Hmm, Valentine's Musings
Feb. 13th, 2004 03:00 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
itsallovernowHappy Friday the 13th.
And even for those less than smutty minded, go check out the icons that were posted to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
the_sporkys here. Brilliant work by some talented artists:)
And because tomorrow is Valentine's Day, and myfarscapefriday Love Letter was almost 100% smut free, a little antidote. It's really all about my John Donne love, and everything I learned about turning on the body through the brain I learned from him, so I'm shamelessly offering poetry fic (which is as close to song fic as I can imagine. It's mercifully short:) Really. It's also NC-17, completely plot free, and a play of words as much as a play of bodily fluids.
Valediction, Benediction, Adjuration, Elevation
Bodies pressed close. Curve of hip, strip of skin, pale and clean, belly bared as cautious fingers slip under her shirt. Strokes on skin, calloused catching, hitch of breath.
License my roving hands, and a sigh, soft and damp in his ear, his name, John, melting, panted, the sound rocket fuel, hardwired to his thickening cock, straining against tight cotton, straining against black leather, straining against her sex. The warmth of breath, touch of tongue tracing the delicate shell, teeth grazing the lobe.
Dipping down, lips on throat, suckle, swallow, give me thy weakness, make me blind, stealing kisses, mouth on mouth, tongue to tongue, flutter of lashes, and will be done. Dark hair binding him, binding them, sweet like silk, warm like flesh, wrapping like rope, better than restraints, ease of chains, love’s ties, taut and lashing.
Come live with me and be my love, and we will some new pleasures prove, slide of fabric, sticky skin. Warm, sweet, candy floss and caramel rich. Milk white thighs, length of bone, bend of knee, dark, low moan as he licks the hollow of nerve rich flesh hidden in the join of thigh and calf. Let us melt, and make no noise, No tear-floods, nor sigh-tempests move, stay quiet and stay hidden, no attention, no noise, no notice, cradled in golden walls, golden arms, burnished ribs keeping secrets.
Bodies pressed close in golden corridors. Translucent skin, blood throbbing in pale blue veins. Underwear nudged down, highlight of slick, glossed curls. Breath in, breath out, smell of sex, tangy and spiced. Mouth and tongue tracing words, love songs, sonnets, and here's his girl, loving John Donne, wet and twitching at the ripe, alien words written on her body, written on her sex, his poetry, their verses between them.
Shudder and salt, slick liquid, hard coming, thrust of pelvis, thrust of tongue, long fingers curled into his hair, his name again and hers, Aeryn, whispered against her belly, over and over, painting her name, Sebacean syllables, edge and curve and backwards click, clear on her flesh, fingers wet from her. She pulls, tugs, whimpers her love, hands on his belt, and hands on his cock, bone against thick, throbbing heat and his own moan, his own ache, beating in his brain, beaten in her hands. Love's mysteries in souls do grow, but yet the body is his book.
Hands splayed on back, high up under his shirt, cotton brushing her knuckles, nails rending his flesh, thighs pressed together, cock sliding in and out, shallow thrusts, friction, rough on the tip, the top, sweet inside her, tense and tight, looking in, her slate gray gaze, generous mouth, white teeth cutting her lip.
Fingers dance down pressing in to the hollow of his back, meeting him, met his match, wet, and whetting the appetite and he sees the play and pull, heavy purplish cock, black pubic hair, flat belly and straining thighs, looks back up, locks on her eyes, and it’s the life of the mind, love of the mind, coming hard and gasping, sticky semen on abutted thighs, holding on, fingers digging into hips, bruises blooming. Then, as all my souls be emparadised in you—in whom alone I understand, and grow, and see—The rafters of my body, bone, Being still with you, the muscle, sinew, and vein.
Bodies pressed close. Mingled sighs and curve of hip and curve of bone. Sights swallowed by gentle mouths and silent rhyme.
