simple neat and nifty tulip
woven tuft craft of desire
lean towards spring of my wishes
scent of summer in my dreams
figure into spectacles of colour
and Say you Love me.
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This Poems Story
Beyond the soft purple bed of Jacaranda trees flowers that rested gently to be a linen on the summer pastures; and amid the whole of nature's welcoming atmosphere sparkled by colourful butterflies, is an unimposing hill. A hill, quiet away from any of our pollution’s line of sight. A hill, untouched by a lust for change or by a need for greed to plant crops. It is on this friend of nature, this timeless hill, where upon this hill’s less steep side; a wooden cabin is camouflaged against trees of the same bark. Here stayed innocence cleansed by the mellow stream of a tiny spring water source. Here is where the truth flowed like a warm smoke up the modest chimney of this naturally warm cabin into nature’s accepting clean atmosphere. For anyone to stand on the porch of this cabin was like speaking to the cabin of which the door squeaked, requesting to be lifted gently against the cabin wooden floor, when opened. Like the butterflies that graced the yellow meadow on the other side of the hill, the cabin possessed a sole butterfly of it’s own. She stood on both legs that seem to twitch from the climax of being a teenager. Her hands played with her simple dress from being taught by the careless wind that stroke the leaves outside. Her hair was sweet, shining like honeyed sand and firm in showing how much the wind loved her face. Her skin was firm, smooth without blemishes like makeup of the rich and toned to the rich colour of the wooden cabin. Her nose defied how well we all expected a beautiful nose should be. Her eyes seemed rested on her cheeks that were dimpled from her smile. A virgin. Yes, she is just 17 years of age and mathematics has not been a priority to her nor has being a parent been of concern to her. She does, as many her age group, wish that her beauty will be enough of a spell to turn a frog into a prince. She does wish for security and happiness just like most men do. She cannot foresee the future like the rest of us and she has no knowledge of reading a man’s mind. Call her stupid or illiterate for being a lifelong residence of the wooden cabin. Maybe condemn her for not having a history of ill minded lovers as a deterrent against a man who just wrote the poem ‘next?’. Now that there is a man in the wooden cabin and having recited the poem to this innocent angel. What should stop the man from being evil, doing whatever he wants with her and then moving on to the next cabin? What is stopping the man from reciting the poem to the next victim? Who is this next victim? Was that you? Are you then one who said ‘next?’ Here is a simplified version of this poem: Next victim? By a lover. Simple yet beautiful virgin lady. Being so beautiful in that you know the scale of your beauty. (lean) My sense of touch on you is a celebration on its own. (scent) Your lovely presence enters my brain through my nose to become a part of me. (figure) Your sight is all that is my universe, my life, my love. And I shall never leave this universe and you, my love. Notes on the simplified version. There is a reason that the bride on a wedding day would be dressed in white and it is because tradition expected her to be a virgin. Virgins are mostly innocent people who does not have experience with physical relationships like sex. In fact, most virgins have little experience of romantic relationships. Now imagine a beautiful virgin lady who is unaware of horrible men of this world. Men who are cruel, men who have no conscious and would prey on innocent people for no apparent reason. These cruel men will use a poem like ‘Next victim?’ to lure innocent virgins into having sex and later moving on to the next victim. That is the meaning and cruelty of the poem “next?”.