The Naked Troubadour

Gymnasium [poem]

Posted on Oct 13, 2011 Updated on Mar 30, 2017

I’m not a gymnasium, she said,
as my body moved with litheness
round her icy rigid form
on that well-sprung soya bed;
her hoity-toity voiceness
making echoes in my head
(And then the bridge
between the wetness
withered down
in shock(ness)
as my brain sent
vibes of mourning to
my sorry little cock).

Some fallowfullen
treasuremidden
years have passed me
slowly sandly
winding blandly
timestoodstandly by
since this singular event did
change my blissful “wow!” to “why?”.
and still I wonder what induced
that strange objective crazy phrase
to emanate from human lips
which should be full of
praise and perspiration
mixed with multi-palpitations
not to mention
groove vibrations
strong and mutual admiration
grand ecstatic celebrations!

What kind of thing is that to say
(I thought)
to a man who with huge passion
gives his love away?
A woman loved becomes
for me a goddess in the sky.
When entering her temple
how I love to fly to faroff
places never gone before.
A place becomes a palace
if a goddess holds the door.

Gumnadzo is the Greek
from where “gymnasium” has sprung.
Its meaning is to exercise with
all your clothes [a thin disguise?]
flung randomly down by your side
while you enjoy the raucous ride
whatever
and wherever
and however
that may be.

To love with full abandonment
with life the great experiment
is what I seek to do.
Your all is my gymnasium
and mine your workout too.
For love is like an exercise in
opening one’s closeful heart
discovering the lostish art
of simple full togetherness.

So please feel free and
never stop to work
your many ifs and buts
to grind your hips
your abs and bi-pectoral cuts
your pushups pulls
pilatés too. It’s all a way
of feeling me all over you
and you all over me
with both of our gymnasia
each other’s best fantasia
for there we hold
the precious key
to
lifelong
zestful
chemistry.

© 2011, Alan Morrison