Gwerful Merchain bawdy mediaeval Cymru poet , whose lyrical joy is a pleasure to read
If God Gives A Penis
Tag Archives: love
Female Genitals
The Female Genitals
Every foolish drunken poet,
boorish vanity without ceasing,
(never may I warrant it,
I of great noble stock,)
has always declaimed fruitless praise
in song of the girls of the lands
all day long, certain gift,
most incompletely, by God the Father:
praising the hair, gown of fine love,
and every such living girl,
and lower down praising merrily
the brows above the eyes;
praising also, lovely shape,
the smoothness of the soft breasts,
and the beauty’s arms, bright drape,
she deserved honour, and the girl’s hands.
Then with his finest wizardry
before night he did sing,
he pays homage to God’s greatness,
fruitless eulogy with his tongue:
leaving the middle without praise
and the place where children are conceived,
and the warm quim, clear excellence,
tender and fat, bright fervent broken circle,
where I loved, in perfect health,
the quim below the smock.
You are a body of boundless strength,
a faultless court of fat’s plumage.
I declare, the quim is fair,
circle of broad-edged lips,
it is a valley longer than a spoon or a hand,
a ditch to hold a penis two hands long;
cunt there by the swelling arse,
song’s table with its double in red.
And the bright saints, men of the church,
when they get the chance, perfect gift,
don’t fail, highest blessing,
by Beuno, to give it a good feel.
For this reason, thorough rebuke,
all you proud poets,
let songs to the quim circulate
without fail to gain reward.
Sultan of an ode, it is silk,
little seam, curtain on a fine bright cunt,
flaps in a place of greeting,
the sour grove, it is full of love,
very proud forest, faultless gift,
tender frieze, fur of a fine pair of testicles,
a girl’s thick grove, circle of precious greeting,
lovely bush, God save it.
A poem from Gwerful Mechain a mediaeval poet and tavern owner and is the most erotic poet in Wales , yet her words have a formation that lingers and makes you yield to the pleasures
Girls bringing sherbet
raise the camp fire,
blankets spread on
the ground,
singing dead and door
tunes,
sex chorus behind
rolling orange orb
waiting for the sherbet
Wheatfields
Wheatfields
she hitched her
shorts the cleft
appeared
and in that moment
all tides surged
today had become
brighter.
Ukrainian girl in wheat field Painting
Ukraine
Painting, Oil on Canvas
Size: 25 W x 35 H x 1.4 D cm
Love Ukraine
2022 a pandemic is just loosening its grip and then another disease began , Russia under the looming presence of Putin , invaded Ukraine with brutal aggression a petulant psychopath wanting a reunited Soviet Union , well he can fuck off , I see on the news a beautiful people facing adversity with grace and fortitude and in my heart and prayers I think of them , and as I do I remembered there is a poem Love Ukraine by Volodymyr Sosyura that says so much and can fit for the here and now
Please offer aid to any organisation , the people of Ukraine need our love and support
Naked Orange
standing naked in the kitchen
talking on long cable
green wall phone
handset greasy
from pan fried bacon
I needed you
as we spoke
long distance
bare feet paced
on tactile floor
your voice oozed
sweet through receiver
I could see you
imagine you
black neglige
auburn hair
remaining flaccid
slapped to my thighs
as I knew
his cigarette tasting
tongue would be
caressing your neck
hands massaging
needy breasts
you will come home
shower fresh panties
and we would
cradle ourselves in love
on the couch
breathing in voices
Judy lay silicone silent
under blanket
her submissiveness unconditional
lubricant with sleeve
my cream cockroaches
flow without conception
inception or growth
they crawl in that
cavity I adorned
colored with marker pens
to realise my own
lost to the dusk imagination
she will not play it down
as I whisper
she will listen
without utterances of condemnation
stroke her face
expression of a blonde bored
I need animatronic
never real
real is a prospect in terror
Judy is subjected
to all my pain
isolation and grief
and will never
need a coffin
Beneath the Peel
It is Done
Symbiosis
morning came
a turbid blue
Afreya awoke
stretching into her morning
wash away the sleep
soft gown falls
naked supple
moves into the garden
emerging from the still
green shrubbery
the ungrich
beaked and blind
with anal spewed eggs
that Afreya would sing to
her voice, her touch
broke soft shell
baby ungrich
fragile wet flesh
scooped and offered
Afreya took each one
devouring them
soft bony morsel
tissue swallowed
belly and breasts
began to swell
eager baby grew
her body tremors
with each and every
bite
enjoying what mother ate
Afreya smiled
her own offspring
would come
to nurture on her red milk
the world would
become theirs
as Afreya collapsed
withering to a husk
she had done
what her birth had intended
repeat the process
and die again
in that way
Not my usual kind of work, but felt compelled looking at Michael Hutters paintings, that have defining and disturbing depth of beauty
velvetmedia 