Who knew that having to write a truly terrible poem could be so much fun?
In The Love Detective: Next Level one of my characters, Elaine, is a Performance Poet and a spectacularly bad one.
My challenge was to write a toe-curling piece about sexual desire – do you think I’ve pulled it off?
Here are a few lines complete with my heroine, Clarry Pennhaligan’s reaction:
‘I long for the touch of your mouth against my lips
To feel it all over my body’s secret hollows and dips.’
Oh, blimey, I thought. Not what I expected. Let’s hope it’s not a long poem. It was.
‘Down amongst the dirt I’d spread wide my legs
You would lick and tease…’
Please make it stop, I prayed. But no, she kept right on going.
‘Plaster and dirt would be in my mouth and in the pulsating wetness of my…’
Now this was getting seriously embarrassing. I wanted to look away, but it was strangely and disturbingly compelling. Repeating the word Spent three times in a strained high-pitched voice, a ripple of anguish crossed Elaine’s features and her beaky nose twitched. Had she climaxed? I wondered, or was she having a stroke?
I may have enjoyed writing this… probably the worst poem ever written… a little too much but it made me realise just how difficult it must be to write the real thing, to compose poetry that moves and stimulates. It’s not something I’m ever going to have a serious stab at. I’ll stick to The Love Detective series and the further outrageous and exciting adventures of Clarry Pennhaligan!