Awakening Giants.

A rhythmic, rainy day
Live Oaks swaying;
of wind-blown,
dark-tarnished
antique cutlery,
spoons hung from forks
to a sun-porch –
by disintegrating
fishing string;
the fog clings
a smoldering fire’s
taunting smile;
a veil of mystery
suspending
everything for miles;
thunder rolls –
the molasses-slow
awakening
the Giants
from the Isles;
It’s a well-planned
last stand, tea party,
we priestesses sit,
card-tabled by
light mahogany –
a séance to the dead
and a curse for the living.

Mastered.

I’m just another,
broken down,
submissive,
thumb-sucker,
an exhausted insomniac,
painfully desperate…
willingness –
it’s called, I guess,
my carnal curiosity,
and right then:
it occurs to me,
tonight will be spent,
next to your naked body,
a quantum time-bomb,
ticking away,
in my genes,
recessively,
a submissive’s lament,
swallows the day,
that follows the night,
spent by me,
bowing down,
at your feet –
My Dominant King,
slowly but surely,
owning me,
whatever it is that you,
might want me to be,
I will try my best,
to please –
the master who,
teaches me these things,
one last card,
folded into my sleeve,
I’m bound to you,
you’ve broken me,
I can’t move –
unless your hand,
guides me to…

Delivered.

I had been complaining about how long it has taken her package to arrive via snail mail just the other day; it had been just about one month…she made the comment that it was okay, that I’d see…the mail would arrive at just the right time – when we were each more in need of the said packages than we knew. As usual, she is right.
Today is Mother’s Day in the U.S.
I have a rough day on Mother’s Day every year because…well, for obvious reasons…
I opened her mail this morning amidst the sadness that I typically wake up to on Mother’s Day…and it made me smile and reminded me of important things that aren’t always so easy to recall during the rough patches in my life: to breathe…inhale and exhale…and everything else falls in line somewhere.
Throughout my lifetime thus far, I have seen many movies and read endless storybooks detailing friendships that seem to be able to surpass the confines of space and time; even life and death through the invisible bonds associated; I never fully comprehended such subject matter until now, more recently in my own life.
There are, indeed, some friendships – bonds – ties – sutures – webs, which are so intricately wound throughout the human elements of the Universe, that even those bound inside the weave do not fully appreciate the depths and heights made available through such cosmic humanity. Those of us who are woven into this fabric know the power and strength to which I refer; those who do not know, can only believe.

Mastered.

I’m just another,
broken down,
submissive,
thumb-sucker,
an exhausted insomniac,
painfully desperate…
willingness –
it’s called, I guess,
my carnal curiosity,
and right then:
it occurs to me,
tonight will be spent,
next to your naked body,
a quantum time-bomb,
ticking away,
in my genes,
recessively,
a submissive’s lament,
swallows the day,
that follows the night,
spent by me,
bowing down,
at your feet –
My Dominant King,
slowly but surely,
owning me,
whatever it is that you,
might want me to be,
I will try my best,
to please –
the master who,
teaches me these things,
one last card,
folded into my sleeve,
I’m bound to you,
you’ve broken me,
I can’t move –
unless your hand,
guides me dominantly…

Awakening Giants.

A rhythmic, rainy day
Live Oak tree chiming;
of wind-blown,
dark-tarnished
antique cutlery,
spoons hung from forks
to a sun-porch –
by disintegrating
fishing string;
the fog clings
a smoldering fire’s
taunting smile;
a veil of mystery
suspending
everything for miles;
thunder rolls –
the molasses-slow
awakening
the Giants
from the Isles;
It’s a well-planned
last stand, tea party,
we priestesses sit,
card-tabled by
light mahogany –
a séance to the dead
and a curse for the living.