If blessedness is a choice,
who chooses to be accursed?

What need for God,
since we bless ourselves;
by the strength of our arms,
and the cunning of our wits;
but that they remain
strong and sharp even with age,
and that our store houses,
are not burned down or robbed,
and that Evil be kept far from us.

Job was blessed of God.
Evil touched him to his bones,
His storehouses burnt down,
His sons and daughters massacred.
Wishing death rather than life,
but enough life and fear remain,
to know torment, pain and suffering,
and to question agonizingly without answers;
accused falsely by unwise friends,
who spoke the wind as if its wisdom;
and to live days without end in sight.

We bless ourselves
as we count blessings:
Beholden to the flesh,
its desires and fears.
As the blind,
content not to fall,
but destined to fly
and see the unseen
and be the unimaginable.

Sunshine and Blue Clouds
Gulls Flying Over Blue seas
Pictures of warmth and Blue Skies
Are the true definition of utter beauty
Holding hands
Running for the tides
Laughing as The waves crash us to shore
We are captives no longer.

Now tell me such a tale sir
while I am tightly bound
of captive maidens held sir
where evil knights abound.

Then taken to be used sir
in their castles of renown
of tortured girls so sweet sir
who are forced so to kneel down.

Then tell me of the dungeons sir
within the fortress drear
with chains upon the walls sir
where I might be held in fear.

Then show me what it means sir
to be such a prisoner
where nothing else is real sir
but myself as a damsel fair.

Then make me live the thought sir
that I might so lie within
and tortured all day long sir
for each imagined sin.

Then secretly find pleasure sir
in all that’s done to me
while my knightly captor sir
has me on my knees.

Then eventually confess sir,
to all my worldly sins
while my sadistic lord sir
is making me more commit .

Then tie me even tighter sir
with every knot aware
rough ****** I now need sir
to think myself as there.

Then make me taste your whip sir
to force me to submit
of the marks you leave sir
you care not a single whit.

Then take me as you will sir
and drive me really wild
make sure I’m deeply kissed sir
where I feel it burn inside.

Then hold me in your keep sir
and bend me to your will
and use my body more sir
for my needs are never still.

Then stand me on the brink sir
and show me just the edge
of where I shall be pushed sir
with just the slightest nudge.

Then tie me up and leave sir
to dream and squirm at will
of the ways I might be used sir
in your castle on the hill.

**
From the Francesca Anderssen collection of 101 **** Verses 2016