- Dancer :: belly
- Intellectual :: wizard
- Direct :: confrontation
- Tolerate :: maybe
- Post :: secrets
- Instinctive:: I am
- Brink :: destruction
- Regain :: composure
- Repulsed :: yuck
- Distressed :: not
PMS
She, a dancer,
tossed her belly fat
with wild abandon
in contrast
to her intellectual mind
that created words a wizard
would be envious of.
In direct confrontation she
rarely rose to the challenge,
but cowered.
tolerate change?
Maybe, though
post secrets
told a different story
of following instinctive steps
more than to tolerate sidesteps
or forward marches.
I am, she screamed, on the brink
of destruction!
He reached out and licked her cheek,
a man's fumbled attempt at dealing
with a crisis he did not understand.
Rather than to gain composure
(as he had hoped)
she threw herself onto the chair
repulsed at the dampness on her cheek
and vomited the word, yuck.
He stood, distressed at his wrong doing,
but daring to stand his ground
(he was, after all, a man).
Not for one moment had she doubted
his motivation, only his execution of it.
The hormones subsided hours later
(yes, it took that long).
His dancer,
tossed her belly fat
with wild abandon
in contrast
to her intellectual mind
once again.
PMS, by natural definition was over,
she had survived the alternate definition
both would return again.
(After all, nature will always be
and
he was man, and loved confrontation)
MeeAugraphie
05/27/07
Copying our words is unappreciated. Sharing by link is. I am using NiƱaLuna's Unsconscious Mutterings words in her order in my poem with permission. . . all she asks is a link back. . . more than fair, don't you think! That is all I ask for my own. . . Thank you.
2 comments:
Wow...great Poem.
Heather - Thanks for the "Wow" and for taking the time to comment.
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