Glenn Jr Marchand Poet I do not know?

Want of Penelope

I think with my atlatl,
My love; for I see thee 
Within my psychic attic, 
My love; for my heart 
Has become an abstraction—

A Shakespearean metaphor—
I am infatuated, my love:
I feel so delicate, my love.  
My wanton for thee is more 
Flamboyant than Baroque—
As sacred as scripture. Become 

Gothic, my love—displace of 
Us within the twelfth century, when
Maidens knew romance—when 
Ever a maiden secretly yearned 
For Adonis; for the times 
Were masculine, thus, 
Femininity was suppressed; 

Wherefore, women were forced
To disguise womanhood; but 
Evermore yearned the sensuous 
Embrace. Take of me, Penelope:
Weave no more; for only so 
Long can weaving distract 
Pulsations of the womb: O’

How I yearn to thrust within 
Thy womb. This feeling is
Familiar to me. I am 
Deathly drawn to surrealistic 
Women. Penelope! Thou 
Art surreal for me. Hence, I
 
Want thee more—more than 
The want of Job for Death. 
I must have thee, Penelope. 
I must drum within thy womb.
I must—lest I perish.




Glenn Jr. Marchand

♡Like0

Share Poem

---

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.

Please Login to post a comment