To a beautiful whore in the style of Lord Byron
Sweet girl! thought I, hips swaying in candle light
only once we shall meet,
As you entertain me with your tremulous hand
Throat upturned for my tentative bite.
I would not say, "I love," but still
My senses struggle with my will:
As I count my ardour against the sovereign etched in my hand
Bowed by guilty lust my lips part and pant
In vain I check my rising and blush
Other men around Iām lost in the crush
Of sweat and lust and carnality
She disappears upstairs with a feather which disguises morality
Our meeting I can ne'er forget.
Her creamy bosoms heaved deep in regret
So My tongue flatters falsehoods to she
In her bed I need to be.
I thrust, I lust I am at once sated
She looks on berated
But just as she pulls up her silk stockings
On the door comes her husbands knocking
What though we never silence broke,
But soul's interpreters, the eyes,
Spurn such restraint and scorn disguise.
Last 3 lines Byrons own words :-)
Knowing of Craig Newman's admiration for your work, I stopped by for a quick browse. The title of this one caught my eye, because I know little about Byron, except tangentially from studying Mary Shelley's work (he proposed the ghost story contest out of which her first novel, Frankenstein, emerged). The poem is quite interesting (especially the inclusion of a mention of her stockings), but one line is so ungrammatical as to stop both the flow of the rhyme, and the flow of the whole poem: "So My tongue flatters falsehoods to she." Even in the most casual conversation, people do not speak like this; therefore to include it simply to complete the rhyme violate the traditional canons of rhymed poetry. If that stanza can be corrected, the poem is very successful.
I am curious to ask (and, again, this arises from my very tangential knowledge of Byron, only in relation to Mary Shelley), why did you happen to choose him or his style for this poem? It is such an interesting choice, that I would love to know more about its provenance.
J-Called