A Canon and a Corset

I was raised an Irish Catholic girl,

Although I can’t complain.

My memory can still recite the prayers,

Oh Hallowed be thy name.

Black Irish was my background,

With thick black curls and a stubborn streak.

I wrote about my sins and how

My priest would love a peak!

But long it did not take to change,

although an Irish Gal to start.

My writings switched to poetry,

And transcendentalism took my heart.

I began to write of nature then,

And how can love be true?

I wrote of God and love and sex,

Oh how my teachers poo poo’d!

I found myself inspired then,

By my Scorpio nature and love.

The more I learned of power and sex,

The more I felt pressure from above.

It was then my writing changed to Truth,

Buddhism set me free.

I wrote of Gurus, Deities and Saints,

I became a psychic witch – So Mote It Be!

The power of words and the Truth they held,

Inspired me to Trust.

I no longer had a need for love,

Or sex or power or lust.

But somewhere deep inside myself,

The Irish Catholic stands.

She knows that she craves the touch,

Of the proverbial lustful man.

And so my writing now it seems,

Goes back to who I am.

An Irish Catholic Buddhist witch,

So help me Sam I am!

And so my canon fits my bust,

In the black lace corset I adore.

God help the priest who reads my works,

There will be much he can’t ignore!

By Lisa M Gunshore