Some Rabelaisian Balladry, or Love in Five Strophes

Oh, let me see once more that fair cosmos
of your face and form, naked but for liquid stars
that glimmer when from your bath you step!
To kiss once more the precious ardor of your mouth,
the ruddy nipples of those perfect breasts,
the honeyed marvel of your sex!

As I grip your buttocks and you, my ears,
time dances to the measure of our pounding hearts.
Upward I move my sniffing snout to part
the swollen petals of your pleasure’s core.
Like a butterfly my tongue seeks
that bud-like floret laced with dew
atop the gate to heaven’s earthly door.
I know through you the salt sea and the freshet;
Summer’s every sanguine sunset;
sugary songs of luscious fruit in Fall;
the glossy smoothness of the Winter’s snows;
the spiced sorcery of the sap in Spring.
Shuddering and breathless, you make me cease
my fevered yet gentle probing of your groin.

You have me lie beside you on my back.
Upon my heaving chest you rest your head.
For some minutes thus, silently we lie,
our only movements those of lung and heart and eye.
Then I move a hand upon your shapely rump.
You suck the useless nipples of my hairy chest
till the tiny things are as hard as yours
beneath my fingers’ firm and loving press.
With a kiss, you ready my spar and knots
and I move to sail your narrow, frothing cove…

With more such bold yet simple acts,
each fills the other’s hungry senses,
to begin again the wanton cycle of our love.
All the while, as hors d’oeuvre to the feast,
as entremets, and then, postprandial delight,
we hold as well our verbal intercourse:
about this world; of our place in it;
of the foibles of artists, the wonders of art;
of the pain in living and its joys;
of the waste and fullness of time;
of dreams and waking; of hatred and love;
and of our more mundane concerns, exempli gratia:
More that way! Harder! Slower! Yes there, yes!

Loving face to face, we decree, is best;
we move to enact our common will.
Upon me sitting, my back near the bed,
you lower yourself, straddling my waist
with your legs, oh lovely fetters,
your feet flat upon the carpeted floor.
Against my chest you crush those glorious breasts.
My hands help your legs raise and lower you, oh,
so slightly but with what deep effect!
Dear sweet woman! We’ve caught life itself
within our arms! We each lean back but clutch
the other’s shoulders, rock and rock, look and look
at the smiling, sweating being before us!
As we close again in one long fierce embrace,
passion’s lightning and thunder catch us
in a vortex of trembling, cries and laughter
that flashes in our eyes, that flings
the bleary night reeling into dawn…

*    *   *

© Gregory V Driscoll  2015


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