Poems On a Theme
by Stefan

Autumnal O

At the heart of this Autumn
Which is mournful and berry red,
O comes to me
With owl masked head

On tiny feet
With toenails red,
She walks forward with
Hesitant and faltering tread

Afraid that she might fear
My intent is to harm her,
I step forward with a greeting
That is barely a whisper;

“Come to me my dearest O
More gentleness than
To you I will show.
Remove the mask
From your ennobled head,
Part your lips of
Cherry red,
Stay a while and you will find
My desire is
My touch not unkind.”

My heart beats faster
My desires dance,
But O passes by
As if in a trance

Following the path
That is seldom taken,
O takes her leave
Not a word has she spoken

Silence descends
Upon this secluded wood,
The Dreamer’s limitations
I now understood

O was in one dream
I in another,
Neither the twain might
Speak, hear, nor touch the other

At the heart of this Autumn
Which is mournful and berry red,
O lingers briefly,
By her own dream


Many Doors
Many Rooms


Let me take you from your dreams

To mine, to the haunted rooms

As old as Time,

Where indiscretions that seduce

The mind, run counter to

The Owl Clock’s chime.


Let us lose ourselves

Amongst these walls, where

Women pause, then softly tread

The ornate halls of gold and red.


Let us go to the darkened rooms

Where night games defy the

Break of dawn and secrets

Shiver as a rumour spread.


Let us go to the green-draped rooms

Where transgressions occur in

Muffled gloom, where you will play

Your Come-Hither game

As we pass gladly to Lust’s domain.


Come now unto the mirrored rooms

Where your beauty I’ll admire

By the light of the open fire,

Reflected back a thousand times,

A gorgeous feast for mine eyes.


Let us go to the Breton rooms

Where the floor is patterned

With Celtic runes

And the pillow book is always open,

Book-marked there and here

With Lovers’ tokens.


The Book of Desire is open too

In the Reading Rooms with

Drapes of blue, where whispered

Truths have a hint of dread

And the initiate on her knees is led.


Let us go to the Chinese rooms

Where the ceilings are decorated

With stars and moons

Where the tears of the initiate

In a phial are kept, and the thickest

Carpets muffle your every step.


Let us continue to the Room of Rings

Where I will do outrageous things

To win your heart and claim your soul

As shackled you’ll play

The submissive role.


Such punishments! A single

Blow will set you reeling and

The after-glow will mark

You out as one who knows

The Meaning of True Surrender.


Eugenio Recuenco


China Hamilton