christopher's corner #1
All of the following poems were written by slave christopher in worshipful adoration for his Mistress Sarah
All is You
If the thought of You were brandy,
i would always be drunk;
If the sound of Your voice were the sea,
my ship would long since have been sunk;
If the light in Your eye were the sky,
i would know how to fly;
Of all of those who love You,
None does so more than i.
Happiness
If You were a butternut,
i'd become a squirrel;
If You were a lesbian,
i'd become girl.
If You were a flower,
i'd become a bee;
But as You are my Owner, Mistress,
i'm happy to be me.
Worship
Oh, to peel You a grape,
to wrap You in furs;
to be a lil kitten
and drown You in purrs;
to touch Your heart
with my devotion
to drown myself
in the limitless ocean
of Your divine presence,
Your heavenly beauty,
to me is the essence
of my humble duty.
Dear Mistress, dear Goddess,
Thou'rt my reason for being;
whate'er my eyes rest on,
it is Thee i am seeing.
Futility
Your beauty, Mistress, is beyond compare;
i search in vain for similes
That do Your glory justice, that can bear
Comparison to You.
Your power, Mistress, puts all words to shame;
The finest verses are as homilies,
Entirely inadequate to frame
So much as a rough sketch of You.
Your power over me is absolute,
Mistress, although, to my eternal shame
i often fail to show how resolute
i am in my admiration of You.
Unworthy though i am, and dissolute
In demonstrations of my love of You,
You may well doubt, Mistress, but not refute
my protestations of my love for You.
LiarWell You say that i'm a liar,
That not a word i say is true,
Yes You say that i'm a liar,
That not a word i say is true,
But if You want to hear me lying,
Listen when i say i don't love You.
Well you say that i've been drinking
And lord knows it's true,
You say i've been drinking
And good lord, You know it's true,
But the liquor that i'm drunk on
Is the mere thought of You.
i'd rather drink muddy water,
Sleep in a dead oak tree,
i'd rather drink muddy water,
Sleep in a dead oak tree,
Than to think that You don't trust me,
That would be the worst misery.
You, Mistress
The bright warm sun
Bursts through sodden, dreary clouds
A waxing moon
Glimmers through an oak's branches
Beautiful Venus
Glares through thickening twilight
A sudden storm
Drenches me walking to work
A cedar waxwing
Trembles in my helping hand
Bright blue skies
Highlight early budding twigs
Morning birdsong
Heralds springs imminent return
The whole world conspires
Ever to remind me of You.
Love with a capital L
i bleed! A shaft from Cupid's bow
found, in my heart, its mark,
and Thou'rt the beauty i beheld
when struck by that cruel dart.
Alas, what marksmanship! How true
that fateful arrow flew;
It struck, i fell, not to the ground,
But mad in love with You.
Moonlight
She captures moonbeams in Her hair,
And they adorn Her, day and night;
She takes them with Her everywhere,
And uses them, as is Her right,
With clever design to ensnare
Her prey in a web of moonlight.
Her power and Her beauty spare
No one who comes within Her sight,
And most are not even aware
Of having succumbed to Her might.
Early Spring
How does one prepare
For an earthquake that shatters
Everything they knew?
It's thus i should have prepared for You.
How is one to know
If an asteroid is hurtling down
On everything below?
It's thus i should have known of You.
Today they predicted snow;
But the sun shone and it was warm,
Crocuses bloomed;
It's thus i might have predicted You.
The phase of the moon,
The seasons, tides and eclipses
All can be foretold.
No almanac prepared me for You.
Return
Once again, new fallen snow
covers everything in pure, soft white;
soon enough, though, bright sunlight
will melt it all away, and it will flow
into small brooks, then larger streams ,
then even larger rivers, and into the sea.
Thus it is ever with me;
my every breath, my thoughts, my dreams
return always to You.
Knowledge
A tree, a flower, a bird cannot know
(nor likely ever even wonders)
what hidden forces make it grow;
the wind knows not what makes it blow,
nor a storm why it thunders.
A rock, a river, a glacier can't see
(nor likely even wants to know)
its origin or its destiny,
but is content simply to be,
to meander, to flow.
i do, however, know one thing is true
(nor is it a great mystery),
that everything i ever do
is inspired by my love for You,
and that is knowledge enough for me.