"puella" poems
_las mujeres nacen de la tierra en la gloria de la más alta_
dys·to·pi·an/disˈtōpēən/adjective: dystopian:
relating to or denoting an imagined place
or state in which everything is unpleasant or bad,
typically a totalitarian or environmentally degraded one;
_"the dystopian future of a society bereft of reason"_
noun: dystopian; plural noun: dystopians:
a person who advocates or describes
an imagined place or state in which
everything is unpleasant or bad;
"a lot of things those dystopians feared did not come true"
[A dystopia from the Greek δυσ- "bad" & τόπος "place";
alternatively, _cacotopia, kakotopia_],
or simply anti-utopia; a community or society
that is undesirable or frightening; It is translated
as "not-good place" & is an antonym of utopia,
a term coined by Sir Thomas More
par·a·dise/ˈperəˌdīs/noun
noun: paradise; plural noun: paradises
in some religions; heaven as the ultimate abode of the just,
heaven, the kingdom of heaven, the heavenly kingdom,
Elysium, the Elysian Fields, Valhalla, Avalon;
"the souls in paradise"
the abode of Adam and Eve before the Fall
in the biblical account of Creation;
the Garden of Eden/noun: Paradise, Eden
"Adam and Eve's expulsion from Paradise"
an ideal or idyllic place or State;
"the surrounding countryside is a streetwalker's paradise"
Utopia, Shangri-La, heaven, idyll, nirvana;
"a tropical paradise"
bliss, heaven, ecstasy, delight, joy,
happiness, nirvana, heaven on earth
_a ********** who seeks customers on the street_
"this is sheer paradise!"
Middle English: from Old French paradis,
via ecclesiastical Latin from Greek paradeisos
‘enclosed royal park,’ from Avestan pairidaēza ‘enclosure, park.’
_Superficies terræ puella_
Aug 29, 2018
Aug 29, 2018 at 2:28 PM UTC
I had a beautiful, beautiful time
The drives and the talks were amazing
The kind of friend I thought I'd never find
I had a beautiful, beautiful time
You have a beautiful, beautiful smile
The way it curls and collapses on your lips
When you touch me I shake like a child
It's late, I'm afraid you might leave
'Cause sometimes it seems like you still don't believe me
There's nothing I can do to concentrate
It's so distracting, always thinking of you
So I expose and explain and I meant everything I said
And it's moments like this that repeat and replay in my head
When I'm laying in bed
It's a beautiful, beautiful time
As you laugh and roll onto your stomach
The carpet embraces your design
My heart pounds as I lay by your side
And I find that I am unable to hide all these feelings that flow
In this basement, and in this dim light, you look so beautiful
I'm unsure and unclear with the words that I say
I'm happy when you're near and I wish that forever could stay
Just like today
You have beautiful, beautiful eyes
So bright and alive and enchanting
I want to be with you all of the time
It's hopeless but I have to try
Dec 12, 2011
Dec 12, 2011 at 8:49 PM UTC
"deformis puella! discesserit ab illa!"
eyes gone pale (for lack of light)
a sniffle is heard in the depths of night.
and whilst the candle shrinks, there becomes
a soft quiver of sound, the voice which barely hums.
"non omnis moriar."
Apr 4, 2019
Apr 4, 2019 at 11:38 PM UTC
Flavia swore as the heavy earthenware pitcher slipped from her hands and crashed onto the uneven flagstones. As she knelt in the puddle of tepid water and started gathering in the pieces, she heard the rapidly approaching footfall of an armed legionary.
‘Leave that now, there’s no time. We ride for York immediately.’
‘But mea domina...’
‘The Wall is breached. Hurry, puella, or she'll start without you!’
Flavia picked up her sodden skirts and ran.
§
I held my breath as the last piece of the Corbridge ewer slid smoothly into place and wondered at the exquisitely crafted motif which encircled the body of this ancient vessel. A procession? A cavalcade? Curious, if not for the men-at-arms, I would have thought it a pageant. And there in a covered wagon a noble woman looking back at a young girl standing on the steps of a villa holding her hem in her hands.
Mar 9, 2019
Mar 9, 2019 at 3:41 PM UTC
I am cold
And you're far away
My hands are covered in stars
I am crying
And you're probably asleep
My hands are covered in snow
I am candlewax
And you are matches
My hands are covered in sins
Nov 30, 2014
Nov 30, 2014 at 9:45 PM UTC
Amica mea columba,
I whisper to Amy
as she prepares my bath.
