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| Blogs > Mariana_Trench_ > poetic disambiguation |
Your Molly Pitcher
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Your Molly Pitcher We liked to role play. I wanted to taste him so badly I grew light-headed. His voice woke me up at night, the way he said honey, sugar, darling and suck me. He liked the way I read his mind and the way I always wanted to feel him inside me. I could envision him smiling, a look upon his face of serious joy. I was his Molly Pitcher, and he was doing battle against the Red Coat Army, just about 200 years ago. 200 years ago, yesterday. I gave him a clay mug of cold water. He kissed me and said I tasted like gun powder and an idealized kind of history, like pumpkin pie with fresh whipped cream. "The pilgrims did not have whipped cream on pumpkin pie." "True," I said... "What about Johnny Cakes?" He laughed too. "I don't know." Then I grew serious, my eyes dark with longing. I rubbed the sot off his face with the soft back of my white hand. I then rubbed my sooty fingers onto my apron. He held up my dirty hand and licked it clean. My apron remained soiled. It was 200 years ago. It was like yesterday. I felt his body relax as he touched my chilled flesh. He was on fire. My water and my skin put him out, and yet he burned for me. He said "You are brave. It's dangerous with me." I said "I would be more scared, and far more foolish, if I left you." We both knew that. He drank the entire mug of water in one thirsty gulp. The mug handle, where he had just been gripping, was warm and moist from his firm grip. I held my hand up, and he passed the empty mug. I turned it carefully and slowly, till the handle was facing towards my mouth. My tongue drew forward and lapped up his perspiration off the handle. I watched his eyes watching my tongue work at it. It wasn't hard work. In fact, it was quite rewarding. I dropped the mug down by my shoes. He dropped to his knees. I joined him. He took off his jeans and we laid down on the warm blanket. We could feel beneath the cloth the sharp stiff grass. A breeze blew my hair around my face. The air was salty, and clung to our bodies, so it felt like we'd been swimming. The sun gilt off the buttons of his jeans. I turned to watch his shoulders, the muscles twisting as his arms rotated to a comfortable position around my own body. He kissed away my words, and then kissed away my thoughts. Soon, all that was left were my nerve endings, singing my passions, and the seagulls wheeling above us, crying back in response. The grass became flattened, I could even still distinguish it's fresh scent, even in my tranquilized state of arousal. I remember his fingers in my mouth, pulling out my sounds and tasting of the waves. I remember how he moved to kiss my thighs, how he pulled off my skirt like a skirmish. I remember the sun marched across the sky, betraying our position, breaching our defenses. I remember the wind and the clouds were our allies, defending us from the the sun. It grew cooler and eventually we had to leave. When I bent down to pick-up my discarded shoes, I also grabbed the empty mug. I still have it, but I'll never use it. I'm saving it for our next battle. Where the blanket had been, our torsos had pressed that grass into the convex ghost of two merged bodies; valleys that represented former peaks. Absence. And there - that abstract form, that imprint - there it lie, charmed into being by proximity to a lichen-covered fort and some 200-year old, black-painted cannons. ---------------------------- Molly Pitcher was a nickname given to a woman said to have fought in the American Revolutionary War. Since various Molly Pitcher tales grew in the telling, many historians regard Molly Pitcher as folklore, rather than history, or suggest that Molly Pitcher may be a composite image inspired by the actions of a number of real women. The name itself may have originated as a nickname given to women who carried water and offered other comforts to men on the battlefield during the American Revolutionary War. - wikipedia       |
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very good lesson too bad it is lost in the public school books... maybe you should do a day there, they might learn more from you in one day than they do in a whole year... and there is no sarcasm here, I am most very serious And, yes, I have had more than a few people ask me why I don't have kids, since I am so good with them!  MT
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Nice. I love it when you write like this...so much better than the typical drivel one finds on this site. You my dear are well worth reading...following...admiring...thanks. MT
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 I have always been passionate about history. It is my pleasure here to write about a diversity of topics, within the realm of erotica. Honestly, if someone throws an idea my way and I like it, I'll run with it. This post began with an IM between myself and a man, speaking about a local landmark (pretty close to where I live). Do you have a favorite person or period of history? A favorite event or concept? I'm not promising...but. Try me. MT
