You were beautiful,
my tiny child,
wrapped tightly in my arms,
close to my heart.
I listened to you breathing.
I counted your fingers
and your toes.
you cried out to me
and I loved you
with every ounce of my soul.
Will you hear me
when I cry out?
Will you hold me close
as I held you then?
I remember the day
You took your first step.
There was no stopping you.
Your feet gave you freedom
to explore the world
like never before
but danger lurked.
I opened those doors anyway,
you to the world.
Where will you be
when my legs
no longer run?
no longer work?
Will you realize
that I love
about that day
you first tied your shoe.
We tried and tried
to get that rabbit
in that hole
and you finally did it.
You pointed your toes
for everyone to see
how proud you were.
I am proud too,
of my writing
and my drawing,
of my needlework
and my cooking.
But my hands are beginning to ache
and my fingers will not bend.
I will lose the things
that make me proud
except for you.
Hopefully not you.
Will you let me
brag on you?
Even tell wild stories
that are a bit beyond the truth?
Will you be proud of me too?
I waved good-bye
that morning when you left
on that large, yellow bus.
I was so scared.
I know you were too.
You waved at me bravely
through the dusty window
but I saw the water
forming in your eyes.
You came home, however,
full of pride and joy.
You sang the alphabet song
and got most of it right.
You practiced for hours
until you could sing it
even in your sleep.
whether I took
my pills today or not.
if I told this story before.
I even forgot once
who you were
and it terrified me.
is my treasure
the only thing I have left,
and I heard you make
fun of me
for not remembering
that I gave you the
same gift as last year.
Will you love me
when I no longer
know who I am?
You came home blushing
from the glow of
your first kiss.
Your first love,
the one you thought was real.
You talked about him non-stop.
You changed for him. You gave.
But he left you anyway
for a blue-eyed girl
and I held you
while you cried for him.
I too have a
The love of my life
left me after
He left me here
to live life on my own
while he moved on
to another realm
And I cry for him too.
I long for his shoulder
and strong embrace.
I feel betrayed
because he and I
made a deal
that we would never
leave the other alone.
Yet I am alone
sitting in an echoing house
with no hands to hold.
You welcomed her home today-
your tiny baby girl.
She has your eyes
and possibly your toes.
I see you counting them
as they roll me
into the room.
You finally came
It has been a while.
You look up at me
with tears in your eyes
"Will she tie my
when I get old? "
I tried to walk a mile in her shoes,
fit my toes harder to feel her pride.
I wasn't ready for what I've found.
A wounded soul, a bleeding heart.
I tried to walk gorgeously in her shoes.
And feel ashamed to witness those bruises.
She concealed underneath her clothes,
A misery of being abused and used.
Along the road she speaks softly,
Then her tears started to fall.
A courage she used to grasp,
to tell a story never been told.
At the end of our journey I came to know,
this pair of shoes I tried to own,
was broken once in empty room.
No hands to care, no one gives hope.
I gave my best to polish once more,
give it a glance like 'twas before.
Although it's hard and takes some time.
Soon each piece will be formed.
Now, I see an image of a woman.
Standing glamorously in her shoes.
With pride and honor she firmly holds,
A new beginning, miles to walk.
By Nate Spears
Published 2013 In Death Of A Rose by Nate Spears
Rescue this sunflower
It's capable of being a ray of light
Nurture it, value it, and love it
Its petals are more delicate than they appear in sight
A wild flower it is; but it displays beauty
The facts of its species remain unknown
Its fight to reach its true potential is admired
It’ birth to existence is undetermined
It’s roots shows trauma
Its presentation brings hesitates to potential caregivers
No one's prepared to take a chance
This flower is destined to win
All earthly roots sprout from above
At some point in a life’s span; we could use a kiss or hug
He who refuses to display any element of the wild
Is merely real
An artificial representation of life
Stuck in Styrofoam surrounded by fake moss and dust
No breath, no soul, non-existence
A human being choked from an outer dimension.
Rescue this wild flower with love.
Lucy and Matilda were on the job at the burger joint.
Bad boy Buzz Muldoon rushed in brandishing a gun.
Matilda kicked the would-be robber square in his junk.
Lucy bashed his head in with a badass ball-peen hammer.
The two hard working ladies continued cleaning up the joint.
They chunked Muldoon in the dumpster with the rest of the trash.
Lucy and Matilda opened the establishment without missing a beat.
It was just another typical day right here in the big bad city.
To be successful entrepreneurs in this old turbulent world,
you have to grow a pair of big brass gnarly ones, be you male or female.
