Showing posts with label poems. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poems. Show all posts

Friday, August 10, 2018

Gone west (for David)




                   Gone west
  
It seems in my life I have always
moved west, New Brunswick, Alberta,
the boardwalk behind the Quay;

it’s a left-handed sort of life
driving me heartwards, though never,

no never,

heartwise.
  
                                        that day
When I thought I saw you/ on the boardwalk
my guts jumped:                    it
jerked the hook in my colon
(you always knew about bait)

You know how it was:    I wanted to stand on my desk
on the last day of classes
and shout:  O captain!  My captain!

But you had your own rotation – I saw
it reel from view, and

(helpless to catch you)

watched your spiralling apogee.

What is the remotest segment of an orbit?
Booze, blondes.  Too much of
a good thing.  But I did love you.
We wandered, Pooh and Piglet in an
Escher maze, searching for heffalumps.

You calmly said, “Watch this,” and set fire
to my mind.

I saw you as the human yoyo, bobbing up and
                                                                   down,
sleeping, walking the dog, in and out
and ‘round the world.

I knew you’d be back, like hounds,
like a cycle of blood, like black
fruit springing into tree.  When the
string broke, I hid my eyes, and
said, but it’s only a lute,
it will heal itself,
half-hoping I was wrong.

I don’t know why or how God looks
after you, beached like Stanley’s whale,
stared at by the curious.  I don’t know
how God manages.  It was beyond me.

And so I kept on moving. 
                                
Margaret Gunning


Tuesday, February 14, 2017

Valentine's Day: Cupid's revenge




I have a feeling the following ream of Valentine poetry was written by thirteen-year-old girls. Having spewed a few reams of it myself, I feel I must be charitable. Emily Dickinson it ain't, but at least this poetry is sincere. One of them sings the praises of Labrador and Newfoundland, which I heartily agree with. Many of the poems praise their love object's lips, fingertips, and physical features generally. And not all of them are written by girls.

I was a little disappointed at the fairly-regular rhyme and meter schemes in these. The truth is, they're really a little too good. But they have a certain charm, a sweetness that made them worthy of a Valentine post of their own. And how can these lines be surpassed for sheer emotional honesty?:

If you don't be my Valentine
I'm sure I'll have to cry
If you won't be my Valentine
I'll look at you and sue

I have one beef, however - a big one. One of the poetesses here shamelessly signs her name to a classic poem by Dorothy Parker (One Perfect Rose). Whether this was meant as quote, tribute, or outright theft will never be known. Oh well. We DO say "she stole my heart", don't we? From that, it's a short step to "she stole my poem". And now that I look more carefully, someone else is "quoting" from the  old song, "More (than the greatest love the world has known)". But it's Valentine's Day. Let's pin a big red heart on all our transgressions.




Love Poems

Valentine Postman

If I could be a postman
For just one single time,
I'd choose to carry valentines
so lovely and so fine.
I would not mind the heavy load,
Or mind my tired feet.
If I could scatter happiness
up and down the street.

Unknown

A Valentine for You

Valentines, valentines,
Pink, red and blue,
I've made a pretty one
Just for you!

Unknown

A Valentine

Today as Valentines go out,
To people near and far,
This one I'm sending right to you,
To say how nice you are.

Unknown





Bee My Valentine

Won't you bee my valentine
And fly away with me?
We'll bumble along together
'Cause you're my Honey Bee!

Unknown

~Valentine's Day~

The Arrow strikes the Heart
Never to be torn apart
It is when feelings blossom and more
The heart which heals by the Bandage of love and cure
Roses, chocolates, cakes and some of the gifts in line
just some of the things to make a Perfect Valentine.
The hidden feelings of a heart that reveals
The boat of love which smoothly sails
How fortunate are those who enjoy this day
That is the time when one is lost 
In the world of fantasy without any cost
The day when Cupid plays an Immense role
To provoke feelings in a Lifeless Soul.

Pamela Daranjo

Secrets

I have secrets that I hide
I want to tell you, but they come from so deep inside
I want to tell you that I love you and care
I want to tell you that I love your hair
your smile, your face and your kindness too
but most of all, I want to say I love you

Kendra





Valentine

Love is precious
Love is sweet
Love is something
you cannot cheat

Love is kind
Love is not lust
Love is special
its all about trust

Love is for me
Love is for you
Love is a couple
turns one to two

Love is yours
Love is mine
Love is ours
BE MY VALENTINE

Lilly Mae

when I saw you...

when I first saw you
I missed the comfort of being sad
seeing you from far away
without telling you about my heart
I couldn't bare holding my thoughts
about how much I would like
to hold you and fill you with joy
when I first saw you,
I knew my love for you was never going to die.

vanessa rodriguez





Will you be my valentine?

