Posts Tagged ‘shibari’

“Metamorphosis IV

April 6, 2017

 Image result for fruit bats

 “Mine, mine, mine”.

For those not following (and you are legion…) this is part of a series of basically 200 word episodes.  There are 8 in all.  I’ve never published these, nor have I posted them on this blog.  As far as I can remember and that is getting harder. The earlier episodes are on this blog if you scroll backwards.

Dversepoets is having an open link night (OLN) where you can post a piece of your choice.  I am posting this because it is funny and we need comedy desperately in the world.  Y’all too glum out there.

Lady Nyo

Laura twisted in the wind. Well, rotated in the air conditioning. Bart had a new kick, called ‘Shibari’. An ancient Japanese practice of wrapping things. Precisely. With hidden knots. She should have thought twice when he insisted she strip.

Arms wrapped behind her back, more cloth holding her legs together, she sighed. She didn’t mind hanging upside down, was even getting used to the headaches.

Bart, however, was having a bit of his own transformation, and Laura didn’t know if she liked this one bit. He was becoming ‘weirder’, taking up hobbies. Piercing was one, this shibari another. Laura was seeing Bart in a different light, helped along with her new, nighttime vision.

*Goddamn Japanese! Why can’t they stick to wrapping small packages?*

Bart told her ‘shibari’ was the ancient art of “wrapping the heart.” She bought it, didn’t even mind the bananas, mangos and kiwi he stuck between the bindings. He was, after all, a common fruit bat.

Up on the roof, Bart had other plans. From under his wings, he drew out a new black, leather- riding crop. He slapped it on his palm, laughing with glee.

Laura was about to obey.

Jane Kohut-Bartels

Copyrighted, 2010-2017

“The Punishment”, a haibun for d’verse.

October 3, 2016

My beautiful picture

Peach blossoms in the back yard. Spring

 

While binding me for his pleasure, I uttered displeasing words. With a level glance he considered options and too soon decided my fate. Grabbing my hair, he pulled me to my feet, opened the shoji, and forced me out into an early spring’s snow. A lavender sky tinted the snow purple, gray in the shadows. Ordering me to kneel, I obeyed, shivering in the cold morn. Drawing an early cherry blossom from his sleeve (a gift that was to be mine), he threw it down. It was his pleasure for me to feel the sharpness of the morning until the soft snow covered the blossom. I, who a month ago would not have cared what I said, now trembled with remorse, feeling more than cold air. My nakedness revealed my shame. A crow in the cherry tree laughed scornfully.

When sentiment grows deep and the heart overflows, one submits out of love.

The snow soon covered the blossom at my knees. Fearing I would die, he picked me up, carried me to the brazier and tucked me deep amongst his robes, singing softly of the foolish maiden who would die for the last word.

A swirl of blossoms

Caught in the water’s current

Begins the season.

 

Jane Kohut-Bartels

Copyrighted, 2016

 

An email from Jingle Nozelar Yan (JP at Olive Grove ):

“when you post on word press or blogger, you do not have to pay or ask permission in person. which is what we count for.”

Every poet and poet group I frequent would find that surprising!  There are Copyright Laws in the US,  Jingle. Even in China. But bless your little  heart.

Please  don’t read my work on her site. If you care about literature, you will go to the original source and bypass Jingle Bells.

 

Jane

“Metamorphosis VI”

May 31, 2012

 

Continuing the series…..

When Laura fell off the roof she smashed her ankle.  It took all of Bart’s Shibari bindings to stabilize her limb.  Now Laura was making Bart wait on her, wing and foot.  He wasn’t too happy with the ‘fetch’ thing but was puzzled why Laura’s wings hadn’t worked.

“Bart,” Laura whined, “The ice melted in my drink.  Make me a fresh one, darlin’.”

Bart came from the kitchen, an apron tied around his middle.  He was pissed being a house-bat but what could he do? A dominant fruit bat, this apron went against his nature.  But the dishes had to be done, guano shoveled.

Inactivity made Laura horny.  She eyed Bart and flapped her pinkish wings alluringly.  Bart’s eyes gleamed as he climbed between them.  He began to nuzzle her belly, but lost his head.  Laura  had used a new perfume, “Peaches and Cream”.

“Bart! I’m not a cantaloupe. Your teeth are sharp!” 

“Sorry, Laura.  I’m just following my nature.”

Of all kinds of bats in the world, I get a fruit bat, thought Laura.  Life is unfair.

But he did look cute in that frilled apron.  The big bow on his butt suited him.

Nature be damned.

Jane Kohut-Bartels

Copyrighted, 2009, 2012

“Metamorphosis IV”

May 22, 2012

 (thanks to cheezburger.com for the photo)

These pieces are called ‘flashers’.  They are short scenes or stories of 200 words.  They aren’t easy to write, but they are instructive.  They exact a certain amount of discipline, as in learning not to love all your words.

