I’ll keep my intro short today, since the poem that follows is so long. But no Ex/rotic Friday poem or Pride Month would be complete without this spectacularly intense poem by York-born poet W.H. Auden.
W.H. Auden (1907-1973) was a revered Anglo-American poet known for his eloquent and introspective exploration of love, politics, and the human condition.
As a gay writer living in the 20th century, Auden's work often grappled with themes of identity, desire, and the search for meaning in a rapidly changing world.
His poems reflect on themes ranging from personal relationships to global conflict with a keen sense of observation and empathy.
One of Auden's most famous works is his poem "Funeral Blues," which captures the anguish of grief and loss with haunting simplicity. Originally written as part of his play "The Ascent of F6," the poem gained widespread recognition when it was recited by actor John Hannah in the film "Four Weddings and a Funeral."
Auden's personal life, including his homosexuality and his relationships with other men, deeply influenced his work. While he was often reticent about discussing his sexuality in public, his poetry often alluded to themes of same-sex desire and longing with subtlety and nuance. His subtlety obviously ran out before penning The Platonic Blow!
As a literary figure, Auden's influence extended far beyond his poetry. He was also known for his essays, literary criticism, and collaborations with other artists, including composer Benjamin Britten.
The Platonic Blow by W.H. Auden It was a spring day, a day for a lay, when the air Smelled like a locker-room, a day to blow or get blown; Returning from lunch I turned my corner and there On a near-by stoop I saw him standing alone. I glanced as I advanced. The clean white T-shirt outlined A forceful torso: the light-blue denims divulged Much. I observed the snug curves where they hugged the behind, I watched the crotch where the cloth intriguingly bulged. Our eyes met. I felt sick. My knees turned weak. I couldn't move. I didn't know what to say. In a blur I hear words, myself like a stranger speak "Will you come to my room?" Then a husky voice "O.K." I produced some beer and we talked. Like a little boy He told me his story. Present address: next door. Half Polish, half Irish. The youngest. From Illinois. Profession: mechanic. Name: Bud. Age: twenty-four. He put down his glass and stretched his bare arms along The back of my sofa. The afternoon sunlight struck The blond hairs on the wrist near my head. His chin was strong. His mouth sucky. I could hardly believe my luck. And here he was, sitting beside me, legs apart. I could bear it no longer. I touched the inside of his thigh. His reply was to move it closer. I trembled, my heart Thumped and jumped as my fingers went to his fly. I opened the gap in the flap. I went in there. I sought for a slit in the gripper shorts that had charge Of the basket I asked for. I came to warm flesh, then to hair. I went on. I found what I hoped. I groped. It was large. He responded to my fondling in a charming, disarming way: Without a word he unbuckled his belt while I felt. And lolled back, stretching his legs. His pants fell away. Carefully drawing it out, I beheld what I held. The circumcised head was a work of mastercraft With perfectly bevelled rim, of unusual weight And the friendliest red. Even relaxed, the shaft Was of noble dimensions with wrinkles that indicate Singular powers of extension. For a second or two It lay there inert, then it suddenly stirred in my hand, Then paused as if frightened or doubtful what to do. And then with a violent jerk it began to expand. By soundless bounds it extended and distended, by quick Great leaps it rose, it flushed, it rushed to its full size. Nearly nine inches long and three inches thick, A royal column, ineffably solemn and wise. I tested its length with a manual squeeze. I bunched my fingers and twirled them about the knob. I stroked it from top to bottom. I got on my knees. I lowered my head. I opened my mouth for the job. But he pushed me gently away. He bent down. He unlaced His shoes. He removed his socks. Stood up. Shed His pants altogether. Muscles in arm and waist Rippled as he whipped his T-shirt over his head. I scanned his tan, enjoyed the contrast of the brown Trunk against white shorts taut around small Hips. With a dig and a wriggle he peeled them down. I tore off my clothes. He faced me, smiling. I saw all. The gorgeous organ stood stiffly and straightly out With a slight flare upwards. At each beat of his heart it threw An odd little nod my way. From the slot of the spout Extended a drop of transparent viscous goo. The lair of his hair was fair, the grove of a young man, A tangle of curls and whorls, luxuriant but couth. Except for a spur of golden hairs that ran To the neat navel, the rest of the belly was smooth. Well-hung, slung from the form of the muscular legs, The firm vase of sperm like a bulging pear, Cradling its handsome glands, two herculean eggs, Swung as he came towards me, shameless, bare. We aligned mouths. We entwined. All act was clutch, All fact, contact, the attack and the interlock Of