An ode to courtesan

earthern beauties

Treachery by history of the worst kind
For whilst painting a picture of mankind,
History paid gratitude to kings and queens
But shunned the servitude of her kind

She pleased the Kings and their sons
Though their keep, she always kept mum
Who would have thought that one day
Adam’s Eve would be called a courtesan

Born to an impoverished womb
 Her dreams, her life, set to be doomed
For they didn’t wait for puberty
Tricked her through lies of liberty

Tears flowed like a river
through her little eyes,
But father didn’t regret
Trading her little child

She gazed and dazed at her new world
Tears soon dried, as the myth unfurled
Flash of gold, silver outshone the moon
Naked unflinching fairies bathed in warm pools

Soon her face left no trace of worry
 She found her family in these naked fairies
 What charm do my sisters hold?
For when came the kings,
My siblings were pampered to the core

Garlanded in gold from head to toe
She danced with her siblings
Like a swan in full flow
Oblivious to the truth that all this was
nothing but just a sideshow

The King came forward to pick his keep
Then placed a tray of coins at her feet
She was soon whisked away and
and then bathed in tubs of rose and milk

Our little girl then asked the keep
 ‘When will I be the King’s queen?’
The keep pulled her tender hands on her breasts
‘The day you grow these, then shall come thy Prince Charming’

The wait though wasn’t long
The walls reverberated with the same song
There came the King’s men and
Took her away, to a lusty lion’s den

However, when the door opened
There was no Prince charming
Standing there was a grand old King
Like a predator, he pounced on her
Ravaged her body, drank her blood

When the eyes opened
She’d wished to be dead
Our little girl laid motionless
In her blood-stained bed

The fairies came by, picked her up
One shamelessly muttered,
‘We are no fairies, but slaves to mankind
Born to please, born to bleed
You my child, no longer a virgin’

She resigned to her fate
There were no sharing any virgin tales
For all she had become
Nothing but an object of sex

The sadists Kings then had a new passion
They’d loved to be painted
While making love to slaves
So, her pain now painted in different shades

At first, she loathed him
For here was this man
Painting her naked sin
But soon she found him to be charming

His heart was as tender as his brush
His words never spoke of lust
“I come here not to see you bleed
For like you, I’m a slave to the King

She opened up like a flower to him
In his presence, she again felt like a virgin
She pulled his hands on her breasts
Show me the love that I never felt

At first he hesitated, but then
Slowly melted his body into hers
Like a brush touches a canvas
But no one to paint his masterpiece

The porous walls heard no cries
For our woman felt the joy of her life
‘There’ll come a time, when our servitude ends
You and I can live together then

The artist took a breath an sighed
‘We shall be together but this world
Will never look at you with dignity
An object of sex, that won’t be your legacy’

So he began carving her beauty
Carving her art of love
On stones that would one day be hailed as 
Temple of love

This is a land where idols are worshipped 
You being idolised, is a wishful thinking
But there’ll come a pure soul
One who marvels at your beauty,
One who pays an ode to the courtesans!

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