A Woman’s Worth
By Nate Spears
Her purpose in this world is hurting
She’s never been a designed of perfect
But she is a mom, so she’s super
Then roll up her sleeves ; and
Take care of the kids; and
Making it a home
For a beautiful family to roam
Building wonderful memories
Becoming a woman of worth
Keeping her faith through Christ
Keeping her pace through health
Keeping her sanity through managing
This is a woman’s worth
I’m giving you
Despite of all the stress
She receives her family with open arms
Through all the mess
She’s a fantastic mom
A wonderful woman
Deserving a round of applause
Plus a standing ovation
For always being an American sensation
That held this continent down since day one
Since the Plymouth Rock landed on us
Thank you for her giving
Thank you for her living
Thank you for her children
This is ,
A woman’s worth.
If she makes the mistake
Of loving him, he will make her
Suffer terribly for her utter lack of taste
And when he leaves her
After she had undergone
The great pain of rejection
She will find another HIM
For there is no end to the
Foolishness of a woman`s heart
from Uncle Tom's Cabin (See notes for story background)
The long night was not long enough;
The new master and his hired men
Soon will come; the river rages,
The water glistens in the morning sun.
The boat is tethered at the other side,
but water beats against the wharf
And ice blocks bob as if on ocean tide.
The child sleeps. I can but wait,
For merchants traveling to and fro
Will need to reach Kentucky’s shore;
I dare not rest when freedom is so close.
But hark! The men are in the street;
I fear one saw me in the window—
I hear the pound of booted feet.
Lord, help me, they will not take my only babe;
With the river, I’ll take my chance—
No thought. Ice bobs and sinks beneath the waves,
I leap without a backward glance.
The ice seems not so slippery
I leap and leap and leap again
God gives me purchase—we will be free!
The last frozen block sinks beneath
My numbéd feet. I toss my child to the ground
And lunge—gripping grass midst mud and sleet,
The river roars behind, a deafening sound.
But o’er my head—an open hand,
A heav’n sent soul, my babe held in his arms—
A chance at freedom in an angry land.
They are playing that song again,
The one that always reminds me of you,
remembered from some dim region of my past.
The radio weaves the lyrics
like sandalwood incense curling through the air.
"All the leaves are brown, and the sky is grey
I've been for a walk ....On a winter's day"
There is a picture I've kept, that wrestles with my envy
You at twenty-one, wild and beautiful in a way
I had never been
I only knew you then, as that hippie girl that lived next door for awhile
Playing a flute, tambourine, and your guitar...
A gypsy skirt, a peasant look that took one's breath
A frizz of strawberry blonde hair that streamed thick of ribbons
and the scent of sandalwood, that floated into my yard
from your wide-opened windows
as I hung bleached-white sheets on a clothesline
I had often wished I were you, ..... flitting about, barefoot in the morning sun
But, I was teaching my toddler to tie his shoes
Both of us twenty-one,.... on two sides of a cedar fence...
a thousand light years apart
"All the leaves are brown, and the sky is blue
I've been for a walk......on this autumn day
and wonder what became
That answer to that is painfully simple: I’m a disabled, thirty-something individual with compromised mobility…and I’m a lazy S.O.B...
But, oh, how I fantasize! And loath am I to torture myself by looking at all the exquisite, fabulous fashion creations by Versace, Comme Des Garcons, Missoni and Vivienne Westwood; elegant creations I will never be able to wear, let alone afford. Though I enjoy being a man and would have it no other way, I envy women and sometimes wish I was one, just so I could wear a Versace gown, even if it were just to take out the trash.
I worship fashion and models; they are my demigods. They embody all that is outwardly beautiful. I don’t mind the shallowness of it. I wish I was Coco Rocha, Naomi Campbell, Janice Dickinson, Linda Evangelista, Tyra Banks, Milla Jovovich, all rolled into one. I wish I could strut and stomp the catwalk; to pound the runway in some outrageous creation by Rei Kawakubo. To jet-set to Paris, Milan, Tokyo, London…! I would die and go to fashion heaven, and see Gianni, and I would be his Muse. Poor, Gianni; why did that bastard kill you? Genius was lost that day and fashion has since suffered in your absence.
I wish I was as skillful with sewing as I am with words; since I’ll never be a model, I’d at least like to design clothes that would echo my influences. A mesh of the sex of Versace, the elegance of Missoni, the insane artistic destruction and anti-fashion of Comme des Garcons and the hipness of Vivienne Westwood; yes, that would be my style, as my poetry echoes Poe, Shelley, Keats and Dickinson.