Will you be my Valentine?
I love you with all my heart.
Will you be my Valentine?
So we'll never be torn apart
If you don't be my Valentine
I'm sure I'll have to cry
If you won't be my Valentine
I'll look at you and sue
But if you be my Valentine
I'll throw you a big parade
And then just maybe I'll have to shout
HIP HIP HOORAY!!!!!!!!!!

Stephanie Morrow

Venus and Cupids

Oh Venus and Cupids picture of love
shining upon the stars above
for thee who had melted the hurts
and made them love for better or for worst

Oh Venus and Cupids I all summon you
to help me make my dreams come true
and to make this girl love me too
so I wouldn't forever be blue...

Sherwin





Daydreaming

Your eyes are alive and oh so blue.
I see you but I'm unknown to you.
Maybe one day you'll see my face.
You’ll know it's me, I'm in a daze.
If ever you saw me standing there...
No never mind why should you care
I see your smile inside my head
so clear to me and I forget
why I'm always feeling blue
every time I think of you.
These things have all been said before
so I'll stop here and say no more.

Sara

The Way I Feel

It has been awhile since we last met,
but your smile my heart can never forget.
Now I try to find just the right words to say,
to tell you how I feel each and everyday.
However, my heart cannot seem to explain just how I feel,
but I hope you believe me when I say my love is real.
I pray that you feel that way I do
and hope you will tell me you feel the same way too.
When I looked into your eyes it took my breath away,
and I hope to God that I will be looking into them
until I am old and gray

Lucy

The first and last

From the first time I laid eyes on you to the last kiss on my lips,
the first time I felt your soft finger tips,
the way you held me tight, made love to me at night,
always seemed to me that in my heart
that you would see a person as loving as me
someone whose heart is true
someone just like you...
Now I sit here all alone nothing but me
and my thoughts of you all through my mind.
As if I could turn back the hands of time
to the moment when your soft lips touched mine
I’m sorry I didn’t mean to make you cry... 
Baby, I do try
I love you and I do know why...

Gerald Lemire (Binky)





Valentines Day

Valentines is very near
Balloons, bears, and candy grahams.
Red, Black, Pink, and White
Are the colors that girls really like.
Roses can be red and violets can be blue.
What else can they prove to you
how much they love you
On this Valentines Day!!

Ashley

More

More than the Greatest love the world have ever known
This is the love I give to you alone
more than the simple words I try to say
I only love you more each day
Longer than always is a long time
but far beyond forever you'll be mine
I know I’ve never lived before
and my heart is very sure no one else
can love you more!

Jeanine

Valentine

oh, you are so fine
so want you be mine
oh, my sweet valentine
your eyes are the color of honey
and your braids long like ropes
oh, would you be
my sweet valentine!

Victoria




be mine

the smile that cleanses my soul
the eyes that stop time with a single glance
the touch of love from his hands
I’ve been waiting for this day
this special time
all I can do is pray
for you to be my Valentine

Christina Occhipinti

Night is falling

Night is falling my heart is calling
I feel so lonely I need you only
but I’ve got a teddy that I take to bed
if you'll be my Valentine
I’ll take you instead

Jenni-lea

if I’d wish to be anything

If I could wish to be anything
I’d wish to be your tear
to be conceived by your heart,
born in your eye
live on your cheek
and die on your lips


stephanie mcfarlane





Kisses

Kisses Kisses Kisses,
Oh, what should I do?
All I want is just one Kiss,
From a special person like you.

Brenna Copley

break up on valentines

On Valentines we broke up
Your friends said it was wrong
But you didn't believe them
Until you heard our song
Maybe you will love me
like I loved you
But I won't give you another chance
Because I won't know if it's really true

Lana

Hearts and flowers

Hearts and flowers on Valentine’s day.
heart shaped candy, help me say:
I Love you in a special way,
because love is the reason for Valentine’s day.
Valentine’s day is a special time
for songs to sing
and poems that rhyme,
a happy time for everyone.
I’m so glad you're a friend of mine

newfoundland and labrador rule


Kelly Russell





such a short time

When I first saw your face I knew you were mine
We have both grown to love each other in such a short time
you know I’ve been looking for you all my life
for the day when I become your wife
you have given me security and love
which I’ve only ever dreamed of
I know there is a heaven and dreams do come true
someone up there loves me
because they sent me
YOU

amanda perkins

My Valentine

I crave your honesty on this day of love,
L ove you whole-heartedly my sweet dove.
O ut of the blue you shot from the sky,
V ividly, beautifully stunning my eye.
E ver adoring you is what I do best,
Y our smile, your face and all the rest.
O n days like these I truly believe,
U and I are meant to be!