Lady Nyo

Laura twisted in the wind. Well, rotated in the air conditioning.  Bart had a new kick, called ‘Shibari’.  An ancient Japanese practice of wrapping things.  Precisely.  With hidden knots. She should have thought twice when he insisted she strip.

Arms wrapped behind her back, more rope holding her legs together, she sighed.  She didn’t mind hanging upside down, was even getting used to the headaches.

Bart, however, was having a bit of his own transformation, and Laura didn’t know if she liked this one bit.  He was becoming ‘weirder’, taking up hobbies. Piercing was one, this shibari another.  Laura was seeing Bart in a different light, helped along with her new, nighttime vision.

*Goddamn Japanese!  Why can’t they stick to wrapping small packages?*  

Bart told her ‘shibari’ was the ancient art of “wrapping the heart.”  She bought it, didn’t even mind the bananas, mangos and kiwi he stuck between the bindings.  He was, after all, a common fruit bat.

Up on the roof, Bart had other plans. From under his wings, he drew out a new black, leather- riding crop. He slapped it on his palm, laughing with glee.

Laura was about to obey.

Jane Kohut-Bartels

Copyrighted, 2008, 2012

“The Punishment”, for OneShotPoetry

January 25, 2011

http://microstoryaweek.blogspot.com/.

STEVE ISAAK HAS VARIOUS WRITERS:  GARY RUSSELL, NICK NICHOLSON, STEVE AND MYSELF SUBMITTING SHORT 500 WORD STORIES…OR COLLECTIONS OF THESE.

MY “METAMORPHOSIS’  FLASHER SERIES IS BEING RUN BY STEVE ON MICROSTORYAWEEK.

THE WRITERS ARE EXCELLENT AND THE READING IS GOOD!

LADY NYO 


Four years ago I discovered shibari.  In Japan, it means the tying of something, usually packages, but an earlier meaning is “the tying of the heart’.  It has a long history in Japan and was used to secure prisoners.  In the West, it refers to the practice of rope bondage, and the word shibari has become common for this practice.

Shibari is a powerful practice.  It can be abused and misused.  In my experience I came to understand that shibari was a many-layered issue.  I have written about Shibari, in “The Shibari Series” in my first book, “A Seasoning of Lust”, and also numerous essays on my blog.  Some can be found with a Google search on Shibari.


“The Punishment” was a poem written from that time.

Different  opinions abound on rope bondage.  There is the issue of control and power, but this entry is not the place to discuss that topic.  I have had different experiences with shibari, but one thing I do believe:  the intent or the expectations of either the binder or the person bound are trumped by what I call “the power of the ropes”.  To the Japanese, in the religion of Shinto, everything has a spirit.  It is called Kami.

From a writing on Shinto religion:

“Kami  is the sacred or mystical element in almost anything. It is in everything and is found everywhere, and is what makes an object itself rather than something else. The word means that which is hidden.

Kami have a specific life-giving, harmonizing power, called musubi, and a truthful will, called makoto (also translated as sincerity).”

I don’t believe in much mystical stuff, but I do believe in kami, especially as it pertains to the practice of shibari.

I have experienced them.

Lady Nyo

THE PUNISHMENT  (Shibari Series)

While binding me for his pleasure

I uttered displeasing words,

And with a level glance

He considered his options.

Too soon he knew

What punishment to apply!

Grabbing my hair

Twisting it in his hand

He pulled me to my feet

And opening the shoji

Pulled me out into

The spring’s snowy morn.

Telling me to kneel,

This time I obeyed,

shivering in fear.

Drawing an early cherry blossom from his sleeve

(a gift that was to be mine)

He threw it in the snow.

It was his pleasure for me to feel

The sharpness of morning

Until the soft snow had covered the blossom.

I, who a month ago would have not cared

What I said,

Now trembled with humiliation

Feeling more than the cold air.

When sentiment grows deep and the heart is overflowing

One submits and becomes a slave to love.

I knelt in the snow,

my nakedness and tears

Showing my shame to the courtyard.

A crow in the cherry tree

Laughed without mercy.

Fearing I would die

The blossom now covered with snow,

He came and

Picked me up in his arms-

Carried me to the warm brazier,

Tucked me deep amongst his robes

And sang a soft song of the foolish maiden

Who would die for the last word.

Jane Kohut-Bartels

Copyrighted, 2008, 2011

Some Humour for a change…

April 19, 2009

We’ve been good. We’ve been serious. (“Too Heavy! Too Serious! Lighten Up!” my friends are saying…)

So I will.  The “Metamorphosis Series” is funny, (think Gorean Fruit Bat and a  woman transforming into a bat…) but the first one in the series sets the stage for murder most foul…and the comedy doesn’t get rolling until the third.  But they are written only in flasher form (200 words) so I will post the first three  and then later continue on with the series (8 total..so far)

And Noah  said:  “Let there be Shibari amongst the fruit bats….”