And even for those less than smutty minded, go check out the icons that were posted to
the_sporkys here. Brilliant work by some talented artists:)And because tomorrow is Valentine's Day, and my
farscapefriday Love Letter was almost 100% smut free, a little antidote. It's really all about my John Donne love, and everything I learned about turning on the body through the brain I learned from him, so I'm shamelessly offering poetry fic (which is as close to song fic as I can imagine. It's mercifully short:) Really. It's also NC-17, completely plot free, and a play of words as much as a play of bodily fluids.Valediction, Benediction, Adjuration, Elevation
Bodies pressed close. Curve of hip, strip of skin, pale and clean, belly bared as cautious fingers slip under her shirt. Strokes on skin, calloused catching, hitch of breath.
License my roving hands, and a sigh, soft and damp in his ear, his name, John, melting, panted, the sound rocket fuel, hardwired to his thickening cock, straining against tight cotton, straining against black leather, straining against her sex. The warmth of breath, touch of tongue tracing the delicate shell, teeth grazing the lobe.
Dipping down, lips on throat, suckle, swallow, give me thy weakness, make me blind, stealing kisses, mouth on mouth, tongue to tongue, flutter of lashes, and will be done. Dark hair binding him, binding them, sweet like silk, warm like flesh, wrapping like rope, better than restraints, ease of chains, love’s ties, taut and lashing.
Come live with me and be my love, and we will some new pleasures prove, slide of fabric, sticky skin. Warm, sweet, candy floss and caramel rich. Milk white thighs, length of bone, bend of knee, dark, low moan as he licks the hollow of nerve rich flesh hidden in the join of thigh and calf. Let us melt, and make no noise, No tear-floods, nor sigh-tempests move, stay quiet and stay hidden, no attention, no noise, no notice, cradled in golden walls, golden arms, burnished ribs keeping secrets.
Bodies pressed close in golden corridors. Translucent skin, blood throbbing in pale blue veins. Underwear nudged down, highlight of slick, glossed curls. Breath in, breath out, smell of sex, tangy and spiced. Mouth and tongue tracing words, love songs, sonnets, and here's his girl, loving John Donne, wet and twitching at the ripe, alien words written on her body, written on her sex, his poetry, their verses between them.
Shudder and salt, slick liquid, hard coming, thrust of pelvis, thrust of tongue, long fingers curled into his hair, his name again and hers, Aeryn, whispered against her belly, over and over, painting her name, Sebacean syllables, edge and curve and backwards click, clear on her flesh, fingers wet from her. She pulls, tugs, whimpers her love, hands on his belt, and hands on his cock, bone against thick, throbbing heat and his own moan, his own ache, beating in his brain, beaten in her hands. Love's mysteries in souls do grow, but yet the body is his book.
Hands splayed on back, high up under his shirt, cotton brushing her knuckles, nails rending his flesh, thighs pressed together, cock sliding in and out, shallow thrusts, friction, rough on the tip, the top, sweet inside her, tense and tight, looking in, her slate gray gaze, generous mouth, white teeth cutting her lip.
Fingers dance down pressing in to the hollow of his back, meeting him, met his match, wet, and whetting the appetite and he sees the play and pull, heavy purplish cock, black pubic hair, flat belly and straining thighs, looks back up, locks on her eyes, and it’s the life of the mind, love of the mind, coming hard and gasping, sticky semen on abutted thighs, holding on, fingers digging into hips, bruises blooming. Then, as all my souls be emparadised in you—in whom alone I understand, and grow, and see—The rafters of my body, bone, Being still with you, the muscle, sinew, and vein.
Bodies pressed close. Mingled sighs and curve of hip and curve of bone. Sights swallowed by gentle mouths and silent rhyme.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
Wow.
Date: 2004-02-13 11:20 pm (UTC)So lovely. I can't really say more.
Your fic is good inspiration for creating a reading list! *g* Odyssey, now John Donne... Because, wow, that are some mesmerizing words.
Re: Wow.
Date: 2004-02-13 11:48 pm (UTC)All the songs and sonnets I used are in there, including A Valediction: Forbidding Morning, which is maybe one of my favorite things in the English Language. I really should leap into some more contemporary poetry, but there are others far more knowledgeable of it than me:)
Re: Wow.
