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| Welcome Perverts of the Intellectual Persuasion
The key to wooing Mariana Trench? Any man who would write me love letters and take his time in learning about me, by reading between the lines here - this clever man can seduce my mind and can therefore have my body. Now, if he also seeks and finds my soul, I'll be his forever.
Please check out my Directory of Erotic Poetry and Prose - Yummy
 
Kama is the enjoyment of appropriate objects by the five senses of the soul. The ingredient in this is a peculiar contact between the organ of sense and its object, and the consciousness of pleasure which arises from that contact is called Kama. - The Kamasutra
This blog will predominately consist of my erotic poetry and prose, combined with art from around the world. It features discourse on culture, philisophy, humor, quotes etc. and some of my favorite things to stimulate all your senses:
"Kitsune" is Japanese for fox. Foxes are a common subject of Japanese folklore. Many stories depict them as intelligent and sexual spirits that take the form of human females. In Japanese, "kitsu-ne" means come and sleep, and "ki-tsune" means always comes.
ARTWORK TOP LEFT "Red Head" BY: Jacob Collins
I, Mariana_Trench_ allow any Local Sexy Swingers blogger to mention me and/or use a link to my blog, a blog post, my profile photo/s and/or a link to my profile with my name in it for the purpose of networking, communication, and creating fun and games on the website....or just plain perving! To be used in blogs, email and groups. I realize that getting my name out there is a way to increase my odds of finding like minded people with whom I wish to communicate.  |
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Directory of Erotic Poetry and Prose
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Posted:Feb 26, 2010 8:38 pm
Last Updated:Apr 15, 2011 7:47 pm
146510 Views
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My Erotic Poetry
 Derived from The Bible:
Samson Delilah....The Queen of Sheba....Salome....10 Figs....Lilith....The of Babylon
 Inspired by Saints:
Mary Magdalen....Jeanne D'arc....Saint Barbara....He Is The Breaking Wheel....Saint Anne....St Agatha
 Mardi Gras Poems Inspired by My Fantasies of Being Masked or Blindfolded
 Inspired by Greek & Roman Mythology:
Europa....Effervescent Venus....[post 2219116]....Pandora....Penelope....Cassandra....Psyche on Eros....Persephone....Carthage....Apollo Daphne....Leda The Swan....Circe....Echo and Narcissus....Medusa's Hands
 Inspired by Norse Mythology & Anglo-Saxon Culture:
Frigga, Queen of Heaven....Idun
 Middle Eastern & Asian Influences:
Many Erotic Haiku....Kali....Ramadan....Ishtar....Inanna....Scheherazade....The Crickets' Trill....The Death amp Burial of a Scythian Queen....Lips Upon the Jade Wisk....Singapore....Imagining Myself as Sita, Imagining You as Rama
 Astronomy, Geology, Biology, Botany, Physics, etc.:
A Dream of Honey....Electromagnetism....Binary Stars....Astronomy....Carp....She's a Snow Fox....A Leafy Bent Branch....Flesh and Bones....The Map....Fireflies and Lightening....The Iceberg....Visceral
 Inspired by Native American Mythology & Culture:
In The Place of Song An Ode to the Aztec Goddess Mayahuel....Sedna In honor of the Inuit Goddess....Raven....He Calls Me His SheWolf....15 Haiku for Pele....Xochiquertzal
 Inspired by United States History:
The Figurehead & The Figurehead Speaks Words from The Widow's Walk (these two pieces are a set)....A Raconteur of the Great Plains....Your Molly Pitcher
 Inspired by Shakespeare's Plays:
Cleopatra....Ophelia....Titania Kaleidoscopic
 Inspired by 18th and 19th Century Literature:
The Moor is A Sea (Wuthering Heights) .... The Moving Train (Sherlock Holmes)
 Inspired by Fairy Tales:
The Firebird....Technicolor Rapunzel....Snow White and Red Rose....Cinderella....The 12 Dancing Princesses....The Golden Ball
 Inspired by Celtic Mythology & Arthurian Legends:
Tristan and Iseult....Sonnets for Boadicea....The Lady of Shalott....Sheela na gig....Nimue Addressing Merlin....La Belle Dame Sans Merci....Rhiannon
 Inspired by Fruit:
Kiwi....5 Plums....Cherries
 My Thoughts on Alpha Males:
Worshipping the Bull Part 1....Worshipping the Bull Part 2....Worshipping the Bull Part 3
 Other Musings, Philosophy, Essays etc.:
The Weight of My Heart....Kundalini, Karezza, and Expanded Orgasms....What is Sublime The Difference Between My Sexuality in Fantasy Reality
 Autobiographical/Contemporary Poems:
