Post A Poem

Post a poem, the weirder the better.

Here is one of mine.

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THE BOAT RIDE

I can still hear an echo from the breaking windows
the glass being turned back to dust

There is burning oil on the water

Drifting in a lifeboat with no oars
trying to remember some irish drinking song
I heard on my grandfathers old cathode tube radio

A lingering shadow from the smoke hovers overhead

In the dim light a young woman in the boat
wearing a flannel corset
offers me a stick of gum which I politely decline

The seagulls are becoming annoying now

Perhaps tomorrow we can learn each others names

Whoso List to Hunt

Whoso list to hunt, I know where is an hind,
But as for me, helas! I may no more.
The vain travail hath worried me so sore,
I am of them that furthest come behind.

Yet may I by no means, my worried mind
Draw from the deer; but as she fleeth afore
Fainting I follow. I leave off therefore,
Since in a net I seek to hold the wind.

Who list her hunt, I put him out of doubt,
As well as I, may spend his time in vain;
And graven in diamonds in letters plain
There is written, her fair neck round about,

"Noli me tangere, for Caesar's I am,
And wild to hold, though I seem tame."

by Sir Thomas Wyatt

she fuck me like a slut but she look like a angel,
princess, mine
want her on her knees and her back,
want her in the check out line at the grocery store,
buying tickets with me at the zoo,
holding my hand at her friend's birthday party
she tells me it's cold, to get under the blankets with her,
bad and good
smart girl,
tugging at my dick underneath the covers

Eyes lost in a crystal sky morning
Locks of a golden sunset falling
Skin the shade of Dresden porcelain
Lips like roses to me are calling

My Sweet Michelle Awaits

I've posted this before. She is still in my girl school.

I fetched a girl from jail today
She'd been put away for years
Every word she spoke to me
Made me hold back my tears

I knew a dancer once ago
A postlude to a dream
Her cousin caught my attention too
Her life then was free

We shared some looks, we shared some numbers
We searched for common arrows
She swallowed bloody steaks, I ate some more
And continued on my travels

The hills of Texas are far and wide
The trees are strong and green
But every time I visited her
There was grass at my knees

She isn't fair, she isn't pretty
She's never cooked, she isn't schooled
But what she has is hers alone
She's founded in the earth

Our lives are far as far can be
We live in different worlds
She can't imagine mine
I can't live in hers

She says she needs me, wants my touch
My bed is already given
But I dare not extinguish
A promonition of heaven

The quartet opens, the clouds part
The first firm theme expounds
The certainty ends, the response starts
The dance goes round and round

A fool is one who is easily swayed
And doesn't know the leader
But I have chosen to name the wind
Encourage her and feed her.

She'll be with me tomorrow night
I've turned away my lovers
She's used to cold hard beds
I'll warm her with my covers

We choose a path, we go along blind
We live for the morrow
Some time later we discover
Who gives us most sorrow

You can dance a waltz, you can dance a quadrille
You can make your life or you can follow
She's my lady and I'll make her mine
And set my plough to furrow.

THE FIRE

Barley out of time the old wall clock
clicks off one more chime

The drooping willow tree in the yard
was the last to burn, ever so patiently
it waited it's turn

In the burned out field some young patitos
are wondering around looking for their mother

The ashes from the clock, some rubble, melted plaster

Pride, conceit, corruption, care, contention,
crying, laughter

Without

The fire came in silence and found what she was after

Epicurean, she was without a master

NOT weird in the least! I wrote this in 1990, maybe 1991, was taking a creative writing class. The poem was a tribute to a lost love who stole my heart and soul and later on crushed both. I still think of her even though our affair dates back 28 years - 1986!

Spring

It’s spring – Time for the mare
To paw the earth and lean
Into the wind, virgin and bare.

Spring can often be mean.
It can spur the fox to down the hare –
Yet germinate the bean.
…and cause a young man to stare

It’s spring! Time for fancies to swing.
Time for the blossom to set the peach.
Cause for the finch to sing.

Time for the old man to teach
That life, like the bee, can often sting
And dreams, like fancies, are often out of reach…
It’s Spring…

For those of you politicos who can recall back in the 80s when George H.W. Bush tapped an unknown from Indiana, Dan Qualye, to be VP! Quayle developed a reputation for being not too cerebral when he once toured an elementary classroom (surrounded be media, of course) and Dan, grabbed a piece of chalk and wrote the word 'Tomatos' on the board. He immediately was corrected by a third grader who told him that the word was thusly spelled 'Tomatoes.' Anyway, that one occasion was enough for Dan's enemies on the left and a whole range of comedians from Johnny Carson to the SNL cast, circa 1988-92. Dan was also the inspiration for this jocular poem of mine that I concocted around 1990!

Poor Dan Quayle

Consider the plight of poor Dan Quayle
His critics all think he’s mentally frail

Politically speaking he was a nowhere man
He rarely got to visit any foreign land

George Bush knew
Just what to do

To Central America
Is where I’ll send you

I’d go myself
But there’s too much rain

Further, it would upset
My vacation in Maine

So happy was he
To break out of his coma

That poor Dan Quayle
Touched down in Oklahoma!