Domitia has left us
after a long afternoon
of talk and gossip.
Marcus is off
on one of Caesar's
campaigns;
his love making
(as such as it is)
has ceased.
Amy is now
my bed mate,
my love,
my dove.
Puella,
Domitia had called
to Amy,
as if Amy were
her slave girl
and not mine.
Now she prepares me
for the bath;
undresses me,
undoing the sashes
and undoing me
in heart and mind.
Last night her fingers
slid into me,
aroused me
from deep slumber,
broke me in like
a wild stallion is tamed.
Last night
I kissed her *******
lips touched soft flesh,
mouthed teats
as an infant greedily.
I am naked now,
ready for my bathe.
Annona,
she whispers,
the water is done.
She stands
and watches me,
her hands nearby to aid;
her eyes feeding
on my body;
her tongue at the side
of her mouth,
lingering,
that too,
last night,
inside me,
like *********
Feb 16, 2016
Feb 16, 2016 at 3:17 AM UTC
Puella,
Domitia says to me,
she is with Annona,
my mistress,
on the balcony
overlooking the sea.
The way the woman
beckoned me
with her crooked finger
as if I were her slave
and not Annona's.
Amy,
Annona says,
bring us wine and fruit.
I bow and she winks
an eye at me
as if to say
it is just as things
must be.
They talk as I leave
the balcony;
I am not angry;
I am a slave after all,
but the way Domitia
just said Puella,
as if that was all I was,
nothing more.
Little does she know
that Annona and I
made love last night,
that I had licked my tongue
along Annona's stomach
from her nest to her neck,
that Annona had said
more more and I did
and I had to place
my hand upon her lips
to hush her sounds of joy.
I bring the wine and fruit
and lay it on the table
and then stand by in waiting
for further instructions,
watching Domitia greedily
gulp the wine,
as my mistress sips hers
and smiles at me.
Must she stand there
like some thin hawk
watching us?
Domitia says,
gesturing toward me.
Annona says,
I like Amy near me
in case I need her
and as my protector.
Protector? Her?
Domitia says
grinning at me,
her dark hair tied back
behind her head tightly.
Amy was a gladiator,
and Marcus bought her for me,
and saved her life
from certain death,
Anonna says,
eyeing me
then Domitia.
Gladiator?
And Marcus has her
here with you?
Domitia says frowning,
wine dribbling
down her chin.
I tongued Annona last night,
and she held me close
and kissed me all down
from neck to navel,
and as I stand there
watching Domitia gaze at me,
I wish her gone,
to drown in some
dark green sea.
Feb 10, 2016
Feb 10, 2016 at 6:48 AM UTC
Dusky rose inflated with love unseen.
Between the imprints of my heart does gleam,
the punishing what ifs - what might have been.
My fingers wringing, twist and knot tight;
wondering where we lost the fight,
to a life much darker without your light.
I loop string and tie our laughter with a bow,
that it might bring light to this song of woe,
that though we remember, we may let go.
Birthday balloon never seemed so sad
and yet I know we should be glad
for who you were and what we had.
Since you were loved and love lives on
Though we don’t hear you, you’re never gone.
Jun 26, 2013
Jun 26, 2013 at 6:00 PM UTC
puer
puera puerae
puella puellus
puelli
mani
cured and trimmed
too close almost
cuticle cut
blister sigh
blood blister
blood blossoming beneath
the nail bed
hit it right on
the nailhead
shaved legs,
and a neckbeard.
sledgehammer Sally
sips sweetly from silly
saddle-wearin' thoroughbred
unicorns
I am a fairy faun from
deep inside your frightful
wardrobe roaring lion lyin'
through the skin of my teeth
ice queen itch
I scream for
tag team *****
*** bag drag teen
ditch
pull queen grab
done deal dean
pull mean
and drag me in and
pull me out and
grab a hold and
leg it go and
let's flow and
I'm a ******* princess
gasping
and I'm Prince
Caspian
dead and
drowning between
blurred lines between
between the read the lines blurred
and I'm just trying to reach through
the seemingly subtle spaces
in between rows of words
between letters and faces
but every line and every
curve of the pen is an
iron bar and I'm just
trying to reach through
reach up through
all these symbols
pull myself out of
all these vague
misrepresentations
of understandings and
I accidentally cut myself
on the serrated edges of
the pixelated abstractions
and drip drip
Let's get some coffee.
