At the Feet of my Lady

When my mind is no longer mine,
when your will fills me with pleasure,
then that is the measure of your success
and my complete happiness.

It is not that your desires oppose my own.
It is that their confluence shows
my dependence upon your pleasure
and makes mine grow beyond knowing.

You use trance to make my senses dance.
Your whispers bind me so tightly.
I would do your will anywhere or when,
so very humbly and politely.

Through the candlelight gateway,
I fall into a bondage of light
that fills my submission with delight.
This is my chosen path and way.

(c) 2008 Palimpsest Harlequin

Dear Mistress

for Thee I have become a conditioned response
submission an equation for eroticism
orgasm denied making every cell scream with passion

touch my mind with Your control
remove my consciousness with Your breath
that knows how to whisper in my soul

Your dream for me is a Tantric dream
taking me to sexual infinity, no time, no thought,
just ecstasy without release or hope

I pleasure You as You desire
and my surrender to Your compulsion
grows to extreme intensity while I succumb completely

Your thoughts are my thoughts, Your pleasure
is my desire, Your needs are my purpose to fulfil
as I disappear into the dimensions of Your will

(c) 2007 Palimpsest Harlequin

Highland Games

Image by a guy with a camera

In Her room of mirrors,
a candle burned in a thousand reflections.
His mind was bemused and captivated
by the trance She left him in
while She returned to the dance.

Time was slow as a silk scarf
teasing the skin as it fell
to reveal Her perfection.
His thoughts echoed Her whispers
and reflected in his mind.

Faerie and daemon kind mingled
in their masks and finery
as She commanded their revelry.
At moonless midnight
She finally saw them depart.

She considered him in Her mind
as She savoured a dry red wine
and fed Her own passion, then
found the secret room and opened
its door to his total erotic subjugation.

(c) 2007 by Palimpsest

Taken by Wonder

The sound of pipes
settles in the deep glens.
The years grow thin
until silence reigns
and the stars appear.
The moon rises on the wind
from the sea and ancient
dreams throw pale shadows
of faerie folk unseen.
The daemon queen has beauty
so sharp and severe
that it wounds with its wonder
when she deigns to appear.
The way between the worlds
is open. She smiles
her compelling smile
and I fall under her spell.
Do not wait for me,
expect no word or return.
Please raise a glass
with my old comrades
and wish me a final farewell.

(c) 2007 by Palimpsest