Long Courtesan Poems
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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.
Among a stone-wreathed, sun-fried declivity
On earth’s raised stomach, a shack. Common
With the nervousness of heat, such shack-up
Points bury their heads in shame forever...
School hours brought me to such beginnings,
Such introductions, transient and loosely
Translated into vulgar languages aired by
A hairless harum scarum – MY LANDLADY!
Her vowels, resonant with crudity, frayed the
Walls, reaching the cruel apex of wanton folly,
Embellished with tattered pollutions of crimson
Air. Her consonants, tongue in cheek, jeered at
Remote efforts applied to disarm a vector with
Borrowed proboscis. Paraphrased sex lined up
Lips that chewed with primed caution, when
Pressed to announce, through optimistic,
Sarcastic leverage:
‘YOUR RENT IS DUE! ’
But the moon always winked at me. All four
Phases richly painted, slowly sketched to crawl,
And not by any fast means, run. The seasons
Nudged me to remind me they were not yet run
Over by the wheels of time.
But she befriended the calendar, stiff with hard
Resolutions to turn over her pages. By a runnel’s
Course, she evoked the late principles of buried
Time, calculating the length of days, the width of
Nights and the circumference of her wilted
Patience. Hourglass was polished clean to reflect
The sun’s glare through holes pierced by decibels
Of eastern hymns, composed before the waking of
Larks, when like an underpaid courtesan, she would
Hammer her now contagious sign-slogan, but
Now robustly rephrased:
‘YOUR RENT IS OVERDUE! ’
Her name was Anarkali,
an eloquent carnival of legendary beauty.
a dancer in the court of Emperor Akbar.
Deep russet rouge blushed her red,
a silky smile on her rosy peach cheeks
rich, sensual and seductive...
With the sweet scent of jasmine, and
festal moonlight of crystal starred sky,
the damsel danced her way to Salim's heart.
A charmed Prince reverberated in her dreams
in rhythm of a daisy swaying in his breeze.
Entranced in her emollient ecstasy
Captured in the cage of her beautiful eyes.
Love blossomed like a dazzling wildfire.
But a sinister callous world, was eager to kill.
Passion handcuffed by shackled royal ego,
Anarkali was sentenced to be entombed alive.
Behind a wall of stones and prison bars,
Blood still throbbed her myriad unseen scars.
As vibrant colors of a sunset blurred,
An enslaved moth danced to flames of death.
As chimes of Ghungroo* muffled in mutenes,
An enslaved soul emancipated in darkness.
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Anarkali in Urdu means Pomegranate blossoms
*Ghungroo is an ornament of bells worn as anklets by dancers.
The love story of Prince Salim ( Mughal Emperor Jahangir) and Anarkali is legendary.
Anarkali, also known as Nadira Begum, was a courtesan from Lahore in modern-day Pakistan. According to one of the stories, Anarkali had a relationship with the Crown Prince Jahangir and the Mughal Emperor Akbar had her enclosed in a wall where she died.
4th July 2019
Sponsor John Hamilton
Contest Name : Slave to love
Colors splashed upon a canvas
Expounding rhyme and reason
The paintbrush tells a story
Of love, trust and treason
A flux of emotions spread abroad
Fusing hues of green and teal
Blueprinting a love gone wrong
Phantasmagoric and surreal
Falling tears of cobalt blue
Emblazoned with crimson red
Blended well with vivid scarlet
Depicting a heart that bled
Melding oils on a palette
Coining shades of black and gray
Distraught strokes glaze the surface
Warranted rage on display
Fuchsia construes your courtesan
Infidelity exposed in viridian light
Goldenrod and lemon chiffon
Symbolize this woman's blight
A recollection of betrayal
Expressed in abstract art
Hung upon a gallery wall
Portrait of a broken heart
Beckoning forward, then muting purpose with placid expression;
Courting favor, but scorning gratuity with nobler accession.
Reconnoitering all, yet countenancing none in stolid derision;
Regaling commoners, but transcending all menial patronization.
Subtle smile endears, but spurns all gratification;
Distant stare, onerous repression or dark depression?