Jan 13, 2015
Jan 13, 2015 at 6:57 PM UTC
Delivered to inviting hands
With one breath;
Then sculpted in a parent's arms
To feed on sweet caresses,
Inhaling life with one kiss,
As prologue to her song;
She'll carry on.
Mature. Secure.
Bound and forged
In infant iron.
She hears, listens, then deduces,
To apply their teachings
When cut loose;
Lessons she will reproduce
To set her free,
Unfettered by mediocrity.
Like the Sphinx,
She crawls,
Then stands to think.
At times, we know,
She'll forget
Steadier hands
Held her *****
She will fall again,
Then stand and walk,
Perhaps with Pride;
And should she fail,
She knows she tried.
First steps lead
To stage or field,
And honours
On her battlefields;
Protected by
Parental shields.
She'll receive
These life-long gifts,
Then start anew
At age six.
If she walks alone
She'll find,
Friends can make
The walk divine.
She'll filter them,
Some in, some out;
And trust a few
With her life;
Avoiding others
She's learned aren't right
By socializing,
Not over-protected
Or compromising.
Her early years
Sow the seeds
Of second breaths
And good deeds;
To balance friends
With second looks:
The cover can't
Disclose the book.
Most of all,
She'll understand
She grew and grows
With helping hands.
And when she stands
With womankind,
She'll extend
Her hands
To all mankind.
Feb 7, 2015
Feb 7, 2015 at 2:55 PM UTC
Since her husband has left
on one of Caesar's campaigns,
Annona keeps me close,
has me in her bed.
Amy,
she says,
come closer,
feel here and here,
and I do,
and we lie here at night
watching the moon
pass the window,
the stars wink at us.
I smell her
perfumes and ointments
and want to drown
in her beauty.
Domitia spoke to me
as a mere slave girl,
of no importance,
puella, puella,
she called,
beckoned'
me with her finger,
stared at me as dung.
Annona holds me warm,
kisses me everywhere,
brings me to high places
in body and nerves.
When her husband returns,
I must return
to my own room,
and sleep alone,
think of her with him,
him having her body,
his pores over her,
shafting her.
She takes my hand
and mouths my fingers
one by one;
her other hand
touching my soft place.
Suavitatem
et ***** mea,
she whispers to me,
her soft breath,
our bodies wrapped
about each other.
I would die for her,
protect her
from her enemies,
but I am like
soft clay in her hands.
Annona kisses my lips,
holds my body
close to her soul,
our eyes meeting
and gazing.
Far away her husband fights
in wars and campaigns;
I laze in the sun
of her love;
he lives in the dark place
with cold rains.
Feb 22, 2016
Feb 22, 2016 at 4:00 PM UTC
Suus 'got mammam exitibus
Unde et amor alterius innititur
Quare id faciam, quod est nimis
Nov 28, 2015
Nov 28, 2015 at 8:22 PM UTC
Muchachita mía,
gloria y ufanía
de mi atardecer,
yo sólo tenía
la santa alegría
de mi poesía
y de tu querer.
¿Por qué te partiste?
¿Por qué te me fuiste?
Mira que estoy triste,
triste, triste, triste,
con tristeza tal
que mi cara mustia
deja ver mi angustia
como si fuera de cristal.
Muchachita mía,
¡qué sola, qué fría
te fuiste aquel día!
¿En qué estrella estás?
¿En qué espacio vuelas?
¿En qué mar rielas?
¿Cuándo volverás?
-¡Nunca, nunca más!
358
Formosae vincla puella
et sedeo duras janitor ante fores
Bound fast in the bonds
of lovely I sit a janitor before
his stubborn doors
lured tawny, dazzled, sleeve’s
lost echo
blood-murmur striking zero
Shaded slowly that bright comes.
Jan 22, 2018
Jan 22, 2018 at 12:22 AM UTC
*mother of mysteries
love like water
spirit of life
puer and puella
arm and arm
a tangle of kisses
with fear and faith
they walk
tear blinded
through
the
roads
of
God*
Sep 13, 2017
Sep 13, 2017 at 1:52 PM UTC
She's got mommy issues
That is why she relies on another woman's love
That is why I do too
Nov 29, 2015
Nov 29, 2015 at 8:31 AM UTC