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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required "50 Words for Poe: Rasputin" The Rat was buried in the Pet Cemetery His name was Rasputin She had been fond of him for some time feeding him morsels every now and again tickling his whiskers occasionally - until he decided to look inside her lingerie drawer, that one drawer within the Bad Minton cabinet, an expensive vintage piece, once owned by the 3rd Duke of Beaufort, marked with a sign "Sacrosanct - Not to be touched!" She'd forgotten Rat's couldn't read. She had kept her supplies of arsenic hidden amongst the flimsy pieces of Leavers and La Perla Gaultier fine lace for unsuspecting Peeping Toms or worse Covert Agents on the game within her draws He should have stuck to cheese it was better for his diet and as he was getting on in years kept him ...solid, so to speak Ah, it was a sad day but she buried him with style and kindness in Lost Lovers' Woods Someone had to give his dignity back She smiled, remembering her last assignation - under covers, of course, was Agent Provocateur The Dossier she held in her hand a plain buff, or some would say, Beige Manila folder, slightly bent at the corner handed to her from a very testy "M" at K.A.O.S. H.Q. early that very morning, simply READ: "Finding the Steppenwolf" But nothing was ever that simple... (LadyLabyrinth/2019) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kHS0d9m7s7g Johnny Hollow/Stranger “The Wolf trots to and fro, The world lies deep in snow, The raven from the birch tree flies, But nowhere a hare, nowhere a roe, The roe -she is so dear, so sweet - If such a thing I might surprise In my embrace, my teeth would meet, What else is there beneath the skies? The lovely creature I would so treasure, And feast myself deep on her tender thigh, I would drink of her red blood full measure, Then howl till the night went by. Even a hare I would not despise; Sweet enough its warm flesh in the night. Is everything to be denied That could make life a little bright? The hair on my brush is getting grey. The sight is failing from my eyes. Years ago my dear mate died. And now I trot and dream of a roe. I trot and dream of a hare. I hear the wind of midnight howl. I cool with the snow my burning jowl, And on to the devil my wretched soul I bear.” Hermann Hesse The Bad Minton Cabinet http://sian-thomas.blogspot.com/2012/07/la-perla-orientalism-aw12-collection.html
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