Dedicated To Daniel Vigil!

Crystal L. Callaway

love

Love is more time to share.
It’s really when you care.
It’s two people joined.
I was in love with you
before you could drop a coin.
It’s a sense of trust,
but not enough lust
It’s a commitment to be there,
but would you always be there
to share and care?

monique






One Perfect Rose

A single flower he sent me ,since we met
all tenderly his messenger he chose;
deep-hearted, pure with scented dew
still wet
one perfect rose.
I knew the language of the flower
"my fragile leaves ,it said
his heart enclose"
love long has taken for his locket
one perfect rose.
Why is it no one ever sent me yet
one perfect limousine,
do you suppose?
Ah, no it’s always just my luck to get
one perfect rose

monia jackson

baby brow eyes

Baby brown eyes your eyes so brown,
hair so light,
you make the sun shine bright,
your eyes bring many warm things.
I love you baby girl
for always when you were born
and came in our lives,
you are the baby brown eyes
that we love day or night,
we love you always.

judy shaw

One good try

For so long, I’ve had my eye on this girl
She's the most beautiful woman in the world

If that’s what you’re thinking, give it an attempt
Don’t be so scared that she would resent

why not give it one good try?
just to let her know you’re alive

Schick

sea

If all the women lived over sea
what good swimmers, you Emen, would be
if all the women lived over sea
that would leave you for me

Bethany






Sunday, December 18, 2016

Drop dead. Plop. Flop.




I don't know how I get myself into these moods. Dragging bottom emotionally for no reason that makes any sense, except that it's December, I thought I'd look up some Christmas poetry. I found one by John Betjeman that was quite nice, if long - but it fell apart by going all religious at the end, with babies in stables, etc., and ending with "God was man in Palestine/And lives today in bread and wine". Way to wreck it, John.

William Topaz McGonagall's atrocities occurred to me, and I wondered if he had done any Christmas poems (for the only thing better than a good Christmas poem is a bad Christmas poem - but it must be monumentally bad, not just dirty or jingly or a stupid takeoff of Clement Moore). But I've already "done" McGonagall in past posts, and I'm a bit sick of him, to be honest.




I found a horrible Robert Frost poem in which a man pounds on his door of a snowy evening and asks if he can cut down all the lovely snow-sparkling pines on his property to sell as Christmas trees. And here Frost hums and haws over it, turns it over in his mind, thinking: well, here are the advantages in it; and hmmm, here are the disadvantages in it; and: AIIIIIEEEEEK! Cut down all your friggin' trees?? What are you thinking? I guess back then it must have seemed that there were trees enough, that they were endless, and just a crop to be managed like any other. But I was so upset at this point that I didn't even read to the end.

Discouraged, I threw away Christmas and widened my scope to include any old poetry that was sublimely bad, but it's hard to find truly awful stuff. I found articles quoting three or four weak lines in, say, Tennyson. Auden once used a bad adjective, and somebody found a pun in Shakespeare, comparing an orange to Seville (or was it servile?). Well, who gives a shit about that? I wanted bad, and I wasn't getting it.




Until.

Until I found. . . This. 

A Tragedy

Theophilus Marzials


Death!
Plop.
The barges down in the river flop.
Flop, plop.
Above, beneath.
From the slimy branches the grey drips drop,
As they scraggle black on the thin grey sky,
Where the black cloud rack-hackles drizzle and fly
To the oozy waters, that lounge and flop
On the black scrag piles, where the loose cords plop,
As the raw wind whines in the thin tree-top.
Plop, plop.
And scudding by
The boatmen call out hoy! and hey!
All is running water and sky,
And my head shrieks -- "Stop,"
And my heart shrieks -- "Die."
*          *          *          *          *
My thought is running out of my head;
My love is running out of my heart,
My soul runs after, and leaves me as dead,
For my life runs after to catch them -- and fled
They all are every one! -- and I stand, and start,
At the water that oozes up, plop and plop,
On the barges that flop
                              And dizzy me dead.
I might reel and drop.
                                                Plop.
                                                Dead.
And the shrill wind whines in the thin tree-top
                           Flop, plop.
*          *          *          *          *
A curse on him.
                            Ugh! yet I knew -- I knew --
If a woman is false can a friend be true?
It was only a lie from beginning to end --
My Devil -- My "Friend"
I had trusted the whole of my living to!
Ugh; and I knew!
Ugh!
So what do I care,
And my head is empty as air --
I can do,
I can dare,
(Plop, plop
The barges flop
Drip drop.)
I can dare! I can dare!
And let myself all run away with my head
And stop.
Drop.
Dead.
Plop, flop.
                                              Plop.

