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BDSM poetry - 9/14/2013 8:34:13 AM

Mylittledream

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Do you know if there have been poets who wrote about bdsm or if there is some poem who can relate to it?

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RE: BDSM poetry - 9/14/2013 8:40:18 AM

Moonhead

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It depends on how you define BDSM: Swinburne had a thing for being spanked, and wrote a lot of floridly preraphaelite poesy about that in his usual style. (Due to the opacity of said style, there's some debate as to jut how much of it is about masochism rather than catholicism.) There's a few bits and pieces by Baudelaire along similar lines as well. More recently, Misha Chocholak has published some highly fetishistic SF poetry, but in that the kinkiness is secondary to the SF.

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RE: BDSM poetry - 9/14/2013 8:54:59 AM

Mylittledream

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thanks for the tips :) I mean poems about men or women submitting or willing to submit to someone else...

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RE: BDSM poetry - 9/14/2013 9:03:59 AM

Moonhead

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That narrows it down a lot, but I'm afraid that nothing springs to mind in that vein. Most poets, when talking about submission, have God or politics in mind (Andrew Marvell often did both at once, iirc). I'll post again if anything else occurs, but hopefully now that you've made that clear, somebody else will be able to help.

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I like to think he was eaten by rats, in the dark, during a fog. It's what he would have wanted...
(Simon R Green on the late James Herbert)

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RE: BDSM poetry - 9/14/2013 10:12:25 AM

dcnovice

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FR

Try this: http://poems.writers-network.com/allen-ginsberg/please-master.html

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RE: BDSM poetry - 9/14/2013 10:48:48 AM

Winterapple

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Well, there's Rumi. He was a mystic and was in the
bigger scheme of things writing about submission to
God or a higher power. Still hot stuff.

I'm sure there's contemporary stuff replete with whips
and handcuffs and all the rest. Just google around and
look for sites that publish erotica.

The Jewels (Baudelaire)

The lovely one was naked and, knowing well my prayer,
She wore her loud bright armory of jewels. They
Evoked in her the savage and victorious air
Of Moorish concubines on holiday.

When it gives forth, being shaken, its gay mocking noise,
This world of metal and stone, a flare in the night,
Excites me monstrously, for the chiefest of my joys
Is the luxurious commingling of sound and light.

Relaxed among the pillows, she looked down at me
And let herself be gazed upon at leisure --- as if
Lulled by my wordless adoration, like the sea
Washing perpetually about the foot of a cliff.

Slowly, regarding me like a trained leopardess,
She slouched into successive poses. A certain ease,
A certain candor coupled with lasciviousness
Lent a new charm to the old metamorphoses.

The whole lithe harmony of loins, hips, buttocks, thighs
Tawny and sleek and as undulant as the neck of a swan,
Began to move hypnotically before my eyes:
And her large breasts, those fruits I have grown lean upon.

I saw float towards me tempting as the angels of hell,
To win my soul in thralldom to their dark caprice
Once more, and lure it down from the high citadel
Where, calm and solitary, it thought to have found peace.

She stretched and reared, and made herself all belly.
In truth,
It was if some playful artist had joined the stout
Hips of Antiope to the torso of a youth!...
The room grew dark, the lamp having flickered
and gone out,

And now the whispering fire that had begun to die,
Falling in lucent embers, was all the light therein-
And when it heaved at moments a flamboyant sigh
It inundated as with blood her amber skin.

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