(and there was with lots of complaining and way tooo many knots)

The “Metamorphosis Series” will be in the “A Seasoning of Lust” Volume II released sometime this late summer, around mid August.

Lady Nyo, with less than half a brain today….

METAMORPHOSIS  #1

Standing at the window, Laura was lost in thought. The crispness of autumn purified the air at dusk.  The moon rose and the sky was still light.  It was that peculiar time of evening when both sun and moon balanced the sky.

Swifts and swallows flitted over chimneys and rooftops, wheeling like tiny black crescents against the sky.  As the moon rose, the swifts were replaced with bats speeding like rockets in front of the window.  She could hear the sound of their twittering as they flew by, sharing the day’s gossip.

“Laura!”  Her husband’s voice, harsh.

“I’m coming” she called back.

Peering out the window her pupils opened wide. She saw strange things. Veins in the leaves, mounds of disturbed soil from moles far below. The moon so close! The night beckoned to her and she felt like flying.

She wondered about herself.  Under her gown she felt thin membranes grow beneath her arms. Transparent tissue joined with two small hooks on her elbows.  Her breasts shrunk to nothing, only large nipples remaining. Her sex seemed to shift backwards, her vulva misplaced.

“I’m coming along nicely,” she whispered.

METAMORPHOSIS II

“Laura, come to bed!  What are you doing out there?”

Laura was doing nothing.  Just drinking tea and looking out the window, humming to herself.

She had lost weight, grown taciturn, seemed sexless.  Harold, confused, was getting on her last nerve.

Laura entered the bedroom. Harold, bald and boring, glared at her.

“What is wrong with you? Didn’t you hear me?”

*Oh yes, thought Laura.  Thirty years of marriage doesn’t stop up your ears, just your mouth. And your heart.*

Laura opened the closet to hang up her robe.  Inside, on a hanger, was a giant bat, its dull black wings wrapped tightly, hanging upside down.  Laura shoved it aside, looking for a hanger for her robe.  She got into bed and turned off the light.

The police looked at the carnage on the bed.  Blood everywhere, a real massacre. Something was wrong, damned if they could figure it out.  The wife, mute, had to be in shock. Weird batty woman.

Laura, her gown bloody, drinking tea, looked out the window.  Under the tree was a big dark man, standing with his arms wrapped around his chest. He looked up and nodded.

Laura smiled and winked.

METAMORPHOSIS III

Having become a widow, Laura’s life took on different dimensions.  The house now on the market, she decided to travel.  She thought of spelunking, exploring caves, climbing mountains.

Poring over brochures, she heard a scratching sound. Unlatching the second story window, in fluttered Bart Batkowski..

“I wish you would use the door like a normal person.  You will draw attention this way.”

“Laura, do you forget what I am? Besides a co-conspirator in murder?”

Laura signed. Harold was dead, gone, Bart now sharing her bed.  But it wasn’t the bed where the action happened.  It was the damn closet and sex was gymnastic at best.  Though Laura had known a transformation, it wasn’t complete.  The angle of penetration was off. Bart would insist on hanging from his heels, and all attempts at necking gave Laura a stiff one; neck, that is.

Since Bart said his DNA required the closet hang, they compromised with a vertical 69 position.  Bart would embrace her with his wings wrapped tightly around them, and Laura would get comfortable with her pubis level at Bart’s nose.

It was a strange mating, but when Bart snored it sent Laura to heaven.

Jane Kohut-Bartels
Copyrighted, 2008, 2009

Ok, I was remiss….the Podcasts are poems from “A Seasoning of Lust”.

February 7, 2009

I FORGOT to mention THAT little issue.  And friends were fast to mention it to me.

This podcasting is a LOT of fun.  You get to exercise your voice, inflections, etc…..something I should have a better handle on because I was an opera student at one time…a long time ago.  But one does forget these things, and it takes others listening to bring it to mind.  There are many tools you can use to make your audio work better, more pleasing to the ear.

We have uploaded more poetry for the podcast, and again, thank you, RG for the push here.

http://lado-nyos-weblog.podomatic.com/

Lady Nyo

METAMORPHOSIS IV

Laura twisted in the wind. Well, rotated in the air conditioning.  Bart had a new kick, called ‘Shibari’.  An ancient Japanese practice of wrapping things.  Precisely.  With hidden knots. She should have thought twice when he insisted she strip.

Arms wrapped behind her back, more cloth holding her legs together, she sighed.  She didn’t mind hanging upside down, was even getting used to the headaches.

Bart, however, was having a bit of his own transformation, and Laura didn’t know if she liked this one bit.  He was becoming ‘weirder’, taking up hobbies. Piercing was one, this shibari another.  Laura was seeing Bart in a different light, helped along with her new, nighttime vision.

