I THINK YOU'RE A JACKASS!!!!

these famous poems I dedicated to my beloved soul ; another soul in my life ; my midnite man

My Mistress' Eyes by William Shakespeare My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips' red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damasked, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight

Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know,
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant - I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground.
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.

To His Coy Mistress Andrew Marvell (1681)
Had we but world enough, and time,
This coyness, lady, were no crime.
We would sit down and think which way
To walk, and pass our long love’s day;
Thou by the Indian Ganges’ side
Shouldst rubies find; I by the tide
Of Humber would complain. I would
Love you ten years before the Flood;
And you should, if you please, refuse
Till the conversion of the Jews.
My vegetable love should grow
Vaster than empires, and more slow.
An hundred years should go to praise
Thine eyes, and on thy forehead gaze;
Two hundred to adore each breast,
But thirty thousand to the rest;
An age at least to every part,
And the last age should show your heart.
For, lady, you deserve this state,
Nor would I love at lower rate.

But at my back I always hear
Time’s winged chariot hurrying near;
And yonder all before us lie
Deserts of vast eternity.
Thy beauty shall no more be found,
Nor, in thy marble vault, shall sound
My echoing song; then worms shall try
That long preserv’d virginity,
And your quaint honour turn to dust,
And into ashes all my lust.
The grave’s a fine and private place,
But none I think do there embrace.

Now therefore, while the youthful hue
Sits on thy skin like morning dew,
And while thy willing soul transpires
At every pore with instant fires,
Now let us sport us while we may;
And now, like am’rous birds of prey,
Rather at once our time devour,
Than languish in his slow-chapp’d power.
Let us roll all our strength, and all
Our sweetness, up into one ball;
And tear our pleasures with rough strife
Thorough the iron gates of life.
Thus, though we cannot make our sun
Stand still, yet we will make him run.

Who Am I? His Mistress…
by Gillis Triplett
Saturday, May 21, 2005
Rated "G" by the Author.

She said to me in a brazenly arrogant manner, "Who am I? His mistress! I give him what his wife will never be able to provide. It should’ve been me that met and married him. One day he’ll be mine, all mines, just you wait and see!"

I realize he’s married
Yet, it doesn’t matter to me
You see, although I’m just his mistress
That’s not all I’ll ever be
Do I wonder about his wife?
No! Why should I care?
She’s the ones who’s wondering
And fidgeting in despair
I have what I want
My man, my king
A sensual lover
Do you dare judge me?
Because we must remain undercover?

Sure, his children miss his presence
But I need him more than they
When I have kids by my lover
Then he’ll be home to stay
You say I’m breaking up their family
You claim I’m tearing down their home
But you don’t know how he treats me
When the two of us are all alone

Again, who are you to judge me?
And why are you casting stones?
We’re both consenting adults
So please…
Just leave us the hell A-L-O-N-E!
One day he’ll divorce his wife
Then happily marry me
He said he would
He’ll do it…
So away with your J-E-A-L-O-U-S-Y!

I’ll be a better wife than her
My man won’t let me down
He doesn’t have a roving eye
Neither will he run around town
He’s not woman chaser – a philanderer
A liar or a cheat
He is the best man a woman could have
Nestling at her feet

He’s a man I can trust
Who would never break my heart
He’d never do something as tragic
As ripping a family apart
He’s trustworthy, honest, dependable and strong
I’m telling you, believe me…
This man who would never do any woman wrong!

Please don’t call me crazy
Blind, stupid or naïve
He’s in love with me…
That’s what I passionately believe

Sure, he tells me about their sex life
And what goes on in their abode
And yes, when I call their house at night
He must talk to me in secret code
He has to deceive her!
In order to be with me
Why is that so hard?
For E-V-E-R-Y-O-N-E to see?

I realize he’s married
But again it doesn’t matter to me
Although I’m just his mistress
That’s not all I’ll ever be