KillerMuffin
Seraphically Disinclined
- Joined
- Jul 29, 2000
- Posts
- 25,603
This isn't a pretty opinion so if you're inclined to feel personally insulted by such things, you may want to just put me on ignore right now and save yourself a lot of aggravation.
I've been reading poetry here for a while now. I've learned a lot (not nearly enough) about poetry in the years that the poets have been thankfully running amok in these parts. Being a sex site as it is, there's going to be BDSM stuff here, specially in the poetry section. The D/s relationship just lends itself to poetry.
I've been, I hate to say this cause it's mean, rather disappointed by most of it. It's, well, shallow, flat, and redundant. The depth of emotion is just an outpouring of flat desire or want with no substance behind it.
Here is an example of a beautiful, subtle, and very fulfilling BDSM poem, to pick on WE:
_________________________________________
glass box
by WickedEve ©
repeated images on the walls,
sweep over the floor
and splash the ceiling.
thrust and slide once.
a hundred times over and over,
each square holds the same scene.
i reflect on what i see,
rough behind the smooth.
so many hands grab my hair.
each head yanked back,
and fingered clones smack!
i see the effect echo all around me.
above me, below me,
i'm a blue movie of the moment
recorded on shiny surfaces
and in minds.
_________________________________________
Taking from my shining example, I can actually see into the BDSM mind. Not the heavy, hardcore with this one, but the parts of it. Each head yanked back, all the fingered clones smack! gives this poem a definitive feeling that I can get in touch with. This gives me a part of the life and opens me up to the poet.
I'm not giving any examples of what I consider less than good BDSM poetry, you'll have to do that yourself. There's gajillions of Ode to Master poems scattered all over the web. It's usually the same variation on the same theme. I need you, please, take me, make me yours, I worship you. You get the point.
It gets one to thinking. There is no denying the raw outpouring of need/desire in the Ode to Master poetry. It's very strong and very immediate. But it's also very off-putting. It's like open a blast furnace. You feel the heat and you can see the heat, but you can't see the fire. You can't see what makes the fire burn. The heat is then, for all of its ferocity and power, insubstantial. The frailties of being human, the vulnerability of being part of a relationship, and the weaknesses in all of us are missing. Oh, there's an assumed one, the vulnerable submissive on the altar to his or her Master, but that's not the vulnerability that takes a poem to the next level.
One of my major criteria for a 'great' poem is the touch of being human in it. The emotional frailities that all of us share and try to overcome or hide or simply never see. Some Odes to Master have the fear of being sub or the fear of trusting in them. This is better, but it's still missing because there's not frailty involved in telling one's Master that one is afraid to trust or be a sub. The frailty comes with the emotional connectivity that one establishes with one's non-Master reader (the rest of the entire world).
This one is one of my favorite BDSM poems because it does bring out the frailty. Lips quiver, then bitten, as if to hold back is the obvious one, but there are a few other tidbits of what makes us human in there, hidden in the action.
_________________________________________
A Bind of Black Silk
by WriterDom ©
A bind of black silk
across closed eyes
speaking softly
as if to reassure
I touch your hand
bring it's satiny touch
to lips and kiss
you smell of all things wonderful
I see lips quiver
then bitten
as if to hold back
thoughts I cannot read
hands open your gown
warm like the fire
against smallness of waist
unfamiliar, yet just as you dreamed
on those nights when
unfulfilled desires kept you awake
when the world was still
my breath quickens at your beauty
as gown gives way
falling
silently to the floor
too long to wait
moons went to sliver
to full, to new, to just a smile
too many times
as I wondered if the winds of fortune
would bring us together
only fitting she is in orange glory
on this fated night
"Down my fair princess,"
Strong hands on shoulders
push you to your knees
fingers tangle in your hair
my sword drawn
its heat against your lips
parting them, invading a void
turning fantasy into truth
turning a princess into a willing slave
_________________________________________
Well. I'm going to go eat a quesadilla.
I've been reading poetry here for a while now. I've learned a lot (not nearly enough) about poetry in the years that the poets have been thankfully running amok in these parts. Being a sex site as it is, there's going to be BDSM stuff here, specially in the poetry section. The D/s relationship just lends itself to poetry.
I've been, I hate to say this cause it's mean, rather disappointed by most of it. It's, well, shallow, flat, and redundant. The depth of emotion is just an outpouring of flat desire or want with no substance behind it.
Here is an example of a beautiful, subtle, and very fulfilling BDSM poem, to pick on WE:
_________________________________________
glass box
by WickedEve ©
repeated images on the walls,
sweep over the floor
and splash the ceiling.
thrust and slide once.
a hundred times over and over,
each square holds the same scene.
i reflect on what i see,
rough behind the smooth.
so many hands grab my hair.
each head yanked back,
and fingered clones smack!
i see the effect echo all around me.
above me, below me,
i'm a blue movie of the moment
recorded on shiny surfaces
and in minds.
_________________________________________
Taking from my shining example, I can actually see into the BDSM mind. Not the heavy, hardcore with this one, but the parts of it. Each head yanked back, all the fingered clones smack! gives this poem a definitive feeling that I can get in touch with. This gives me a part of the life and opens me up to the poet.
I'm not giving any examples of what I consider less than good BDSM poetry, you'll have to do that yourself. There's gajillions of Ode to Master poems scattered all over the web. It's usually the same variation on the same theme. I need you, please, take me, make me yours, I worship you. You get the point.
It gets one to thinking. There is no denying the raw outpouring of need/desire in the Ode to Master poetry. It's very strong and very immediate. But it's also very off-putting. It's like open a blast furnace. You feel the heat and you can see the heat, but you can't see the fire. You can't see what makes the fire burn. The heat is then, for all of its ferocity and power, insubstantial. The frailties of being human, the vulnerability of being part of a relationship, and the weaknesses in all of us are missing. Oh, there's an assumed one, the vulnerable submissive on the altar to his or her Master, but that's not the vulnerability that takes a poem to the next level.
One of my major criteria for a 'great' poem is the touch of being human in it. The emotional frailities that all of us share and try to overcome or hide or simply never see. Some Odes to Master have the fear of being sub or the fear of trusting in them. This is better, but it's still missing because there's not frailty involved in telling one's Master that one is afraid to trust or be a sub. The frailty comes with the emotional connectivity that one establishes with one's non-Master reader (the rest of the entire world).
This one is one of my favorite BDSM poems because it does bring out the frailty. Lips quiver, then bitten, as if to hold back is the obvious one, but there are a few other tidbits of what makes us human in there, hidden in the action.
_________________________________________
A Bind of Black Silk
by WriterDom ©
A bind of black silk
across closed eyes
speaking softly
as if to reassure
I touch your hand
bring it's satiny touch
to lips and kiss
you smell of all things wonderful
I see lips quiver
then bitten
as if to hold back
thoughts I cannot read
hands open your gown
warm like the fire
against smallness of waist
unfamiliar, yet just as you dreamed
on those nights when
unfulfilled desires kept you awake
when the world was still
my breath quickens at your beauty
as gown gives way
falling
silently to the floor
too long to wait
moons went to sliver
to full, to new, to just a smile
too many times
as I wondered if the winds of fortune
would bring us together
only fitting she is in orange glory
on this fated night
"Down my fair princess,"
Strong hands on shoulders
push you to your knees
fingers tangle in your hair
my sword drawn
its heat against your lips
parting them, invading a void
turning fantasy into truth
turning a princess into a willing slave
_________________________________________
Well. I'm going to go eat a quesadilla.