I wrote a poem called ‘Dinner’ around 12 years ago. I couldn’t begin to tell you what frame of mind I was in at the moment I was writing it, but reading it back like I did just now, leads me to think I was probably a little bit horny, high and playing a Bob Marley record. It was then and still is one of my favourite poems that I’ve written today. So much so, that it was the piece I used as the concept for my introduction into film production. It is the first of what I hope to be many strides in film.
My short film ‘Dinner’ will be screened at Expressions: Poetry in the Pub, on Tuesday December 13th at 8:15pm. Also, there will be a short Q & A segment right afterwards with moi, and truth be told, I am shitting my pants a little bit about that. lol 😀
Expressions ‘Poetry on Screen’ will begin at 8pm at the Heavenly Java 2 Go, located on the boardwalk of Redcliffe Quay. Expressions poets will step to the mic in their true creative form backed by resident keyboardist Kimdale Mackellar. There will also be a small exhibit previewing artist and Expressions regular Glenroy Aaron’s upcoming collection ‘Spectrum’. To top of the evening audiences will be captivated by the sounds of Verse 5 Improve as they perform a selection of Neo-soul, RnB and Jazz songs. Everyone is invited to come and enjoy an alternative form of entertainment. For more information you can call 779-6634 or email firstname.lastname@example.org.
Anyhow, here is the original poem that I wrote donkey years ago.
Neurotic flash of eyes to ticking time,
The sound of my heels clicking vividly upon the cooling pavement,
The deep thumping of my racing heart pace,
The silly tune that I now hum within my head,
Perform a melodious symphony around me,
As I feel all aglow while I hurry home,
Eagerly to greet your presence, or await your arrival.
I turn my keys, and they click and clack and jingle in my palms,
That yearn to touch your face.
I open the door, almost sniffing for your presence.
I want to call out your name and say something silly like
“Honey, I’m home.”
I call out your name, but I’m all alone.
Anticipation of you eats me alive,
As patience is not one of my many virtues.
I had a good hard day today at work,
And I yearn to tell you all about it over dinner.
The realization of my hunger kicks me hard in the gut and makes me
Dizzy, as I haven’t eaten all day,
Yet I refuse to eat.
I want to enjoy every morsel with you,
So I beg to find patience, so she could fight my hunger.
I pace and stumble through our house finding things to do,
I look out the window every time I hear a car or a bus pass by.
Zoom, alternatively simultaneously,
Yet no you.
I wonder what’s for dinner?
I go to the bathroom to cleanse my hands and face,
Then rustling plastic bags, and hard feet to concrete door steps,
Echo through the running water,
Announcing your eagerly awaited arrival,
And I hear you say something silly like,
“Honey, I’m home.”
“What’s for dinner?” I say.
You stare and say “you”.
I blush brightly, and palm your cheeks and kiss your face hard,
With my newly cleansed hands and face to cool you.
I relieve you of the bags that strain you,
Containing our soon to be culinary delight.
I pop in our favourite CD and pump up the volume…
“I wanna love ya,
and treat you right,
I wanna love ya,
Every day and every night,
We’ll be together,
With a roof up over our heads,
We’ll share a shelter,
On our single bed,
We’ll share the same room….
As Bob sings on and on,
Serenading our erotic gyrations,
As we try to cook ,dance and sing simultaneously,
You stand behind me, and rub my ass ever so gently,
And I suggestively caress the sweet potatoes that need to be peeled.
I’ll let you suck the salt seasoning for the fish off my fingers,
Then you will get them in their pan to be cooked.
The evergreen broccoli simmers,
And I lick your onion urged tears, and laugh at you as you sheepishly sob,
And Brotha Bob sings on and on.
The aroma of our potent presence begins to circulate the air,
It smells so good, and hunger knocks patience to the mat.
As we let the fire to the rest,
Our newly idled hands can’t seem to stay off each other.
My hunger for you, as strong as my hunger for food.
We begin to groove to the music,
And you guide me to the wall,
And press me up against it, as your tongue tastes me.
The entrée before the main course,
As your connoisseur tongue jets in and out of me,
Tasting what you call my sweet wine.
I cum for you and you drink me to the last drop.
Our aroma of love and sex as potent as the delicious smell of dinner..
And we are now ravenous.
Dinner is ready, dinner is served,
And though I want to greedily devour every bite,
I savour every morsel with my sweetheart.
We sit on the floor as close as we will,
And feed each others needs.
I taste your ushering hands, you suck my lingering fingers.
As sweet mashed potatoes seep to the corner of your juicy mouth.
My tongue will be your napkin.
I am tempted to say I love you, so I do.
Dinner is delicious, and so are you…
And Brotha Bob still sings.
After we’ve eaten,
I get up and take our plates to the sink,
The dings, clicks and knocks of the cutlery and china curve a smile
On my lips,
As I reminisce about you, just a short while before, as we….
“The dishes can wait” you whisper in my ear,
And Brotha Bob sings on and on,.
You raise my skirt, so that I can feel my dessert,
I am still hungry,..
But this time only for you….
And Brotha Bob is still singing…..