In The Hands

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6

Cloth girds his eyes in loose blindfold
He lays there and conforms as told
To move now would court disaster
He’s in the hand of the master

A maze is stroked across his skin
He holds the urge to gasp within
Warm oils offer scents of aster
He’s in the hand of the master

He seams the pleasure with the pain
The odd brew comfort it contains
One moment slow, the next faster
He’s in the hand of the master

Bordered on pleasure’s dive he moans
And lets escape a fizzled groan
Flesh yields like sinner to pastor
He’s in the hand of the master

A subtle tap sends the message
His hour’s up for this massage
His twinkled grin is now plastered
He’s in the hand of the master

Sore muscles tamed by fingers meek
Sets his appointment for next week
A magic touch like spell casters
He’s in the hand of the master


<>==========<>==========<>

And today’s form? Kyrielle

The French kyrielle is composed entirely of quatrains (a quatrain is any stanza with four lines). There is no set number of stanzas, although generally a kyrielle contains three or more. The rhyme scheme is up to the poet (aabb ccbb ddbb etc. is frequently used), but it must be the same for all stanzas. Also, the last line of all stanzas is the same. Kyrielles generally have eight syllables per line, although this is not a requirement.

Other rhyme schemes for the quatrain could be abaB, cbcB, dbdB, etc… or abbA, accA, addA, etc.. As long as the each quatrain uses the same rhyme scheme, the choice is yours.

dVerse Poets | OpenLinkNight – Week 44

Missing You

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14

Through the fire, to the limit, to the wall
For a chance to be with you, I’d gladly risk it all
Through the fire, through whatever come what may
For a chance at loving you, I’d take it all the way
“Through the Fire” – Chaka Khan / I Feel For You

Sadness plays on the stereo through and through
Yet I can’t make myself move to turn the dial
Each song gives recollection of the love I once knew
Each song packs a tear slipping past memory’s smile
Another tear drops with the revelation – I’m missing you
For my life, I couldn’t tell you what started it all
Perhaps it was the love that came from up above
A dreamland with the best that we were made of
This was ours – winter, spring, summer or fall
Through the fire, to the limit, to the wall

I see the pictures on the wall, where more memories bestrew
A capture of that infamous “I know something” smirk
That to this day the origins of that one I never did construe
All I can do is once again laugh – God you were such a jerk
Head in hands, I cry through my frustration – I’m missing you
There are times I still turn thinking I heard your footfall
In just that moment forgetting Death’s crow, the cruel thief
For I know I’m imagining things and I’m mad at my own relief
Do I dare think of what I’d decide if choice came to call?
For a chance to be with you, I’d gladly risk it all

Turning off the stereo, I somehow manage to do
Quoted lyrics so beyond affecting all that I feel
I wonder how long before there’s a call to Bellevue
Because I’m laughing, but Lord knows this pain is real
And the tears flow without cessation – I’m missing you
A twisted part of me wonders the price I’d pay,
What trial to finish, what deadliest path by far
Would it take to uncross that most unforgiving star?
If it gained me but a moment with the Fates to parley
Through the fire, through whatever come what may

No hopes of thinking this bout is anywhere near through
I close my eyes, but it’s really beyond my command
I watch it all just as clearly, caught in memory’s purview
As trapped in this heartbroken tide as love letters in the sand
Cold gripped in the moment’s desperation – I’m missing you
I know I’ll have better ones, but no, not this day
And I gather these precious memories of our past
Even while knowing this is just a mood not long to last
And not finding it in the least wrong to honestly say
For a chance at loving you, I’d take it all the way

====================
Yes, my old friend the Glosa form.

dVerse Poets Pub | OpenLinkNight ~ Week 43

A Leaf / A Life

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6

Drifting in the wind,

            a leaf.

            Aged. Hardened.

            Alone.

Not here.

            Not there.

Each gust of wind blowing.

            Taking it away, to bring it back.

Only to start again.

Until someone comes.

    Carries it away.

        To a different place.

            Where it is left.

Broken.  Shredded.  Crushed.

Just enough left to notice.

What it once might have been,

When it was still green.

            Lush.

Not taken for granted.

Or left forgotten.

====================

Written after a trip to a nursing home…

Poetry Picnic Week 34: Plants, Creatures, and the Cosmos!!

It’s Big Fat Flea Time!

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3

It’s Big! It’s Fat! It’s Fabulous!

Okay, what on earth is Raivenne raving about you ask? Why I’m so glad you did!

On Sunday, May 13, 2012, The Big Fat Flea will be holding its rummage sale!

The Big Fat whatchootalkinbout Willis?

