren thomas

Fri 20th Nov 2009 08:44

I have to agree with John.

When I first read this piece my initial thought was "here we go - another 'Ernesto' type thread".

Strange how reaction on this occasion appears to be significantly muted.

It would be interesting to know just HOW and WHY this piece is considered 'poetry' by its author? This is NOT a sleight at Augusta, it is merely as a potential way in which other readers/contributors can be allowed to listen to another's philosophy about what THEY themselves believe just what poetry is, and if this can be highlighted by example - all the better.

As a reader, I expect to be able to form my own personal opinion about work that is showcased through this site.

Isobel suggests that 'some' work on this site is 'drivel'. Augusta takes it that step further by suggesting that 'most' of the poetry, AND the discussion that surrounds it, is also 'drivel'.

Hardly statements that are 'encouragement' for any fledgling poets out there. Write Out Loud IS, afterall, the start of most poets' writing journeys -not the end.

In my opinion, the piece raises significant questions but it's not poetic in its form etc.
It's nothing more than an average chapter in a below average Jackie Collins novel.

Right, where's that tin-hat...?

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John Aikman

Fri 20th Nov 2009 08:01

Well, I've read it again, and again, and I still think it's pretty poor stuff. Top marks for tackling a difficult subject but as far as even being a 'poem' at all....? It fulfils just about none of my criteria for even being a poem. The idea promulgated alot on this board, that 'poetry' is whatever one decides it is, is just plain wrong. It fulfills more of the criteria for being a short story than a poem and if it had been posted as such then I would seriously have believed it to be gratuitous. Just read it again...nope, not a poem. I think it was Arthur Koestler who once wrote that 'Creativity is an act of daring' and I whole heartedly applaud this act of daring. You may indeed regard yourself as having a rare talent, although I suspect it is more a talent for self-delusion if you think this gawky wordfest is a poem. Sorry : (

<Deleted User> (6292)

Fri 20th Nov 2009 01:30





Hello John,

Firstly please let me begin by reiterating a comment made by Isobel which alluded to drivel that is posted on this site, she is so right, much of what I read on this site in both poetry and discussion amounts to exactly that – drivel.

There are indeed many poets on this site that are worthwhile and excellent wordsmiths there are fewer with a unique and rare talent to conjure words to an almost unbelievable level of wonderment, and it may well surprise you that I for one am confident to include myself among that number. In the event that you choose to disagree then read my poetry thus far posted and if you are not convinced then read it again.

.Fear and anxiety, arousal and guilt are repetitious it sweeps through a woman in waves so much so that it makes you giddy and sick, if you noticed the repetition in my poem then I am happy that at least you read it, the fact that you failed to understand is sad. As to my being tendentious, well I saddened, for I would count myself as being a woman of open , nay, wide open views and liberation and was endeavouring, albeit in a graphic sense to portray the horror which most woman experience at sometime in their lives in one form or another.. You also describe my poem as gauche; well this form of voyeuristic commentary might well lack slick rhyme and sophistication, once again it was intended.

I am pleased you did not included in your plethora of adjectives heaped upon me ‘gratuitous’…because then I may well have been annoyed with you , the poem highlights fear, danger, and the predicament and the frustration of weakness together with the inability to take control of a possible life changing moment.

Your comments alluding to crap and Jesus I find offensive.

Augusta X

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Isobel

Thu 19th Nov 2009 18:02

I'm shocked by your candour John. In fact I don't think I've ever heard anyone slate a poem quite so definitively in all the time I've been on the site, which leads me to question whether it is the subject matter rather than the poem that you are struggling with.. There is some total drivel posted on this site which very often seems to escape uncriticised...This was always going to be a controversial poem because it touches taboo subjects that few like to discuss in depth. I have discussed it with a couple of people and interestingly enough, it seems to be males who react very negatively towards it. Perhaps we should be grateful about that - less chance of deluded rapists lurking around...Interesting though.

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John Aikman

Wed 18th Nov 2009 23:02

It's appallingly bad poem...I mean, like seriously bad. Repetitious, gauche, tendentious, cliched and...well, just a bit crap really. There's the odd bit of light, the odd internal rhyme that doesn't make one squirm...I reckon you could edit it into something...but not a poem...not yet.

Jesus...it's awful.

: (

Jx

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Isobel

Wed 18th Nov 2009 22:40

If he hadn't turned his head to face the wall and had instead shown some affection, the ending may have been very different. That seems to be the big difference between men and women. The majority of women need the reassurance of love.

<Deleted User> (6292)

Wed 18th Nov 2009 19:34

Thank you so much for your comment Isobel.... and hope you enjoyed your shower. the girl in the poem is both confused, excited , aroused and afraid... very afraid....at the end she feels miserable and used... and ashamed at her totally lack of control... or ability to ever take charge and have a sexual liason on her terms or at the very least agreed terms.

Was it rape... I don't think so... but I don't know for sure

Once again many thanks for critique it is as always welcomed warmly.

Augusta x

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Isobel

Tue 17th Nov 2009 19:17

Shall I start the ball rolling? You've got me feeling like a voyeur here Augusta - you don't get much more graphic than this - think I need a cold shower now... The only thing that spoils it a bit are the tears at the end. This is a tricky one. A forceful, decisive man can be attractive to many females as the eroticism in this poem conveys - but when does forcefulness turn to rape? The danger of discussing this aspect of sex is that it could encourage some misguided males to actually think rape is ok - cos the victim is surely asking for it.... There is a fine line which has obviously got confused in this poem. Perhaps that is what you were trying to convey.

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