Some Good Word Back....To Impress You....I Felt Powerful....Waiting to Come....369....Ink....Now....Mercury Down My Back....Sugar....A Story in Lanterne Verse....I Want a Man Who Means It When He Says....Anticipation....An Ode to a Pirate....Yearning....An Ode to Cyrano....In Case You Wondered....You Ignore Me....In My Mind's Eye....I Will....Velada....Pooling Downwards
 More of My Poems (not really erotic, though):
Fecundus....Lament for Icarus....Time....Traveling with Victoria
 Poetry Call and Response Series:
Poem One in A Series Emily....Poem Two in a Series Anne....Poem Three in a Series Louise....Poem Four in A Series Adrienne
 My Erotic Prose
The First Time....Patent Leather Heels....What I Think About While Riding the Subway....Bound....October 1998 Red Line, Metro Boston Subway Experience....In Case You Wondered....Stream of Consciousness....Texture....Fountain of Youth....A River of Milk....Osmosis....Nora to James....Open Your Eyes....The Words
 Inspirations
Dante....A Poem by Rita Dove....A Poem by Heinrich Heine....A Poem by Faiz Ahmed Faiz, Translated by Naomi Lazard....A Poem by Jessica Hagedorn....A Poem by Bill Hicok....Unknown....A Poem by Colleen Mills....A Poem by Sara Teasdale....Poem by Federico Garcia Lorca....Song Lyrics by George Brassens....A Poem by Les Murray....A traditional Irish tune, edited by Phillips Barry in 1939....Molly Bloom's Soliloquy from Ulysses by James Joyce
 Collaborations
You are The Ghost of Fire A Collaboration with Wildnwanton
I Am The Ghost of Water A Collaboration with Wildnwanton
Milk Me Mariana a collaboration with Charles Dikkens
Mariana Undone a collaboration with Charles Dikkens
Ferocious inspired by [blog aura_of_sex]
The Return of Odysseus inspired by SooooHorny
The Dance of the Dove and the Wind inspired by [blog Chance2Play]
Tree of Anise inspired by [blog Chance2Play]
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Please submit a comment or two...
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Posted:Jan 30, 2010 5:40 pm
Last Updated:May 3, 2012 6:14 pm
154256 Views
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I'm a comment slut. Really. I am on my knees, begging for your nice, wet, hard comment. Give it to me...I can take it...I like it rough.  |
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Music Box (3/9/2011 UPDATE)
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Posted:Mar 22, 2010 9:02 pm
Last Updated:May 4, 2011 9:24 pm
147227 Views
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Esben and the Witch - "The Swans"
The swans begin to bellow,
Bellies full of pearls,
Screaming down the houses,
Whilst the willows start to fool.
Bow their boughs and buckle,
The curtains they are drawn,
The cavalcade and symmetry,
Commands for those to move.
The mutiny procession,
Somber and serene,
A pageant on behalf to show,
Her majesty's esteem.
The lake is turning darker,
It's as black as ostrich plumes,
Though I paraded answers,
With a noble magnitude.
Nail down the mirrors,
Pour the wars in the rooms,
The hands of the grandfathers,
Have settled on high noon.
We are the ire
We are the ire
We are the ire
Here the come the ire
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Hester Prynne
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Posted:May 1, 2011 9:29 pm
Last Updated:Jun 28, 2011 9:21 pm
95182 Views
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dream-stricken hands flutter,
in the buried half-alive wind
my hair pushed back, wavering,
in the nightmare wind
deep in my skin, longing for you,
in the gregarious wind
glass cracked spontaneously
broken shards of the distraught season of this marshy glean
white embers of utterances
My wind whispers of poplar trees bending
To dance with grey-black chestnuts,
My wind...
Moans past the riverbanks, past pines who
Cast shadows taller than the rooftops of our village,
and at last, laughing, kisses the Mountain Laurel shrubs as
they cascade over lichen-dabbled granite,
My wind is running downhill,
Efficiently... briskly...
Out of breath,
My wind reaches the hush of the seas.
Now -
Drying up the sands, but patient,
She sits with the
Plover and the yellowing grasses,
Yes, for you stilled my wind, and I leery-souled, wait for you
Stillness, the wind has left fossilized fish salt diamonds
like me, withdrawn from life - still it
leaves the trace of a taste on the tongue
Now I remember the lace of breaths’ embroidered mingling,
The day we crocheted a pearl
Design upon January glass
whole lifetimes
blister and are
laid full bare
These frayed threads,
Riding the pane
Snow-blossoms bloom with a small crushing ting.
Listen.
There is no wind, you can hear their crystal voices.
