Lipstick: the muse

I pressed my lips to his
A kiss of stamen birthed to rising sun
Swollen, ripe
Curves of bliss traverse landscapes
Painted, to match the flower
Enticing man to virgin breasts.

 

 

(c) A Hannan

 

The history of lipstick can be traced back as far as 5,000 years when semi-precious jewels, plants, ants and seaweed were used to colour the lips red, pink or deep brown. Its origins, although prone to contradictions, often undiscussed and unadmitted, were of an erotic manner. For thousands of years the mouth has been considered the most sensual part of a woman’s face and woman have relished in exploiting this power by decorating and enhancing, colouring the lips to match the labia. Although, lipstick is not merely seductive. Depending on the colour and shape of the lip line, lipstick is also a symbol of power, of sophistication, of rebellion, of courage, of optimism and more.

Note: The stamens in a flower are collectively called the androecium (from Greek andros oikia: man’s house)

Advertisements

4 thoughts on “Lipstick: the muse

  1. Life, Is She

    From her womb and with a graceful hand
    She strew petals to the wind.
    As they flew, they burned, dissolved
    Into a swollen cloud of crimson red
    Dewing, as it hovers, a scent,
    A dye, light and dark, on lips that bled —
    And then she smiled, love,
    A world in endless colours
    Between virgin breasts.

    Bless her. Bless her hands.

    • She paints prayers with your Lust
      Red ochres rising, from her earth
      Crushed petals veiling laughter
      Over sweet nights cried back to her soil
      And blinking back mascaraed lashes
      A summer sun, a mirror hung
      From ripened breasts.

      Blessed, your eyes
      Shadowed by two birds
      Heavy and thoughtful, suicide
      Upon her body of life.
      Balanced here, passion a calm moon
      Placed before a kiss.

      At the moment of entry,
      Your palm, laden with Jewels
      Of pink and red, a bold perfection
      Angel’s furnished from her womb
      And your fingers over her lips
      Each a pilgrim in prayer
      Returning season after season.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s