This might come as a shock but I have a notebook filled with erotic poetry that I write when I’m feeling a bit saucy. It’s up high on a shelf in my closet.

And every once in a while, I’ll post one here on my blog, although it’s not my usual area of expertise.

Just to make you guys uncomfortable.

I know that it does because I rarely, if at all, ever get any comments.

Take for example the one from Monday. I got two.

“That sounds like a good way to get slapped….”

“OoooLaLa!”

You both know who you are. I appreciate the feedback and the giggles that I got from reading them.

It’s not really a part of me that I’m 100% comfortable sharing or else I’d be posting them more often.

I never use crude or explicit language. I believe that sex doesn’t necessarily need to be described in such a manner to be enjoyed.

I remember reading one of my mom’s romance novels as a girl. It was sitting on the living room table. I was just starting to understand somewhat the whole boy/girl dynamic so my little mind was both titillated and disgusted at the same time.

“She sighed heavily, her bosom rising and falling with passionate abandon. Their lips met and she could suddenly feel his…”

87c71a1ec89343acb4ed76fb06873ec2
…his secret sniper…

Yuck! Why would she want to feel his anything?

I slammed the book back down and went to go play with my scantily clad Ken doll for some reason.

Maybe by writing these kinds of poems, I am rebelling against my sexually repressed Catholic upbringing that made me believe any naughty urges that I had would send me straight to hell.

It wigged me out so badly that I would include it during my weekly confession.

“I’m sorry that I was mean to my kid brother, that I stole a cookie when my mom wasn’t looking and…ahem, that I was staring at whatshisnames butt during gym class.”

I think that the priest must have been half asleep. “You are forgiven, child. Now go forth and be a nice girl. Say two Our Fathers if you want. Meh.”

I would leave church relieved that I wasn’t a heathen after all.

Until an hour later when I was staring at his tush again.

Now that I’ve shared this part of myself I feel less like a horndog skank. Thanks for reading.

What are your thoughts on this topic?

(If you’re comfortable with it, that is.)

Advertisements