The Mirror


Antonio Canova


Lust and playfulness this night will stroke the hearth of a woman

Stoking deep, beyond the gate’s embrace

Riddled with ecstasy, like knowledge sought


Seekers will hold in their sighs to satiate fierce love

Wild and lush for the inhibition has left her:

She is no more a servant to a master’s whim…


Now she wears a cunning girdle,

Her symbol is the myrtle wreath

Whilst He is regeneration,

Her own divine handsome youth


Umberto Brunelleschi.jpg
Umberto Brunelleschi


I seek the current of a little known estuary,

Where my tide’s tongue shall tickle the fruit of your grove…



Conquer each blissful rivulet!

Fancy the taste and wander my hero, down alone!

Give me yet eternity, before you hammer home!


from a Pompei brothel.jpg
from a Pompeii brothel



I sink beneath the waves to bless

Why ever would I leave this worthy cove

But there are other fires sent in this dart!



And I too long the spear and shaft,

Of the God that lives within, he calls…

Bring then your face to reason mine own…

Rise champion; nourish my lips

True instrument of woman’s honest love



From the arms-fold and embrace,

I will bathe within, your eyes

I watch them search of starry sky…

As I spear the hearth of your shrine





I meander my form like a stream…



Through ecstasy I ebb toward

Our union: both of us beneath

Great constellations whose salt bequeathed

In time our forms will be figurines to keep

Yet in our ever-present, enlivened is the flesh;

For the marble of tomorrow is this day, divine



You are firm as eroded stone!

Embrace the living breath that stirs the soul and sways the bone!

Send your shaft deeper so I may feel the hilt

And now turn around, audacious is fortune,

My turn to serve your throne…



Truth is love and love is lust and lust and love are drunken whole…

Leaving no fingers, lips or hands, lonely to their course



Glory is the sword stood erect!



Of which I nurture firm between these lips

Never silent, I send playful nonchalance your gaze…

And a fountain of seed, I spill between my fangs


photo unknown.jpg



Moved is the life of the Earth’s own dirt to the towering heights of bliss!


The amorous God – master of the rut – resembles now a Man

No God shifts form but lives within; a mirror to His youth and virulence


And the Queen of lust, of seduction and all earthly ecstasies!

Echoes now in the flesh of Woman, who wears wild the myrtle flower


And their dance in the grove, their ploughing in pastures, is eternal

For such is the greatness of the mirror that destines the great Gods.



© Sam R Geraghty


#erotic #eroticism #paganism #classical #mythology #Greek #sex #art

#ancient #poetry #play #pornography #fantasy #literature #Aphrodite

#chorus #Adonis #spirituality #love #romance #romanticism #sculpture #pompeii































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