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My Coy Mistress
by Tom Hardie
Dawn is fucking
sexy and not
because of her looks.
She is, of course,
gorgeous. But her beauty
is the least of her.
It’s her perspective—
how she feels
her life, but she also
has this pace.
She lives like an immortal
with a finite time for life:
one thing at a time, no more.
I am more. I’m a problem.
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You convinced me. I’ll fuck you. Anytime, Tom. Just ask me.
;-D
You horny asshole. Haha
I love you though.
Don’t stop writing.
Tom, darling, Tom, darling, honey. Well all know, everyone. Everyone in the universe knows you pray to the goddess Barbra Streisand. Why hide it in your poetry anymore?
“one thing at a time, no more.
I am more. I’m a problem.” – makes you sound like you’re gay. That is the only problem. It’s that the speaker sounds gay not sexually attracted to a character named Dawn. Taken out of the wonderfully dour context of this blog this poem doesn’t sound like a “I want her so bad” poem, it sounds like a “I wish I could have her but I prefer hairy man butt”. It’s right there, “Dawn is Fucking sexy and not” You made the poetic choice to not continue the line for a reason. I know it’s because you like Hugh Jackman on the rocks as much as I do.
I think there’s a bit of wishful thinking being displayed on your part, Jeff. Hahaha.
But seriously, as a heterosexual male reader, I feel that Mr. Hardie is teasing me with this poem. He knows what I’m thinking. I’m still “just a guy,” after all.
So the first line of the poem is “Dawn is fucking.” I get excited and then slapped down by the enjambment.
Dawn is fucking
sexy and not
She is sexy and not? I feel like I’m falling as I read this poem. Women have made me feel that way in my life–like my words and my emotions are falling out of me in spurts.
Tom Hardie plays on the assumptions and emotional reactions of a heterosexual male far too well to be homosexual. Bisexual? Maybe.
Jeff, I’ve seen Tom have sex. I was the camera man. Believe me, dude. He’s the straightest.
I can give a list of references, a long list of very lovely references.
Sorry Gay Jeff. Nice try.
Actually, I wrote the poem for Dawn. And I’m just impersonating this guy named Andrew Marvell. Ya heard of him?
But at my back I always hear
Time’s winged chariot hurrying near;
And yonder all before us lie
Deserts of vast eternity.
Thy beauty shall no more be found,
Nor, in thy marble vault, shall sound
My echoing song; then worms shall try
That long preserv’d virginity,
And your quaint honour turn to dust,
And into ashes all my lust.
The grave’s a fine and private place,
But none I think do there embrace.
–from “To His Coy Mistress”
Hey, do you think that’s where I got the title, Gay Jeff?
Me thinks that Jeff is a little jealous. Your pretty words, your perfect prose, your peppered pulse, your perspective….it isn’t all for her anymore.
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I think that is an interesting point, it made me think a bit. Thanks for sparking my thinking cap. Sometimes I get so much in a rut that I just feel like a record.
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