Wednesday, April 8, 2015

Last Night's Love Poem

Drunk
on having
an answer to the ache,
thirst slaked
on unripe words,
my belly
moons full
and my head
thickens.

Nocturne  / Turn on

the morning light
full in the face of last night's love.
No kind shadows
or softening silhouettes.
No forgiving ferment.
Wonder where the genius went.

Belly
a guttural groan.
Head empty.
Taste
of mediocrity
on my tongue.

Aubade.

For Marian's prompt at Real Toads

20 comments:

Sylvia K said...

As I've said many times before, no one says it better!! I'm WAY too old to have been involved in any "last nights love poems", but I do remember! Hope your week is going well, MZ!!

Hannah said...

Oh, Mama Zen!! You put the feeling to words perfectly! I find if I don't finish a poem and post immediately - even if an hours passed I begin to question the worth...sigh.

ccchampagne said...

Yeah... I've SO been there... For good and bad! High level of recognition in this beautiful (but sort of uncomfortable) piece!

Sanaa Rizvi said...

This is quite a sensual poem, love the use of imagery, you have captured the essence well.
For minute I went into a flashback ;)
Very vivid and intense!
Love it :D
xoxo

Kerry O'Connor said...

Never mediocrity, MZ.

This is one helluva back to front aubade!

Sherry Blue Sky said...

This is brilliant - the contrast, night to morning. I love the word aubade at the end. A song of morning (mourning?)

Buddah Moskowitz said...

Very sensual - and yes, the morning after is always more difficult than the night before. Exquisite, even though it brought up a few unpleasant memories.

Debi Swim said...

Wonder where the genius went.... so good, so raw.

Helen said...

Laughed out loud at Sylvia's comment! Certainly not at your poem .. which produced goosebumps.

Marian said...

Good evening
Good morning
Good bye

Love this.

Rosemary Nissen-Wade said...

Ah yes, I know that well - late night works of pure genius which daylight reveals as atrocious scribbles. LOL

Ella said...

Acid reflux in these words-whoa!
I need Pepto poetry stat~

You are always sparkle on

Fireblossom said...

Mediocre you are NOT. Ever.

I love how you constructed this, with the nocturne/aubade.

Susie Clevenger said...

"Belly
a guttural groan.
Head empty.
Taste
of mediocrity
on my tongue."

I feel that most every poem I write.

Gail said...

"...a taste of melancholy..."

I like this even with the sadness.

cosmos cami said...

This is my 3rd attempt to leave a comment. Now I'm frustrated but know I was here and I read!
I loved the genius line best because it rings so true. Sex, the act, is so mentall transformative. You captured it well.

Outlawyer said...

That end is so very very funny--I keep thinking "my bad" and "oh bad" and every kind of bad--it is just terrific, MZ. Mine is very long--I'm so sorry. (This is tax time for me is all I can say.) k.

grapeling said...

damn ~

Jim said...

Mom Zee, I really don't think you ever felt this way but you sure did write it that way. Good answer for Marian.
Monday was National Beer Day. I read where people are more creative after two beers, no more. I don't know about beer, only once or twice I wrote that way. But I wrote for six months on Vicodin. I played some excellent table games too, I felt very clever.
..

Mary said...

You have given strength to each of these images, MZ.