Poetry – Minefield – a poem of unsynchronised passion between lovers.

Sex is a minefield. You only have to look at the courtship palaver of animals to see that. There are rituals and whole pageants necessary to be performed.

It’s all so easy in a new relationship where passions are high and the air is scented with pheromones as the hormones race the heart. But once that phase succumbs to a lesser heat the frenzy subsides. Then it is more a question of synchronicity and mood, inclination and desire. and a balance.

Sex is intimate and requires both parties to bring they biology into alignment. Sometimes that doesn’t happen. Old relationships are patterned on compromise.

Minefields

Can’t look

Can’t see

Can’t touch

Can’t feel

Can’t smell

Can’t taste

Edging round the minefields of your inhibitions

Sneaking up on you

Trudging through the sand-dunes of your desserts

An oasis overdue

 

Don’t touch

Too hard

Don’t feel

Too deep

Don’t see

Too much

Don’t move

I hurt

Apart and at bay

Hunted like prey

Locked up passion

On ration

Not let out to play

Today

 

Safe within the barbed fence of pyjamas

Unisex walls

Restrained within the mind game patterns

Without balls

 

Do not intrude

Into the rude

Sense my mood

Keep at bay

My way

No play today

 

OPHER  19.12.97