Masked And Uninvited

Pale feathers shielded eyes inked black with passion,

kohled, surrounded satin,

smouldered spark,

templed pulses, throat betrayed, with flutter, fanned desire,

silk neck adorned of pearls

clasped at back.

Fingers fussed release at all tight fastened,

white robe of velvet shuffled,

heaped to floor,

corset fumbled urgent fascination,

lips and hands possessing hearts’ desire, 

possessed, possessor, pleading each for more.

Mask and heels and stockings still bedecked while

flashing eyes and stumbles

tripped to bed,

semi-dressed for ball, quite uninvited,

normalised by marital,

newly weds!

Okay, this might count as ‘mask with romantic‘ if I wasn’t extracting the Michael a bit. Just a wee bit. Time to get out of the sun, I think. Too much fun in the sun to be had with masks. Must get a visor…

Save This Dance

Will you love me kinder, tender of my dreamscapes,

While passion flares will softness still hold sway,

Shall we dance with longing through the nighttimes

All fears and inhibitions held at bay.

Will we be such lovers on the dancefloor swaying,

Beat to beat, hearts tempoed to the tune,

Shall we weave and wax our words and feelings,

Silhouettes reflected in ballroom.

Will we tango footsteps, bodies fusing

Wilder yet though cherished in the dance,

Shall we meet upon the moonlit parquet,

Tender lovers teaching of romance.

Will the thrum of love keep right on beating

As planets twirl and sunlight filters through,

Shall divinity of the dance we shared in passing

Resist the light and save my dreams of you.

On The Menu

Roses breathed to bosom, dusky evening,

Linen tablecoth, choice silverware,

Damask dress, trimmed velvet, black as midnight,

Mackintosh to Mackintosh high chairs.

Crystal leaded, claret perfumed, goblets,

Damson, berried, succulence so full,

Lips to edges, tongues explore, exploding,

Morsels delectating, savoured pull.

Salmon, oaken-smoked, slivers sweating,

Recline invitingly on cress with dressing bare,

Venison richly waiting for the sizzle,

Sides to touch, mere moments, serving rare.

Scattered cushioned silk upon the hearthrug,

Embers banked, maintaining just degree,

Freesia perfumed water by the fireside,

Elevating moisture tremulously.

Sparkling eyes aglow, pearlies nibbling

Cream on chill in earthenware to pour,

Forested kirsch and cherry brandy, 

Coffee bubbling, ambient the air.

Lazy ease, recumbent postures, idling,

Somnabulent with sleep, determined smiles,

Comforted, sense comforted, piled hearthrug,

Rarest sensories for miles and wiles.

Synchronised

Their dance began,

as in a duel,

once spied across the floor,

magnets caught

in polar pull,

each one seeking more.

 

To phantoms,

all around became,

umbilic drew them forth,

no digressions,

no, nor names,

nor plight to mar this troth.

 

Pulsing beat,

orchestral drum,

two hearts now synchronised,

static waves,

so plucked to thrum,

unspoken words. No lies.

 

Elemental,

cleaving then

within a gaping throng,

gyrations,

mid ungodly men,

to throbbing heartfelt song.

 

Once begun,

the timeless tune

marred and marked their souls,

perfect rhythm

ends too soon,

returned to earthbound goals

 

Back to ports

for two adrift,

unity so cast,

interludes,

tho’ hearts may lift,

once played, fade into past.

 

Backward glance,

a shoulder’d chin,

eyes return to fore,

heaving breast,

a sighing grin,

so ends tango’d score.

May Music, Day 11 – There can be only one…..

Ghost-filled glens, mist enshrouded massacres from old hospitality creep onto and under my skin. Halting in the Pass of Glencoe, shuddering and shaking with immortal cold, only desiring escape from palpable venom and yesterday’s wars. Photographers click. I run. Back and away. Twenty-six years and ten months ago. Love, newly embraced, threatened by death between mountains.