                                        [-- from The Gallery of Pigeons (1874) ]




As if this bounty weren't enough, I found these little notes attached to an article about him, claiming that Marzials, not McGonagall, was the worst poet in the English language:

"Theo Marzials, the last of the Victorian aesthetes, who lived on in rural retirement, addicted to beetroot and chlorodyne (morphia, chloroform and prussic acid), for two decades after the world thought him dead. In the 1870s, as a young man with long hair, flowing moustaches and a silk bow tie over his lapels, he worked at the British Museum. According to Max Beerbohm, the great Panizzi himself, founder of the round Reading Room, was one day surprised to hear a shrill voice crying from the gallery: "Am I or am I not the darling of the Reading Room?". . .  Marzials almost outlived danger. "On the last occasion when I happened to catch sight of him, looking into a case of stuffed birds at South Kensington Museum, he had eaten five large chocolate creams in the space of two minutes," wrote Ford in 1911. "He had a career tragic in the extreme and, as I believe, is now dead." But he wasn't. He was living in a farmhouse room in Colyton, Devon. The bed, occupied day and night, had a saucer of sliced beetroot beside it, the smell of which mingled with the fumes of chlorodyne, the smoke of an oil lamp and the steam of a stockpot perpetually simmering on the
stove."




This is disjointed as hell because I've edited 300 or so words out of it, so who knows who "Ford" is, but then again, who cares? The important thing is that I have found a truly horrendous, a harrowingly bad poet, and this opens the door to all sorts of posts about him. Or not. Depends if I can find anything else. Oh, here's one -

The Ghost of Love

by: Theophilus Marzials (1850-1920)

The wan witch at the creepy midnight hour,
When the wild moon was flying to its full,
Went huddling round a damned convent's tower,
From out the crumbling slabs or tombs to pull
Some lecherous leaf or shrieking mandrake-flower.
Beneath she heard the dead men's voices dull;
Around she felt the cold souls creep and cower;
In hand she held a grinning damned's skull!

Then through the ruin'd cloisters, strangely white,
T'wards the struck moon, all swathed in colod grave-bands,
She saw dead Love wringing his hollow hands,
And gliding grimmer than a dank tomb-light.

And with a shriek she rush'd across his path--
And now the hell-worm all her body hath!




The problem with this one is, as Zero Mostel says to Gene Wilder in The Producers: "Nah, it's too good." In fact it's neither good nor bad, and is as purple as most Victorian stuff was. But it strikes me as bargain basement Gerard Manley Hopkins, and even a pale photocopy of Hopkins has a certain power behind it.

I don't know what "colod grave-bands" are, but maybe they played gigs at the cemetary. Were they people of "colo"? We'll never know. (Could be a typo, also.) So even at being the worst, Marzials wasn't the best. Or the other way around.

MARZIALS DISH. This was all I could find about his sex life, and it came from Wikipedia so it MUST be true:

"The relationship between Marzials and fellow author Edmund Gosse is debated, with some claims that their relationship was more than platonic."

But wait, there's more. . . a truly cheesy poem!




We have seen the Queen of cheese,
Laying quietly at your ease,
Gently fanned by evening breeze --
Thy fair form no flies dare seize.

All gaily dressed soon you'll go
To the great Provincial Show,
To be admired by many a beau
In the city of Toronto.

Cows numerous as a swarm of bees --
Or as the leaves upon the trees --
It did require to make thee please,
And stand unrivalled Queen of Cheese.




May you not receive a scar as
We have heard that Mr. Harris
Intends to send you off as far as
The great World's show at Paris.

Of the youth -- beware of these --
For some of them might rudely squeeze
And bite your cheek; then songs or glees
We could not sing o' Queen of Cheese.

