Short Courtesan Poems

courtesan
only her eyes
are silent...

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How does courtesy become a courtesan

   ~ Same way sunny becomes the sun...

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Rodin so expresive
tactile & creative
in The Old Courtesan* en plein air
his  'intense truth' laid ' bare'...

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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...

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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...

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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...!?...

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Always the mistress,
  never the wife
 
Dessert that comes last,
  motel in sight

Acting the courtesan,
  children denied

Life in the shadows,
  love that must hide

Everything borrowed,
  everything loaned

Feelings on time-share,
  never to own

Always a mistress,
  never a wife

Married to darkness, 
 —praying for light

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2017)...

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Flopped like a wilting weed
Wedged in an arid crack,
Gobbled up the spurt of seed
And floundered on the back,
Spurned and cast away,
Swallowing with glee,
Begone, I tell myself,
As quick as you can be.

Flopped like a dying bloom
Dumped on a garbage heap,
Gobbled up in ashen flesh
And compost ridden sleep,
Spurned and then forgot,
A courtesan of lies,
Depart, I pray of her,
Depart and damn your eyes....

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Courtesan rays slip through saffron robes 
undaunted  countenance persists 
past spuriously puffed up wares 
burying a man alive 

Protect me from this sea 
drown out in apprehension 
unscrupulously seizing me 

Engulf me in a mere chestnut gloss 
where the specters lie in wake 
loop your thrum against my form 
and pleasure you may take 

°as the night rests so shall we 
and in morning a love will rise...

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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...

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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...

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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...

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When the plastic kitchen chairs
begin to crack
and the fabric on the footstool
shows its stuffing,
when the sink begins to list
like a sinking boat

pulling away from its mooring
when the breasts begin to go
and the skin under your chin hangs loose
and in the mirror you see
the wrinkles around the eyes

grow and deepen
when you feel like an aged courtesan
undressing in front of him

you know it's time for muted lights
in the collapsing house of your life...

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Joanne the willowy vixen
Willing and welcoming
Dancing on the pole  
Writhing and gyrating 
Erotically cavorting
Like a gracile courtesan
Suppliantly performing for the clientele
Of dirty old men and drunken letches
Debasing herself for meagre reward
In seedy surroundings
Selling herself to wealthy businessmen
With her nakedness she begs
For more paper currency
She calls herself an exotic dancer
But she’s no better than the geisha
Who satisfies a Mikado’s libido...

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