So brief, this voyage,

love and lands glimpsed and wished

thru’ life dream’s passing lights,

peeped portholes of discovery,

vessels buoyed and storm-tossed

in fleeting nights.


Treasure,

pirated insecurity,

priced to always pay

in loving lost,

no sanctioned entitlement

to one second of one day.


Risk is all,

gameplay on high seas,

atop mountains, in glen,

untouchable reality,

all knowledge

without ken.


Love, the alchemy,

banish broadswords

ever-ready,

one challenging another to

supremacy over death

inevitable. Hold steady.


Peaked waterfalls fill

unconscious streams, spilling

elixir into life-giving lochs.

Ocean’s tumult,

earth’s quake,

shell-shocked.


Haar-swathed eternities,

happy-ever-afters,

castles in the air,

whorls of great illusion,

created in and from time. Immortality, 

one love, should we dare.

So, now I hope you can see why I couldn’t possibly share my favourite song from my favourite band for yesterday’s post because it is from my favourite movie. And what’s not to love? It has everything. Romance, some sex, a bonnie lassie, love, hate, evil, good, a conquering hero, an enemy, hope, immortality, Queen’s soundtrack.

‘And shiiit, it even haash me, Sean Connery. Shum shings jusht don’t get any bettur. And Chrishtopher Lambert’sh acshent ish almosht aash good aash mine. And mine haash sherved me well. Even when I waash a Russian.’

Hope you don’t mind I cheated a bit for yesterday’s question, Twindaddy. I thought Yoda could explain.

May Music, Day 3 – Not Pished (Adult Content – but only slightly!)

No one was pished in the construction of this post.  Although, quite frankly, it’s taken me so long to answer Twindaddy’s third music question, I think I deserve to be.

And this should not have been as difficult as it proved to be. Two songs hit me straight off from my parents.

We often had nights when I was young where a sing-song erupted. My mother sang what I thought was called, ‘Like A Golden Dream’ to my dad when she was being all ‘lovified’. And he would tear up. I know. But that’s love for you.

Anyway, it’s not called, ‘Like A Golden Dream’, as some lengthy time trawling  the internet has proven. It’s called ‘Tosselli’s Serenade’ as far as I can tell. And I found an Italian version sung by Mario Lanza and an English version where the lady in question yodels in it. Yodelling may have its place in the world. But it’s not on my blog.

So you’re stuck with my rendition. If you can find an English version that doesn’t involve yodelling, let me know and I’ll replace mine. (Mibbe!)

Mum and Dad and her song to him

Now, for my dad’s song. This I was most surprised at. After a few jars of Guinness at these soirees my dad liked to pretend to be a bit on the drunken side – ok, he had been lubricated, somewhat – and sang ‘The Seven Drunken Nights’. Now, this is an Irish song and a lot of our music was Irish folk but my dad never sang all of the verses. We used to count out the days of the song and ask why there weren’t seven. My dad would wink and say that he or the guy in the song was too drunk to remember.

Upon researching this song for inclusion here, I now know why the 6th and 7th nights were never included. Auld bugger. No wonder he laughed every time we asked.

The original version was sung by The Dubliners but they were banned, apparently, from singing verses 6 and 7. A few versions of the two omitted verses have sprung up.

Now one version I came across was particularly lewd using a word that rhymes with sock. I’m going for this Irish version by Puca. And be glad I didn’t include my version of this one. 😉

 

 

 

Sensory Treasure

I whisper in your heart

to hear your hurting,

I kiss your tears

to taste away your fears,

touch your hands,

absorbing all your feelings,

snuggle close, scenting

pain-filled, broken years.

You gaze into my eyes

to know I’m seeing

all within your soul

you can’t convey.

In sharing all our senses,

flowered open,

love and understanding

feel a way.

I know your soul

by breathing in your essence,

believing all

my senses may reveal,

caring for you whole,

nothing concealed,

and treasure all the scars

I help to heal.