One day, when I was a child, I went to a local museum. It was the first time for me and, between Renaissance paintings and sculptures, I met eroticism for the very first time. I was surrounded buy wonderful frescoes about sensual adventures of Greek deities and Roman emperors.
I spent many days inside that place and I must admit that all the nudity on the walls has never disturbed me, conversely those naked bodies gave me a slight sense of happiness and freedom. It was, and still is, a great erotic work of art either for its architecture and for its frescoes.
Thanks to those works, sex appeared like a funny game to me and I wanted to spent hours looking at those mythical characters running free through woods; gods and satyrs drinking and having party; warriors battling naked and horsmen riding while showing all the power of their bodies. Consider the possibility to pass your time watching those works while a white and pure architecture surrounds you. It was a mysthical experience.
That first encounter with sex and eroticism pushed me to dig deeply the topic through the authors of the past. From Ovid to Horace, from Boccaccio to De Sade, I filled my imagination with tales of men and women enjoying pleasure in many ways. Without taking anything away from others, I think Greek and Roman poets were better in bonding together nature, life and sex. They were both passionate and tragic when they write about sex. There is fun, vulgarity, violence, happiness, blood, sweat, tears and smiles. All you can experience under the blankets was written by those men and women — how could we forget Sappho‘s works, in particular “Ode to Jealousy” also known as Sappho 31?
This does not mean I do not like Bukowski or other contemporary poets. Just the beginning of my interest into eroticism started with those authors and I still can not understand why it is a shame, for many people, to write or to read about sex. Better to be soldiers under the blankets than under the bombs, as Ovid would say.
Erotic poems are my favourite also because I think, thanks to the creativity of the poet, bodies can be transformed into many things. You can consider a naked woman as like as a land, a desert or a luxuriant valley. Sex can be the frantic movement of an engine or the dance of snakes. Everything can be transformed into eroticism.
There is the esoteric view of sex, the alchemical view of bodies bonding together. Or there’s just the pleasure, the scream, the orgasm. Sex is cannibalism of the beloved or the blessing of the other. In each case our mind is pushed to find a deeper meaning of life and existence.
Anyway this is just my view. Let me know what means eroticism to you and if you like to write and read poems about sex.