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RIP - Comicality
    AC Benus
  • AC Benus
  • Author
  • 03/15/2015
  • 150 Words
  • 786 Views
  • 8 Comments
Poetry posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Whitman’s eyes and Cavafy’s days - 1. In he the one I saw last night

In he the one I saw last night,

They the ones of name,

Those of Poets’ reputations

Saw him too.

 

In the eyes of Whitman,

In the days of Cavafy,

This boy glowed.

His long, young, proud,

And powerful hands moved.

 

He smiled at his talk-mate,

A sideways smile, his eyes on mine;

The shy smile, meant for me.

 

In these, in what we passed,

In the longing that went from him

Beyond his companion, I knew.

That while his friend struck his

Knee, moved his own young hand

Along his thigh, the blond head,

The shy smile and the knowing

Went to me: communion.

 

So they were there, they knew,

Those great names who wrote

Their passion. Not sex,

Not exactly, but love none the less.

 

So Whitman’s eyes, Cavafy’s days,

The blond man’s hand and I,

Were one.

Copyright © 2015 AC Benus; All Rights Reserved.
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Poetry posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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Aditus

This is why I love poetry: A slice of life, condensed in a few words that tell so much and still leave room for my own fantasy. I love it.

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Cole Matthews

I may be nuts but this poem put something into my head. It reminded me the body, the nerves, ache for the passion their DNA remembers. We are built for love and expression and our souls beg to remember his feel of his hand and the caress of his eyes. Hey!!! It moved me AC and i think thats the point!!! Great job!!!

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AC Benus
On 04/24/2015 10:05 AM, Valkyrie said:
That was absolutely lovely, AC. :)
Thank you, Valkyrie, for your support. I appreciate it a lot.
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AC Benus
On 04/25/2015 03:39 AM, aditus said:
This is why I love poetry: A slice of life, condensed in a few words that tell so much and still leave room for my own fantasy. I love it.
High compliments indeed, Aditus! Thank you, and I'm glad the poem reached out to you.
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AC Benus
On 04/25/2015 04:55 AM, Cole Matthews said:
I may be nuts but this poem put something into my head. It reminded me the body, the nerves, ache for the passion their DNA remembers. We are built for love and expression and our souls beg to remember his feel of his hand and the caress of his eyes. Hey!!! It moved me AC and i think thats the point!!! Great job!!!
Not nuts at all, Cole! The feelings you speak about are the exact ones that made me write this poem. I hope everyone has had a similar experience in their life – a near-mystical feeling of connection – although they may not know how or why such things exist. Thank you for your support!
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Parker Owens

In this you go beyond observing and being observed. I am struck by how much my inner self was stirred; even as I read, you made me as much one with the blond boy as you, the poet, were. This is true art.

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AC Benus

AC Benus 36,089

Posted (edited)

8 minutes ago, Parker Owens said:

In this you go beyond observing and being observed. I am struck by how much my inner self was stirred; even as I read, you made me as much one with the blond boy as you, the poet, were. This is true art.

Oh, thank you, my friend. "...as much one with the blond..." is exactly the idea; how I as a poet can feel those thoughts expressed in different times, by different poets, like Whitman and Cavafy. The poem is all about that timeless union of poet, subject and reader in the common Gay Experience of longing, fear, and freedom to love. Your comments thrill me. Thanks :) 

 

 

Edited by AC Benus
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