The Big Fat Flea (formerly The Fat Girl Flea Market), is an amazing all-gender inclusive fatshion rummage sale that just happens to also be an amazing fundraiser for NOLOSE.   This event is NOLOSE‘s biggest fundraiser, with all proceeds directly benefiting their work to end body oppression. Plus sizes of all genders get to shop fabulous items for a bargain and get to do a little philanthropy in the process.

It’s a win/win!

What kind of bargains you ask? Oh please, let me show you!


Yes, this is what I look like after molting (click for full size).

These two dresses were originally from Igigicom.  Igigi has fabulous clothes for us big gals, but they are not exactly on the cheap side. Each gown retailed for nearly $200 on the website. I purchased each maxi at the Flea for  – hold on to your girdles girlies – $10 each! Yes, ten dollars – each.  I also purchased really some cute tops/skirts and accessories at the Flea. And because I could I also bought the most God-awful, beaded monstrosity of a sweater for no other reason to have it for the next “ugly sweater” contest. Essentially, I easily bought close to $600 worth of clothing (retail), for barely $100. Now that, my dear people IS A BARGAIN!

I have participated with the Big Fat Flea in the past, simply as a shopper. Last year, I went a step further and volunteered to help organize/prepare for the event.  I had such a fabulous experience and met some amazing people in the process. I loved it so much that I wanted to cry when I thought I might miss the chance to do so this year, but I am happy to say the philanthropic (and shopping), deities have smiled upon me and I will donating my time, energy to help out again this year.

Unlike before when it was The Fat Girl Flea Market, available only to the ladies, this year it is opened to all genders. Thus the name change to Big Fat Flea because After all, no matter how we identify, we all want to look good and to be able do so at a bargain is just icing on the cake.

I’m guessing right about now some of you are at the point of – yeah well that’s all nice for you and all, but how do “I” get in on all this fatshion goodness?

Here’s the nitty-gritty :

  • Be in New York City next weekend.
  • Have cash – the Big Fat Flea does not take credit cards.
  • Show up Sunday, May 13th from 12pm-7:30pm at the NYC LGBT Community Center- 208 West 13th Street, NYC on the 3rd floor. There are elevators and the space is wheelchair accessible.
  • Pay a $10 entrance fee (remember, this is a fundraiser after all).
  • SHOP!

But wait there’s more!

Noticed the words rummage and flea (as in market), being bandied about here? There’s a reason. Yes, plus-sized clothing stores and private plus-size designers donate items to the Big Fat Flea, but the bulk of the clothing comes from us the fat folk shoppers who know just how hard it is to find good stuff in our sizes. You bought those fabulous pants and without trying them on first, ripped the tags off because you know they’ll fit. Two weeks later you’re ready to wear them and only then do you realize they don’t fit they way you thought. Not that I would ever have personal knowledge of such a scenario (cough).  Naturally, the store won’t take them back and they’ve sat in your closet ever since. They are perfectly fine pants,  I -er- you just can’t wear them – donate them and make someone else who has coveted but couldn’t get to the store in time to purchase them happy! Have that fabulous dress you wore once or twice, but know you’re never wearing again – donate! Hey, it’s spring – now’s a good time to go through that closet and donate your clean clothing sizes Large and up to the cause and get some replacements at bargain prices.

For more information on shopping and donating at the Big Fat Flea check out their Facebook and FAQs pages.

And last, but not least – I’ll be working there – now how’s that for incentive?

This Night

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16

My lips curve in my most seductive smile
I’m humming a self-made tune for a while
Crowned dominant by day, but this night I switch
Renewal of a role-play to scratch a different itch
No, this time I don’t command, I only obey
And I enjoy immensely, this role I play

Suspended cuffs at my wrists just a little tight
Gleaming in glare of the camera light
Painted on latex is my only form of dress
And it’s peeled with delighted foolishness
I’m wanton in this peeling and if you think jest
It’s not the cold that peaks me to that I can attest

This night is mine, and it’s only just begun
To redefine the meaning of having fun

This is my desire, being chained and seen
By those with the tastes and the mean
To explore the uniqueness I offer them
Surrounded by all the tools of my BDSM
Like the tense chains holding me in thrall
Upon the spreader bars exposing all

Except for the mask covering most of my face
Only my scarlet lips left in the open space
For the gear covers my ears and my hair
A way to see me, yet ignore I’m there
Even my eyes are covered, I’m denied sight
I’m just a nameless, faceless fuck tonight

This night is mine, all inhibitions strewn
I’m living on the dark side of the moon

My Master’s voice calls out loud to the voyeurs
“She’s your toy ladies and gents – go enjoy her”
It wasn’t in the script, but I’m happy to comply
Feeling the first brave soul pinch me hard inside my thigh
“That’s all you’ve got?” I ask with a mocking pout
Laughter follows, they’re amateurs I have no doubt

