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Here you will find poetry, opinion and prose mixed together in roughly equal measure. Add one man available from specialist suppliers only. Stick everything into a blender for five minutes. Stir gently with a wooden spoon, then pour slowly into tall glasses with crushed ice.

No cherries. No little parasols. No curly straws. Let the drink speak for itself.

I put on your dressing gown
to inhale the sublime scents
white cotton notes, cologne
count time ’til you are home
and I can wear you, on, out,
the captain of my wardrobe
expertly tailoring my dream.

The original version of this poem was written January 9 2010 and in revisiting it I have made extensive rewrites. You’ll see below that I’ve kept the comments people made back then in response. Feel free to add your own or, if you’re one of those people who gave feedback just over a year ago, you can do so again if you like.

The inspiration was and remains obviously romantic and steeped in metaphor. The white cotton dressing gown represents purity of feeling and is presented as an intensely sensual item of clothing, a way of wrapping a lover around yourself when not there in person, the “captain of my wardrobe” being a “tailor” who has the ability to make perfectly fitting love.

I suppose this is both an erotic poem and a love poem. I’m not entirely sure how to distinguish between the two and I don’t think it’s important or necessary to do so.

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View Comments to “Poem // Captain of my Wardrobe”

  1. Tina says:

    Okay, that's me with a big grin on my face for the rest of the day! Poem and comment – I am now very happy… I love love! XX

  2. SunnyD says:

    I love you, and you can wear me at anytime the love of my life.

  3. Beautifu1 says:

    aw bless, big grin on my face too :o )

  4. faerieruth says:

    Beautiful and sensual :)

  5. Thank you. It's funny how poems can be written and then left for a year or sometimes much longer, returned to and refined. What I've never fathomed is why I am sometimes driven towards revisiting this or that specific poem.

    The muse is a mysterious thing!

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