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| Blogs > Mariana_Trench_ > poetic disambiguation |
St. Agatha
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St. Agatha And is it unto ashes, all my burning lust must return? With stippled flesh He petitions, I hear his Lugubrious recitations And think of pickled frog and other Roman delights I care not to taste August burrows deep into my home, I feel the heat within, radiating Warmth, like ovens after baking bread Truth be told, I do yearn In fact, I could love this foreigner He is not of my tribe, but here he is in my midst, pleading... if he would be be - more - Something (I do not know what) I would relent But, as it stands, all I can think of is the one I call - My Lord - and how he leaves me breathless How if only I could I would Bend over, arching the temple doorway, A pleasing, rounded form for him to enter How if only I could I would Pass him sugared figs with my ruby tongue, And suck honeyed dates from his fingertips Oh My Lord, I think of thee, and My offers seem humble, is that the reason I remain alone? When will you come for me? I wait, and meanwhile This one is unrelenting I feel my mouth Taunt, as an arrow rides a bow, quivering Dry, as if I was suddenly consumed by dust Bitter, as the herbs of the Southern hillsides Musing - If I could give anything in this world to be with My Lord, any precious thing... for him to bind to me, the sacred joining and dance under the cloudless night sky, bells upon my ankles - their rhythmic laughter... But all that comes to mind is my very self, these unnecessary but lovely mounds of flesh - Are they not his anyway, as is all of me? Musing - Certainly it is too much to ask? It is strange about such thoughts, and merciful too, that By morning I will have surely forgotten such a notion. Image: "Saint Agatha," by Orazio Riminaldi, Italian, circa 1625       |
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In about a month I am planning to have completed a portfolio of my best works to present to a publisher I have connections with (a new development.) I am hopeful she will like at least one or two enough to either take me on, or push me over to a colleague. I shall keep you (everyone) posted. Ribbit! MT
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Dearest DD/T, Are you saying I am oblivious to when a man has feelings for me? I don't think I am. Are you saying I'm running out of men and running out of time to find a good man? I don't think I am. Are you saying you know who I am writing about? I am sure you do. You are one of the two smartest frogs I know. MT / E (and what about that damn sunscreen, already? Am I shipping it back to the land of eternal rain?)
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Not of your tribe..mm..spicy! 
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He, your Lord, so unknowingly fortunate, or does he know? The yearning tugged at me..the sadness in the longing of the unknown, but the certainty of the longing. I read St. Anne too, but this one..this is quite beautiful, M.
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"If I could give anything in this world to be with My Lord, any precious thing... for him to bind to me, the sacred joining and dance under the cloudless night sky, bells upon my ankles - their rhythmic laughter... But all that comes to mind is my very self, these unnecessary but lovely mounds of flesh - Are they not his anyway, as is all of me?" Perfect! The whole poem is perfect -- the tenor of it -- the wavering of a young girl faced with an unspeakable decision (something I couldn't get out of my head when I was 12 or 13) . . . And the marrying of true faith with a hint of BDSM, how ingenuous . . . It is the posture of the perfect submissive, isn't it? You're writing incredible pieces, MT, who is your muse? Thank you, nb THANK YOU...thank you for getting what I was doing and seeing it and understanding it and embracing it. Thank you. MT
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As always, you leave me breathless - which is rather better than the fate the lovely Saint suffered. i can't imagine the strength of absolute faith, yearning and passion that the Agathas of an earlier time must have burned with - or the sheer cruelty of those who tortured them in the name of religion (or maybe, power and control). But you can, and have, got inside her mind, her spirit, very well. "And is it unto ashes, all my burning lust must return?" - well, yes, ultimately, but to have known that burning lust even momentarily is to have lived, and all else becomes endurable. Maybe. Gee I do hope you find a publisher girlfriend! I do too. I'm working on that again this week. I try to do a day of submissions every other week or so. I have to sort of force myself, because submitting poems is not as much fun as writing them, because I have yet to hear a 'yes' in the last year. I reckon if some publishers would say 'yes' I'd feel submission day was the most pleasant day of all. Oh well. Again, thank you for the support and encouragement. MT
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"If I could give anything in this world to be with My Lord, any precious thing... for him to bind to me, the sacred joining and dance under the cloudless night sky, bells upon my ankles - their rhythmic laughter... But all that comes to mind is my very self, these unnecessary but lovely mounds of flesh - Are they not his anyway, as is all of me?" Perfect! The whole poem is perfect -- the tenor of it -- the wavering of a young girl faced with an unspeakable decision (something I couldn't get out of my head when I was 12 or 13) . . . And the marrying of true faith with a hint of BDSM, how ingenuous . . . It is the posture of the perfect submissive, isn't it? You're writing incredible pieces, MT, who is your muse? Thank you, nb MT
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8/2/2010 2:43 pm |
As always, you leave me breathless - which is rather better than the fate the lovely Saint suffered. i can't imagine the strength of absolute faith, yearning and passion that the Agathas of an earlier time must have burned with - or the sheer cruelty of those who tortured them in the name of religion (or maybe, power and control). But you can, and have, got inside her mind, her spirit, very well. "And is it unto ashes, all my burning lust must return?" - well, yes, ultimately, but to have known that burning lust even momentarily is to have lived, and all else becomes endurable. Maybe. Gee I do hope you find a publisher girlfriend!
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I've never seen this painting before -- lovely -- Thanks for sharing - nb I will look forward to your opinions of the newest and I think last of my Saint Poems. Never say never but - for now I am satisfied. MT
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Wow, the lady has a real story. Torture, staunch faith in the face of unholy evil; power and passion --- all served up on a platter for a poet. Can't wait to see what you do with this. Best, MT
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That is a beautiful painting, I cannot wait to read your words! MT
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7/29/2010 1:24 am |
Wow, the lady has a real story. Torture, staunch faith in the face of unholy evil; power and passion --- all served up on a platter for a poet. Can't wait to see what you do with this.
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That is a beautiful painting, I cannot wait to read your words! "Shall I tell you the secret of the true scholar? It is this: every man I meet is my master in some point, and in that I learn of him." ~Ralph Waldo Emerson  
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