Interea longis fessos, erroribus artus
Deponens, jacui viridanti in fluminis ora
Murmure languidulo sopitus, et otia duxi,
Permulsus volucrum concentu auraque Favoni
Come listen lady-lovers to the Language of the Birds,
Hands slipping under covers to the magic of these words,
Unleash thy spinning fingers, let’s explore Calypso’s Cave,
When ecstasy must bring us ever closer, lord & slave.
I have sung a hundred sonnets in-between dull Sunday psalms
For the girls in pretty bonnets in the fields amidst the farms,
When in the warmer seasons I would lead them thro’ the corn,
To tease with playful reasons why our clothes should lay unworn!
As the good girls giggled by me, kicking apples down the lane,
I would whisper to them shyly, pressing flowers in a chain,
& charming them with sympathy, invite them thro’ the trees
To where they’ve bended good to me in woodlands on their knees.
On finishing their feast of me I’d lift a glist’ning chin,
Let kisses seek release in me, a look shall guide us in;
As for the rest; release the chi, hands roving as before,
If standing, let your spangling panties dangle to the floor,
If riding, ye should pull aside & park amidst the pines,
If biding time before he comes, uncork the scented wines,
Dress in a little negligee, let’s dim that too bright light,
There’s nothing like a lass at play to whet my appetite.
Lift up thy lighter fancies girls; a gorgeous gull white scene,
Wind-flashing snowdrift whips & swirls above the thirsted green,
See snow-drop heads & crocuses seep colours through the glade
& lily-lidded lotuses peep from a woodland shade.
Into the forest – lifeless, leafless – rushed the eastern breeze,
A flash of flushing springtime, herbage fluffs the blasted trees,
Down to a breast’s unbuttoning warm sunbeams gilding gold,
Despite the old dames muttering, ‘tonight might still be cold.’
A full-lipp’d, long-lash’d redhead, on the roads down to Dalry,
Has flipp’d the faintest flashings from the corners of her eye,
‘What bird or beast doth patter by?’ Her thoughts could not concur,
‘Perhaps a pretty butterfly?’ I float my mind to her;
‘Please feel no fear, my lovely lass, pray put your milk-pails down,
I fain would never let ye pass me, walking into town,
Without quenching my bone-dry thirst upon thy milk so white –
Aye, ye shall be the very first to whet my appetite.’
To woolly warmth I dive at once, suckling ten jiggling toes,
Then steadied her milk buckets as up both her legs I rose;
To nubile nibbling lay she flat, her struggle sparalyzed,
With ‘Stop!’ ‘Oh no!’ ‘Dinnae do that!’ Her snuggles much disguis’d.
Lips passing by her special place, beyond her belly too,
Clamping upon those ample breasts, her handsome nipples drew
Into my mouth, insatiate dance, on blowing moisture cool,
I headed south to find the lode-stone of her lady-jewel.
My scouting hands went on ahead, one found her rustic mound,
Her paradise, her pubic bed, I rubb’d it round & round,
As if it were a tended ground of silk-grass, softly swaying,
While blended pleasure-scented sounds assented to my playing.
O cunnilingus, intense tickling, flip-flap lapping tongue,
That flickers like a candle flame, that licks her fast & strong,
My swiftly-darting serpent tongue unleash’d pink alphabets
& sometimes strumm’d a Muslim-song flung from the minarets.
Both up & down, both fast & fully furious it roves,
Kissing virginal sunlit lips, searching for treasure troves,
I hit a spot, O special spot, her smooth back arch’d aloft,
‘Suck it,’ she almost begg’d to me, ‘suck it’ she whisper’d soft.
Erewhile I sucked I heard her sing, it was a joy to see
Her little quim all quivering essential ecstasy,
Slipping a sturdy finger in, gripping her thre’penny piece,
With gleeful pelvic beckoning her G-force did release.
I push’d on hard into that place, breath ruddering my own,
As swift rotations click in pace gush-waters flood the zone
From cunny upwards thrust uncoiling kundalini thread,
Mind disassembling, wet thighs trembling,earthquakes in her head.
From shaky pails thick droplets white splash flames across her waist,
Bright orbs of milky crystal, quite alluring to the taste,
‘At last my thirst is quench’d…‘ upjinking from her tensing knees,
Pull’d out… a wink, with one last drink went slinking thro’ the trees.
I left her in a panting pile, exhausted, eyelids tight,
Dreaming of shores romantic t’where she’d fly in faerie flight,
Catching her breath she patted down her petticoat, & tread
Back to her distant eiderdown, her boyfriend & their bed.
Upon the path she pass’d a lass, who, like a drunken bride
Taken to task, listen’d aghast; then ask’d, ‘where does he hide?’
Her fever pinn’d to open masts, she’ll share that man’s desire,
& was, that day, the second lass to fan my special fire.
These precious meetings soon became obsessional in me,
Investing into Heaven’s nests infectious energy
For, ‘things that mak a grown hen blush,’ shrill whispers in the kirk,
As to the woods more women rush those hours men trudge to work.
As one-by-one, footloose & free, dames skip back to their lives,
‘What changes have come over thee,’ hum husbands to their wives,
‘For ye seem very amorous, the most since ye turn’d bride,’
Of course it was her time with us that sent them satisfied.