Sweet Evasion:
Mask and convention keep men
who generally are beast in their proper place...
I never step out of my place unless by invitation
and even then I rarely do
because you are my friend I will make this exception
Because I too want to hold you
I will make this exception
mask and poetic lines protect me
Why do you look sad ...?
I do not say I'll deny you the line
Beast:
I am not sad ... but ask for your indulgence and forgiveness
in advance
Sweet Invasion:
What line is that, my dear Beast?
what question may you ask upon which you'll feast?
Beast:
If I were beast and you beside me be side by side
as if I was the pet and beloved of another's bride,
would you love me...?
Sweet Invasion:
If I love you in whatever way, how in a way that mattered
can a beast ask such a question?
Beast:
Please, sweet Lady, bear with me ... and answer to Thine heart ...
..........
If my Lady smell of Aromatics
of sweet herbs and flowers
what is my Lady wearing?
Aromatics
My nose sees you my Lady as if I was a dove
with a white heart
sitting on your shoulders
and I can sense your alluring presence in the air
you are wearing the smell of paradise ...
but what beside the smell of paradise
does my Lady wear?
The Love of her Love:
She wears that in her heart ...
My lady wears the Love of her Love in her heart
and the white wings of a dove covers her ...
and beat just like the heart of my loving Lady
but if my Lady wears the love of her Love on her Heart,
what else does my Lady wear?
She wears Passion purified by this Love
within her heart ...
Passion is purified by fire and my Love
wears that passion in her Heart...
but passion removes that which is foreign
or not part of the whole ... so now:
what else is my Lady wearing now?
She wears the Naked Truth ...
breathlessly she wears it now ...
Breathlessly, my Lady is naked now without blemish
and without her armour ...
But if my Lady in truth is wearing Truth
then tell me, my Lady, the color of your skin?
The color of her skin is the color of the dove
that rests upon her shoulder ...
And the dove whose eyes are raven stares
in anticipation and delight ...
What is the flavor of her taste that slides
like a tremorous joy along her throat?
The flavor of her taste is grapes
picked from the sweetest vine
Bunches hanging from a strong and shapely tree
There is no Love that has tasted the flavor
that she has kept for Him ...
My Lady, will you yet deny the inquiry of a savage beast
who has been tamed at the bases of your seductive feet ...
whose eyes are close by a million miles
who like glorious Milton feels, but cannot see his love:
what prison is your dove-beast in
to be outside your door and cold, but will not be let in?
What do I want if not sight
what do I want if not to taste
what do I want if not to lick those girlish hands
as an sensible male kitten would?
Milk - that is your flesh -
I want to close my eyes and saturate my body in it
Milk - I want the satisfy the hunger that Mistress have
to feed the Kitten at her feet
Milk - it is the dove that's love
whose unbridled flight will love restore
Milk - your skin and the touch and taste I need
in my most desperate hour
... and yet, to a blind man, my Loving Mistress is unkind
she will not warn of colors or purifying fabrics
or help to satisfy the vision's of the blind ...
Oh Mistress - what floral color do you wear
Have mercy, Mistress, please tell me ...
She wears the color of the Rose
red and good as blood
the crimson touch of Life and Love itself.
And the fabric - as if colors care?
It is silk organza, whisperings of all that is fair
and which is soft delight ...
and satin to your fingers' eager
and nocturnal sight ...
It is the fabric sheer and beautiful in Truth:
She wears His origami Life ...
So ... Here my love is covered in a rose peignoir
and warm by the fire and not by my blood,
which is made to boil with hunger and by lack of sight ...
I, like a whisper, feel the fabric here;
I hold her ankles in my palm and dress them
with a soothing calm ... I wash and bathe in camomile,
until they feel like feet of Grecian runners,
with wings to fly and delicate and smooth ...
But my Lady remains unmoved
and I don't know if she disapproves
or if I have offended ... She, with a loving stern gaze
judges the errors and merits of my ways ...
Oh no ... she is muted by such love
and tenderness ... she does not know
this earthy bliss ...
Never before her soul was kissed by mortal man ...
or beast ...
Oh my muted Lady, why wait so long?
Birds delight in making known their joys with song;
even a tiger in a cage
with angst will let me know it's rage ...
No fingers can trace a distant line
that follows the pattern of her design ...
It is not only he that is prisoner
but she, too, captivated by his mood ...
Dear Beast, she does not want to find the key
that unlock chains; that sets Love free ...
For she IS free ...
What mood is love in prey and beast?
For a beast when he is invited in
knows not where he starts or she begins ...
and yet my Lady will not say
what feathers she has on display
One touch one word and all delight
is no longer surreal or left to sight
how lovers love and come to feast
how gentleman are made to "beast"
how timid bird and bird of prey
meet in the clouds and made to play!
When lovers fall in fallen arms,
then dawn is the only threatening alarm
and so in equal we must love:
and beast, too, must then be the dove
and Lady, too, must tiger be ...
until angry love has comforted me!
We’re slaves to love and ties that bind
Come then, my Lady, true and kind:
come hold me please, till I’m at ease
my feverish flesh has found its peace ...
Alas, dear Beast, I must be off ...
Hold on to breath and do not move:
we do not want to wake such love
from sleep ... It is a cautious bird,
which with a whisper is disturbed ...
(And Sweet Evasion leaves in Light
and Dove of Beast returns to Night)
.
Author notes
Sweet Evasion -- of all the thousands of poems I have written in my life, this piece gave me the most insight in the passionate writings of the Old Masters. For the write became a life on its own, pulsating the one thought into the other, until it flies away to new destinies, soaring above mortality and above artistry. A timeless Dove.
Written April 8th, 2002
In a list
A contest entry
- *** INVITE ONLY CONTEST #1*** by Kari.
300 points, ended December 2, 2006, 9 entries
Silver trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
What did you think
Comments
1 - 5 of 5
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Wow..sweety this is wonderful..it's so odd how this poem suddenly appeared in the contest
The best of luck to you in it huney.
Kari -
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Thank you for the glitter
This write is very special to me, for it was inspired. Love Myra 
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wonderfl
Myra, this is an absolutly magnificent poem. I can see why you consider it your best. It has a magic all it's own, interesting, impressive.
You must have worked hard and long on this, although some of our best work is done quickly as the words seem to flow from our mind to our pen, one after the other as if on an urgent journey.
Good luck in the contest
I think you have a winner here, hands down
love and
Dee
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I really don't know why this poem of mine is here - I did not enter it for any contest whatsoever!
What a strange, strange world we live in ...
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Kari -- This write was entered mysteriously into a contest on April 18, 2003. I then reread it and realized there is a very distinct magic in it. It was not difficult for me to decide which poem to enter in your contest. Thank you very much for the invitation. Hope you enjoy the journey of Sweet Evasion.
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