Erotic Poetry? I Will Pass!
After I made my decision to become an author I began reading everything I could get my hands on; mysteries, romance, how-to-books, poetry and sci-fi. The one thing I realized was that I do not like poetry, but let me clarify what I mean. I absolutely hate erotic poetry, well not all erotic poetry, but most of it. And why? Because there is no mystery to most erotic poetry. Beautiful metaphors that refer to a woman's intimate parts have been replaced by words like "p****" and "c***." The words no longer inspire a person to make love; it inspires them to "f***." Please excuse the language in this post, but it is necessary to get my point across. Why have poets resorted to such ludeness to describe something so beautiful?
I often find myself comparing modern poets to the poets of yesteryear like Lascelles Abercrombie's Emblems of Love:
She
ONLY to be twin elements of joy
In this extravagance of Being, Love,
Were our divided natures shaped in twain;
And to this hour the whole world must consent.
Image: Louisa Stokes / FreeDigitalPhotos.net
Matthew Arnold Longing:
Robert Browning Meeting At Night:
After all, isn't sex a mixture of emotions and feelings shared by two people who desire to be close with one another? Eroticism is a state of anticipation for sexuality. It's sexual desire, sensuality, and sexiness. It is not "f******." Animals f***. People make love. People desire each other. At least they should.
I am not saying that erotic poetry is a wasted art because that is not true. Real erotic poetry makes a woman look at her man with longing. It makes a man daydream about holding his woman in his arms and kissing her gently from her forehead to her lips. Erotic poetry creates anticipation of that special moment. Words like "f***" and "p****" and "d***" remove that anticipation and turns sex into an emotionless act devoid of longing, desire and most important...love.
Some argue there is no difference...sex is sex. I beg to differ. Making Love and Having Sex (f******) is very different and if someone says it is not that means all they have ever done is had sex. They have never made love.
Having sex is getting up and putting your clothes on when you are finished.
Making Love is falling asleep in your lover's arms, fully content and satisfied.
There is no kissing involved in having sex.
A kiss is worth a thousand words when two people make love.
Image: Dynamite Imagery / FreeDigitalPhotos.net
Now keep in mind, this is just my opinion. I am not putting down poets who like to write about f******, a**, t**s, p**** and d***. I am just saying I don't want to read it, which is why I exercise my right not to read or purchase it.
I often find myself comparing modern poets to the poets of yesteryear like Lascelles Abercrombie's Emblems of Love:
She
ONLY to be twin elements of joy
In this extravagance of Being, Love,
Were our divided natures shaped in twain;
And to this hour the whole world must consent.
Image: Louisa Stokes / FreeDigitalPhotos.net
Matthew Arnold Longing:
Come to me in my dreams, and then
By day I shall be well again!
For so the night will more than pay
The hopeless longing of the day.
Come, as thou cam'st a thousand times,
A messenger from radiant climes,
And smile on thy new world, and be
As kind to others as to me!
Or, as thou never cam'st in sooth,
Come now, and let me dream it truth,
And part my hair, and kiss my brow,
And say, My love why sufferest thou?
Come to me in my dreams, and then
By day I shall be well again!
For so the night will more than pay
The hopeless longing of the day.
By day I shall be well again!
For so the night will more than pay
The hopeless longing of the day.
Come, as thou cam'st a thousand times,
A messenger from radiant climes,
And smile on thy new world, and be
As kind to others as to me!
Or, as thou never cam'st in sooth,
Come now, and let me dream it truth,
And part my hair, and kiss my brow,
And say, My love why sufferest thou?
Come to me in my dreams, and then
By day I shall be well again!
For so the night will more than pay
The hopeless longing of the day.
Robert Browning Meeting At Night:
The grey sea and the long black land;
And the yellow half-moon large and low;
And the startled little waves that leap
In fiery ringlets from their sleep,
As I gain the cove with pushing prow,
And quench its speed i' the slushy sand.
Then a mile of warm sea-scented beach;
Three fields to cross till a farm appears;
A tap at the pane, the quick sharp scratch
And blue spurt of a lighted match,
And a voice less loud, through its joys and fears,
Than the two hearts beating each to each!
And the yellow half-moon large and low;
And the startled little waves that leap
In fiery ringlets from their sleep,
As I gain the cove with pushing prow,
And quench its speed i' the slushy sand.
Then a mile of warm sea-scented beach;
Three fields to cross till a farm appears;
A tap at the pane, the quick sharp scratch
And blue spurt of a lighted match,
And a voice less loud, through its joys and fears,
Than the two hearts beating each to each!
After all, isn't sex a mixture of emotions and feelings shared by two people who desire to be close with one another? Eroticism is a state of anticipation for sexuality. It's sexual desire, sensuality, and sexiness. It is not "f******." Animals f***. People make love. People desire each other. At least they should.
I am not saying that erotic poetry is a wasted art because that is not true. Real erotic poetry makes a woman look at her man with longing. It makes a man daydream about holding his woman in his arms and kissing her gently from her forehead to her lips. Erotic poetry creates anticipation of that special moment. Words like "f***" and "p****" and "d***" remove that anticipation and turns sex into an emotionless act devoid of longing, desire and most important...love.
Some argue there is no difference...sex is sex. I beg to differ. Making Love and Having Sex (f******) is very different and if someone says it is not that means all they have ever done is had sex. They have never made love.
Having sex is getting up and putting your clothes on when you are finished.
Making Love is falling asleep in your lover's arms, fully content and satisfied.
There is no kissing involved in having sex.
A kiss is worth a thousand words when two people make love.
Image: Dynamite Imagery / FreeDigitalPhotos.net
Now keep in mind, this is just my opinion. I am not putting down poets who like to write about f******, a**, t**s, p**** and d***. I am just saying I don't want to read it, which is why I exercise my right not to read or purchase it.
i feel they both have a place, the love poetry is beautiful and fits a certain aspect of life and the erotic poem is hot and heavy and expresses something that is true as well, they both have a place and i enjoy them both.
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