tongues, the charms of arms. I shook at the touch Of his fresh flesh, I rocked at the shock of his cock. Straddling my legs a little I inserted his divine Person between and closed on it tight as I could. The upright warmth of his belly lay along mine. Nude, glued together, for a minute we stood. I stroked the lobes of his ears, the back of his head And the broad shoulders. I took bold hold of the compact Globes of his bottom. We tottered. He fell on the bed. Lips parted, eyes closed, he lay there, ripe for the act, Mad to be had, to be felt and smelled. My lips Explored the adorable masculine tits. My eyes Assessed he chest. I caressed the athletic hips And the skim limbs. I approved the grooves of his thighs. I hugged, I snugged into an armpit. I sniffed The subtle whiff of its tuft. I lapped up the taste Of its hot hollow. My fingers began to drift On a trek of inspection, a leisurely tour of the waist. Downward in narrowing circles they playfully strayed, Encroached on his privates like poachers, approached the prick, But teasingly swerved, retreated from meeting. It betrayed Its pleading need my a pretty imploring kick. "Shall I rim you?" I whispered. He shifted his limbs in assent. Turned on his side and opened his legs, let me pass To the dark parts behind. I kissed as I went The great thick cord that ran from his balls to his arse. Prying the buttocks aside, I nosed my way in Down the shaggy slopes. I came to the puckered goal. It was quick to my licking. He pressed his crotch to my chin. His thighs squirmed as my tongue wormed his hole. His sensations yearned for consummation. He untucked His legs and lay panting, hot as a teen-age boy, Naked, enlarged, charged, aching to get sucked, Clawing the sheet, all his pores open to joy. I inspected his erection. I surveyed his parts with a stare From scrotum level. Sighting along the underside Of his cock I looked through the forest of pubic hair To the range of the chest beyond, rising lofty and wide. I admired the texture, the delicate wrinkles and the neat Sutures of the capacious bag. I adored the grace Of the male genitalia. I raised the delicious meat Up to my mouth, brought the face of its hard-on to my face. Slipping my lips around the Byzantine dome of the head. With the tip of my tongue I caressed the sensitive groove. He thrilled to the trill. "That's lovely!" he hoarsely said. "Go on! Go on!" Very slowly I started to move. Gently, intently, I slid the massive base Of his tower of power, paused there a moment down In the moist thicket, then began to retrace Inch by inch the smooth way to the throbbing crown. Indwelling excitements swelled at delights to come As I descended and ascended those thick distended walls. I grasped his root between my left forefinger and thumb And with my right hand ticked his heavy, voluminous balls. I plunged with a rhythmical lunge, steady and slow, And at every stroke made a corkscrew roll with my tongue. His soul reeled in the feeling. He whimpered "Oh!" As I tongued and squeezed and rolled and tickled and swung. Then I pressed on the spot where the groin is joined to the cock, Slipped a finger into his arse and massaged him from inside. The secret sluices of his juices began to unlock. He melted into what he felt. "O Jesus!" he cried. Waves of immeasurable pleasures mounted his member in quick Spasms. I lay still in the notch of his crotch inhaling his sweat. His ring convulsed in my finger. Into me, rich and thick, His hot spunk spouted in gouts, spurted in jet after jet.
And breathe!
Hopefully, you didn’t begin reading that one out loud. Hopefully, you didn’t persevere past the next few verses. Hopefully, you got off the bus at the very next stop and walked the rest of the way.
Among his most popular works is "Funeral Blues," a poignant lament on grief and loss, famously featured in the film "Four Weddings and a Funeral." "Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone" - these iconic lines resonate deeply with readers, capturing the universal experience of mourning. In "September 1, 1939," Auden reflects on the tumultuous events of his time, exploring themes of war, politics, and the human condition. The poem's closing lines, "We must love one another or die," remain hauntingly relevant in today's world. Another standout is "The Unknown Citizen," a satirical critique of conformity and bureaucracy in modern society. Auden's incisive wit and keen observation shine through as he questions the true meaning of individuality and identity. Whether exploring love, politics, or the complexities of human existence, Auden's poetry continues to captivate and inspire readers, inviting them to delve deeper into the rich tapestry of his work.
The very least anyone would need after reading the above poem is a coffee, realistically a cigarette is customary.
I’ll spare you the plea to click the button below for today, go get yourself a coffee and breathe.
Tomorrow’s won’t be nearly as intense. I can’t promise the same for the poems that follow.
I didn’t even get ON the ruddy bus ………….!!!!!!!
Words.
What utter joy to read this again.
Last read this during an impromptu picnic with friends few years ago.
Love.