"Breaking the silence
Of an ancient pond,
A frog jumped into water —
A deep resonance."

-Matsuo Basho , "Frog Haiku", translated from Japanese

The World's Shortest Poem

entitled...

FLEAS
Adam
had 'em!

Had this in one of the Austin forums......


The Holiday Fantasy of a Hobbyist!

By “Loxly”

T''was a night before Christmas, unlike any before.
(For the last 10 years they’ve been quite a bore.)

The party I’d left had really gone dead.
So back to my hotel, and the mint on my bed.

I emptied the Bourbon, killed off the Gin,
And figured it was time to just settle in.

The gift Santa Sock, now empty and bare,
Lay draped on the sofa, next to the chair.

I was soon dozing off in the glare of TV,
Not noting the stocking, or the activity.

In my half-sleep I stirred then heard a faint sigh
And turning my head I opened one eye.

I glanced at my stocking, and there seemed to appear
A great pair of legs and a perfect round rear.

She had a red see-through top with white furry trim
Red stockings, garters and a thong… (Very thin!)

Adjusting her hat she spoke with a grin,
“Hope you’re not disappointed, by me dropping in.

That gag note you gave to the guy at the mall?,
WAS the real Santa. Not a fake, not at all!

But there’s no blow-up dolls, they’re all out of stock.
So Santa put ME in your big Christmas Sock.

And we’ve only an hour for some holiday fun.
That’s all there is, then I’ve got to run.

So let’s get going, I came her to please!”
And with that moved forward, and then fell to her knees.

She spoke no more words but went straight to her work.
My briefs coming down with a quick well-training jerk.

The length of my shaft she grazed light with her teeth,
Then surrounded the head with her lips, like a wreath.

As the ball on her tongue made lap after lap,
I knew in a moment that I’d soon blow my sap.

So backing away I fell into the chair
To rest and review this gift standing there.

From her twinkling eyes and luscious red lips,
My eyes wandered down to her breasts and pink nips.

Though veiled in sheer red they were not hard to see.
All firm, erect and just waiting for me.

She took off her garters and undid her top.
Stopping just for a moment to watch my jaw drop.

“You’d better get going ‘cause this night isn’t through”,
Then fingering her thong said, “You know what to do!”

From the rug on the floor and against every wall,
Cowgirl and Doggie, Yeah. We did it all!

Exhausted and drained I flopped back on the bed
The events of this night spinning ‘round in my head.

She picked up her garters and put on her top.
If I wasn’t half-dead I’d have asked her to stop.

But with a pat on my cheek and a kiss on my ear,
She started to fade and to then disappear.

I guess in the end I did get my wish.
Most times I have trouble just getting past “MISH”.

But everything “clicked” and seemed just so right.
With this very special, “Hobby” Christmas night!

Images of passion

Images of you fly through my head. I Get all hot and bothered. As my hands ease their way to my breast.
I Imagine your breath on my neck finding it's way down to my chest. As I feel my heart begin to beat faster.
I close my eyes as I ease my hands lower I feel your soft lips working their way down to my belly. I feel my chest rise and breaths get deeper
Your lips on my "lips" :-). Mmmm here comes the kiss... My legs start to shake with the thought of your manhood. As I imagine the motion the sensation of your passion...
As the heat starts to rise. I feel it here it comes an explosion of satisfaction. From the love making images of my imagination.

I was drivin' to the party
gonna have some fun
but the Police stopped me and found my gun
they said "boy this gonna land you in the County Jail
But fist me an my partna gonna whip your tail"

NADINE

She was a shore nuff ruff cut little diamond
dirt prairie slut
with a big ole wad of rusty barbed wire
where her heart ought to be

Too long in these wide open spaces
and too short in feminine social graces
not exactly what proper ladies would aspire to yu see

But boy she could hoot and holler and she would
ride any bronk if you would bet her a dollar
and she carried around jim beam in an old
army surplus canteen

And when there was gonna be trouble
and too often there was trouble
why one time I got an eight inch jack knife
stuck right through my spleen

But when there was gonna be trouble
and I mean a shore nuff rumble

The one I wanted standing there beside me was
(you guessed er) Nadine


Dedicated to a little tom boy rodeo girl I used to know,
cute as a bug and tough as any guy.

NADINE

She was a shore nuff ruff cut little diamond
dirt prairie slut
with a big ole wad of rusty barbed wire
where her heart ought to be

Too long in these wide open spaces
and too short in feminine social graces
not exactly what proper ladies would aspire to yu see

But boy she could hoot and holler and she would
ride any bronk if you would bet her a dollar
and she carried around jim beam in an old
army surplus canteen

And when there was gonna be trouble
and too often there was trouble
why one time I got an eight inch jack knife
stuck right through my spleen

But when there was gonna be trouble
and I mean a shore nuff rumble

The one I wanted standing there beside me was
(you guessed er) Nadine


Dedicated to a little tom boy rodeo girl I used to know,
cute as a bug and tough as any guy. Originally Posted by bojulay

OK

btw ... this is not the first time ... UNITE TO STEEL ... DUGGING, AND POISONING THEN MILTARY EQUIPMENT ... THE SUPER LEECHER AT WORK... did i mention SELECTIVE INTEL