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Not many women are mentioned during the Revolutionary War. If they are, they are not always titled a "heroine." However, Molly Pitcher broke the trend by not only being a war hero, but a loyal wife and hard worker. Born to German immigrants on Oct. 13, 1754, the future hero was given the name Mary. In 1769 Mary became a servant to Dr. William Irvine. Later Mary's employer became a colonel and a brigadier general in the colonial army. He also commanded men during the Battle of Monmouth. Leaving her career as a maid, Mary married a soldier by the name of John Casper Hays. When he enlisted in the Colonial artillery in 1775, the couple shadowed one another all the way out into the battle field. During the cruel Battle of Monmouth, Mary would bring pitchers of water from a nearby creek to the thirsty soldiers. This act of courage and kindness earned Mary the nicknames of "Sergeant" and the more popular name of "Molly Pitcher." Both were good humored and well deserved names. Molly's acts did not stop at the pitcher. When Molly's husband collapsed while manning his cannon, Molly took over for him. This brought attention to Molly from George Washington who complimented her works. Molly's happiness came to an end when her husband died in 1789. Instead of staying a widow Molly married her second husband, Gearge McCauley. However the two were not a happy couple. Mary was treated as a servant by her new spouse. It would seem all was lost for Molly Pitcher, but in 1822 the legislator of Pennsylvania awarded Mary with annuity for life to repay her for her acts of kindness. Mary died on January 22, 1832. However, the example she set for those women who think they can't will live on forever. Molly Pitcher was definitely a heroine. too bad it is lost in the public school books... maybe you should do a day there, they might learn more from you in one day than they do in a whole year... and there is no sarcasm here, I am most very serious
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Yes, in general she was folklore, but I recall reading that a wife of a Continental Soldier brought her husband water and it was shared with those around him, I looked in my research papers but can not find it, they were not of my ancestral lines so it is not easy to locate. Born to German immigrants on Oct. 13, 1754, the future hero was given the name Mary. In 1769 Mary became a servant to Dr. William Irvine. Later Mary's employer became a colonel and a brigadier general in the colonial army. He also commanded men during the Battle of Monmouth. Leaving her career as a maid, Mary married a soldier by the name of John Casper Hays. When he enlisted in the Colonial artillery in 1775, the couple shadowed one another all the way out into the battle field. During the cruel Battle of Monmouth, Mary would bring pitchers of water from a nearby creek to the thirsty soldiers. This act of courage and kindness earned Mary the nicknames of "Sergeant" and the more popular name of "Molly Pitcher." Both were good humored and well deserved names. Molly's acts did not stop at the pitcher. When Molly's husband collapsed while manning his cannon, Molly took over for him. This brought attention to Molly from George Washington who complimented her works. Molly's happiness came to an end when her husband died in 1789. Instead of staying a widow Molly married her second husband, Gearge McCauley. However the two were not a happy couple. Mary was treated as a servant by her new spouse. It would seem all was lost for Molly Pitcher, but in 1822 the legislator of Pennsylvania awarded Mary with annuity for life to repay her for her acts of kindness. Mary died on January 22, 1832. However, the example she set for those women who think they can't will live on forever. Molly Pitcher was definitely a heroine.
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Yes, in general she was folklore, but I recall reading that a wife of a Continental Soldier brought her husband water and it was shared with those around him, I looked in my research papers but can not find it, they were not of my ancestral lines so it is not easy to locate.
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Thank you! You are very sweet  MT
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Wonderful work and very interesting. I do love history too. Glad you enjoyed! Inspired by the fort near my home. Go there on and off, it's now a State Park. Lovely and indeed, a few paces from the ocean. Was built to battle the British Navy, cannons pointed out to the ships who were threatening Boston Harbor, don't cha know? MT
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I did wonder how this might go over across the Pond. No hard feelings (well, ahem...ok, some hard feelings) There is no ale in that pitcher. Strictly H2O. Frog-friendly beverage. You do seem a little unsure as to if you are indeed unarmed. I note the question mark. Do frogs carry firearms? Do they have to get permits? Sporting Two Arms, MT
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Wonderful work and very interesting. I do love history too.
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You already know what I think of your writing. Thanks for the encouragement. MT 
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Thank you, dear Annie. I love your new picture. Great when people get INCREDIBLY brave and post themselves and not merely an eyeball or a big toe. (No offense to eyeball or big toe only posters.) I'm not as brave you you, honestly. Again, kudos! I have flame red hair too MT
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You already know what I think of your writing.      
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Only you could make Johnny Cakes sexy. MT
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5/14/2010 9:25 pm |
Only you could make Johnny Cakes sexy.
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MT dear, bravo! Your writings just get better and better. I could feel that they were written with feelings and from your heart.
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