But I should have known better than to speak
A mirth removing slap reminding to play meek
Stroking, pinching, hair pulling and bites
Each squeeze is one more unimaginable delight
Soon it’s a blend of sensations all over me
One into another in a sexual cacophony

This night is mine, and no one hesitates
I’m a bell to be rung, they hear me resonate

The endorphins pump in doing their trick
The pain to pleasure ratio getting an extra kick
I enjoy its feel; the sting brings such pleasure,
I enjoy pain in ways others cannot measure
I respond to its voice, the flogger’s sweet song
Both supple and fluid yet biting and strong

Leather against my skin, all is just right
I can tell my “Master” is enjoying my plight
He taunts – teases drawing it across me slow
Or swings wildly in maddening staccato
And he knows me well, reads me like a story
Giving me all but stopping just shy of glory

This night is mine and I know it’s almost the final act
His gentle tug on swollen lips confirms that fact

But as an I act, I milk it for all its worth
Of visual stimuli there is no dearth
Yes, I’m a shock to those newly initiated
But no denying hours later that I’m satiated
And with his only kiss as cool as you all please
Brings me the glory that finally weakens my knees

“And so it must end!” he yells to all
My head snaps back at the sudden call
There is no acting the surprise on my face
At the reality of what was next to take place
The unwritten final act – he removes the blindfold
And the sad look in his eyes is the last thing I behold

This night was mine, to be set fully free
A gun to my head makes a snuff film of me

====================

Thursday Poets Rally Week 67 (May 3-9, 2012)

Noir Queen

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11

My existence emerged from the chaos of Day One
And will reign until the last day is done
In my realm from the moment a man is conceived
Until called upon finally for my kiss to receive

The shadow of the valley that is me
In the flowing robes of destiny
My right divine is beyond your laws
I make the most fearless give pause

Unable to resist my mating call
A mere crook of my finger and men fall

Chained to breathe life to your darkest desire
And you the spark to ignite my erotic pyre
Driven to taste the dew of my damned lips
Your undoing comes in the sway of my hips

I am the soul so tainted never again to be pure
The virulent disease for which there is no cure
Doctors, wizards, even shaman glower
In respect to the infinity of my power

There is not a soul I cannot lay bare
Seductress Supreme I am beyond compare

Gaia herself cannot gainsay my dark deeds
This blackest of heart rides the palest of steed
None is exempt from the road I pave
To predestined perdition – you are my slave

From the moment of conception until your death
I live in you and then take from you your last breath
Nyx, Arianrhod, Kali, Naamah, Hecate
However you chose to call me, I am your fate

You are free of my service only whence I so glean
I am the darkness, I am the eternal, I am the Noir Queen

====================

dVerse Poets Pub : OpenLinkNight ~ Week 42

Reading Raivenne

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4

When the Book of Me was fully open to the life of you, it was tough handling what was written on those really private pages wasn’t it?  Now that the private section is closed off to you, it’s tough not always knowing what’s written there. Especially, the private parts you think may be about you.

Sucks for you, huh?

And what if there are? Private parts written about you…

I could tell you that there is nothing concerning you, but it’s me, with a history of you. We both would know that for a blatant lie. A part of you is always going to be in that very private section of me.

I could tell you a truth that may have something to do with you, but what could you do about it even if you wanted to? Would it assuage your curiosity? Build an even thicker wall between us?

I could mind fuck with you and tell you, yes there is something, something that I can’t tell you, knowing the curiosity of such would drive you crazy. But I couldn’t live with myself putting you through that for no reason other than Schadenfreude.And I am happy to say, I now care a hell of a lot more about who I see reflected in my mirror, than who I thought I saw reflected in your eyes.

Or I could do exactly what I did, and tell you the truth…there is nothing concerning you, that you need to know about. I know, you do not like not knowing anything that may concern you. It may bug you for a hot second, but by the time you’re reading this (if you ever do), I know you’re already over it.

(I hope) you know me well enough to realize, if it really were important for you to know, I’d tell you.

So you say you can’t read me any more, not the way you used to. Is it really that surprising? We had a long time apart and neither of us are the same people anymore. I had to quickly learn to build one bitch of a thick ass wall to function around you without falling apart. The wall held shakily at first, but it is formidable now. I don’t know how to lower it.

Besides, I don’t think I should.

When I desperately need a friend to open up a page to at 3am, your name is no longer on the short list which comes to mind. While, I may still choose tell you things others may not be privy to, you’re no longer among those few 3am-ers.  Thus you no longer have access to deep private pages written any more. And that really is a shame; for you were an excellent sounding board once.

