Well, Pat, you relationship radical, what do you make of Gwen Harwood's
sonnet, below?
The Lion’s Bride
I loved her softness, her warm human smell,
her dark mane flowing loose. Sometimes stirred by
rank longing laid my muzzle on her high.
Her father, faithful keeper, fed me well,
but she came daily with our special bowl
barefoot into my cage, and set it down:
our love feast. We became the talk of town,
brute king and tender woman, soul to soul.
Until today: an icy spectre sheathed
in silk minced to my side on pointed feet.
I ripped the scented veil from its unreal
head and engorged the painted lips that breathed
our secret names. A ghost has bones, and meat!
Come soon my love, my bride, and share this meal.
Bill
On Thursday, 4 August 2016, Patrick McManus <[log in to unmask]>
wrote:
> brides? marriage wasn't that something that happened in the 1940's????? a
> sort of slave contract thing??sanctioned by the State?? tax benefit bribe>??
>
> P :-)
>
>
> On 03/08/2016 22:43, Max Richards wrote:
>
>> On Aug 3, 2016, at 3:51, Bill Wootton <[log in to unmask]> wrote:
>>
>> Like the sudden circling of the bride, Max. And yes, they do billow,
>>> brides, don't they, leaving men to mooch. Remember Gwen Harwood's The
>>> Lion's Bride and her comments about brides being so ghostly, rustling
>>> about
>>> and not coming out all that often.
>>>
>>> Bill
>>>
>>> Search in the poems of Gwen Harwood :
>> Order By Title Order By Date Added Order By Hit New Poems
>> This poet did not post any poems within last 14 days.
>>
>
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