Date: 2004-02-14 12:15 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-02-13 11:23 pm (UTC)John Donne, yeah, I think I'd probably have Aeryn's reaction to a guy who made love to me whispering Donne in my ear... *sigh*
no subject
Date: 2004-02-13 11:44 pm (UTC)But yeah, it's so an egregious use of my $100,000 education, in which I earned a degree that says B.A. in English Literature, and never once did I have to take a whole poetry class, so I got to keep my John Donne love pure and whole, without breaking him down, making him gay, discolsing his hard on for god, or thinking of alternate explanations for that sly little grin and those too sexy for the sixteenth century verses:)
And yeah, this one's probably a little too close to home:)
no subject
Date: 2004-02-13 11:29 pm (UTC)Well, okay, it is fic, but it doesn't have to be. Faaabulous.
no subject
Date: 2004-02-13 11:40 pm (UTC)But I'm so glad it worked for someone besides me (thank you, thank you), and here's hoping I've gotten the rhyming thing out of my system:) But damn, an afternoon spent with John Donne is never a waste of time:)
Re:
Date: 2004-02-13 11:46 pm (UTC)No, no--I was talking about the other one. This one is more like a prose poem.
Re:
Date: 2004-02-13 11:50 pm (UTC)Re:
Date: 2004-02-13 11:51 pm (UTC)Re:
Date: 2004-02-14 12:02 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-02-13 11:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-02-14 12:08 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-02-14 12:15 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-02-17 05:54 pm (UTC)Beautiful
Date: 2004-02-14 02:30 am (UTC)But because it is SO lyrical, you brought out the prosody police-beta in me. A couple of little points (and they are truly minor in a GORGEOUS piece of writing):
1) Warm, sweet,
candy flossand caramel rich. in my opinion, candy floss breaks the rhythmic flow which carries this sectionThe second point has to do with pronouns, parallelism, and prosody. Proposed additions in plain type:
2)Hands splayed onhis back, high up under his shirt, cotton brushing her knuckles, nails rending his flesh, thighs pressed together, cock sliding in and out, shallow thrusts, friction, rough on the tip, the top, sweet inside her, tense and tight, looking in, her slate gray gaze, her generous mouth, her white teeth cutting her lip.
But once again, very minor in a lovely piece.
As for beautiful Modern poetry. I'll post some Lola Lemire Tostevin in my journal soon.
Re: Beautiful
Date: 2004-02-14 02:35 am (UTC)Khien chienne dragon on the win in the sky returns
everything and everyone to its true nature
bitch
howling at the moon invents her own small vocabulary
maps out her little bits of heaven
at a friend's annual bash I sit while everyone dances
rasp at my throat
smell of dog piss at my feet
too weary to play Maenad to Bacchus
or Helen having just left Paris behind
will they ever come back ever again the long long dances
on through the dark till the dim stars wane? shall I feel
the dew on my throat and the stream of wind in my hair?
shall our white feet meet and gleam in the dim expanses?
Re: Beautiful
Date: 2004-02-14 02:36 am (UTC)Re: Beautiful
Date: 2004-02-17 05:52 pm (UTC)Re: Beautiful
Date: 2004-02-17 09:42 pm (UTC)just in case you did see it, I went hog-wild and posted several other poems in my journal on Sat.
Re: Beautiful
Date: 2004-02-17 09:58 pm (UTC)Re: Beautiful
Date: 2004-02-17 10:06 pm (UTC)Glad you enjoyed them!
They are from 'sophie which Amazon lists as available. Which may or not mean anything.
Re: Beautiful
Date: 2004-02-17 10:16 pm (UTC)Re: Beautiful
Date: 2004-02-17 05:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-02-14 03:13 am (UTC)You inspire me to write, yet I sink into despair for I am certain I will never attain such brilliance. **sigh**
no subject
Date: 2004-02-17 05:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-02-17 01:52 am (UTC)This piece--story, prose poem, erotica--needs to be submitted for prizes and publication.
no subject
Date: 2004-02-17 05:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-02-17 04:06 am (UTC)And, what everyone else said so much better.
seva
no subject
Date: 2004-02-17 05:46 pm (UTC)