Hard Poetry

Poetry After Dark

I mean – so I’m a muse. Specifically the muse of erotic poetry. I’ve been hanging around humans since they discovered that the right words in the right order were even more effective at instilling reproductive enthusiasm than those fermented grapes were.

By Erato (The Poet) / May 5, 2019

I mean – so I’m a muse. Specifically the muse of erotic poetry. I’ve been hanging around humans since they discovered that the right words in the right order were even more effective at instilling reproductive enthusiasm than those fermented grapes were (sorry Dio, you know it’s true, and too much poetry doesn’t make you.. uh.. “unable”).

It’s been hit and miss. I mean, in recent centuries I’ve had a few big wins with Shakespeare, then John Donne, that e e cummings fellow, a few others.
Here and there I’ve managed to inspire a poet or two to write something steamier and dreamier than usual, but it hasn’t all been sonnets and disruptive grammar. I’ve had some failures.

That whole thing with the PornHub video descriptions? Look, I did my best. I’ve been hanging around the authors but it turns out they’re into traditional meter, and NOTHING rhymes with MILF. Between that and the length restrictions, all that was left was haiku and success was limited:

My nextdoor neighbour:
She asked me for some sugar,
I gave it to her. 

Again the doorbell;
“I have come to clean the pool”.
He cleaned all my pipes.

Play the Game of Bones:
“Ride my dragon Khaleesi”
(It’s a parody)

******

Anyway.

So times have changed.

Poetry was on the outs a bit, but technology’s a real blessing. Social media for example, there are now hundreds and hundreds of twitter and Insta poets, people on Pinterest and whatever other format they find appealing – it’s great! So many more minds and libidos turning to words.. mmmm.. 

Then suddenly, next thing I know I’m embodied! Me! And in a dude. So that was interesting, last time was a few thousand years ago and I was a woman. I must say, both forms have their advantages. Penises are refreshingly straightforward, though I miss multiple orgasms.

I assume it’s Zeus’  fault. Or idea. As if there’s a difference. Apparently we are supposed to be doing something, but I have no idea what. Something about getting a job. I can’t say I have any idea what to do.

I’ve never done anything myself – I inspire others! I don’t actually DO things! I get others to do things. Then it hit me.

I’m talking with a community college about a night poetry course. “Poetry After Dark”.

That should be fine. I mean, I can encourage people to write, it’s the only thing I can do. I’m sure it’ll be fine. What could possibly go wrong?

Mr Erato, Poetry Teacher

Erato (The Poet)
Latest posts by Erato (The Poet) (see all)
Tags:

Subscribe To In The Pantheon