But, alas and alas again! For these are all but mere dreams and fantasies that shall never be fulfilled! But a gay boy can dream, can’t he?
Behold, one day was a woman who was found in possession of many men. Good men, enamored by some other concubines and some married. And in the year 30 BC the law was harsh and severe. And the woman was taken to a prophet who was in the region to be tried and sentenced to stoning.
The wise heard all the witnesses, the men who were involved with this woman claimed they were attracted by its impurity and its spells, the wives of men who lay with Magdalene really wanted it to be stoned.
Then the sage asked: where is the adulteress? And all pointed to the ground, with stones in hand ready for stoning, toward the woman who was in tears. And again the sage asked where the adulteration? And all again pointed to the woman who was on the ground crying.
His tears fell at the feet of the thinker who stopped for a moment and said to the crowd:
"When each of you pledged to love each other as a sign of respect for the Creator at least stopped to reflect on the consequences that the adulteration of thought would lead to their own destruction teaching?
What did this woman beyond just love?
I see in their faces adulterated by the expression of a thought that leads to hatred and seeks the destruction of the next as to what gushes misunderstanding.
Who really had adulterated the divine purpose? One that gave the body a sign of love for others or those who changed their initial purpose in interacting with the creator?
Then so be pronounced the sentence. He who does not have it in your face adulterated the true purpose of love that judge this woman for the crimes that have been allocated to it, ... "
And one by one all left without even a stone was thrown.
Author: Max Diniz Cruzeiro
How would the master: "Love one another as I have loved you"; "Love God above all things and your neighbor as yourself"
Hostile Times II
By Nate Spears
Busted love is my Crystal Ball's fortune
My heart hurts in a torturing way
Nothing ever works in my favor
I lower my head and pray
Confessing to God
All I have to give
A 16 year old rebellious daughter
A 13 year old son that’s dead
My father is in prison; so is the one of my two kids
Is this really a way of living?
I didn’t have a choice from the days beginning
Would have a given me a chance
Walls of barriers bearing on us
On this earth we stand
Refusing to let go of this curse
If no bill is signed by Congress
My unemployment runs out next Thursday
Now I contemplate what’s next?
Sex dollars or Creflo's Dollars?
Be an honest woman; or
Be a fool that’s starving?
When pushed to the limit
All governors are discarded.
Hostile Times rains upon us
Other nations joins the honors
The Elite makes me vomit
There’s plenty of resources among us
God have mercy and let it trickle down on us
Rather than become degrading
In this pew
I choose prayer
Becoming Sunday Mornings best
Washing away my pains that become abreast; with my chest
Bringing in a new day,
For a better way
In these hostile times we live in.
82571 lima echo alfa juliet please respond.82571 lima echo alfa juliet are you there?
This is Harry who's this? Its Tom Mansfield. Tom you realize its 11:30 P.M. Sorry we have 5 climbers missing on the north side of Mooseluck and there has been an avalanche in
that area. Yea I thought I heard it earlier. I'm on my way up to Your place now Tom do you have an extra battery pack for the lamp mine's pretty low. Yep. I have
Billy Williams with me, You have extra gear for him. Yep. I'll put the coffee on What's your ETA? 20 minutes. This is 82571 lima echo alfa juliet signing off.
I'll never understand why these Dartmouth students have to mountain climb on the coldest day of the year, in a storm. Ok snowshoes, therma wraps, lamps, goggles and a map.Waiting for what seems like Hours I hear the bronco finally.
Tom, Billy I was just going to bed when YOU called, What do we have? Four men and a women Headed up Demon's Bluff 10 a.m. this morning. A women they're usually more level headed than men. According to the Information we have they are all seasoned vets at rock climbing In the winter time?? They were suppose to be back by 4P.M. 4pm why are we just hearing about it now. Gregg Tilman was the co-ordinator of a college dance, when he didn't show up to MC the dance we got called. It gets worst the only other name we have is his girlfriend, Elizabeth Townsend. I think it's going to be a long night Tom. Absorb the heat from the wood stove finish your coffee and dress warm
To be Cont.
Some of my best friends are men... BUT WOMEN!!!
When a pretty young filly passes me by, I still sit up and take notice
There are so many sweet sweet ladies here on the Soup
I've actually lost count
From way back I've always related to women better than men
What does that mean I wonder
One thing's for sure, I'm more comfortable in the presence of the fairer sex
When a sweetie gives me THAT look
I'm a goner... I melt and become a tongue-tied old geezer
My male hormones haven't stopped raging even at this MATURE old age
I still love watching pretty young things walk by
A thing of beauty unsurpassed
The most gorgeous work of art that was ever created
Some might call me a dirty old man... that's okay
I just appreciate the finer things in life
And a woman is right there at the top
I LOVE WOMEN!