All encompassing view, mistrusting miser or prating courtesan;
Stoic posture, exalted position or callous condition?
Frugal appearance, an inner recession or outward confession;
Folded arms, trite convention or cultivated abstention?
Enshrouded by cumbersome shadows or serene accommodation;
Transfixed, eternal matron; or transparent, antiquated apparition?
DATE: November 1, 2010
Contest: Why oh Why
Sponsored by Constance~ A rambling poet
by: Stephen Parker
Form:
Woo the woman
Love the lady
Mellow the maiden
Manage the maid
Garnish the girl
Dazzle the damsel
Bar the bimbo
Latch the lass
Silence the siren
Moor the mermaid
Net the nymph
Madden the madam
Tame the tart
Court the courtesan
Nudge the nurse
Null the nun
Shun the spinster
Strap the stewardess
Venerate the virgin
Vex the vixen
Vacate the vamp
Curb the coquette
Con the concubine
Whack the whore
Whip the wench
Pooh-pooh the prostitute
Slam the ****
Harem the harlot
Screw the shrew
Dally with a divorcee
Eschew the enchantress
Wallop the witch
Garb Godiva
Jail Jezebel
Lambaste Lilith
Dump Delilah
Gore the Gorgons
Harness Hecuba
Xpunge Xanthippe
Wed the widow!
~03/08/2013
~Contest: Your Personal Favorite #2
~Sponsor: L Milton Hankins.
Sappho Translations VIII by Michael R. Burch
Sappho, fragment 68
translation by Michael R. Burch
That was then, this is now!
In those days my maidenhead was in full bloom,
then you …
Sappho, fragment 135
translation by Michael R. Burch
Golden Persuasion, Aphrodite's daughter,
how you deceive mortals!
Sappho, fragment 88
translation by Michael R. Burch
Why, Procne,
delicate swallow, daughter of Pandion,
why do you weary me with tales of woe?
Sappho, fragment 15
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Cypris, may she find you a harsh mistress,
Doricha, the sl-t!
Put an end to her bragging,
nor let her boast that she fooled him twice,
my brother's embezzler!
Sappho, fragment 7
translation by Michael R. Burch
Doricha commands arrogantly,
like young men.
Sappho, fragment 148
translation by Michael R. Burch
A vagabond friendship,
a public blessing …
repent Rhodopis!
Sappho, fragment 138
translation by Michael R. Burch
The beautiful courtesan Rhodopis,
lies here entombed, more fair
than when she walked with white lilies
plaited in her dark hair,
but now she's as withered as they:
whose dust is more gray?
Sappho, fragment 5
translation by Michael R. Burch
Revered Nereids, divine sea-daughters, please grant that my brother may return unharmed,
his heart's desires all fulfilled,
and may he show his sister more honor than in his indifferent past …
But you, O august Kypris, please keep him from unbearable dooms!
Sappho, fragment 95
translation by Michael R. Burch
Lord Hermes, you guide spirits to their final destination.
Now guide me, for I am despondent and wish only to die,
to see the lotus-lined shores of Acheron.
Sappho, fragment 150
translation by Michael R. Burch
1.
Cleis, daughter, don't cry!
Mourning is unbecoming a poet's household.
2.
For those who serve the Muses,
mourning is unbecoming.
Sappho, fragment 56
translation by Michael R. Burch
Erinna, will any woman
born under the sun
ever match your art?
Sappho, fragment 135
translation by Michael R. Burch
Erinna, why does darkwinged Procne, King Pandion's daughter, beckon?
Keywords/Tags: Erinna, Procne, brother, sister, daughter,
Les Bijoux (The Jewels)
by Charles Baudelaire
loose translation by Michael R. Burch
My lover nude and knowing my heart's whims
Wore nothing more than a few bright-flashing gems;
Her art was saving men despite their sins;
She ruled like harem girls crowned with diadems!
She danced for me with a gay but mocking air,
My world of stone and metal sparking bright;
I discovered in her the rapture of everything fair;
Nay, an excess of joy where the spirit and flesh unite!
