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We passed within feet of her as she lay
sunbathing face down on the liner's deck,
an Aphrodite waiting for her Anchises.
We sailed off the coast of Cythera on
the way to Athens. Married men who
on other days, otherwise moral men looked
down upon her, applauded the female form.

Was she cast up from the foam of Uranus'
slashed genitalia by a Cronus, cast into
the Ioanian sea. Is it possible or was she just
another Teuton maiden on holiday that flowered
like dandelions on virgin mountain meadows.

Sea bronzed, sweat gathered in the dimple
of her back, downy hair sun-goldened that
weaved into the gap between spine and bikini
All foot traffic slowed as it came within reach
of her; stalled, breathed to take in, glance
and bask, then sigh to move reluctantly on.





*****



We passed within a yard of her as she lay
face down on the liner's deck planking,
an Aphrodite waiting to seduce her Anchises
shepherd boy, as we sailed off the coast of Cythera
on the way to Athens, her home. And married men
on other days and otherwise moral men looked
upon her and applauded the female form.
Was she cast up from the foam of Uranus' genitals,
slashed by his son, Cronus, and cast into the Ioanian
sea. It is possible or was she just another Teuton
maiden on holiday that flowered like dandelions on
uncut virginal mountian pastures. There she was
browned, with sweat gathered in the dimple
of her back, downy hair sun-goldened that
disappeared into her bikini and it was as if all foot
traffic stalled as it came across her, stalled, slowed
to take in, glance and bask, then sigh, to move on.

Frank---


the first 11 or 12 lines daze and blur.

here's the pom:

There she was
browned, with sweat gathered in the dimple
of her back, downy hair sun-goldened that
disappeared into her bikini and it was as if all foot
traffic stalled as it came across her, stalled, slowed
to take in, glance and bask, then sigh, to move on.



realistic, modern day dress for this poem.





opening lines of Tender Is The Night:



Halfway between Marseilles and the Italian border, on the southern coast of France, stands a small hotel on a lovely beach. The site is beautiful, rather deserted, and hot in the summer of 1925, though it will not remain so for long. Rosemary Hoyt, almost eighteen and an emerging American movie star, arrives at the hotel with her mother, Mrs. Speers. Sure that they will not stay long, Rosemary heads down to the beach while her mother tries to rest. Rosemary spies two parties on the beach, one made up of tanned, attractive and interesting people, who seem to belong, and the other of just the opposite kind of people. Rosemary sets herself down between the two groups and is disappointed to note that a member of the paler group approaches her first. She politely, but reluctantly, joins their party.









bernie

I think some stanza breaks would help.
I like poems interspersed with mythology. Would replace genitals witjbloins. We're all enamored of physical beauty. In my opinion,nothing in the universe is more breath taking than the human form. This poem treads lightly in that regard

That last sigh, then moving on is stellar. I agree with Bernie... those last lines make the poem

Thanks guys, all of you,
glad you found some merit.
I have accommodated your comments
with glee, made me think,
and altered accordingly although
cannot bring myself to give up
the Greeks, something new for me
never having studied at length
those fables of men and their gods.

Yes