Orgasmical tragedy.

she slips
to winter’s underclothing and embrace;
as if a prowl of death in the sun’s hands
is unseen to the bed of bruised gardenias.
taken into stone, of the poet, the wonders of silhouettes dancing
in orgasmical tragedy,
hypnotically then with shared suffering.

© 2021 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.

Written for the dVerse prompt: Write a quadrille with the word embrace in it.


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58 Comments

  1. I love the title. I imagine some wild Victorian woman dancing about yelling that. 😀
    I also really like the image of “a prowl of death in the sun’s hands.”
    I not quite certain I completely understand the poem, but love and death, and orgasm is “the little death” . . .

    Liked by 4 people

    1. “Orgasmical tragedy! Orgasmical tragedy! Orgasmical tragedy!” Hmm, yeah, I can see that! Can imagine it would be pretty unlady-like for a Victorian woman to say. How shameful! For how will she ever find a good husband now? 😁

      Thank you so very much, Merril! I love how you see this poem. I wrote it with the thought how love can be beautiful but how it can also be devastating if that love is also based off of sharing miseries and being this type of parasitic relationship in each other’s toxins.

      Great point about the little death and orgasm. I did not think of that originally!

      Liked by 1 person

    1. Oh yes, there are undertones of cruelty and toxicity. You are spot-on with your interpretation of my poem. Thank you so much for the beautiful comment. It means a lot, especially coming from you, a very talented poet. ❤

      Liked by 1 person

    1. I think any and all interpretations are correct. I myself value the opinion of the reader over the author’s. I personally had in mind the toxicity that a relationship can have, even if the love is strong. I love how you see this poem, and there definitely is a sadness to it as well. Thank you for your lovely feedback. ❤

      Liked by 1 person

  2. “shadows dancing” “hypnotically” gives shape and motion to this dark piece. Orgasm has been a naughty pleasure for centuries. Thank Eros we are woke about it presently.

    Liked by 3 people

  3. Genuinely love the language here. Reading the poem aloud has a particular pleasure to it, and I feel like if this is your general quality of writing, I’m going to enjoy following your works.

    Liked by 3 people

    1. I would say this is how my writing generally is, but I will let you be the judge of that overtime. Thank you so much for your kindness and feedback. I do hope you enjoy the upcoming content. ❤ ❤

      Like

    1. Man, David, if you feel humbled you have to imagine how I’d feel after reading your lovely comment! I feel deeply humbled and flattered that my poem could have such an effect. It’s just I know exactly what you describe especially as I see wonderful pieces by the writing community and to hear that, it’s wow. Thank you so much for your feedback. ❤ ❤

      Kol Tuv, my friend!

      Liked by 1 person

  4. I love this, Lucy, especially the way you play with words, such as ‘slips’ (also women’s undergarments), and the image of that ‘bed of bruised gardenias’ and the ‘silhouettes dancing in orgasmical tragedy’. It reminds me a little of Tipping the Velvet by Sarah Waters, a Victorian tale of repressed sexuality.

    Liked by 2 people

  5. Hello there
    Its Gunjan Rathor this side.
    Author of ‘The First Steps’ book and co-author of two more books. Presently in 12th standard PCB student. From Raipur, CG India
    Right now we are preparing for an anthology and came to Know that you are a good writer. It will be great to see you joining us 
    If you want I can send you more details 

    Like

  6. A bed of bruised gardenias……this is a STUNNING image!
    The gardenia has always been a favorite flower of mine….as a high school and university student, if ever I were to receive a corsage for a dance, I always asked for a gardenia. And how quickly they became damaged with the wearing….bruised is the perfect word for what happened to them….even when untouched, once upon the wrist.

    Like

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