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Pelwrath
1 month ago
Straight Male, 64
0 miles · Spencerport
Forum
Advanced Wordsmith
This:
In the mid-eighteenth century, prior to the events of the American Revolution, about one of every three young women who walked down the aisle to marry did so while with child, according to extant court and parish records. This rate varies but slightly among the colonies, whether Puritan New England, Quaker Philadelphia, or genteel Charleston. By comparison in England, the aptly named mother country, nearly 50% were pregnant when wed
In the mid-eighteenth century, prior to the events of the American Revolution, about one of every three young women who walked down the aisle to marry did so while with child, according to extant court and parish records. This rate varies but slightly among the colonies, whether Puritan New England, Quaker Philadelphia, or genteel Charleston. By comparison in England, the aptly named mother country, nearly 50% were pregnant when wed
Advanced Wordsmith
Never ashamed of what I write, sometimes I'm ashamed of how I wrote it. For my worlds and characters to make an impression on a reader is my purpose. I write the nonfiction history of the worlds and places I've created. Erotica is new for me but the goal is the same.
Advanced Wordsmith
Help from My Friends
What do you do when I write out of sync?
Roll your eyes upwards because you can’t blink?
Lend me your mind
I'll try to stay very confined
I know I’m not the only one
I see it every week
Words so brightly spun
Many think I write in ancient Greek
My dreams are never empty
though my writing seems to be.
Is knitting a cashmere sweater doing the same thing?
We use the elements and building blocks a plenty
Though chemistry and lego builders
We not be.
What do you do when I write out of sync?
Roll your eyes upwards because you can’t blink?
Lend me your mind
I'll try to stay very confined
I know I’m not the only one
I see it every week
Words so brightly spun
Many think I write in ancient Greek
My dreams are never empty
though my writing seems to be.
Is knitting a cashmere sweater doing the same thing?
We use the elements and building blocks a plenty
Though chemistry and lego builders
We not be.
Advanced Wordsmith
As one who writes poetry, I find writing it as hard as anything I’ve written, excep horror, I’m very bad at that. I’ve posted some of my poems in our poetry thread.
For me, knowing that my words can make someone smile, when they’ve had a bad day or remember a person they loved who’s passed away is awesome. Poetry is rhyming and not. For me it’s the ability to use words to paint a scene or a thought in the readers mind. To bring them happiness and help them relax.
For me, knowing that my words can make someone smile, when they’ve had a bad day or remember a person they loved who’s passed away is awesome. Poetry is rhyming and not. For me it’s the ability to use words to paint a scene or a thought in the readers mind. To bring them happiness and help them relax.
Advanced Wordsmith
Cranium Bubbles
Psst, come here.
On the path you’re traveling,
are you closer to the beginning or the end?
Did you know that light is what measures time?
How do copacetic rain drops make a seething ocean tempest?
Would you trade dancing on the eddy's of time for that among the stars?
Do the blind seek the starlight or freedom from the dark jackals that hunt them down?
White, violet, blue, magenta and lilac, the colors of Pan’s first pipes.
Did the savage beast play just to soothe himself?
Death always wears its Sunday best.
Psst, come here.
On the path you’re traveling,
are you closer to the beginning or the end?
Did you know that light is what measures time?
How do copacetic rain drops make a seething ocean tempest?
Would you trade dancing on the eddy's of time for that among the stars?
Do the blind seek the starlight or freedom from the dark jackals that hunt them down?
White, violet, blue, magenta and lilac, the colors of Pan’s first pipes.
Did the savage beast play just to soothe himself?
Death always wears its Sunday best.
Advanced Wordsmith
To Miss Kat and Sprite. I’m still at work but as far as interst in doing BDSM with my wife or other...no. A friend in another writing group(Legend Fire no longer around)told me when I mentioned BDSM in a story. Research it so I don’t do what 50 Shades did.
As for why no, my wife had a hemerage about ten years ago and needed an emergency histerectomy. Our sex life has always been rather basic. I do inderstand why you think I(we) would be interested in such.
Thanks for your answers as if I had put switching roles(D/s) in a story I’d only be showing that I didn’t know what I was talking about. I’d like to ask more but not sure if I should. I’ve resesrched homemade rockets and wespons for a post apocalyptic story but have zero desire to make any of them.
I had a story put up today. The next part will be about a vanilla having BDSM explained to them. I just want to do that right.
I’ll ad that several of your suggestions make very good sense in any loving and healy relationship. Thankyou both very much for your answers and the time and thought you put into them.
Pelwrath
As for why no, my wife had a hemerage about ten years ago and needed an emergency histerectomy. Our sex life has always been rather basic. I do inderstand why you think I(we) would be interested in such.
Thanks for your answers as if I had put switching roles(D/s) in a story I’d only be showing that I didn’t know what I was talking about. I’d like to ask more but not sure if I should. I’ve resesrched homemade rockets and wespons for a post apocalyptic story but have zero desire to make any of them.
