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A sexy parody on Andrew Marvell, "Coy Mistress"
"Although the moon may stand, shading the sun,
powerless, impotent, both Nature and Time.
No thunders shaking the mighty sea,
can rend my Mistress' soul from me."
MY LOVE'S TRUE MISTRESS
We SHALL Have Time Enough, All Worlds Ended.
O, love, on dreams we'll fly and float suspended,
our life and dreams fulfilled, and also Love's,
rehearse our love with schemes as sweet as Love's.
I'll find you, for in your soft abode Love waits.
Our love -- so true -- defeates Time and Place.
With strong strides strong Romance arrives.
Even the moon succumbs to us ... even the tides.
God is Love, and Man's love is of the same Virtue.
All of emotions, gains and losses shall build us true.
So let us love in Perfection, or as we can, the best.
And promise always to be our hearts' all-truest.
In Time's twilight, all are laid down at Time's final close:
olive-branch and thorn, the lilac and the rose,
At The Dawn Of The World Newly Created,
We SHALL Have Enough Love, And Never Be Sated.
When you are my Love and My Mistress.
Though seeming to sleep, my joy swoons, awake!
"To sleep" does not mean "to dream" - - better : take
my glance, your touch combined in Love's embrace.
I ply your lips apart, reach and seek more of your face!
This heat is more than blush; it's Ardor's bloom.
Our eyes fill, each with each, like air this room.
Our love paints; in our art we share total bliss,
two bodies, part-for-part united in grace, like this;
for truest Love -- delayed -- is not Love denied.
We share on Eros's and Aphrodite's couch, unified.
The frail male's devoutest wish: find, touch, taste
the moist pallet and colors of his heiress-artist,
Eden's second seed. Life's easel holds the full canvas
of Love and Life and Joy completed in this.
Spring Song Of Fresh, Glowing Dew
Flowers of My Flesh-Heart Bloom For You.
"Love me, for I have truly and long sought you!"
Love, I have been rehearsing, my youth through;
Those may have been my own words, so concise:
now our soul's song says Love is our choice!
This rapture is transcendent, mutual, sweet!
Wonderful Effluents; simultaneously, they meet !
O, trade enervating warmth, while pulses groan;
one soul, two hearts mount and gain Love's throne.
Spring's Song Glowing In Your Sweet Dews I See,
While Your "Mistress-Flower" Flows Sweetly For Me!
Your pink rose, white heat, the trembling, fearsome blush!
O, Love, I need your passion's pulse to shatter my soul, SO MUCH!
Bowing and rising, assenting to your plea and coax,
delving, lighting, loving, finding treasure in your cloaks --
you enveop me, my heat and sweet, sweet, soft surging strokes -- !
Your graceful body kneels, descends, intensely invokes
of my grateful stem, heart, core, caves, all trembling!
My mind goes into your desire, and me into your swirling,
captivating, pure, white-hot pulses groan, beat as one,
in two souls. We each mount and gain Love's throne.
Love, come; one strong, fiery pulse drives this heat.
Only Lovers' souls can know this intimate treat!
Your body's graces knead, stroke, fuel our sweet,
shared adoring; our passions pure, full and complete!
I always knew I heard the faint, soft voice --
seeming to flow out from the heights of Paradise --
that it is your fair heart's sweet song!
Such music, soft, sweet, chorused, practiced long,
We writhe, two souls, mounting, gaining Love's throne.
Freely we love, because Space and Time are gone!
For we shall have World enough, beyond Time!
