Earth Ponies Are The Best Kissers

by Lise

Rating: teen
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Romance, Prince Blueblood
Length: 1358

Inspired by an unexpected experience, Prince Blueblood shares his knowledge on the matter.

Two great secrets govern Prince Blueblood's life: his passion for writing romantic poetry, and the mare who is the latest target of his affection.

Special thanks to Aziraphael for editing.

Published 2016-09-21 15:50:02 UTC
Last updated 2016-09-21 15:50:02 UTC

Earth Ponies Are The Best Kissers

Earth ponies are the best kissers.

Of all the creatures fine and equine, none could match

The trembling shiver of a nervous youth,

The sensual lip-embrace of lovers,

Or the bittersweet farewell of parting.

For it is only earth ponies who can use their lips to dance

With grace sublime of unspoken passion.

Surely you jest, I hear you scoff.

Lips are lips, a muzzle's a muzzle!

A unicorn and pegasus could do just as much,

If not five times better!

The sound of shattering glass breaks my concentration. Of course this would happen when I'm writing! I fight the urge to kick the inkwell at the wall. The shattering is followed by hushed voices. I can hear them whispering to one another. Isn't it enough that they steal my day with their constant chatter that they must have my night as well?

What are earth ponies, but shapely bovines

Deprived of grace, wings and magic?

Their bones are thick, their hooves reek of mud,

They use their mouths to move objects about!

How could they reach the heights of sensual refinement?

I nod, for all that is true, but I say again:

Earth ponies are the best kissers.

Not

The clopping of hooves fills the corridor, each clank drilling into my ear. There goes another muse, murdered by common stupidity! At times I really want to leave this place, go somewhere calm and quiet. What I wouldn't give for a small cabin on a peaceful meadow… A nice fantasy, yet even I’m aware that it's impossible. Poetry doesn't grow food, nor cook, nor fix leaky roofs.

"Do you have to face the same problems, my sweet?" I glance at the window. "Or are you above such trivialities?"

The thought of her rekindles my creativity. Words start dancing in my mind once more, pleading, begging to be put on paper. Dipping the quill in the inkwell I continue.

Not though will or practice, but by design,

For only thus do they give form to the emotions within.

Through subtle movements of the lips and tongue

They pave the way to godly ecstasy,

For Princess Celestia herself, goddess of the heavens,

Has these tools bestowed upon them.

Unicorns need not even touch their lips in love.

It is through magic that they embrace,

Two essences melding into one,

As time itself takes rest,

And watches them float in the endlessness of aether.

Earth ponies cannot swim that gentle sea of time,

Or taste the violet embrace of a unicorn’s love spell.

What they can do instead is kiss.

"Prince Blueblood!" A voice at the door tears me away from my writing. "Is everything all right, Your Highness? The maids mentioned they saw light coming from under your door."

I feel I could scream. Can't I at least be allowed to write in my own room without someone making a fuss? Is that a crime?

"Everything is ideal," I raise my voice just enough to show my displeasure. Already I know I'll be in the gossip column of every newspaper of Canterlot: Spoilt Prince Yells at Guard or some other unimpressive title. "Could you please ensure I'm not disturbed?"

"Yes, Your Highness!" The guard replies, then trots off with all the clanking in the world. The armour rattling makes the hairs of on coat stand on end.

I've no idea how you manage. I gaze out of the window once more. Even the noise reminds me of her. I've only been to her flat twice—two times too many. squeaky doors, snoring neighbours, foals crying day and night... How can you survive among those incessant distractions?

I grip the quill with my magic and focus on the scroll before me. I must finish my poem before dawn. At least the first draft. Gritting my teeth, I continue.

What do pegasi know of kisses?

Their wings all sensations hold.

A wing brush makes them blush like the setting sun,

A feather nibble might as well tone a night of passion.

When pegasi lock their wings in a love embrace,

Space is lost and gravity destroyed.

Raw passion through their senses shoots,

Like lightning piercing a cloud.

Earth ponies have no wings to sense the wind’s caress,

Or feel the heartbeat of their lover.

What they could do instead is kiss.

More profound than

The star-awful screeches of a cat barge in from the window, causing the sentence to flee from me. More profound… More profound… I almost grasp my thought, but another dreadful meow intervenes, sharper than a slap in the muzzle.

“More profound than my hatred of felines,” I grumble as I shut my eyes. Why didn't I learn magic? Then I could wrap myself in silence while I write. Servants, guards, cats… how could anypony concentrate!

Focus on the kiss. I shut my ears. The kiss. Its taste has begun to fade, but the memories are fresh.

More profound than unicorn magic,

More passionate than a pegasus wing-nibble,

An earth pony’s kiss puts an end to both time and space,

A single instant that lasts forever,

An endless infinity of dreams and honey

That is the true nature of an earth pony's kiss!

The subtle tightening of lips,

That slight movement of the tongue,

The softness of a lover's breath,

All combine to tell a tale intimate and pure.

Is this the whisper of your first love?

Is it your final bittersweet goodbye?

Only through an earth pony kiss could you tell.

I stop and open my ears. Silence. That’s something new, I snort. Ten whole minutes without any disturbance? As my ex-lover would say “it must be a new academy record.” The press had a field day when they learned of that affair. What would they think if they learned about this one? Spoilt Prince Gets Hooves Dirty springs to mind. Let them talk. They have no idea what they are missing.

So don't scoff as you read these words.

Don't laugh and mock, or scream or cry.

Don't argue or disprove. Don't rationalize or explain.

Engulf yourself with sensual magic, if you will,

Or pierce the clouds wrapped in your lover’s wings,

But if you truly wish to taste a worthwhile kiss,

Take note and heed the advice I give:

Forget both wings and magic deep,

Bother not with grace, or style, or thoughts refined,

Go search and find yourself an earth pony lover,

For earth ponies will always be the best kissers.

I levitate my quill away and looked at the poem. It's hardly among the best. Given a few more days I could polish it to perfection. It wouldn't be the first time. Half the ponies in Canterlot would probably have a fit if they found out I was the author of so many of the poems they guiltily blush over. With a few more touches, I could make this one shine as well…

No! I roll the scroll up. I want it to keep its rough edge, just like the kiss of the mare it was intended for. Perfection sometimes lies in imperfection—something most Canterlites would never understand. Yet I understand.

"This one is for you, my love," I whisper at the window. The moon is already halfway down. Another three hours and Auntie will raise the sun. "This one is for you, my treble clef."