A Woman Waits For Me:

Olivia's picture
Submitted by Olivia on Mon, 2008-05-26 10:12

Here is a bold poem unequalled in its glorification of earthy romanticism and penned by the hand of the great American, Walt Whitman (1819-1892).

A Woman Waits for Me

A woman waits for me, she contains all, nothing is lacking,
Yet all were lacking if sex were lacking, or if the moisture of the
right man were lacking.
Sex contains all, bodies, souls,
Meanings, proofs, purities, delicacies, results, promulgations,
Songs, commands, health, pride, the maternal mystery, the seminal milk,
All hopes, benefactions, bestowals, all the passions, loves,
beauties, delights of the earth,
All the governments, judges, gods, follow'd persons of the earth,
These are contain'd in sex as parts of itself and justifications of itself.

Without shame the man I like knows and avows the deliciousness of his sex,
Without shame the woman I like knows and avows hers.

Now I will dismiss myself from impassive women,
I will go stay with her who waits for me, and with those women that
are warm-blooded and sufficient for me,
I see that they understand me and do not deny me,
I see that they are worthy of me, I will be the robust husband of
those women.

They are not one jot less than I am,
They are tann'd in the face by shining suns and blowing winds,
Their flesh has the old divine suppleness and strength,
They know how to swim, row, ride, wrestle, shoot, run, strike,
retreat, advance, resist, defend themselves,
They are ultimate in their own right--they are calm, clear,
well-possess'd of themselves.

I draw you close to me, you women,
I cannot let you go, I would do you good,
I am for you, and you are for me, not only for our own sake, but for
others' sakes,
Envelop'd in you sleep greater heroes and bards,
They refuse to awake at the touch of any man but me.

It is I, you women, I make my way,
I am stern, acrid, large, undissuadable, but I love you,
I do not hurt you any more than is necessary for you,
I pour the stuff to start sons and daughters fit for these States, I
press with slow rude muscle,
I brace myself effectually, I listen to no entreaties,
I dare not withdraw till I deposit what has so long accumulated within me.

Through you I drain the pent-up rivers of myself,
In you I wrap a thousand onward years,
On you I graft the grafts of the best-beloved of me and America,
The drops I distil upon you shall grow fierce and athletic girls,
new artists, musicians, and singers,
The babes I beget upon you are to beget babes in their turn,
I shall demand perfect men and women out of my love-spendings,
I shall expect them to interpenetrate with others, as I and you
inter-penetrate now,
I shall count on the fruits of the gushing showers of them, as I
count on the fruits of the gushing showers I give now,
I shall look for loving crops from the birth, life, death,
immortality, I plant so lovingly now.


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"Just gorgeous isn't it.

Newberry's picture

"Just gorgeous isn't it. Where are all the rest of you so called passionate romantics??"

Lol.

I once had a dinner with Greek and Swedish couple in their penthouse over looking the Mediterranean ...and they were telling me about their small dog. He was sensing another dog in heat (my association from this thread), and the little dog would run up to the balcony yowling. He kept running back into the living room, turn around and run out to the balcony. With great sadness they told me how he ran back and forth until he simply ran off the balcony to his oblivion! I broke into howling laughter..." You murdered your dog by keeping him confined. What did you expect the poor dog to do?" They were shocked by my response, which only made it funnier!

(Added) Glad we humans have hands...

...we can go out the front door instead of jumping off balconies.

Guess what Dutchbox

Olivia's picture

I had 3 children and not a single stretch mark on my body.. know why?
I just took the pent up rivers of their father and massaged them, in circular motion, all over my belly everyday... best preventative care out there.
Now frig off and spam your wares elsewhere and leave my favourite poetry out of your cheap marketing ploys.

[edited: Linz removed Dutchbox the spammer who was peddling a so called miracle cure for stretchmarks.. just in case you all think I'm going mad.] Eye

I'm going back to the books

Mark Hubbard's picture

I'm going back to the books and looking up more of Walt's poetry.

Thanks for posting this.

... 'and drive a woman

Mark Hubbard's picture

... 'and drive a woman wild'. I went upstairs from my office to find Pauline Google Earthing Peru. I ask, why Peru? Because she's been reading about two plants you can put together there, in the Amazon rain forest, that combined make a hormone that only exists in the human body at birth and death, and we can stay in a retreat there for only $1,400 for fourteen days, try the concoction and see what death is like.

Summary, she wants me to go to a place which probably has no flush toilets, God awful food, to take a class A drug. Sounds more like Dr Goode's domain.

Yeah, I really need a wild woman around here. Smiling

Mark...

Olivia's picture

Here's one for you Dearest. What are friends on Solo for?

For She Who Waits (how to melt the ice).

Goodness, don't know if I'm

Mark Hubbard's picture

Goodness, don't know if I'm going to be quite up to the task. I'd already put those rubber band things for holding up socks on my shopping list for Friday.

My Lord Baron

Olivia's picture

Only I could satisfy you. I've booked the sex change (yours, not mine).

Good. May be the best chance I get to experience grand passion. I'm going to ask for an especially huge apparatus - that way we can be equals. Looking forward to having my face shoved in the pillow and being shown what life is really all about. Eye

Marky-moo. Don't make her wait too long - Uncle Walt didn't mention anything about patience being one of these women's virtues. If she has to wait, you'll have to make up for it by giving her a good twice-over at least.

Sorry Olivia, this woman is

Mark Hubbard's picture

Sorry Olivia, this woman is just going to have to keep on waiting until I have a chance to give her a decent once over on the coming long weekend.

Although interested, as I've skimmed, and, given the writer, his milieu, period, am surprised.

Lady Slapper

Lindsay Perigo's picture

I agree with your implication that they're all ice-crotches around here. They talk about it during the short interludes when they're awake, and that's it. Only I could satisfy you. I've booked the sex change (yours, not mine). You'll make a very beautiful young man. Which is really what Uncle Walt had in mind too. Evil

You're welcome Luke...

Olivia's picture

Just gorgeous isn't it. Where are all the rest of you so called passionate romantics?? What are you - a bunch of ice-crotches? Evil

Fantastic

Luke H's picture

Thanks for enabling me to stumble across this poem, Olivia.  it's so evocative!

"the pent-up rivers of myself" - what a great description of the release of the moment of orgasm, am I right guys?  Smiling

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