We'rt thou suspended from baloon,
You'd cast a shade, even at noon;
Folks would think it was the moon
About to fall and crush them soon.



I don't know what to say.

Friday, December 2, 2016

Happy and well and corsetted to the limit




The Saga of Abbie 


Who Is Happy And Well And Corsetted To The Limit 
by Anonymous

1 In my hourglass corset I'm laced every day,
My little wasp waist is shrinking away.
The stays squeeze me inwards so small and so nice,
In a pattern of lacing that grips like a vice.


2 When I was a child I could never understand
Why the shape of my mother was stately and grand,
But early one morning I once chanced to see
How Dad laced her corsets as tight as could be.
























3 Dad said to Mama, "You're not tightened yet",
And he pulled till his forehead was glistening with sweat,
While Mother said gaspingly, "Close them you must",
While breathing so fast in her trembling bust.

4 At last Dad succeeded, the laces were tied,
An Ma was so slender, I ran to her side,
My eyes big with wonder, my mouth wide agape
As I longingly gazed at her beautiful shape.




5 "O, Mother, O Mother", I gasped out of plea,
"O when can I have a wasp waist for me?
A real lady's corset, all lace-trimmed and blue.
I so want to be beautiful, just like you".

6 Mother smiled as she held smelling salts to her nose,
Then she said "Ask your Daddy", and pulled on her hose,
But Daddy demurred, "We need more time to think",
But Mum whispered, "Let her", and tipped him a wink.

7 That night Mother said as we sat round the fire,
"Is a nice waspy waist what you really desire?"
"O yes, Mummy, yes. Do let it be soon".
But suddenly Mummy fell down in a swoon.


    


8 Up jumped my Daddy and went to the drawer
And took out the scissors (I'm sure that he swore)
To cut Mummy's laces. She feebly gasped,
"No, don't cut the lace", as her waistline she clasped.

9 It did not take long for my Mum to recover,
While Dad fussed around like an overwrought lover.
He said, "Listen, Abbie, now I'm warning you
That's what tight-lacing will usually do".




10 I replied, "So I faint, but I truly don't care,
I want a wasp waist like my Mummy, so there.
O, please Mummy do try dear Dad to persuade,
To let me be corsetted. Please get one made".

11 Daddy hummed and he hawd, "So that's what you say,
You're just like your Mother; she gets her own way.
If that is the garment you're dying to wear,
Tomorrow we'll go to the corsetière".

12 My anticipation was loaded with bliss,
I rewarded them both with a hug and a kiss.
That night in my bed as in slumber I curled,
I dreamt I'd the tiniest waist in the world.




13 We went the next day to the corsetières.
And inside the shop she displayed all her wares.
So graceful the shapes of the corsets and stays,
I stood there enchanted, my eyes all a-glaze.

14 She measured me up, she measured me down,
She looked through her pince-nez, her brow in a frown.
"A wasp waisted corset? We have just the thing
To make you a lady with a waist like a ring".

15 They took me upstairs, I was in such haste,
The corset was clasped round my tender young waist.
"Now come to the mirror and see with your eyes
Your waist whittled down to its tiniest size".




16 I looked in the mirror, my heart was so full,
And then on the laces I started to pull.
I wanted the tightness, so comfy to savour;
My parents had done me the loveliest favour.

17 "Do you think you can manage to lace in yourself?"
Asked Mother. In answer I grinned like an elf.
"I love the sensation", I tugged hard with zest
Till my arms ached again and I took a short rest.




18 "How do you feel?" asked the corsetière,
"It's a lovely sensation", I had to declare.
"I want to be smaller, with bosom up thrust,
And the smaller the waist the larger the bust".

19 Then mother said, "Let me start pulling you in".
"Your arms are not strong enough for you to win".
So taking the laces she started to tug;
Oh, the sheer joy of that beautiful hug.




20 "Please pull. O please pull my little waist in,
I want to be tiny, delightfully thin".
I felt the desire to endure like a saint,
But I fell to the floor in a rapturous faint.

21 I opened my eyes, and I smiled with delight.
There, I'd had my first faint in my corset so tight.
I rose to my feet and I asked, "Where's my corset?"
Mother said, "It is here, but this time don't force it".




22 "Please Mummy replace it and wrap it round me,
A wasp-waisted lady I'm dying to be.
I'm no longer a child, I'm a woman, so there,
And when I get home please put up my hair".

