LYING asleep between the strokes of night
I saw my love lean over my sad bed,
Pale as the duskiest lily's leaf or head,
Smooth-skinned and dark, with bare throat made to bite,
Too wan for blushing and too warm for white,
But perfect-coloured without white or red.
And her lips opened amorously, and said--
I wist not what, saving one word--Delight.
And all her face was honey to my mouth,
And all her body pasture to mine eyes;
The long lithe arms and hotter hands than fire,
The quivering flanks, hair smelling of the south,
The bright light feet, the splendid supple thighs
And glittering eyelids of my soul's desire.
Down the street you can hear her scream youre a disgrace
As she slams the door in his drunken face
And now he stands outside
And all the neighbours start to gossip and drool
He cries oh, girl you must be mad,
What happened to the sweet love you and me had?
Against the door he leans and starts a scene,
And his tears fall and burn the garden green
LYING asleep between the strokes of night
I saw my love lean over my sad bed,
Pale as the duskiest lily's leaf or head,
Smooth-skinned and dark, with bare throat made to bite,
Too wan for blushing and too warm for white,
But perfect-coloured without white or red.
And her lips opened amorously, and said--
I wist not what, saving one word--Delight.
And all her face was honey to my mouth,
And all her body pasture to mine eyes;
The long lithe arms and hotter hands than fire,
The quivering flanks, hair smelling of the south,
The bright light feet, the splendid supple thighs
And glittering eyelids of my soul's desire.
Erotic? The dude wants to eat her like a ham sandwich.
There is no such thing as leftover pizza. There is now pizza and later pizza. - anonymous The risk I took was calculated, but man, am I bad at math - The Mincing Mockingbird
Erotic? The dude wants to eat her like a ham sandwich.
more like a cannoli i think
Down the street you can hear her scream youre a disgrace
As she slams the door in his drunken face
And now he stands outside
And all the neighbours start to gossip and drool
He cries oh, girl you must be mad,
What happened to the sweet love you and me had?
Against the door he leans and starts a scene,
And his tears fall and burn the garden green
There you go! I stand corrected. Italian pastry it is.
There is no such thing as leftover pizza. There is now pizza and later pizza. - anonymous The risk I took was calculated, but man, am I bad at math - The Mincing Mockingbird
You who follow me in time remember
to not be me. Do not punish yourselves
with songs, books, poetry of love fasting
on future as if it would deliver.
If we were standing nose to nose and stared
into each other's eyes as if the pools
we drown in would save us, I would step back
from my true loves' face and rebuild that wall
of resistance. For what do I know locked
in years observing violence scattered
within marriages of love and hope, but
too often love's blood flowed chaotically.
If you find love mirror the form: stand as
he stands; exposed, crumble as he crumbles.
There is no such thing as leftover pizza. There is now pizza and later pizza. - anonymous The risk I took was calculated, but man, am I bad at math - The Mincing Mockingbird
You who follow me in time remember
to not be me. Do not punish yourselves
with songs, books, poetry of love fasting
on future as if it would deliver.
If we were standing nose to nose and stared
into each other's eyes as if the pools
we drown in would save us, I would step back
from my true loves' face and rebuild that wall
of resistance. For what do I know locked
in years observing violence scattered
within marriages of love and hope, but
too often love's blood flowed chaotically.
If you find love mirror the form: stand as
he stands; exposed, crumble as he crumbles.
You who follow me in time remember
to not be me. Do not punish yourselves
with songs, books, poetry of love fasting
on future as if it would deliver.
If we were standing nose to nose and stared
into each other's eyes as if the pools
we drown in would save us, I would step back
from my true loves' face and rebuild that wall
of resistance. For what do I know locked
in years observing violence scattered
within marriages of photographs, but
too often marriages are one-sided.
If you find love mirror the form: stand as
he stands; exposed, crumble as he crumbles.
