Through embracing healing elements about past lives with my dear friend Dave Cox & the uniquely channeling inspirations I feel from Firebrand Sage Sweetwater I offer: Season of the Doe
Season of the Doe
It’s rutter season at day break;
White tail will be all hooves & prime.
She knows the doe’s scent is in the air;
Rising under the brisk hunter’s moon…
Wearing her vestures grassy shadow,
her mossy oak camouflage is fertile earth…
She heads out walking to the stony ravine.
She gathers there…her rucksack of black corn husk.
Ole mill is where they make whiskey silk moonshine,
it puts hair on your chest they say…
The gypsy grave digger gave her a porcelain flask,
back in the early seasons of the hare moon.
She said she stole it from the hackneyed man…
He came snagging where the crows gathered.
I knew her back when the hare moon rose.
I was walking in the moving pond of lilies.
This is where I followed the white tail to drink.
She wore a lavender chiffon chemise that day.
Didn’t look much like a grave digger to me…
She asked me if I seen the vapid outsider.
She said he was tall & mean as a rattle snake.
She came next to me in the moving waters.
She touched the ripples wave with wanting;
looking at me with the eyes of a forest fire…
She asked me if I wanted to visit with the raven.
There had been talk about its spiritual prowess…
She told me we should wade over to the water’s edge.
She said the raven nested up in the river birch trees.
I had been curious to know the raven’s magic…
We walked to the birch woods dripping water.
She smiled as we began talking about tapir hooves,
asking me if I knew about the doe seasons.
She leaned herself up onto an ole fence post.
It was lassoed with riddling rusty barbwire.
Bending over she reached to grab her skirt hem;
Made of beautiful purpurescent sendal fabric …
She raised her leg…revealing her downy thigh;
Her coy eyes grazed like wolves on pastures meal.
Between her legs she revealed a small leather spathe;
Spreading her thighs she asked me to come unfasten it for her.
I had to kneel next to the barbed wire;
The knot was so tight I needed to use my teeth.
I placed my hands grasping firmer upon her thigh.
Biting her leather straps…I heard the Raven call.
Sliding my hands upon her warmth I looked up.
She was arching her back looking towards the sun…
Her vigor scent now released like the doe in season;
Her hands began to slowly slide upon her body.
I removed the leather spathe and offered it to her.
As I stood to face her, she leaned into me whispering…
She asked me to tell her about the season of the doe…
Her caressive beauty now emanating within my own fire…
As her sensual musk ensnares my erotic covet to taste her,
she grabbed for my hand, and the leather spathe fell;
Inside was a beautiful porcelain flask with gold inlay…
…she wrapped her hungry thighs around my hips;
pointing to the magic in the sky with desirous beckon…
It was the raven she spoke of…circling overhead…
(Written: November 23rd, 2009 6:54 a/m)
In Joy, In Peace, In Grace, In Harmony of Love
Embraced ~ Embrassé
poétesse d'amour ~ poétesse romantique
Copyright© 2009 Poetess Victoria L. McColley
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Sandie Angel :o)
Deborah
You are the Queen of the double-entendre and this small exquisite story not only moves our heart but also set afire our libido. Fantastic!
Georg
The storytelling - this is way beyond mere narration - the imagery, the fluency of expression, the pithy vocabulary make this a splendid unforgettable piece of poetry. Simply marvellous!
In admiration,
John
Many aspects of Nature arrive on the scene here, as seen emanating from the same Divine force (Polytheism) and the Goddess's presence in Nature leads to its deification, and to the principle of taking only what is essential from the earth, and replacing it in some form (Pantheism). Also making its presence is Animism, objects as well as plants and animals perceived to possess universal life energy, binding together everything in the cosmic whole. I like the Goddess idea of Pantheism in particular because it leads to a fresh way of honoring the female body. This whole piece, in its entirety, is allegorical for female sexuality through the rut of animal magnetism portrayed through the doe.
The agricultural principle here is strategically applied, tried and true, both earthly and the celestial drama of the season. This is cast forth as a mating ritual reserved for an initiate, an individual, dead, her past life and the soul has returned to its Source. The whole piece consists of revelation that life does not end, but ceasingly transforms itself through nature and female essence as well as the sexual goddess which embodies this process.
Romantic Poetess Victoria L. McColley's Season of the Doe reads as Neo-Paganism, teetering on the edge of lesbianism. Season of the Doe marks territory with intentional habitat where the rutting action is. The photograph bent my mind, as I saw pheasants flying in a group out of the cornfield. The Raven is mysteriously a reincarnation which is paramount to storytelling in this masterpiece, as anyone who knows anything about the raven, knows it is a bird of magic and past lives...[Sage Sweetwater, Celebrity Firebrand Lesbian Novelist]
fee
and sensual poetry. Surely some of your most romantic and honest.
In admiration and affection, gene.
But for your name.,I would call you a 'Poet' not a 'Poetess'
'Poetess' sounds almost under-done. And why should you be
under-done?.. fine writer that you are!
Steve Chering.. Mc'Poet-eer'..lol
Regis
Dave.