Re: Has poetry ever got you laid?

feardevil420_at_yahoo.com (Will Dockery) wrote in message news:<47fc49bd.0407071839.e991d3e_at_posting.google.com>...
> Sherrie Lee wrote:
>
> > davidsands_at_yahoo.com (david rutkowski) wrote in message news:<4ddee74e.0407061526.4da95974_at_posting.google.com>...
> > > johnmcwilliams69_at_hotmail.com (John McWilliams) wrote in message news:<26f67acb.0407041858.6125ced_at_posting.google.com>...
> > > > Did the reading aloud of poetry to a female ever tip the balance in
> > > > your favor for a a roll in the hay? It has only happened to me once.
> > >
> > > I don't think poetry, per se, has ever gotten anyone laid. Women are
> > > often attracted to men who appear sensitive, and even a guy who can't
> > > write his way out of a five cent condom probably looks pretty
> > > sensitive when reading publicly. Poets no doubt do make pretty good
> > > lovers. We don't have cell phones going off with the latest quotes on
> > > stocks we're watching. We aren't afraid of commitment (at least for a
> > > week). And we've actually thought about women's bodies -- quietly,
> > > shamelessly -- and sex provides a way to prove or disprove theories
> > > about, say, whether constellations rearranged themselves when a woman
> > > comes in the clearing of a woods.
> > >
> > > Seriously, though, after about a hundred times, you begin to wonder is
> > > it's you or just the "I slept with a poet" t-shirt they really want.
> >
> > I was with a poet
> > who once postured
> > his sixteen points above
> > the headboard. He said
> > to me, And you can say you've been with a poet.
> >
> > I shifted under the sheets,
> > stretched and yawned toward the half-lit moon,
> > sure. whatever. you too.
>
> Yeah, usually it's poets fucking other poets, since everyone here
> seems to write poetry.

"I want you to learn to love again"

I'm better with words
than I am at fucking
For example, I'm lucking.
You see why I'd rather get off
loving? This guy I met
blew up babies and pretty young ladies.
He said, It's nothing personal.
He's only saving his own ass.
He might have been a Nam poet, but he
claimed to be a psychopath. I don't
think he took the psycho path less taken. I told him he must've been in his twenties. That's what is called foreplay. Sex happens (when you want more play). But my poetry gets slapped. Keep your hands offa me!
Nothing personal.

> > The Song of Wandering Aengus
> > William Butler Yeats
> >
> > I went out to the hazel wood,
> > Because a fire was in my head,
> > And cut and peeled a hazel wand,
> > And hooked a berry to a thread;
> > And when white moths were on the wing,
> > And moth-like stars were flickering out,
> > I dropped the berry in a stream
> > And caught a little silver trout.
> >
> > When I had laid it on the floor
> > I went to blow the fire a-flame,
> > But something rustled on the floor,
> > And someone called me by my name:
> > It had become a glimmering girl
> > With apple blossom in her hair
> > Who called me by my name and ran
> > And faded through the brightening air.
> >
> > Though I am old with wandering
> > Through hollow lands and hilly lands,
> > I will find out where she has gone,
> > And kiss her lips and take her hands;
> > And walk among long dappled grass,
> > And pluck till time and times are done,
> > The silver apples of the moon,
> > The golden apples of the sun.
> >
> > www.bartleby.com/146/9.html
Received on Thu Jul 08 2004 - 04:07:41 CDT