»
Archives
»
Open Poetry #1
»
Maiden of Yore
| Open Poetry #1 |
|
Maiden of Yore |
|
|
Poet deVine
Administrator
Member Seraphic
since 1999-05-26
Posts 22612Hurricane Alley |
In days of yore there lived a maiden, Matilda was her name. She was raised a pious miss, on that she felt no shame. One summer day our heroine went to gather berries blue when she espied a handsome man, supine, his clothes askew. Cautiously she approached his side to see if he drew a breath Gazing at his handsome visage, seeking signs of death. One brown eye slowly opened and gazed upon our miss And with a quickness unforeseen, he gave Matilda a kiss! "Rise up Knave and follow me, to my father’s house we go! For no one dares take such liberties, you wicked Lothario!" Matilda took the man’s hand and dragged him ‘cross the field and in this simple act, Matilda’s fate was sealed. "Miss, the lace upon your shoe has loosened from it’s slot you must stop and tie it up but use a stronger knot." Matilda let go the stranger’s hand and bent over from the waist what happened next, I must say, occurred with wicked haste. The knave emboldened, pulled up her skirt seeking hidden treasure in blink of an old man’s eye, the knave soon found his pleasure Matilda sat down in shock, her skirt in spread in disarray The knave, replete, jumped from the bush and began to dart away "Stop, you rogue, you cad, you cur" Matilda screamed furiously The rogue turned and eyed the miss, his lip curled curiously. "What have you done to me? Speak up! Why give me thus, this shame?" He answered slowly, with a smile, "Matilda, tis but a game!" "What manner of game is played this way! To me ‘twas not much fun!" "The Scots invented it", he said. " Tis called ‘The Hole in One". Matilda eyed the varmint, seeking signs of spoken lies and looking, thus she succumbed, to the laughter in his eyes. "This game" she said " tis best played on yonder new mown grass and thus, I feel, tis easier on a poor young wench’s ass!" The Knave laughed full and hearty, ‘pon hearing this lament and quickly took Matilda in wild abandonment. Hours later the game was done they went their separate ways the Knave buttoning his trousers, Matilda lacing up her stays. Days past and fair maiden felt, a longing for the game all other suitors seemed to her, tepid, mild and tame. Brown eyes broke upon her dreams, she woke quite distraught wishing for that time when, she felt the rogue’s onslaught. Years passed, the maiden married, became a mother of three but in the quiet times at night, she lamented what couldn’t be. Longing for her knave so bold to light again that fire to play again that wicked game, to quench her woman’s fire. |
||
| © Copyright 1999 Poet deVine - All Rights Reserved | |||
|
Ron
Administrator
Member Rara Avis
since 1999-05-19
Posts 8669Michigan, US |
Another deVine classic! Well-constructed, well-told, fanciful, and downright hilarious in places. Makes me sorry Matilda is yore maiden instead of mine! (Ouch. Well, as Nan would say, one [hole in one] malapropism deserves another!) Your poem also makes me wish I had thought just a bit further ahead, though. Well, better late than never, right? I just added a new forum, specifically for poetry that is a bit more, uh, adult in nature. While I doubt anyone would find this clever construction anything except delightful, I do think people deserve a choice. One of the great things about poetry is that we're often pleasantly surprised, because we don't always know what a poem is about until we start reading it. One of the bad things about a poem, especially in an open forum, is that we don't always know what a poem is about until we start reading it. Now - if I just knew someone who writes exquisitely beautiful erotic poetry and wanted to moderate the new forum, we'd be all set...  Ron |
||
|
Fred Hobbs Member
since 1999-06-08
Posts 329Tallahassee, Florida, US |
Poet deVine, I loved it, it's a riot! There doesn't seem to be anything that you can't write. |
||
|
Poet deVine
Administrator
Member Seraphic
since 1999-05-26
Posts 22612Hurricane Alley |
Fred, I appreciate your kind comments. You will never know how I labored to create something out of the ordinary. It amazes me that some poems flow from my fingertips while others have to be ground out laborously. At least I don't have to use a quill pen! |
||
|
Balladeer
Administrator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-06-05
Posts 25505Ft. Lauderdale, Fl USA |
Matilda said, "Brash knave, there are Some things about this game Of which you are not too well versed - My thrill should be your aim. You play rounds much too quickly, Rushing to and fro, instead More strokes per hole should be your goal To turn a maiden's head. The fairway is the proper place But you prefer the rough. You don't get out of bunkers well, You don't swing smooth enough. Juan Diego tried to play my course. I got my father's gun And, as he put his club away, I made a hole in Juan! Take care, brash knave, and take the time To learn how you should play. Considering the balls you use, May I suggest croquet? |
||
|
Poet deVine
Administrator
Member Seraphic
since 1999-05-26
Posts 22612Hurricane Alley |
Balladeer! You have knowledge of the game I see! I stand in awe of your brilliance. |
||
|
elvira Senior Member
since 1999-07-06
Posts 936California |
i sure wish i knew where those blueberry bushes are  ------------------ one night at the airport...Childhood Memories...eight short weeks...your countenance...hoarse whispers...My One and Only...Tribute to M.J... serving wench...the mistress...stolen hours... devotion...Master...apart... |
||
|
|
⇧ top of page ⇧ |
|
| All times are ET (US). All dates are in Year-Month-Day format. | ||