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Girls Sleeping–Perchance to Dream

To be, or not to be, that is the question:
Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them. To die, to sleep—
No more—and by a sleep to say we end
The heartache, and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to. ’tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish’d. To die, to sleep—
To sleep—perchance to dream. Ay, there’s the rub!
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil…


To Sleep Perchance to Dream

By Matthew Dyne

I come upon her, sleeping be,
Immersed in dreams of revelry
Her limbs are still, her eyelids twitch
She might be beggar, queen, or witch

I look high—look low—all around
Her raiment’s nowhere to be found
I did not seek to find her thus
My blessings, are they fate or luck?

Her breasts they rise as breaths she breathes
Her form’s as pretty as you please
Of all her gifts I would partake
Yet she’s too precious, for to wake

A Package

by Matthew Dyne

The postman knocked upon my door to say,
“I have a package, 8 stone plus it weighs.”
“But,” I said, “I did not order any.”
“Insured, fragile, worth a pretty penny.”

I frowned but helped him take it off his lorry
Wondering all the while, What’s the story?
I dragged it in to see what gifts I’d reaped
And found within a small girl fast asleep

Surely you can see me in a quandary
I double checked the package, it was for me
I did not to my common sense defer
Instead, shrug, I decided I would keep her

She would not wake but seemed to be at ease
Her cuddly form unclothed it sure did tease
I put her in my bedroom for safekeeping
In case she woke while I was deeply sleeping

I startled in the night and found her near
Her warmth upon me, breath against my ear
In time she did encourage me into her
And, made love as if I always knew her

When morning came she curled up in a chair
And slept again as if she’d ever be there
I washed and cared for her in every way
And through the years she did not age a day

Many girls I’d watched while deep in slumber

Alone…

In pairs…

In groups of many numbers

And though I’d watched them when perhaps I shouldn’t
I never touched a girl who said I couldn’t

The years have come and gone and I do fear
When I’m gone what happens to my dear?
I know a man he’s young, strong, and sweet hearted
And my love and I must soon be parted

I placed her in a new box, I was grim
And sadly I prepared to sneak her to him
But just before I was to see her never
She woke and whispered, “I love you forever.”

  1. sextisfaction
    March 2, 2011 at 4:11 am

    Dear Matthew,

    Good poetry. If you have extra ‘special’ package and if your house is full, you can pass over to me, I can ‘help’ to lighten your burden.

    • March 2, 2011 at 9:15 am

      I think she has a sister. Perhaps I can find her for you.

  2. March 2, 2011 at 6:29 pm

    Matt
    This was an amazing delight to save for tonight…as usual you have not disappointed.

    First, the soliloquy, act 3 scene 1 is one of my favourites of all time…and to think how long ago this was written.
    The photos tantalising, the poetry mesmering….you have a great talent Matt.
    This has made my evening…

    And now..Must give us pause – there’s the respect
    That makes calamity of so long life.

  3. elsiewrites
    April 9, 2011 at 12:24 pm

    Very beautiful.

    • April 9, 2011 at 2:25 pm

      Thank you Elsie. From a writer as good as you it’s a great complement.

  4. Troll
    May 19, 2011 at 1:12 pm

    Dear Matt,

    I see you were trying to portray how girls sleep, perchance to dream. Though this is not your best, I really like how the light hits the buttocks in the fourth photo.

    Did you take these yourself? How old are you?
    Because you seem like a pedo.

    A big one.

    Keep up the good work,
    Troll

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