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The Pilgrimage
The lover takes leave of his mistress’s mouth
And starts on his pilgrimage, travelling south.
Each stop on his journey he marks with a kiss,
And lingers a moment, prolonging their bliss.
He murmurs a gentle farewell to her ears
As each from the landscape in turn disappears.
He follows his route down her neck to her shoulders,
Restraining his pleasure which restively smoulders.
Her fingers and thumbs are his next destination;
Their gracefulness points to the heart of creation.
He spends an eternity here to explore
Peninsulas lain undiscovered before.
But when to her mainland our pilgrim returns
A ravishing vision his continence earns.
Ascending her breasts as he gazes in wonder
He gasps in delight at their breathtaking splendour.
And then he descends to her bounteous tummy:
A land overflowing with life-giving honey.
He wanders here freely and roams where he will,
Exploring each valley, each undulant hill.
Yet still there’s the call of her beckoning thighs
To which he replies with a million sighs.
Their contours he follows wherever they lead;
Wherever he travels his hunger they feed.
At last though he reaches her shadowy parts,
Whose mystery surpasses man’s cunningest arts,
And here will he stay and their ecstasy build
Till mistress and lover as one are fulfilled.
.
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Paul Martin Freeman is an art dealer in London. His recent book, A Chocolate Box Menagerie, has been published by New English Review Press.
Crikey! I need a cold shower after reading that, Paul.
Fabulously and tastefully erotic.
Thanks for the read.
Thank you, Paul. Praise indeed!
My retinas were burning as you took us on another one of your “buss” trips.
I’m not going to make any jokes about what number bus…
That’s wonderfully witty, Roy. I confess at first I thought the heat had got to your spelling! Thank you.
I see now Paul got there first!
At last — something sexy!
It was a bit too tasteful at the end, however. I can imagine a lot hotter conclusion than that final quatrain. But I do detect a cryptic reference for Latinists in your word “cunningest.”
I think I was writing a different kind of poem. Please see my reply to James below.
This poem was about a SPIRITUAL journey? Huh?
Man, you really had me fooled. Or maybe it was just a cover story to get around the censors.
Paul, I think you wanted your reply here…
I placed it here by replying to your reply that says:
“I think I was writing a different kind of poem. Please see my reply to James below.”
It’s a little awkward at first…
I love your spiritual poem, by the way.
Thank you, Mike, for this explanation. And thanks also for your appreciative comment on the poem.
I’m glad you feel the poem is spiritual. Whatever we mean by the term, as a minimum we should be able to recognise the quality when it’s present. If you have, then the poem has succeeded.
Hello Joe. I’m going to respond to your latest comment tomorrow if that’s alright.
To the moderator: I don’t seem to be able to post this under Joe’s comment so I’m putting it here. Perhaps you can help?
Well, it seems to have gone there anyway!
Joe, I think James below has answered the point for me.
See my reply to myself below.
Or above!
Wow, quite steamy for a writer of children’s books! I wouldn’t have expected you to write something like this… well done.
Thank you, Joshua. I’m full of surprises!
Paul, Maybe it’s just me, but rather than a pilgrimage, your descriptive poem struck me as being more akin to one of those old National Geographic expeditions to unexplored regions with the magazine articles accompanied by black and white photos of tribal women. . .
Thank you for commenting, James. Absorbed in his mistress with self forgotten, and with his normal sense of time and space in abeyance, the lover experiences it as a spiritual journey. Thus the title.
Reminds me of St. Bernard of Clairvaux who once preached a sermon series giving a spiritual interpretation to the various kinds of human kisses! As with Song of Solomon, God did not intend for our spiritual and physical natures to be at odds with each other! So, pilgrimage it is!
James, I am very gratified that you would write this. Thank you.
Certainly stirring, with no chance of distraction taking the reader from the page, and with a much more satisfyingly descriptive and lascivious sense than so much of the vulgar and crass insensitive descriptions usually promoted in these times. Well done.
Thank you, David.
Paul, I love this poetic pilgrimage – for me, the poem sings of an exquisite journey that reveals all the heavenly gifts this heady trip has to offer. Erotic… yes! But there’s something more… discovering and understanding those “shadowy parts” of a woman (her fleshly and spiritual traits) are the key to mutual bliss. But, hey, maybe that’s just a woman’s perspective… you know, one of those old-fashioned types with XX chromosomes. Whatever your poem may mean, it’s highly entertaining and beautiful.
I’m delighted you liked it, Susan. And I know that, more than most, you’ve suffered for being an “old-fashioned” type. Which makes your judgment, more than that of most, to be valued.
The value of the wisdom you’ve added here for lovers of women is incalculable.
Thank you.
The use of the phrase “cunningest arts” reminds me of Shakespeare when Hamlet, with his head in Ophelia’s lap, says to her, “Do you think I meant country matters?”
Bullseye!
I believe this is a play on the Austin Powers joke where he claims to be a cunning linguist.
Paul, this is a beautiful and blissful offering. The anapestic/amphibrachic meter works perfectly.
Thank you, Mary.