Thursday, December 10, 2009

tongue in cheek...

I read some material lately that stirred things in me that I'll have to explore further ... but it also sparked a memory of Marlowe's Song: A Passionate Shepherd to his Love and Sir Walter Ralaigh's tongue-in-cheek reply... I'm attaching links to the ORIGINALS (which are well worth the read)- here is MY version of both!

Marlowe's Song: A Passionate Shepherd to his Love

Sir Walter Ralegh's Reply

Sadist's Song: A Passionate Sadist to his Sub

Come live with me, and be my sub;
And we will all the pleasures prove
That hills and valleys, dales and fields,
Woods, or steepy mountain yields.

And you will lie tied to the rocks,
Seeing the sadists flog their flocks
with whip and chain and vehement urgings
pushing subbies into musings.

And I will make thee beds of thorns and roses
And a thousand stingy posies;
A cap of pain, and a kirtle
Pulled so tight with ropes of myrtle;

A gown made of the finest leather
Which from my hands is soon shed;
Stud-lined slippers for the hurt,
With buckles of the sharpest quirt;

A belt of leather and steel buds,
With coral clamps and amber-studs:
And if these pleasures may thee move,
Come live with me, and be my sub.

The swooning subbies shall dance and sing
For my delight each May-morning:
If these delights thy mind may move,
Then live with me and be my sub.

Selkie- The Sub's Reply

IF all the world and love were young,
And truth in every sadist's tongue,
These pretty pleasures might me move
To live with thee and be thy sub.

Time drives the want from heart to soul,
When rivers rage and subs grow cold;
And sea maidens are struck dumb;
by those who whine of tasks to come.

The flowers do fade, and wanton fields
To wayward winter reckoning yields:
A honey tongue, a heart of gall,
Is fancy's spring, but sorrow's fall.

The whips, thy wants, thy thorns and roses,
Thy paddles, tongue, and thy posies
Soon break, soon wither, soon forgotten,—
In folly ripe, in reason rotten.

Thy belt of leather and anal buds,
Thy coral clamps and amber studs,
All these in me no means can move
To come to thee and be thy sub.

But could truth last and love still breed,
Had promises no date nor age no need,
Then these delights my mind might move
To live with thee and be thy sub.

3 comments:

greengirl said...

If ever two poems begged for parody - and you did each perfectly.

Jz said...

Mad applause from the peanut gallery!

Liras said...

*tears of mirth pooping from eyes*

Oh S, only you!