Naked she lay and offered herself to me,
Parting her legs and smiling receptively,
As gentle and yet profound as the rising sea,
Till her surging tide encountered my cliff, abruptly.
A tigress tamed, her eyes met mine, intent ...
Intent on lust, content to purr and please!
Her breath, both languid and lascivious, lent
An odd charm to her metamorphoses.
Her limbs, her loins, her abdomen, her thighs,
Oiled alabaster, sinuous as a swan,
Writhed pale before my calm clairvoyant eyes;
Like clustered grapes her breasts and belly shone.
Skilled in more spells than evil imps can muster,
To break the peace which had possessed my heart,
She flashed her crystal rocks’ hypnotic luster
Till my quietude was shattered, blown apart.
Her waist awrithe, her breasts enormously
Out-thrust, and yet ... and yet, somehow, still coy ...
As if stout haunches of Antiope
Had been grafted to a boy ...
The room grew dark, the lamp had flickered out.
Mute firelight, alone, lit each glowing stud;
Each time the fire sighed, as if in doubt,
It steeped her pale, rouged flesh in pools of blood.
This translation has been adopted by **** and escort websites!
The Perfect Courtesan
by Michael R. Burch
after Baudelaire, for the courtesans
She received me into her cavities,
indulging my darkest depravities
with such trembling longing, I felt her need ...
Such was the dalliance to which we agreed—
she, my high rider;
I, her wild steed.
She surrendered her all and revealed to me—
the willing handmaiden, delighted to please,
the Perfect Courtesan of Ecstasy.
while figuratively hunting
and pecking around me noggin
force hum theme to write about
lo and behold, the solution
stared me right in front
of my little knob nub nose with gentle clout
cuz, as an avid bookworm, the dictionary,
I enjoy expending hours
to drink up etymological history
relating to the origin and
historical development of words
and their meanings.
with no shadow of a doubt
and most times, this animatronic,
the technique of making and operating
lifelike robots, typically for use
in film or other entertainment
dogmatic, enigmatic fugee dooby
brother beastie boy
(actually a mwm) dislikes to flout
his abilities, hobbies, interests,
as aches hike kant imagine being treated for gout
a disease in which defective metabolism
of uric acid causes arthritis, especially
in smaller bones of the feet, deposition
of chalkstones, and episodes of acute pain.
Boot lemme return full circle
to thematic core curriculum aye started to aim
and express gratitude
to the ghost of Noah Webster,
who gets credit yet also blame
if some snide haughty guttersnipe,
some slovenly individual feels snubbed,
and hence, living personage, said descendent(s)
of oblivion, whatever unknown
man or woman to living persons
stake a valid claim
that his/her many generations removed
heir (Harris), and or heiress ancestor (proven
with tangible researched reportage,
then cited with countless
prestigious explorers of English language),
that a daunting scrivener perhaps
even a courtesan or rich dame
rightfully ought to receive the fame,
thus such living relative might
upend the huck cult personality be game
to dare challenge secure historical niche
ambitiously held by Mark Roget (1779–1869),
British physician, natural theologian
and lexicographer. It was released
to the public on 29 April 1852.
The original edition had 15,000 words,
and each new matured edition
of the Thesaurus grew larger.
PRINCESS OF THE UNIVERSE
I am the circular shaped princess
Men can’t approach me with gold because I am priceless
Even women can’t help admiring me
My beauty makes others envy
From a distance I bright
My beautiful robe always white
They say my magic lies in my eyes
For men can’t watch me twice
Many women hate my appearance
They call me ‘’the husband snatcher’’
My presence halts romance
It isn’t I but my charming nature
They call me ‘’the courtesan ‘’
They claim I flirt with every man
But I don’t really care
For none of them can ever dare
My beauty pierces everywhere like an arrow
Men see my light before they come out to follow
My hips they found none on land
And for my curves, they can’t stand
I lure men with my sexy smile
They watch me out a mile
When I start laughing,
They turn to run
My golden teeth they can’t watch
My 'diastema' shaped like a notch
The light of my curves bright in guises like a torch
I am the circular shaped princess.