The model of a good woman:
a presentation of quiet servitude
with perfection painted onto her lips,
obedience etched into her hips.
Yet this figment is the prick of boredom:
the human worth exploring
serves naught but the unrest of her heart -
but for want, a knee unbending and
but for need, a mind free soaring.
Instead of the lie,
drown me in the noise
of the belle of chaos
whose deafening voice
calls to arms our wild rumpus,
the springboard into devotion's mess,
where I'll breath her in and she me,
and together in a desperate caress
crowned fools of the unruly sea.
8/27/12
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Typed Word Series
PoetryWords connect all of us. Through laughter, memories, or ridiculous melancholy, we are what we say and what we write. TWS differs from WWS in form only. These are poems longer than 7 lines, allowing a little more freedom in exploring themes and more...
