Kirsten
When I was young; - though no longer a youth,
At twenty nine, where does this scene find me?
Well, I'll tell you, and I will speak my truth;
T'was Banksia*, near Rockdale*, near the sea;
And this stories true; - you'll have it's proof:
(T'is as sure as I write this verse for thee);
Her name was Kirsten (that was her working name);
And I'll write my truth, without fear, or shame.
Why in this age, do we still make our art?
When, probably, robots could do it better;**
As ghosts quite old, and shackled in the past,
Now raise up, and demand a fiery letter;-
And conquests (if you call them that) are cast,
Into stark relief, as they're unfettered;
Secrets, intimate, about which poets rave;-
Well, it's either this, or I take them to my grave.
Working on the railway, at Wolli Creek*,
Building a tunnel, for the trains to go;
Working hard, and working six days a week,
In the middle of a Winter, long ago.
When fixing steel for concrete earned my keep,
Where first the days, and then the nights, were slow;
It was hard work, at strange unwelcome hours,
Though through this work, my story now bears flowers.
So, in mid-Winter, Nineteen Ninety Eight;
(The twenty first of June, to be precise;
After having worked, from morning, until late,
(I'd got good pay, and so I had love's price).
A change of clothes; the pub that night my fate;
A few beers later, I had the taste for vice;
Before (and since) I had done much worse then,
When I came, saw, and conquered lovely Kirsten.
A nearby brothel, nothing quite so flash;
(I won't say where, but nearby is enough);
And luckily for me, I had the cash;
(For I was desperate, for a bit of muff).
So, on a cold Winter's evening, h*rny, rash,
I did now, set sail, for my bit of rough.
Soon, reception, and now the old Madam;
I paid the price; she said: "choose and have 'em".
Now five girls appeared in the reception,
The Madam; she told me to choose my girl;
Five dolled up ladies, now for my inspection,
(I saw a blonde one standing near the hall);
I asked her name, the Madam told me "Kirsten"
"Then she's for you, and may, she you, enthrall",
I chose her then, (as custom then would have it);
Another girl;- another costly habit.
So in a clap-board room, I turned the dimmer,
Of the light, on the ceiling, down a shade;
Our bodies, in soft shadow, now did shimmer,
And made our troubles seem to shy and fade.
Two figures, in half light, did softly glimmer,
(Like Venus and Adonis in a glade).
Then going down, into her secret place;
And all because she had a pretty face.
And moaning now, she parts her legs so softly;
She offers now her self,- there is no shame;
I kiss her mount of Venus - then so quickly,
Feel my passion rise and rise, as if aflame.
I'm on my back; she straddles me then slowly;
Rhythm builds, - me and my girl whose on the game;
And still now, I remember how she trembled;
As climax shook us both; on sheets we tumbled.
Afterwards, we had a shower together,
And water flowed upon us hotly, how;
She told me that I'd be one she'd remember;
(As I wonder to myself,- where is she now?).
This year's near gone, and soon, will be November;
So, I must write, while time, it does allow.
I tell of this, reader, need you ask why?
T'is been my life; that,- and tonnes of ennui.
So, now you've had it all; - I've set the scene,
The time and tide of passion - it is true;
And like a torrent onward, young love's dream,
Is but a bend in a river flowing through.
Where in my life, it's been a common theme;
More memories, which none can now undo;
I weave these stories, through my posy's bars;-
Such as they are;- beneath the fateful stars.
© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Oct 2019
About this poem:
More memories....
* Sydney suburbs.
** I don't really believe this; I'm being sarcastic/ironic.
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