Mar 26 2010

The Succubi Queen’s Throne

A poem by James for this Friday in the Tale for which I am forever thankful that he shared it with us all…





By James

Her Majesty sits enthroned,

awash in mystery and power

while you, prostrate at her feet,

see her gently tilted arch,

the ponting of her slim foot,

downward, where your gaze should be.

Her Majesty sits enthroned,

and you lose track of the hour

while eyes behold sculpted legs,

smooth and tapered perfection,

crossed regally, tail twining,

and yet inviting you up.

Her Majesty sits enthroned,

a statuesque, royal tower,

rising as if pre-ordained

and ever meant to be so

from this seat from which all law

and truth rises, commanding.

Her Majesty sits enthroned,

and here the Realm’s fairest flower

blossoms with joy and mischief,

arms akimbo, hair flailing,

head bobbing, horns accenting

her dance of wild abandon.

“Rule with me in wild whimsy.

Stand before me, properly,

and fall into unbridled

lusts, give all yourself, take me,

and our bliss will never sour.”

So says she who sits, enthroned.

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