(content warning) Blackpool Tryst

[heslopian]

I drummed my fingers on his hips
to put off what I knew would happen
in this rented room, by a beach
littered with working men and women
who flee, once a year,
to this pathetic fete of a town...

I finally stopped drumming and gripped,
roughly massaging his waist.
I kissed his neck. He moaned.
Acting? I found him on a stage, after all.
Or maybe he likes older men, and I,
40 to his 22, filled an ache
somewhere inside a fractured stone.

I started unbuckling his belt
and he leaned forward instinctively,
palms on the bedspread.
The soft, yielding pear of an anus,
breakfast to an ancient king,
made me sweat, and I felt like a pervert in a trench coat,
leading cherubs into darkness.
But still it would have happened, so I pushed my way inside
as gently as I could, responding to the tones of his voice.

A small part of me wondered what
was going on outside...
"a bird perches on a discarded carton of chips,
a woman links arms with a man she's just met,
and two lost children cry by a newsagent's stand".

[Brownlie]

Very graphic for sure, but there are some things to like in this poem. I would suggest getting rid of the thoughts, I'll go through and show you what I would cut.

I drummed my fingers on his hips
in this rented room, by a beach
littered with working men and women
who flee, once a year,
to this fete of a town...

I finally stopped drumming and gripped,
roughly massaging his waist.
I kissed his neck. He moaned.
Acting? I found him on a stage, after all.
Or maybe he likes older men, and I,
40 to his 22, filled an ache
somewhere inside a fractured stone. -- Oh man, I find the age difference compelling as a theme.

I started unbuckling his belt
and he leaned forward instinctively,
palms on the bedspread.
The soft, yielding pear of an anus, -- I don't know about anus in there, it certainly takes the poem to a new level.
Sweating, I felt like a pervert in a trench coat,
leading cherubs into darkness. -- I think this guilt and the desire that act as an impetus to do things we may consider morally wrong is a good theme.
But still it would have happened, so I pushed my way inside
as gently as I could, responding to the tones of his voice.

A small part of me wondered what
was going on outside...
"a bird perches on a discarded carton of chips,
a woman links arms with a man she's just met,
and two lost children cry by a newsagent's stand".

I don't think my critique was very constructive but I like the feeling of honesty.

[heslopian]

Thank you for your kind and helpful critique, Brownlie Is there a word that you might suggest instead of anus, or would you remove the whole line?

[Brownlie]

Thank you for your kind and helpful critique, Brownlie Is there a word that you might suggest instead of anus, or would you remove the whole line?

Personally, I would get rid of it. I think it is your call though.

[heslopian]

Thanks for your advice

[billy]

lots of tell in the poem jack. it needs to be trimmed back, words like instinctively, some stock phrases such as unbuckling belts, soft yielding.
normally i like you're narratives but it doesn't work so well for me in this one.

thanks for the read.

I drummed my fingers on his hips
to put off what I knew would happen lines like this don't really add to the poem
in this rented room, by a beach
littered with working men and women
who flee, once a year,
to this pathetic fete of a town... the main part of this stanza is too tell.

I finally stopped drumming and gripped,
roughly massaging his waist.
I kissed his neck. He moaned. nothing new here, while the follow does add something it's a pretty common phrase
Acting? I found him on a stage, after all.
Or maybe he likes older men, and I,
40 to his 22, filled an ache
somewhere inside a fractured stone.

I started unbuckling his belt
and he leaned forward instinctively,
palms on the bedspread.
The soft, yielding pear of an anus, sorry, but i laughed at this line. i'd suggest arse instead of anus, unless his hole really is pear shaped
breakfast to an ancient king,
made me sweat, and I felt like a pervert in a trench coat,
leading cherubs into darkness.
But still it would have happened, so I pushed my way inside
as gently as I could, responding to the tones of his voice.

A small part of me wondered what
was going on outside... for me this would be the perfect ending.
"a bird perches on a discarded carton of chips,
a woman links arms with a man she's just met,
and two lost children cry by a newsagent's stand".

[heslopian]

Thank you for your kind and constructive feedback, Bilbo This one underwent a lot of editing. It was originally quite a bit longer and looser. My trimmer didn't catch everything, though

[Vistaldust]

I just got my cherry popped. This is the first homosexual poem I've read, male or female. This is very erotic, to be sure. A general critique here. This speaks very much as an act that is happening, but there is much of it and no real hint at where you are on the inside. What is the motivation in the act. Don't give it away, of course. But there must be something underneath the physical desire.

[heslopian]

It was really just about physical desire. I imagine it being set in the 50s or 60s, when gayness was still technically a jailable offence, and though the narrator wants to repress his lust he can't. Thank you for your kind and helpful feedback, Vitaldust

[Vistaldust]

The vision you just described is very solid regarding the 50s and the taboo that Ginsberg and other writers tried to traverse. I'm sure you can drop hints in the poem that allude to this.

[newsclippings]

I loved this story in my head. Whether or not it stands as a good poem, I actually don't know.

But it is lovely and graphic, just the way I like my stories.
Anus may be offputting to some because it's like saying, "the soft, yielding pear of a vagina"
Vagina and anus, well they just come off as more humorous to me. But it might be my age.

[heslopian]

Thank you for your kind and interesting feedback, newsclippings "Yielding pair of a vagina" makes me giggle, I must admit

[billy]

i think it was pear jack

[tectak]

lots of tell in the poem jack. it needs to be trimmed back, words like instinctively, some stock phrases such as unbuckling belts, soft yielding.
normally i like you're narratives but it doesn't work so well for me in this one.

thanks for the read.

I drummed my fingers on his hips
to put off what I knew would happen lines like this don't really add to the poem
in this rented room, by a beach
littered with working men and women
who flee, once a year,
to this pathetic fete of a town... the main part of this stanza is too tell.

I finally stopped drumming and gripped,
roughly massaging his waist.
I kissed his neck. He moaned. nothing new here, while the follow does add something it's a pretty common phrase
Acting? I found him on a stage, after all.
Or maybe he likes older men, and I,
40 to his 22, filled an ache
somewhere inside a fractured stone.

I started unbuckling his belt
and he leaned forward instinctively,
palms on the bedspread.
The soft, yielding pear of an anus, sorry, but i laughed at this line. i'd suggest arse instead of anus, unless his hole really is pear shaped
breakfast to an ancient king,
made me sweat, and I felt like a pervert in a trench coat,
leading cherubs into darkness.
But still it would have happened, so I pushed my way inside
as gently as I could, responding to the tones of his voice.

A small part of me wondered what
was going on outside... for me this would be the perfect ending.
"a bird perches on a discarded carton of chips,
a woman links arms with a man she's just met,
and two lost children cry by a newsagent's stand".

I am only reminded of Amis who when voicing his distress at impotency suggested it was like trying to feed an oyster into a parking meter....so a pear is no problem!
best,
tectak ( Sorry, I took a wrong turn and found myself here; or sorry I took a wrong turn and found myself here)

[heslopian]

i think it was pear jack

Whoops! A yielding pair of vaginas... Somewhere Austin Powers is having an aneurysm