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The City is Split in Half
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Posted:Apr 21, 2011 11:49 am
Last Updated:May 8, 2011 3:04 pm
90669 Views
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I’m a clock tower hovering in a space of no time
Meanwhile, the city is split in half
A geode of skyscrapers -
weeds sprawling over and boisterous and loud…
On my side
- your side is empty -
You are a fossil vortex and your vices
Are what is left
Of this season, your nemesis are
death, the Blood Moon,
and the scent of a particular spice,
Whose name escapes you
Someday we will meet and I will discover
which spice it is
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Image: "Diana, The Blood Moon" by Stephen Lucas
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Posted:Apr 16, 2011 7:08 pm
Last Updated:May 3, 2012 5:45 pm
90253 Views
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"The king had been a prisoner
And a prisoner long in Spain,
And Willie of the Winsbury
Has lain long with his at home."
"What ails ye, what ails ye, my Janet,
Why you look so pale and wan?
Oh have you had any sore sickness
Or yet been sleeping with a man?"
"I have not had any sore sickness
Nor yet been sleeping wi' a man.
It is for you, my father dear,
For biding so long in Spain"
"Cast off, cast off your berry-brown gown,
You stand naked upon the stane,
That I may ken ye by your shape
Whether you be a maiden or none."
And she's cast off her berry-brown gown,
She stood naked upon the stone.
Her apron was low and her haunches were round,
Her face was pale and wan.
"Oh, was it with a lord or a duke or a knight
Or a man of birth and fame?
Or was it with one of me serving men
That's lately come out of Spain?"
"No, it wasn't with a lord, nor a duke, nor a knight,
Or a man of birth and fame.
But it was with Willie of Winsbury,
I could bide no longer alone."
And the king he has called on his merry men all,
By thirty and by three,
Says, "Fetch me this Willie of Winsbury,
For hanged he shall be."
But when he came the king before,
He was clad all in the red silk.
His hair was like the strands of gold,
His skin was as white as the milk.
"And it is no wonder," said the king,
"That my 's love you did win.
If I was a woman, as I am a man,
My bedfellow you would have been."
And will you marry my Janet
By the truth of your right hand?
Oh, will you marry my Janet?
I'll make you the lord of my land."
Yes, I will marry your Janet
By the truth of my right hand.
Yes I will marry your Janet,
But I'll not be the lord of your land.
And he's mounted her on a milk-white steed
And himself on a dapple grey.
He has made her the lady of as much land
As she'll ride in a long summer's day.
Picture: "The Dryad" by Asle Clade
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The Year of No Sleep
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Posted:Apr 13, 2011 5:36 pm
Last Updated:Apr 20, 2011 3:56 pm
92555 Views
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In the year of no sleep,
I planted myself as
A seed does.
Waiting.
A seed is like a bone,
After the flesh drops off.
A seed is a book, a story
That can be told backwards or forwards.
A seed is a borrowing animal
it travels downwards –
A seed is an infestation – a parasite.
And, at last,
A seed is the embryo of a tree, or
a cabbage, or a dandelion.
Meanwhile, soil wraps this unknown present…
That which shall be the tree –
the cabbage – the dandelion...
Meanwhile
Soil is waiting and yet soil is the past.
Dead things gone to decay,
Soil is the flesh that fell off that bone.
Like the last day of blood, soil is
Thick expectation clinging.
Soil is placenta.
Each night in the year of no sleep,
I would exhaust myself through
Symbols…
Until the symbols became words,
I would then bury myself in language,
Until the words sang symphonies,
Until I lost all the memories – until –
At last,
I would fall, hard-shelled
and soft-souled, a raw seed…surrounded
By the melodies of dirt
The songs of granite nodules, clinging to
The belly of a worm as it tunnels
And
I’d drop into this thick wet pelt
Of my cold-earth mother
And, in forgotten,
numbed dreams,
I would rest
Waiting for that next year,
The inevitable time I would be exhumed,
Split open to shoot upwards,
Consumed by myself, transformed,
At last
I would rise,
I would sprout,
Dreaming my way into
The year of sleep.
Image: "Astarte," a painting by John Coulhart based upon a hypno-therapy session and his resulting dreams.
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Dziriat (Algerian Almond Tarts)
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Posted:Mar 27, 2011 11:05 am
Last Updated:Apr 3, 2011 7:25 pm
91392 Views
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This recipe with all its variants is prepared only on special celebrations and weddings. It is a challenge to prepare, but is well worth the time and effort. There exist several varieties of this recipe. Some use molds while others are molded by hand, and some are dipped in syrup and others are not. The dough recipe may include butter instead of vegetable oil and sometimes egg is omitted. The goal is a non flaky, thin, and firm crust.
