Bacchus confronts us in a shady place, A tangled grove, and he, astride a cask. Gross limbs and belly, small besotted face, And lips pursed to the uptilted flask. A buxom dryad, white against his tan, Attends him (sturdy spirit o' the trees) ; As free a woman she as he a man, But gracious-limbed enough to please. Sportive, she smoothes his unambrosial hair, And binds a ruddy vine about his brows; A filet fit for marry-makers, where the wild and tendrilled berry grows. But stay, dryad, what need hath Bacchus' head of leafy trimmings ? Twist a leaf or two and wreathe his hardy nudity instead~ Garland him largely, Dryad, do !
Categories:
uptilted, culture, dream, drug, freedom,
Form: Free verse
Be proud of your scars
oh daughter mine
now a mother of children dear
Remember the time
they suckled your breast
gorging on the food of love
Worried lines on your face
anxious frown on your brow
a love story you cannot erase.
Oh daughter mine be proud of your scars.
Pendulos breasts wear with pride
your babies now full-grown and wise.
Stretch marks remain to tell
that you carried your babies well.
Oh daughter mine be proud of your scars.
A badge of honor
that's what they are.
Thickened waist and cellulite disgust many
yet tell a story so sweet so true.
Oh daughter mine be proud of your scars.
Uptilted breasts shapely hips
elegant thighs tell a story of their own
but you gave your babies all you had
with love and tenderness.
When they're grown and gone away
you will remember them still
by the scars you bear today.
Oh daughter mine be proud
Be proud of your scars.
Categories:
uptilted, daughter, love,
Form: Free verse