Poesy Rider! Part Deux

I find that I am rather good at writing poesy, so I thought I'd treat you to my next 'stab' - who was it that said poetry should be like a hand, it can punch or caress? I don't know, but I do know it should also be like a knife to stab.

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LABIAL ELEGIAC

.

leave I am happy!
he (flaunting)
leaves,
female tendrils encircle
"Why do I want you?"
considering females rather as sauvignon blanc
And I at maturity.
a misery I deplore; my place in the world,
planted in too rich a chantilly cream
you left me drinking

why not leave me my dactyls
.
“It’s subject to work sweet princess?" "Don't!”
spirits, and I have sighed
their abilities and virtues would

with anxious solicitude, education, and

(patiently)

between man and man, cleave respect.

back into the misery

I deplore; and to have arrived

at dawn rising

planted in too rich a soil

obliged to confess,

why did he leave

around about my thighs

are the most melancholy emotions

and I have sighed from one hasty patiently observed moment,
after having pleased a clawing womb

.
why did he…
a nobler ambition, and by a fastidious eye, fade, disregarded

screaming out
why did my womb ache like a

.

back breaking labia
?

.

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