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.
Related Posts:
- Poem // The Ship Wreckers Another new poem. For reasons unknown to me, lines of verse that can eventually be worked into poems come to me either late at night or first thing in the...
- Poem // The Conversion of Christ The Conversion of Christ is a poem that I’m particularly proud of. It got the seal of approval from my former Creative Writing tutor at Manchester Metropolitan University, Simon Armitage....
- Poem // Cuckoos There can be no more fascinating evolutionary strategy for survival than that of the cuckoo, a beautiful bird that no other bird, if it had the mind to ponder the...
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
I love you, and you can wear me at anytime the love of my life.
aw bless, big grin on my face too
)
Beautiful and sensual
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!