I had a story put up today. The next part will be about a vanilla having BDSM explained to them. I just want to do that right.
I’ll ad that several of your suggestions make very good sense in any loving and healy relationship. Thankyou both very much for your answers and the time and thought you put into them.
Pelwrath
Advanced Wordsmith
MIRRORS
Naked glass space of delusional beginnings.
You bend us and twist us.
You widen us and reduce us.
Sans the laughter the fun house mandates?
Those of beauty are mesmerized by your creation,
While those who feel they lack such, are loath to see it.
If left matches left, does right then match right?
If so, why does your smile look like a smirk?
Your power is the reality of illusion;
And that’s perceptions gilded cage.
Ode to you, creator of doppelgangers and caricatures;
When I close my eyes, do you cease to exist?
Do your tears mock me or feel for me?
What do you see when looking at me?
Am I your creator, or creation?
Am I friend or fiend?
Why to others that see us you do reveal, but from us you conceal,
The trappings of our soul! The firmament of our dreams!
However, the reality of life, lies somewhere in between.
Is this perceptions gilded cage?
Naked glass space of delusional beginnings.
You bend us and twist us.
You widen us and reduce us.
Sans the laughter the fun house mandates?
Those of beauty are mesmerized by your creation,
While those who feel they lack such, are loath to see it.
If left matches left, does right then match right?
If so, why does your smile look like a smirk?
Your power is the reality of illusion;
And that’s perceptions gilded cage.
Ode to you, creator of doppelgangers and caricatures;
When I close my eyes, do you cease to exist?
Do your tears mock me or feel for me?
What do you see when looking at me?
Am I your creator, or creation?
Am I friend or fiend?
Why to others that see us you do reveal, but from us you conceal,
The trappings of our soul! The firmament of our dreams!
However, the reality of life, lies somewhere in between.
Is this perceptions gilded cage?
Advanced Wordsmith
Having Fun With Death
The table was ready, soon the guests would be there,
The list was incomplete as few had remembered to RSV Peep.
First were Maester Nigrum of House Mortem and Giolamo of House Pital.
Then two guests brand new, Computus of Virus with his sister Biologicum.
Successful siblings tis said, she with over one hundred and four degrees and he with a permanent gig with Hertz.
Names of the famous were evoked to good health; Charlie Chaplin, Mary Pickford, and Bellini it’s true.
Arnold Palmer, John Daley, and Shirley Temple too,
Ginger Rodgers was best, though she missed Fred’s stare.
Death is death, when and how doesn’t matter, except to jesters and pollsters.
Think what I say isn’t true? Then ask Jackie if she enjoyed the parade or Mary the play?
When cancer finds a temporary host; how many pop the cork and make a toast?
That Alzheimer’s eats, devouring life’s memories, how many visit the local haberdashery?
Please God, forgive us those notions.
Padre Sarducci was master of the table, set with foods and succulents galore.
Bread of green, with ham and eggs in between, chicken a la raw along with beef Tatar,
When people die, we sigh and think, “Thank God it wasn’t me.”
All waited with breath abated, as they sat in their chairs, electricity charging the air,
In the hopes that short would be their prayer.
Padre Sarducci stood to review the revue;
“Does God or the Devil care more when creatures are killed?
Angel of mercy or that of death, neither invented Kevorkian’s scarf.
Death is a virus, yet is not life its leading cause?
Now for the greatest virus of all, that of the heart and love,
There is no cure, salve or pill.
It deprives you of sleep, food, and wisdom.
Many have said that love is blind, yet deaf and dumb, should be included as well.
Some act the fool, others act the poet, and we all act the saint, despite the fact, we ain't.
We’ve died and killed for it and due to it; we’ve stolen and begged, truth be its greatest feature.
Rivers of tears, salty and sweet; songs aplenty, aired in its honor
No doctors Rx, no Buddha’s words to soothe; do we really seek a cure?
Of silence, is that a cancer that grows,
Or only the wisdom of thought expressed, to show what we know?
Wisdom may come through fool and by sage, though one is always locked in a cage.
It’s man, who created what were assembled here for,
That laughter is the best medicine, for what ails us all.”
The table was ready, soon the guests would be there,
The list was incomplete as few had remembered to RSV Peep.
First were Maester Nigrum of House Mortem and Giolamo of House Pital.
Then two guests brand new, Computus of Virus with his sister Biologicum.
Successful siblings tis said, she with over one hundred and four degrees and he with a permanent gig with Hertz.
Names of the famous were evoked to good health; Charlie Chaplin, Mary Pickford, and Bellini it’s true.
Arnold Palmer, John Daley, and Shirley Temple too,
Ginger Rodgers was best, though she missed Fred’s stare.
Death is death, when and how doesn’t matter, except to jesters and pollsters.
Think what I say isn’t true? Then ask Jackie if she enjoyed the parade or Mary the play?
