The Cuckold's Lament

Sonnet 57(William Shakespeare)
Being your slave, what should
I do but tend
Upon the hours and times of your desire?
I have no precious time at all
To tend
Nor servives to do 'till you require
....
So true a fool is love
That in your will(ie choice of action)
Though you do any thing, he thinks no ill
This is how I feel when thinking of being cuckolded. It gives me both pain and joy. Go figure. Will knew.

Is there any quote or poetry or literature that makes anyone think of the provider or hobbyist life ?

It all boils down to a "FUCK YOU" to someone who wouldn't put out. Not directly related to the hobby but applicable.

The part in RED is my favorite: you didn't give up your virginity and self to me then the worms will take it in the grave....Frikkin Dark Shit!

To His Coy Mistress
by Andrew Marvell
Had we but world enough, and time,
This coyness, Lady, were no crime.
We would sit down and think which way
To walk and pass our long love's day.
Thou by the Indian Ganges' side
Shouldst rubies find: I by the tide
Of Humber would complain. I would
Love you ten years before the Flood,
And you should, if you please, refuse
Till the conversion of the Jews.
My vegetable love should grow
Vaster than empires, and more slow;
An hundred years should go to praise
Thine eyes and on thy forehead gaze;
Two hundred to adore each breast;
But thirty thousand to the rest;
An age at least to every part,
And the last age should show your heart;
For, Lady, you deserve this state,
Nor would I love at lower rate.
But at my back I always hear
Time's wingèd chariot hurrying near;
And yonder all before us lie
Deserts of vast eternity.
Thy beauty shall no more be found,
Nor, in thy marble vault, shall sound
My echoing song: then worms shall try
That long preserved virginity,
And your quaint honour turn to dust,
And into ashes all my lust:
The grave's a fine and private place,
But none, I think, do there embrace.
Now therefore, while the youthful hue
Sits on thy skin like morning dew,
And while thy willing soul transpires
At every pore with instant fires,
Now let us sport us while we may,
And now, like amorous birds of prey,
Rather at once our time devour
Than languish in his slow-chapt power.
Let us roll all our strength and all
Our sweetness up into one ball,
And tear our pleasures with rough strife
Thorough the iron gates of life:
Thus, though we cannot make our sun
Stand still, yet we will make him run.

Always liked this poem, especially how he builds his case like a good lawyer before a jury.

As I age, I find that I become more attached to providers. But, as the Buddha explained, attachment creates unhappiness. Hobbyist and provider is a professional relationship. I find comfort in W.H. Auden:"if equal affection cannot be/let the more loving one be me."

"To His Coy Mistress" is a wonderful poem. I'd quibble a bit with TexTongue on it being a "Fuck You," but it's power to speak to universal emotions and timeless arguments is undoubted.

My favorite lines are:

But at my back I always hear
Time's winged chariot hurrying near;
And yonder all before us lie
Deserts of vast eternity.

To quote the great philosopher Homer:
Can you repeat the part of the stuff where you said all about the things?

Nice poem

Now that I think about it, one of Homer's Odes(1:11) is the best poem for a hobbyist. He is speaking to a woman. In part:"be wise, be truthful, strain the wine,and prune back your long hopes/to today./While we speak,envious time will have already fled/pluck the day, trusting as little as possible in the next." Pluck the day is a more accurate translation than seize the day. The word pluck was a metaphor for enjoying sex. Yes, Homer was talking about getting laid as often as possible.

This is a great read. Thanks for posting.

Now that I think about it, one of Homer's Odes(1:11) is the best poem for a hobbyist. He is speaking to a woman. In part:"be wise, be truthful, strain the wine,and prune back your long hopes/to today./While we speak,envious time will have already fled/pluck the day, trusting as little as possible in the next." Pluck the day is a more accurate translation than seize the day. The word pluck was a metaphor for enjoying sex. Yes, Homer was talking about getting laid as often as possible. Originally Posted by outoftheblue

Homer was a sex-aholic!

Thanks BSB. The whole area of love and poetry and the erotic is of interest to me. Although the context of Lullaby by Auden bothers me, the start is wonderous:"Lay your head/my love/human on my faithless arm/time and fever burn away individual beauty from thoughtful children/and the grave proves the child emphmeral/but in my arms till break of day let the living creature lie/mortal, guilty but to me the entirely beautiful."