There is no such thing as leftover pizza. There is now pizza and later pizza. - anonymous The risk I took was calculated, but man, am I bad at math - The Mincing Mockingbird
But did such people ever exist, except as idyllic constructions of the speaker's imaginings? Often what makes poems such as Petrarch's Laura sonnets so powerful is the fact that she is simultaneously unattainable, virtuous yet also implicitly sexually knowing, as a married woman. Petrarch's physical wish for Laura is tangibly expressed, and his desire occasionally overwhelms his expression of his pure love for her; but then Laura dies, and Petrarch starts to struggle with the consequences of his desires, and how they undercut the piety of his grand love.
I think its pretty well documented that Beatrice was a real person - Dante first met her when he was around 18 and she was something like 7 or 8...But they didn't meet again for another 5 years - making her around twelve when he first implemented his designs upon her.......Ho-Hum...
What do you call 3 sheep tied together in the middle of Wales? - A Leisure Centre.
I think its pretty well documented that Beatrice was a real person - Dante first met her when he was around 18 and she was something like 7 or 8...But they didn't meet again for another 5 years - making her around twelve when he first implemented his designs upon her.......Ho-Hum...
Oh, Beatrice was. Yep, "Dodgy Dante", they called him.
Comments
Good place to start, for research, although it's only Wikipedia.
LYING asleep between the strokes of night
I saw my love lean over my sad bed,
Pale as the duskiest lily's leaf or head,
Smooth-skinned and dark, with bare throat made to bite,
Too wan for blushing and too warm for white,
But perfect-coloured without white or red.
And her lips opened amorously, and said--
I wist not what, saving one word--Delight.
And all her face was honey to my mouth,
And all her body pasture to mine eyes;
The long lithe arms and hotter hands than fire,
The quivering flanks, hair smelling of the south,
The bright light feet, the splendid supple thighs
And glittering eyelids of my soul's desire.
As she slams the door in his drunken face
And now he stands outside
And all the neighbours start to gossip and drool
He cries oh, girl you must be mad,
What happened to the sweet love you and me had?
Against the door he leans and starts a scene,
And his tears fall and burn the garden green
Now that's what I call erotic poetry.
The risk I took was calculated, but man, am I bad at math - The Mincing Mockingbird
more like a cannoli i think
As she slams the door in his drunken face
And now he stands outside
And all the neighbours start to gossip and drool
He cries oh, girl you must be mad,
What happened to the sweet love you and me had?
Against the door he leans and starts a scene,
And his tears fall and burn the garden green
The risk I took was calculated, but man, am I bad at math - The Mincing Mockingbird
to not be me. Do not punish yourselves
with songs, books, poetry of love fasting
on future as if it would deliver.
If we were standing nose to nose and stared
into each other's eyes as if the pools
we drown in would save us, I would step back
from my true loves' face and rebuild that wall
of resistance. For what do I know locked
in years observing violence scattered
within marriages of love and hope, but
too often love's blood flowed chaotically.
If you find love mirror the form: stand as
he stands; exposed, crumble as he crumbles.
The risk I took was calculated, but man, am I bad at math - The Mincing Mockingbird
to not be me. Do not punish yourselves
with songs, books, poetry of love fasting
on future as if it would deliver.
If we were standing nose to nose and stared
into each other's eyes as if the pools
we drown in would save us, I would step back
from my true loves' face and rebuild that wall
of resistance. For what do I know locked
in years observing violence scattered
within marriages of photographs, but
too often marriages are one-sided.
If you find love mirror the form: stand as
he stands; exposed, crumble as he crumbles.
The risk I took was calculated, but man, am I bad at math - The Mincing Mockingbird
I think its pretty well documented that Beatrice was a real person - Dante first met her when he was around 18 and she was something like 7 or 8...But they didn't meet again for another 5 years - making her around twelve when he first implemented his designs upon her.......Ho-Hum...
Oh, Beatrice was. Yep, "Dodgy Dante", they called him.