Muzzle to muzzle snuggling
like a wolf would rub
a wolfes's muzzle, nuzzling his love
except that I’m gay, and he’s a man;
the man I love-
Cheek to cheek we rubbed;
drinking one the other’s scent
wordless touch, all saying
that a bushel of talk cannot,
the love rising, tangible vapour
my skin touching;
that, that was it
the sword sharp that convention defied
to soften, blunt the world’s anger
drowned in the rightness of love.
muzzle to muzzle we rubbed,
our world settled, calmed in peace
that only love to love enshrines.
©GayUganda 20 March 2008
True, very unconventional, and the imagery! Bet many will be disturbed. Tell me, are you?
What is a poem I write, but a means of communication, a means of framing some of the words and emotions that so swamp the mind?
I wrote this today, this morning. He was in bed. I had to go to work early. Got out of the bathroom, and he looked so sweet in bed that I jumped onto him. Did not say anything, just rubbed my cheek against his. For a few minutes.
He did not complain, nor did he say anything too. Just rubbed cheeks and smelt one another.
I kissed him, as I pulled away, remembering that I did need to prepare and go work. And as I turned to my desk, saw my notebook, and felt like penning down my emotion, seemed as if it was a huge dammed piece that needed to flow out.
Thought that we had been nuzzling one another like my father’s dogs. But we are not dogs, and the dog is not as romantic as a wolf. So muzzle to muzzle of the wolves it became.
Ok, now tell me that you don’t like it…(PS, Princess was wondering whether i am a woman... after all the redherrings that I have been throwing around.
No. I am not. I am a man. He is a man. And we love one another.)