When cancer finds a temporary host; how many pop the cork and make a toast?
That Alzheimer’s eats, devouring life’s memories, how many visit the local haberdashery?
Please God, forgive us those notions.
Padre Sarducci was master of the table, set with foods and succulents galore.
Bread of green, with ham and eggs in between, chicken a la raw along with beef Tatar,
When people die, we sigh and think, “Thank God it wasn’t me.”
All waited with breath abated, as they sat in their chairs, electricity charging the air,
In the hopes that short would be their prayer.
Padre Sarducci stood to review the revue;
“Does God or the Devil care more when creatures are killed?
Angel of mercy or that of death, neither invented Kevorkian’s scarf.
Death is a virus, yet is not life its leading cause?
Now for the greatest virus of all, that of the heart and love,
There is no cure, salve or pill.
It deprives you of sleep, food, and wisdom.
Many have said that love is blind, yet deaf and dumb, should be included as well.
Some act the fool, others act the poet, and we all act the saint, despite the fact, we ain't.
We’ve died and killed for it and due to it; we’ve stolen and begged, truth be its greatest feature.
Rivers of tears, salty and sweet; songs aplenty, aired in its honor
No doctors Rx, no Buddha’s words to soothe; do we really seek a cure?
Of silence, is that a cancer that grows,
Or only the wisdom of thought expressed, to show what we know?
Wisdom may come through fool and by sage, though one is always locked in a cage.
It’s man, who created what were assembled here for,
That laughter is the best medicine, for what ails us all.”
Advanced Wordsmith
Misconceptions
Purge your fears, control your anxiety.
Wings in the night, devils messengers take flight.
Full moon above full belly soon to be had.
Beehive hair cut especially attractive,
Virgin’s blood is fun, if you can find one.
You can’t run, you can’t hide
Your screams are a lighthouse,
Your whimpers a foghorn.
Velvet brown fur, black leather wings,
We actually like fruit, nectar and other things.
Imagine that.
They have us in baseball, cricket and single wicket.
Can you guess our crowning achievement?
I doubt that you’d believe it.
We’re closer to primates than rodents.
After all, we’re bats.
Purge your fears, control your anxiety.
Wings in the night, devils messengers take flight.
Full moon above full belly soon to be had.
Beehive hair cut especially attractive,
Virgin’s blood is fun, if you can find one.
You can’t run, you can’t hide
Your screams are a lighthouse,
Your whimpers a foghorn.
Velvet brown fur, black leather wings,
We actually like fruit, nectar and other things.
Imagine that.
They have us in baseball, cricket and single wicket.
Can you guess our crowning achievement?
I doubt that you’d believe it.
We’re closer to primates than rodents.
After all, we’re bats.
Advanced Wordsmith
I hope that my poetry is enjoyable. All are welcome to leave comments.
Ode to Cereal
Inconvenient when created,
but much more than curds and whey.
Most of us do it every day.
It’s become a table top debate,
Is the sugar first or last?
Fruit in both or just for what’s hot?
We always add a dab more milk;
or do we not?
To stir with love, churn, or neither?
Juice and burned bread,
sometimes the kids make it
when mom is still in it,
With a rose, though it’s not a course.
Do you have it at night?
Are you sure that’s alright?
If beer was used instead
Would it sound like,
Snap, crackle, burp?
Ode to Cereal
Inconvenient when created,
but much more than curds and whey.
Most of us do it every day.
It’s become a table top debate,
Is the sugar first or last?
Fruit in both or just for what’s hot?
We always add a dab more milk;
or do we not?
To stir with love, churn, or neither?
Juice and burned bread,
sometimes the kids make it
when mom is still in it,
With a rose, though it’s not a course.
Do you have it at night?
Are you sure that’s alright?
If beer was used instead
Would it sound like,
Snap, crackle, burp?
Advanced Wordsmith
If this is the wrong place for a few questins, my apologies. First. I've never done any BDSM. I'm asking as I do wish to have a better and correct understanding of this form and second as I'd like to use some bondage in a story and I want to get it right.
As I understand the following are required in bondage:
There is always a DOM and a sub. There never is co-equal participation sharing.
Shared trust in each other for the experience to be enjoyable by both.
Safe words/actions that both agree on and ardently adhere to.
If I'm wrong or have misunderstood what I read, again my apologies.
Now for my questions:
How would the experienced partner bring in her new love who is a vanilla?
Does/would she always be the DOM or can there be a co-equal experience?
As I understand the following are required in bondage:
There is always a DOM and a sub. There never is co-equal participation sharing.
Shared trust in each other for the experience to be enjoyable by both.
Safe words/actions that both agree on and ardently adhere to.
If I'm wrong or have misunderstood what I read, again my apologies.
Now for my questions:
How would the experienced partner bring in her new love who is a vanilla?
Does/would she always be the DOM or can there be a co-equal experience?