Yields 40 almond tarts
Ingredients
Sugar Syrup
1 cup white sugar
1 cup water
1 teaspoon fresh lemon juice
2 tablespoons orange flower water
Dough
2 cups all-purpose flour
2 tablespoons vegetable oil
1 egg
1/2 teaspoon fresh lemon juice
1 pinch salt
1 tablespoon orange flower water
Filling
4 cups raw almonds
1 cup sugar
3 eggs
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon vanilla powder
1 lemon, zested
2 tablespoons orange flower water
cornstarch, for rolling out the dough
pine nuts, for decoration
Directions
1.Prepare the almonds the day before. Bring 6 cups of water to a boil. Remove from heat, and add the almonds. Let the almonds soak in water for about 5 minutes, then drain and peel. Spread the almonds on baking sheets, and bake at 200 degrees F(95 degrees C) until completely dry and toasted. This takes several hours, and needs to be prepared ahead. Be careful not to burn the nuts, as this will give a bitter taste to the filling.
2.Combine 1 cup sugar and 1 cup water in a saucepan, and bring to a boil. Add 1 teaspoon lemon juice, reduce heat to low, and let it simmer until syrupy, about 30 to 40 minutes. Stir in orange blossom water, and remove from heat. Set sugar syrup aside.
3.Combine flour and salt in a large mixing bowl. Make a hole in the center, and pour oil, egg, 1/2 teaspoon lemon juice, and 1 tablespoon orange blossom water into the center. Mix with fingers until the dough resembles coarse crumbs. Gradually sprinkle with warm water while mixing until the dough becomes soft and pliable. Divide into 4 equal portions. Cover dough with a wet cloth, and set aside.
4.In a food processor, finely grind the almonds. Measure 3 cups of the finely ground almonds into a mixing bowl, and stir together with 1 cup sugar, baking powder, vanilla powder, lemon zest, and 2 tablespoons orange flower water. Mix in three eggs one at a time, stirring constantly; mix until you get a sticky, paste-like mixture.
5.Sprinkle cornstarch on the rolling surface to prevent sticking. Roll each portion of dough very thinly, 1 to 2 millimeters (1/16 inch). Cut the rolled dough into circles of about 10 centimeters (4 inches) in diameter each. Lightly wipe the surface of each circle with cornstarch, and fit into a tart mold, cornstarch side down to prevent sticking. Gently press the dough onto the sides and bottom of the mold, and trim extra dough from around the rim. Fill three quarters of each mold with the almond filling.
6.Bake on the top shelf at 350 degrees F (175 degrees C) for 20 to 25 minutes, or until the surface of the tart is golden and the dough is firm. Remove the tarts from the molds as soon as they come out of the oven. Dip each tart in the sugar syrup while still hot. Stick a pine nut into the middle of each tart for decoration. Place on a wire rack to drain.
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10
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The Coming of Spring
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Posted:Mar 20, 2011 11:22 am
Last Updated:Apr 30, 2011 10:44 pm
91894 Views
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The Dark One of The Seas is a
Crackling fire and also
A smooth-skinned hailstone -
Wearing his wet shroud,
A peat-dark rawness,
He is the deep perfume of the desert rain,
The azure echoes of a juniper breeze,
He is the sacred marriage of sky to shore,
He is swarms of hungry visions, and
The metallic taste of flesh.
The Dark One of The Seas yearns - to -
to masticate her lips like poppies,
He is afire with itinerate solitude
He pools his thoughts like eddys– but
more than anything, he is waiting…
She is a gaping, a stretching…
A yawning and ravenous chasm,
A valley of wheat, rolling golden,
The of the Sun, The Light One
She wears twists of coral snakes upon her brow,
She tastes the river’s bend in her mouth,
Her mouth sings of honeycombs,
A song about being taken,
yet it is sung softly -
A coating is upon her flesh,
Like pulverized beetle shell-sheen -
She is smelling of damp things aflame,
She is quivering hops vines, and dark roots
Even in her naked pricklings,
She is ordained like a priestess,
Wearing a necklace of dawn,
The of the Sun, The Light One
is swift like a mare, yet
He matches her
They rise up, to shout with their eyes
Their very viscera, pink and steaming
Their mouths pressed into prayer,
They danced across the untamed land
The land of tin and blood,
A land as cold as a still-born star,
Crackled beyond the velvet horizon,
They seize –
They ignite –
A peacock’s tail – exigently bursting,
Fireworks of carnal swiftness,
Languid requiems
Erupting phosphorescent blossoms
Till at last, the deep sea has consumed the sun.
Image: "Demeter" By John Watkiss, 1991
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To link to this blog (Mariana_Trench_) use [blog Mariana_Trench_] in your messages.
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