Down off your white horse, before your queen Silver bells fall silent at the road edge The fairest one watches, in her gown of green Paused procession at the gate in the hedge You're plucked as boldly as I took that rose From summer branches in my Carterhall June then, you challenged that I took what grows And as Mistress there, I made you my thrall Your tribute grew all the hot months inside But your oaths made a stronger chain to her Unless I bore you down at Samhain's ride And pin you fast through change of flame and fur Wild one, Tam Lin I tame you to my own Now freed from her, you'll kneel to me alone
Sonnet For My Submissive IV
In which Circe confesses that not all men are pigs.
There’s a fullness to his lips that lingers
In my mind, ruddy rose against fresh cream
And in his hands, squared shape to his fingers
Yet taper thin wrists, structured in slim theme
I find him fragile, careful, yet not frail
Like a rabbit that freezes in your gaze
He reads as beautiful as he does male
Sets me compelled to capture, take and praise
Ah! Desire, catch his throat in my control
Down! Deeper! Command with teeth on his ear
By obeyed, marvel at the heart I stole
And play and prey upon his pleasured fear
Take and stroke what shivers and mindless thrusts
Tame the hare, and thus satisfy my lusts
Sonnet III for Silver
How can my joy hurt such to make me weep?
Your first words to me at each starting day;
Your last spoken when you stop to sleep.
First in my thoughts, but so very far away
Lithe, love, light and pale as the summer grass;
Clever fast and lusty, gifted in your wit.
Patient with my heart: sharp & frail as glass
Perversity met, matched- as a glove may fit.
My whims & needs as much your fondest treasure
You I may wanton toy, hurt & restrain
& yet you strive to bring me more pleasure
And smile to give your thank yous for the pain.
So if this year’s chances keep us apart
To have you is well worth a heavy heart
I caught myself crying again, while doing laundry. It’s a scary time, with the uncertainty of what might be, between going back to work after sick leave, watching the rather grim situation in the US and the world. But, love is such that, suck or not, I would rather miss him than not have him to miss.
He stoically puts up with my poetry.