*Goddamn Japanese!  Why can’t they stick to wrapping small packages?*

Bart told her ‘shibari’ was the ancient art of “wrapping the heart.”  She bought it, didn’t even mind the bananas, mangos and kiwi he stuck between the bindings.  He was, after all, a common fruit bat.

Up on the roof, Bart had other plans. From under his wings, he drew out a new black, leather- riding crop. He slapped it on his palm, laughing with glee.

Laura was about to obey him.

Jane Kohut-Bartels
Copyrighted, 2008, 2009

from the “Shibari Series”

January 31, 2009

I don’t know.  Perhaps I am just too tired to evaluate this whole issue of the binding, etc. right now.  I do know that my thought processes have been interrupted, my attention span disrupted with the news (unexpected) last night of the status of “Seasoning”.

I’ve heard from a lot of people about the poem “Shibari”.  Some are practicing shibari experts, some are not, just curious about the subspace issue, others more interested in the power exchange.

Right now I am shifting through the emails, and later will come up with an entry, trying to cobble the different opinions and points of view on this event.

So, I will do what I usually do when I am full of doubt and confusion.  I will post a piece of work and avoid ( in this case) or probably complicate the questions.

Lady Nyo….and thanks to the usual suspects…

FROM THE SHIBARI SERIES….#1 included in “A Seasoning of Lust”.

Japanese hemp coiled about the torso, creating diamonds where there was once only skin, looping back upon itself, over and over. Breasts now defined by a rope cut-out bra, while waist, love handles, now enclosed in more diamonds, thighs entwined.  Added turns and thin jute split my cleft with a hard caress, the large knot on the bottom shifting upward. It would tease in mid air.

Dance comes from the earth, through the feet, up and out, giving shape to song. This time I would dance in flight, the pull of ropes challenging gravity, compounding my efforts.

Movements liquid and extreme startled me, the kikkou and hemp anchored me in space, my first taste of freedom in the ropes.  Suddenly I felt the sting of a whip and I jerked out of time to the beat. I fell deeper into the dance, determined to continue.  Again the whip’s sting and I faced a split reality: pain or pleasure. I went inward, deep into the music and rhythm, where movement was birthed and pain banished.

I flew, hollow bird bones filled with joy.  Cradled within the ropes I spiraled up from heavy earth.

Jane Kohut-Bartels
Copyrighted, 2008, 2009

“Shibari”

January 29, 2009

SHIBARI

I kneel on the tatami
fighting my fear
mouth dry, hands moist
and see him slowly
rip long strips of
linen for bondage,
a step towards the
darkness within.

Strong hands tear
tightly woven cloth
threads loosen and trail
my thoughts do the same,
Floating in nothingness.
His face expressionless
a mask of solitude
his eyes dark with purpose
assessing my readiness
preparing a ritual
that beckons freedom.

With the rent of
resistant linen,
my body echoes
this seductive sound
from the bottom of my throat
to my sex
I vibrate with sharp need
while watching his hands
both tender and cruel
ligaments strain
warming to the coming weave.

It is what I crave
to give myself over
no decision mine now
he the complete instrument
of my dark liberation.

Jane Kohut-Bartels
Copyrighted, 2009

“THE PUNISHMENT”

October 1, 2008

Late last year, I started a series of flashers (200 word stories) about shibari. I first heard this word from a Canadian writer, who also practiced this form of bondage. I had never heard of shibari until he explained this rather unique Japanese form.

Shibari literally means to ‘tie a package’ (actually some where I read it meant more: ‘to tie the heart’) in Japan…and the Japanese are known to delight in the looks of a gift as much as what the gift is.

So, from that first word, shibari, I created the Shibari Series. It will be published in “A Seasoning of Lust”…all 15 parts of it.

THE PUNISHMENT

While binding me for his pleasure, I uttered displeasing words. With a level glance he considered options and too soon decided my punishment.

Grabbing my hair, he pulled me to my feet and opening the shoji screen, forced me into an early spring snowy morn.

Ordering me to kneel, I obeyed, shivering in fear. Drawing an early cherry blossom from his sleeve (a gift that was to be mine), he threw it at my feet.

It was his pleasure for me to feel the sharpness of the morning until the soft snow covered the flower.

I, who a month ago would not have cared what I said, now trembled with remorse, feeling more than cold air. I knelt in the snow, my bound arms and nakedness revealing my shame. A crow in the cherry tree laughed scornfully.

When humility appears and the heart overflows, one submits and becomes a slave.

The snow soon covered the blossom at my knees.

He picked me up in his arms, carried me to the brazier, tucking me deep amongst his robes, singing softly of the foolish maiden who would die for the last word.

Jane Kohut-Bartels
Copyrighted, 2008


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