23 Once more in my corset, the corsetière
Pulled slowly the laces with consummate care.
"I'll not close the corset this time", she averred,
"We don't want a faint like the last", she observed.

24 Gently she pulled the laces along,
My waist became small in the corset so strong.
The stays, readjusted less tight than before,
Were fastened, but open an inch or more.




25 Across at the mirror I gazed with awe;
I stared, and could hardly believe what I saw.
My waist was a stem, a beautiful figure,
My chest looked and felt extended and bigger.

26 I saw my breast heave I was breathing so fast,
But I had an hour-glass waistline at last;
And later as Mum and I walked down the street,
We were conscious of pride in our figures so neat.

27 Then back at home the day was to face,
With a corset so tight that I could not unlace.
At lunchtime I ate up as much as the rest,
And felt that my dinner was stuck in my chest.








28 "Don't worry", said Mum at the end of the meal,
"It's only a transient discomfort you feel;
It will all pass with patience and rest,
And in time you will tackle your eating with zest".

29 I patiently got trough the rest of the day;
My corsets felt tighter, but I felt so gay,
And upwards and downwards I savoured the touch
Of the tapering body I wanted so much.

30 My waist is reduced to an eighteen inch span,
A sight for the eyes of susceptible Man.
Be it never so tight I'll endure the squeeze,
For a lady must ever appear at her ease.

31 One lovely night I went out to a dance.
My favourite swain I sought to entrance.
A corset that measured half an inch less
I wore with patience under my dress.




32 Then David my boy-friend said, as he went past,
"Our Abbie's a grown up young lady at last",
And in the first dance, he held my hand tight,
And asked "How many dances can you spare tonight?"

33 In no time at all my dance card was filled.
This night was my night, and how I was thrilled;
And as we whirled round in the gaslight so shady
I was no more a child but a regular lady.

34 My little wasp waist felt as solid as wood,
I bravely endured it as much as I could.
The joy and excitement helped me to forget it,
A wasp waist is mine, I'll never regret it.




35 And as we went round in a lighthearted whirl,
David said softly, "You beautiful Girl".
I gently responded without any haste
And daringly guided his hand round my waist.

36 And then on the lawn outside the dance floor
He placed his two hands round my waistline once more.
We kissed and we kissed, and he held me so tight,
I very near fainted with tightness that night.

37 My next tiny corset reduced by an inch
To sixteen and a half, a regular pinch.
I'm wearing the corset, awake or asleep,
My hour-glass stem I'm determined to keep.

38 Now that I'm tight in my corsets all day,
I sometimes feel consciousness fading away.
The pain and discomfort deny me my peace,
But nothing will urge me my stays to release.




39 It's my firm intention with might and main
A sixteen inch corset my size to attain.
Said Mum, "It will cost you devotion and tears
If you want a waist measure the same as your years".

40 The new corset came and was opened in haste,
A garment in elegant beauty and taste.
A sixteen inch corset with lace white and blue
To make my desire to be smaller come true.

41 "Please, Mummy, come help me the corset to try".
"You'd better ask Daddy, he's stronger than I".
So up in the bedroom, the corset was placed
Around my slim body prepared to be laced.

42 As Daddy pulled only gently at first
I felt that my up swelling bosom would burst.
The tightening in was an exquisite thrill
As I put all my trust in his strength and my will.




43 Daddy tugged on the lace until he perspired,
And the corset was closed as I had desired.
Across to the mirror I tottered to see
My new shape reflected; oh could that be me?

44 Hips flared into curves so majestic and sweet,
My chest was so large I could not see my feet.
My waist was a sensuous curve of blue,
A tight little thread that united the two.

45 As I went to the door, I knew I was pale,
But I entered the room like a ship in full sail,
My chest, as I walked swayed from side to side
And Mummy and Daddy surveyed me with pride.

46 That night in my bed, so determined was I
To sleep in my corset I wanted to try;
But try as I might, I started to weep,
For the merciless corset would not let me sleep.




47 By midnight I just couldn't stand any more,
And I tiptoed downstairs past Mum's and Dad's door,
And there on the sideboard, because it was handy,
I took a large drop of Napoleon brandy.

48 The tot was so strong, so I staggered to bed,
I fell on the mattress and lay down my head;
But sleep was denied and just would not come,
And by four in the morning my tummy was numb.

49 To breakfast I went all tired and teary,
My wasp waist had left me weepy and weary.
Said Mother, "In time you'll not feel the pinch.
Come up and I'll let it out just half an inch".

