Thursday, August 05, 2004
Havent Blogg for quite some times now..busy creating a happy world for a one love...sounds corny but i think thats the reason...valid i suppose...here's a new poem created July 28...i was reading Leonard Cohen work specifically Our Lady of Solitude...and imagining Our Lday Peace in the background and human's love in supersticious..well mostly here in our country made me thing why is there no Saint for Mistresses..for mostly they have Saints for Every All...Eloha tried to singularize Prayers in the title..i agreed but looking back...these prayers were redundant...until she get what she want which is in our deepest of hearts...that i dont know.
Prayers to Our Lady Mistress
before the lady of mistresses,
I fold my hands with my eyes closed,
counting the beads of every wife I made widow,
or wife I made the nights cold,
with hidden smile I lament the words of gratitude,
for the precious things that my bastards received.
Does it matter if they have a borrowed father?
As long as his nights are mine,
and his wife shared the income with my vanities and creams,
Who will care for myself and my sons?
if i never learned to teach myself that his breath is sweet,
and his sweat my food,
and his love is true...
for a while,
while im still young and by breast firm,
my arms as strong as his,
and my wit poisonous,
for there will come a time that he will ask for forgiveness and seek the truth,
and fear death and afterlife,
and envy his friends that remained true,
that time is not now
for i kneel still
Prayers to Our Lady Mistress
before the lady of mistresses,
I fold my hands with my eyes closed,
counting the beads of every wife I made widow,
or wife I made the nights cold,
with hidden smile I lament the words of gratitude,
for the precious things that my bastards received.
Does it matter if they have a borrowed father?
As long as his nights are mine,
and his wife shared the income with my vanities and creams,
Who will care for myself and my sons?
if i never learned to teach myself that his breath is sweet,
and his sweat my food,
and his love is true...
for a while,
while im still young and by breast firm,
my arms as strong as his,
and my wit poisonous,
for there will come a time that he will ask for forgiveness and seek the truth,
and fear death and afterlife,
and envy his friends that remained true,
that time is not now
for i kneel still
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