“Bird-songs accompany our laughter”: poems of love and desire
Posted: December 9, 2013 Filed under: Creole / Kréyòl, English | Tags: Erotic poetry Comments Off on “Bird-songs accompany our laughter”: poems of love and desire
Suzanne Dracius (born 1951, Martinique)
“Women’s Wicked Desires”
.
Women too revel in riding
Thighs spread apart
Seated astride shamelessly
As they say in polite language…
À la Andromaque
That’s why you won’t talk about it
That’s how you will be happy to
Do all of these things you are saying
Promptly at dawn
All of these honeyed things
Forbidden in theory
As they say
Women’s wicked desires
What can befall us
By doing all that you are asking for
If we do them for fun
Since today’s strong woman
Won’t be abused for it
I do hope you can grasp
How I defy the kind of feminine prudishness
That wants to hold me back
When I dare perform
The saucy somersaults you ask
Even though I know I shouldn’t
Since I’m a well-bred young lady
As they say
Now I am the wicked one
And I am asking you to do all these juicy things
And sing my song in tune with me
As they say
A woman’s wicked desires.
Do I really need to leave my senses
For us to enjoy some pleasure
The wild way
With dazzling unbridled wantonness
With cuddling which was not done openly
The snuggling that we see today
Wickedly as they say
With a frenzy to swoon
To women it is pleasure
To ride astride
As in the frescoes of Pompeii
Thighs wildly spread apart
Soaking your potent organ
Just like on Rue d’Enfer in Saint-Pierre
Doing all these forbidden things
Truly paradisiacal
Women’s wicked desires
To put myself in all the positions you ask
In mystical cries
Ho misticri, krik krak monkey!
To offer myself in all these forbidden positions
And krik and krak
And krik krak
So the audience doesn’t fall asleep
Poetically
Philosophically
Oh Lord! Dear, dear, dear Lafilo!
I’m taking to flying
I’m stepping out
Running like a maroon
To get myself off
– Epicurean Caribbean style.
.
Translation from the Creole: Hanétha Vété-Congolo
. . .
Here is the original poem – in Creole:
.
Suzanne Dracius
“Fantasm Fanm”
.
Pou fanm tou sé bèl plézi
Di monté adada osi
An mannyè kal…
Ifourchon
“À la Romaine, à l’Andromaque”
Sé pousa ou pé di hak
Sé konsa ou ké kontan
Fè tout sé bagay ou ka di
O pipiri
Tout sé bagay ki intèwdi
An téyori
Kon yo ka di
An fantasm fanm
Sa ki pé rivé nou davré
Di fè tousa ou ka mandé
A sipozé ki nou ka fèy
Dépi nou fè sa épi
Ti bren foli
Puis fanm jodi
Pé ké modi
Mwen ka espéré kou pé konpwann
Sa ki sé kalté pidè fanm
Lè man noz fè
Sa ou ka di-a
mèm si man sav
Ki fo pa fèy
An jèntifi
De bonnfanmi
Kon yo ka di
Atjolman sé mwen ki bandi
Ek sé mwen ké mandé-w li
An mélodi
An narmoni
Kon yo ka di
An fantasm fanm
Es fok tèt an mwen pati
Pou nou pwan titak plézi
An vakabonnajri
Kon yo ka di
An féyéri
An barbari
Pichonnaj ki pa té ka fèt an gran lari
Dousinaj ki nou ka vwè jodi
An pitènri
Kon yo ka di
An frénézi
An malkadi
Pou an fanm sé bèl plézi
Di monté adada osi
Kon sou lérwin Ponpéyi
Alabodaj an bèl péyi
“À l’Andromaque, à la Romaine”
Pa an sèl wozé pijé grènn
An mannyè pakoté Senpyè
An mannyè a lari Lanfè
Fè tout sé bagay intèrwdi
An paradi
Fantasm fanm
Fè tout sé bagay man ka di
An mistik kri
Yé mistikri
Fè krik krak
Kon yo ka di
Yé krak yé kri
An filozofi
Pou lakou pa domi
An poyézi
An malapri
An malfini
Lafilo!
Lavol an pri
Épi kouri
– Caribéenne épicurie –
. . .
Obediah Michael Smith(born 1954, Bahamas)
“Bee Mad” (for L.M.M.)
.
how can you withhold from me
where your thighs meet
like honey in the crotch of a tree
and not expect me to buzz as angrily as a bee.
. . .
“Chapel Steeple” (for M.B.)
.
I’ve had my head between her legs,
where her thighs meet
bushy place to ramble wild,
berries growing by the spring I make flow
in this I wash my face to wake myself
face in the Bible she opens to let me read
to convert me to true love, to the truth of love,
to let me taste the fruit of love.
Ken Forde
“Nectar”
.
In this tome
of silence,
I will enter
your quietude;
have you come
with me
to a place
of red and yellow bloomings,
humming birds
their feathered flash
tongued nectar
sweet and fragrant.
With you
I will leap
across the distance
to this place
of caimate purples
and sapodilla browns,
our skins caressed
by warm fingered sun.
Bird-songs accompany
our laughter.
. . .
Colin Robinson
“Loosening my Tongue” (for Reggie)
.
is an old
metaphor is a young
man you
are an old
metaphor loosening my tongue
flicks to the back of a youthened
mouth
a second set of teeth
yawns
spit
wide
flies hungry
watering for a metaphor that I can swallow whole
that will go
somewhere
that will last a whole poem
something hard and round and risky
musky ancient hairy language
reaches back
coughing up cotton
congealed in
big blue balls
of speech
old stiffened yellow rubber socks
policy proposal political position posture
place sex into my mouth again
unsheathe, untangle old poetry
poke at my prostate
full of old fragments
waiting for your big hands
to rub it soothe
a gasping warm white
stanza flows between my legs
into a purposeful brown
man
hole
envelopes my tongue
young
man you
are a
metaphor on the tip of my tongue
making my poems come
whole again
. . .
The above poems are © their respective authors:
Suzanne Dracius: “Fantasm Fanm”
Obediah Michael Smith: “Bee Mad”, “Chapel Steeple”
Ken Forde: “Nectar”
Colin Robinson: “Loosening my Tongue”
. . . . .
Zócalo Poets 