50 The pain and discomfort transcended belief,
I was grateful to Mum for providing relief.
But I was resolved that come what may,
My stays would be closed by the end of the day.








51 To hold and keep your waist small and indented
Expansion by night must be firmly prevented.
Your corsets by night will your figure be moulding,
A seductive wasp waist is an asset worth holding.

52 When I took off my stays a new pleasure I found,
Without their support I tottered around;
My uncorsetted waist was fragile and frail,
My top half would give way like a tree in a gale.




53 On opposite walls two mirrors I've placed,
So I can admire the back of my waist.
Minus my stays, of support I'm bereft,
And in rapturous pleasure I sway right and left.

54 I see in my mirror my outstanding chest,
While my heart is a-fluttering inside my breast.
A sigh of content comes up to my lips
As my burgeoning breast overhangs my hips.

55 My sixteen inch waist I now carry with ease,
My waist has adapted itself to the squeeze.
I thought I was down to my limit in size,
But the Man of My Heart thought otherwise.




56 Now Raymond my husband you must understand
Loves to caress my waist with his hand.
He said, "Now your waist is down to this size,
A waist like your neck would bedazzle my eyes".

57 'Twas the voice of the charmer, and I as his wife
Will go to extreme for the man in my life.
To be much smaller my waist must be pressed;
I'll make him so happy, I'll give of my best.








58 A corset of half an inch smaller was brought,
A body of fifteen and a half inches taut.
That evening my husband requested to lace,
And into his hands the new corset I place.

59 "Just let me relax for a moment", I said,
You can lace me in tight as I lay on the bed".
My spouse took the laces all set to begin,
And slowly but firmly he pulled my waist in.

60 He tugged at the cords till I asked him to rest,
To close the new corset would be a big test.
With only one inch left apart to defeat,
I arose with his help, and I swayed on my feet.




61 I found if I went on my hands and my knees
He could pull in my waist with more expertise;
The flesh fell away and my body felt lightened
As Raymond pulled hard and the corset was tightened.

62 He pulled and he tugged till the corset's constraint
Became far too much, and I felt a fresh faint.
With Raymond I desired no quarrel or friction,
But my waist was protesting against its restriction.

63 A last final heave and Raymond was able
To tie up the laces as taut as a cable.
He tenderly helped me to stand on my feet,
As he clasped me around his fingers could meet.

64 I hugged him and kissed him in mounting passion
My slenderness made me exult in my fashion.
Connubial bliss we have found every time,
Is enhanced by a corset, and truly sublime.




65 "I'll never remove my corset", I said,
"Until it has moulded my waist to a thread;
It shall squeeze me and train me, that's my resolution,
I'll take it off only for regular ablution".

66 Raymond's delight and encouragement worked.
From lacing my corsets my man never shirked;
And several weeks later without any haste
Another proud inch was removed from my waist.

67 At fourteen and a half my waist was my pride,
The pain and discomfort I took in my stride.
Though I sometimes have fainted because of the pinch
I'll not ease the lacing, not even an inch.

68 My hips and my bust were a sight to be seen,
My waist was a tiny tight tube in between;
Whenever I ventured alone in the street
I felt pride in the sound of following feet.

69 My husband, enraptured, was bursting with pride
At the way people stared when we walked side by side,
And often young ladies bedizened in style,
Asked, "How do you stand it and still keep a smile?"




70 If Ray wanted something, he put on the charm;
His speech became like silver while stroking my arm,
He murmured such love, so caressing his voice,
"Please, please lace in smaller", he gave me no choice.

71 I tried to demur, even put up defiance,
My smooth-tongued charmer induced my compliance.
I had to admit as he gave me a hug,
Tight-lacing had captured me, just like a drug.








72 He gave me the corset so tiny to don,
A fourteen inch body, Could I get it on?
As he pulled came Desire, to be smaller yet.
I will be fourteen inches without a regret.

73 The corset went in with a pitiless grip,
I said, "Hold the laces, don't let them slip".
Ray answered, "I'll close it by hook or by crook.
Ah, I've done it. Now go to the mirror and look".

74 "Hold me up. Raymond, darling, my knees feel so weak",
He did so, I leaned with my head to his cheek.
My waist was compressed in its captive confinement
In superlative style and rounded refinement.




75 My mirror I love, for to see myself there
With a waist like a wasp is an ecstasy rare.
There I can admire my middle so frail,
My breathing so rapid, my features so pale.

