when she wipes her pussy with her legs apart
blood shakes my heart
blood shakes my heart
posted by Obie Quiet at 11:40 PM
Thursday, May 25, 2006
About Me
- Name: Obie Quiet
- Location: Nassau, New Providence, Bahamas
Obediah Michael Smith has published 18 books of poems, a short novel and a cassette recording of his poems. At University of Miami and University of the West Indies, Cavehill, Barbados, he has done writers workshops with Lorna Goodison, Earl Lovelace, Grace Nichols, Merle Collins, and Mervyn Morris. He is a 1971 graduate of St. Anne’s School. He attended Memphis State University, 1973 to 1976 and majored in Speech and Drama and Biology. He has a B.A. Degree in Dramatics and Speech from Fisk University. Employed by The Ministry of Education, he taught English Language and Literature in high schools on New Providence, on Grand Bahama and on Inagua. In 1989, for six months, he lived in Paris, France and studied French at L’Alliance Francaise. He has two daughters and two sons. He is at present, for a time, residing in Mexico City.
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3 Comments:
Obie,
Personally for me, the individual words of "pussy" and "blood" make a horrible mix! I did not envision pretty or nice, all I saw were these individual words fighting with each other, causing an ugly site.
I attempted to appreciate the mere words of it, the poetry of it, the splendor of it; however, it being so abrupt, my usual appreciation of your poetical journey was stopped by a period.
Cecil, you never cease to be extremely funny and your insight becomes more and more keen and therefore so very revealing. Sorry about this angle I hadn't seen myself and thanks for it. "Blood shakes my heart" though, is borrowed/stolen/is an allusion to a poem by T.S. Eliot. I must share it with you sometime. This line has always gripped me. So very many thanks for regular visits. I love you fellow poet.
Cecil, concluded my remarks without including that, though I can locate and share Eliot's poem with you, what I cannot share is this most private moment, possibly lost even to me at this juncture, which inspired this sliver of poetry.
I shall bear it in memory though, most likely, until I expire. A sweeter visual experience I don't suppose I've ever had.
But for certain you have what is comparable and as private as many couples must: one lover unashamed and able to expose what must be what is most naked of themselves to the other.
I came across something wonderful in a love poem by John Dunn lately. The male speaker request that his lady in bed with him reveal herself to him as she would to a midwife.
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