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Death And The Maiden
- Thread starter Jollyrei
- Start date
That picture has so many things going on in it - a mix of bondage and capture, but also a feeling of passion and intimacy. How closely intertwined. No wonder they call sex the "little death" - that notion in the best moments when one wants to be inside one's lover and wants them inside oneself as well - to possess and be possessed completely. Does she want to get away. Her eyes say yes, but her hand suggests otherwise. It's partly imprisonment, but partly an embrace.
evidently divesting her of her thong!And there are more reaching up for her from below!
Primus pilus
Magister Australis
It is a concept that has been illustrated for a long time and even seems to have featured in, ahem, exotic Victorian postcards.
This one is a scan so isn't the crispest image but.....she rather seems to be toying with Death and his old bones.
This one is a scan so isn't the crispest image but.....she rather seems to be toying with Death and his old bones.
Looks like a Victorian Jollyrei to me.
IT'S ALL FUN AND GAMES UNTIL SOMEONE GETS A TOE IN THE EYE.
I REALLY WISH SHE'D STOP THAT. 
Stop staring then!!!!
IT'S ALL FUN AND GAMES UNTIL SOMEONE GETS A TOE IN THE EYE.
LOOK! I'M HAPPY TO CONSIDER THE IDEA THAT A GIRL MAY NOT "WANT IT" ALL THE TIME, REGARDLESS OF HOW SHE'S DRESSED (OR UNDRESSED), BUT I REFUSE TO BELIEVE THAT A GIRL WHO HANGS OUT NAKED ON MY SOFA DOESN'T AT LEAST WANT TO BE LOOKED AT.
I didn't realize it was YOUR sofa.LOOK! I'M HAPPY TO CONSIDER THE IDEA THAT A GIRL MAY NOT "WANT IT" ALL THE TIME, REGARDLESS OF HOW SHE'S DRESSED (OR UNDRESSED), BUT I REFUSE TO BELIEVE THAT A GIRL WHO HANGS OUT NAKED ON MY SOFA DOESN'T AT LEAST WANT TO BE LOOKED AT.
YOU'RE HANGING OUT NAKED WITH DEATH, AND YOU THINK THE MOST IMPORTANT THING TO CONSIDER IS THE OWNERSHIP OF THE SOFA?I didn't realize it was YOUR sofa.
Primus pilus
Magister Australis
Nu au squelette (c. 1930) - a photo by Ergy Landau.
Has she become Death? Or Death her?
Has she become Death? Or Death her?
T.S. Eliot (1888–1965). Poems. 1920.
10. Whispers of Immortality
WEBSTER was much possessed by death
And saw the skull beneath the skin;
And breastless creatures under ground
Leaned backward with a lipless grin.
Daffodil bulbs instead of balls
Stared from the sockets of the eyes!
He knew that thought clings round dead limbs
Tightening its lusts and luxuries.
Donne, I suppose, was such another
Who found no substitute for sense;
To seize and clutch and penetrate,
Expert beyond experience,
He knew the anguish of the marrow
The ague of the skeleton;
No contact possible to flesh
Allayed the fever of the bone.
. . . . . . . .
Grishkin is nice: her Russian eye
Is underlined for emphasis;
Uncorseted, her friendly bust
Gives promise of pneumatic bliss.
The couched Brazilian jaguar
Compels the scampering marmoset
With subtle effluence of cat;
Grishkin has a maisonette;
The sleek Brazilian jaguar
Does not in its arboreal gloom
Distil so rank a feline smell
As Grishkin in a drawing-room.
And even the Abstract Entities
Circumambulate her charm;
But our lot crawls between dry ribs
To keep our metaphysics warm.
10. Whispers of Immortality
WEBSTER was much possessed by death
And saw the skull beneath the skin;
And breastless creatures under ground
Leaned backward with a lipless grin.
Daffodil bulbs instead of balls
Stared from the sockets of the eyes!
He knew that thought clings round dead limbs
Tightening its lusts and luxuries.
Donne, I suppose, was such another
Who found no substitute for sense;
To seize and clutch and penetrate,
Expert beyond experience,
He knew the anguish of the marrow
The ague of the skeleton;
No contact possible to flesh
Allayed the fever of the bone.
. . . . . . . .
Grishkin is nice: her Russian eye
Is underlined for emphasis;
Uncorseted, her friendly bust
Gives promise of pneumatic bliss.
The couched Brazilian jaguar
Compels the scampering marmoset
With subtle effluence of cat;
Grishkin has a maisonette;
The sleek Brazilian jaguar
Does not in its arboreal gloom
Distil so rank a feline smell
As Grishkin in a drawing-room.
And even the Abstract Entities
Circumambulate her charm;
But our lot crawls between dry ribs
To keep our metaphysics warm.
Primus pilus
Magister Australis
Pp has always enjoyed this simple one by Rainer Maria Rilke
"Death"
Before us great Death stands
Our fate held close within his quiet hands.
When with proud joy we lift Life’s red wine
To drink deep of the mystic shining cup
And ecstasy through all our being leaps -
Death bows his head and weeps.
Any wonder that Pp raises a glass of excellent shiraz to life almost every night? It has kept Jollyrei at bay so far.
"Death"
Before us great Death stands
Our fate held close within his quiet hands.
When with proud joy we lift Life’s red wine
To drink deep of the mystic shining cup
And ecstasy through all our being leaps -
Death bows his head and weeps.
Any wonder that Pp raises a glass of excellent shiraz to life almost every night? It has kept Jollyrei at bay so far
.