76 He held me so tight as he stood by my side,
He knew that my knees were about to subside.
My small strangled waist could be crushed in no more,
I felt my knees give and I sank to the floor.




77 A few moments later I roused with a sneeze,
For Ray had pushed my head down to my knees.
His murmuring words were of love and of praise,
But all I could say was, "Don't loosen my stays".

78 "Are you sure you can stand it", asked he.
I answered, "That only depends upon me.
I am quite determined the tightness to bear,
And I'll sleep trough the night in my corset, I swear".

79 I slowly awoke as the dawn came to creep,
And below my wasp waist my hips were asleep.
As Ray pressed my tummy with finger and thumb,
I had lost all feeling, my muscles were numb.




80 There are many sensations tight-lacing bestows,
There's a feeling of weakness from hips down to toes.
When walking your chest sways from side to side
And your waist gives way weakly if you take a big stride.

81 These lovely sensations when felt in good measure
Will give the tight-lacer a world full of pleasure.
All men will admire your delicate sway,
The envy of women will make you feel gay.

82 In spite of the pain and discomfort I felt,
I wished that my flesh could be ordered to melt.
Now Raymond has said that he'd love me to wear,
A thirteen inch corset like Madame Polaire.

83 He showed me Polaire in a corset of lace,
With an hour-glass form of perfection and grace.
"That's only a picture, it may be quite true,
But I'll have a REAL thirteen inch waist for you".




84 I wanted so much my wasp waist to maintain,
But could I endure being smaller again.
The drug of desire to be tinier still,
Has conquered my body and strengthened my will.

85 The promise of gaining a torso so trim,
To be really admired in my figure so slim
Was almost too much, I chafed at delay;
But the thirteen inch corset arrived the next day.

86 The corset was lovely, I just had to smile,
I held the stay up to admire it awhile.
"Don't let us hurry", I ventured to say,
"Enjoyment is better for a little delay".




87 Though Ray was impatient, "All right", he agreed,
"To see you laced in is a pleasure indeed.
Whilst I don't mind a little suspense,
My desire for your lovely wasp waist is intense".

88 With arms around each other we stood tightly clasped,
I could feel my heart thumping; "Please lace me", I gasped,
With a movement of joy and in trembling haste
He fitted the corset around my waist.

89 "Please place it on loosely at first", I began,
"My shape in the mirror I'd like to scan,
My fifty four inches of bust to admire,
I think my new corset can lift it up higher".







90 "I'm waiting no longer", at last he declared,
"I'm lacing you in, or will you be scared?"
I smiled at him fondly and said, "Let's begin",
And in tense excitement he was lacing me in.

91 He pulled on the laces quite gently at first,
Then tighter, still tighter, I was ready to burst.
The hold of the corset was gripping at length
As firmly he pulled with all his strength.




92 My waist in its corset was much tighter now,
I wanted it closed no matter how.
My tight little waist was protesting amain
As Raymond continued to tug once again.

93 "Don't stop, please go on," Ray responded with vigour,
While I held my breath and endured the rigor.
As Ray on the laces his finger did press,
I heard him ejaculate one word, "Success".

94 The corset was closed, I was smaller still,
My thirteen inch waist was martyring thrill.
Swaying I went to the mirror to see
My waist microscopic; oh could that be me?




95 I clasped my hands round it as tight as I could,
My waist felt as hard as a column of wood.
My fingers and thumbs almost touched front and back.
How fragile it looked, but I felt on the rack.

96 I walked up and down with unsteady stride,
Ray holding my arm as he paced by my side
My waist was protesting, I swayed like a tree,
Enjoying the weakness that came over me.

97 Ray gave me some brandy, I took it in sips.
I rested my hands of the shelf of my hips.
The cone of my bust emerged like a flower,
I could gaze at my figure for hour after hour.


























98 My thirteen inch waist by now is the norm,
My waist has surrendered, I keep it in form.
My body's resistance to corsets has gone.
No more do I tight-lace, I put corsets on.

99 The envy of women, the praise from the men
Would urge me to tight-lace all over again.
So if you desire to be praised for your taste,
Wear an unyielding corset and sport a WASP WAIST.




100 My upper part sways with each step as I stride,
My burgeoning bosom I carry with pride.
The ground I can only see eight feet ahead
In my six-inch heel shoes as I daintily tread.

101 The span of my waist is a minuscule measure,
A wee link my husband adores like a treasure.
I love my wasp waist, I'm the happiest wife,
With a waist like a stem I will wear all my life.