These are the new chapters of the Book of Me.

Only time will tell if you are a continuing character…

…Or already an epilogue.

The Transition

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This isn’t a gift you give just to the curious
One has to know for sure if the intent is serious
Some things mere words never explains
It is known only through our blood in your veins
Are you truly aware of all that you inquire?
She smiles and asks yet again for her hearts desire

He smiles at the throat she willingly bares
And takes what is offered, all that he dares

She savors the last of her own natural blood’s gore
From the bit inner cheek whose wound is no longer sore
The nearby roses scent fades like slowly closing drawer
The last thing she hears is her final drop bleed
Darkness closing around her, ‘til all that’s left is Need

She swoons trapped in the power of the most fatal kiss
For the briefest of moments her former life does she miss

As she laps greedily at the slit wrist offered unto her trembling lip
And then her new reality begins to take grip

She gives her eyes time to adjust to the new clarity
the beating wings of a fly enters her ears with an equal parity
Odors and aromas not noticed before becoming verity
She focuses on a single globule pulsing through a single capillary
Chablis? She asks of the faint taste in his blood from wine sipped earlier that day

Now that you have it, is this all you thought it would be?
Oh yes! And so much, much more than you ever told me!

Remembering his very first night kiss, his very first night’s plunder
He can’t help but be affected by her new found wonder
A perfect heartbeat from another room breaks through the din
He smiles consent to the unasked question she holds within
She laughs gaily, sauntering off to her first foray
For the first time in her life, truly understanding the word prey

====================

dVerse ~ Poets Pub : Vampires

Come and Play

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5

Pachynsis
my sacofricosis,
eurotophobia

and absolute medomalacuphobia
so ruins my chances at venus observa
that my gynephobia has its way

the words I do not say
‘come and play’

<>==========<>==========<>

Yes, I have issues – but none of them are listed in this write!  (Big grin)

Pachynsis–  An unusual thickening of the skin of muscle; in this case referring to male erection.
Sacofricosis–  The practice of cutting a hole in the bottom of a front pants pocket in order to masturbate in public with less risk of detection.
Eurotophobia–  The fear of  female genitalia.
Medomalacuphobia– The fear of losing an erection.
Venus Observa–  The clinical term for missionary position of copulation.
Gynephobia–   The fear of women.

Memory

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13


Oh sometimes I see her undressing for me,
she’s the soft naked lady love meant her to be
and she’s moving her body so brave and so free.
If I’ve got to remember that’s a fine memory
Tonight Will Be Fine – Leonard Cohen

It’s been seventeen years to the day
Since the love of all time went away
I have taken up some count of others in time
A fleeting rendezvous, a phase, merely a mime
Of she who’s measure of love was so sublime
In my minds eye the only place left to see
The unabashed beauty she brought to my life
It’s been quite a clock’s beat since she was my wife
If I’ve got to remember that’s a fine memory
Oh sometimes I see her undressing for me, 

Sometimes shyly, sometimes bold
Her shift of moods just never grew old
She was a force of nature in a human space
I know it’s a period of time I just can’t replace
Still I know it’s what I search in each new face
Just a smidgen of her essence in each body
Granted their faces are hardly same
And it’s cruel to them caught in my game
Oh sometimes I see her undressing for me,
She’s the soft naked lady love meant her to be 

In public she joked she hated my whiskers
Our joke word for liquor and how it just tickled her
When it dripped in my beard then I kissed her within
She had a rhythm that filled me with such a yen
That only she could fulfill again and again
Time softened us both as time should
But like aged whiskers and cheese – so beyond good
She’s the soft naked lady love meant her to be
And she’s moving her body so brave and so free. 

Sometimes in throes, I’m almost there
Where all I can feel of her fills the air
And in those moments on the verge
I’ll swear it’s her passions I feel surge
But try as I might I can’t hold that urge
And must lapse to facts of my reality
But in that moment life’s so incredibly kind
In those visions of her I hold in my mind
And she’s moving her body so brave and so free
If I’ve got to remember that’s a fine memory

<>==========<>==========<>

Back to my beloved Glosa form and more borrowed lines from Leonard Cohen.

The glosa is a Spanish form that also works well in English.   Glosas open with a quatrain from another poet, called the cabeza, followed by four ten-line stanzas terminating with the lines of the initial cabeza in consecutive order.  The sixth and ninth lines of each stanza rhyme with the borrowed tenth line and is the only required rhyme of the poem. There is no set meter or syllable count for a Glosa, however, a good flow is always recommended.

Entered in:

dVerse Poets Pub } OpenLinkNight – Week 41