through streets of déclassé squalor, i wander,
courtesan of chaos my feet bare,
ballerina on the dirty floor
o the city's kin of decay,
ragtag orchestra plays its dirge;
an eerie swan song.
i dance with shadows, a mistress of midnight's
in alleyways, i hear the ghosts of carnal revelries,
know the dolled-up ghoul of society's sweet melee,
her cocktail shrouded in obtuseness,
shares its waves of beer-fused intoxication
Early in the morning before the sun,
We reach the top where the night is done,
Shadow of night holding the hand of the light,
To start anew and to end a flight,
Me and my sister following Granny's sight,
Like a soldier tracking the field,
Open as clouds, sleeping in nature's field,
Where the butterfly and flowers fly,
To reach heaven's shine, all night they cry,
Tears all over disperse by walking foot,
Rice, wheat, spinach, and jute,
All and all beautiful like a Licchavi princess,
Delighted with golden jewelry and silk dress,
Crossing the high born, we reach the declassed zone,
Where the upper and lower are all thrown,
The king's zone where the castle stands tall,
Twenty-five hundred years ago, in time's roll,
Where the courtesan lived, Amrapali,
She is the wife of the kingdom of Vaishali,
Amrapali dances beneath the ancient tree,
On hilltop realms where land and sky agree.
The morning blossoms with her radiant light,
Yet kings suppress, and humanity takes flight.
Early in the morning we walk on ancient route
Above the castle on the hill, we walk all barefoot
a crabby courtesan does not do well
when her meanness is seen by clientele
the one I knew named angry night crawler Nell
was so grouchy, she was a very hard sell
the Madame found her a new place to dwell
No one knows what happened to nasty old Nell
Rodin so expresive
tactile & creative
in The Old Courtesan* en plein air
his 'intense truth' laid ' bare'
You invited me in
discreetly laughing at moi
you gave me words
but no champagne
blindfolded I feel behind
I tasted your marmalade peel
then you played sister moonshine
you sweetly sang hymns
i was a courtesan in your bewitching court
you quoted nonchalance
and blew out the candles playing Hallelujah
I was a stranger in your room
falling down in your memory
Love and needlessness need no confession
You invited me in
discreetly laughing at moi
you gave me no words of encouragement
but only champagne wine
blind drunk I fell behind
still I tasted your marmalade peel
then you played sister moonshine
you sweetly sang hymns
i was a courtesan in your bewitching court
you quoted nonchalance
and blew out the candles
playing Hallelujah
I was a stranger in your room
falling down in your memory
Love and needlessness
need no confinement
Amid her degraded,miserable life
in the red light area,
she hummed the songs
of the Hindi films.
Looking at her reflection in the mirror
she dreamt herself as the heroine
of a romantic movie
opposite her favorite star.
Sometimes, she copying the dialogues
and gestures of heroines
from the romantic scenes
of the popular movies,
and thinking herself
as a courtesan seen
in a popular movie.
These filmy,romantic thoughts
often comforted
her youthful life
in the red light district.
How does courtesy become a courtesan
~ Same way sunny becomes the sun
courtesan
only her eyes
are silent
Awake hair
hairstyles...
appropriate clothes
modeled...
Offered mouth,
painted...
hidden mistakes,
Clear Skin...
lively gestures,
rehearsed lines...
So she goes,
clearing paths,
she goes to the market...
Madame or courtesan...
Executive or executor...!?
I ran into Shakespeare the other day.
Told him I too am writing a play.
He asked about the premise, which was a reeler.
I had no idea he is a big premise-stealer.
I told him the plot, and he took a few notes.
I was excited when I saw him put them into his totes.
What will you do with them? I asked him, truly awed.
He would not tell me, because Shakespeare is flawed.
Just one thing, he asked, what is a hooker?
I thought that was funny, he's quite a humorous cooker!
A harlot, a whore, a rounder, tart, courtesan, I said.
"Oh, a strumpet!" he guessed, and his face turned all red.
So the next time you use the word strumpet remember to thank.
The guy who reintroduced this word to me - I call him Hank.
It's a fun word for sure, and will get some attention.
But don't use it if you are haughty with high needs of pretension.
bon vivant Gaston
precocious carefree Gigi. . .
courtesan or wife
Copyright © 2018 by Mark Toney. All rights reserved.
Published 2018 in "Hollywood Haiku" via wattpad.com
Carry to the king full flagons of wine,
this is your handmaiden’s duty mercy divine
Free-flowing ambrosia nectar fruit
mixed with stolen, silk tears of satin soft slavery
Pear-shaped heartache plucked,
a yearning branch uprooted from the bloodline tree
Comely cupbearer of the golden chalice,
harem handmaiden —
pleasure prisoner in an opulent palace
Captive crown seed royal body,
not regarded as a mere serving waif
Always regal are your movements,
no courtesan behavior do you display
Crimson hair chosen handmaiden,
innocent flame bearer of a fiery virgin heart
Bring the cup of delight
to the king’s hand at his demand
Before his presence, he desires you to stand
Celestial clothed ... cerulean robed
Chrysanthemum chosen handmaiden,
cupbearer of the vessel that portends divinity
Perform your duties with eunuch grace,
showing forth to the ruling princes,
your unchained spirit of indomitable chastity
When those shades of grey, turn a Monday blue,
and tears from heaven, soak the holey shoe.
The soul of the day, will fall from favor,
with the distant sound, of a lightning saber.
The day so dismal, with a kidnapped sun,
though it passes by, still we come undone.
For when suffering, time travels so slow,
yet it's all a part, of the greater show.
The courtesan clouds, reveal a late sky,
that fiery light, in a lover's eye.
If then comes the rain, to ruin your day,
stop and remember, when life came to play!
2/21/2018
Walking alone on that Christmas day
through falling snow, in emotions sublime,
step, pause step, she danced a minuet
as her taffeta skirt swirled in three quarter time.
The oboes and flutes sang sweet rhymes,
while in her mind the orchestra played,
through sparkling emeralds, the forest came alive,
as in her eyes the evergreens swayed.
She watched the flakes fall slow through the trees,
like courtesan guests, they bowed unconcerned.
Then slowly they gathered hugging her feet,
where, with courteous smile, their bows she returned.
With outstretched arms and yawning breath
through hiddenite eyes it would seem,
the music she heard was from a box neath the tree
and her dance was but a lovely sweet dream.
12/25/2017
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