© Jack Ellison 2014
With his persuasive tone he continued
Until she was convinced that the time was ripened.
After a long-winded foreplay she was stimulated,
Like the first taste of applesauce she wanted it.
Her mind poised as she lay back in amorous stance
But her muscles were tautened.
His fingers seemed roaming, but knows the targeted point
His fingers ambled, exuding great adeptness as she moaned
He asked her if she was indifferent and scared
Anxiously, like a baby’s mouth on mama’s nipple for natural milk
She mumbled pluckily with a not-at-all-response
As she shook her head in affirmation.
In the twinkling of an eye his finger found the right spot.
Deeply his finger bumped into her
He assured her he would be as gentle as a lamb.
Reaching the ‘boiling point,’ shower of shivers rained over her
And goose bumps formed as her body became twitchy all over.
Profoundly both eyes met in enamored density; chemistry was mutual
She saw a telltale conviction in his eyes; her spirit was re-assured
His sedated smiles laid-back her muscles as her legs became wide-open.
Hush his tubular tissue struck softly-softly into her innermost sanctum.
In ecstasy she began to ask for more, oblivious of pains
She beckoned him for a hurry-scurry as her hunger for more continued.
As skilled in the game he understood the pain thereafter
So he took his time as he journeyed in grand pleasure at a snail's pace.
Deeply he invaded her sanctum sanctorum as her muscle cramped
And her network of tissues opened up to avoid 'traffic jams.'
Reality darkened fantasy as she felt pains oscillating insidiously all over her body
And dribble of bloods dripping from the broken treasured flower
Her eyes were filled with tears as she realized her tightly-held pride was gone.
She lay snuggled in his arms as he whispered into her ears lyrics like a lyrebird
Like the Roman Janus her desired pleasure had fathered a two-faced offspring:
She was gloomy cheerless that her treasured flower had been broken;
She would never be the same again
She was worried that she might be gravid.
But she was pleased to have shared her innermost hush-hush with him
She was delighted that the days her peers’ poured scorns on her were yesterday
She would no longer be left out in their brash adventure natter
She was happy he left an indelible experience ingrained in her memory.
Naomi and her family departed from Bethleham Judah the land of milk and honey
in the midst of a famine as they were unable to earn any money
so on to the region of Moab they ventured and prospered to some degree
until Naomi lost her husband and both sons and was left alone to grieve
to her daughters-in-law she told them both to their families they should go back
but one daughter-in-law Ruth refused to let their relationship come under attack
she told Naomi I will never leave you nor forsake you
I will stay by your side no matter what we have to go through
your people will be my people, your God will be my God
and wherever you choose to travel you and I will never part
with loyalty, love and devotion Ruth needed Naomi in her life
in order for her to develop a relationship with our Lord Christ
now worshipping God together placing their fate in His hands
for this was a divine hook-up that the Lord our God had planned
Now Naomi needed Ruth too but was to afraid to admit it
as she felt she had been forsaken by the presence of the Holy Spirit
but God was in the midst of that relationship from the very start
He had destined that Ruth and Naomi would never, ever part
for when women worship God great relationships are made in life
with loyalty, love and devotion in the name of Jesus the Christ
In the course of your life there will be people whom you need and require
to help you to be all that you can be in the way that God desires
the clarifiers in your life will help you to see what is your mission
the collaborators in your life will encourage you to come to a decision
the confronters in your life will nag you and stay in your face
while the comforters in your life if they're of God will help you find your place
then the celebrators in your life will help you to rejoice in your victory
with the spirit of love, devotion and a godly loyalty
Now Ruth went on to get remarried but kept Naomi as a member of her household
for their relationship was a divine hook-up that was under God's control
for when women worship God great relationships last an eternity
Naomi and Ruth a divine hook-up of love, devotion and loyalty
A spanking good tale
I read a blog -was it only yesterday
I haven’t laughed so much, I can truly say
About large women and I will not make fun
That’s because I am turning into one
But the blog that I read proved there is hope for all
As long as we can make sausages, if I recall
A massage or two with a pin rolling flat
Is it to iron out wrinkles or reduce the fat?
A spank a day or so I have heard
Is what middle age men like, but girls think absurd
A front bum, well that’s a new one on me
I have enough in the rear to perhaps make up three
But what gives me hope, apart from the front bum thing
Is that some men out there seem to enjoy this sort of thing
So send me you dreams followed by your numbers too
I’ll put them aside for when I’m ready for you
So thank you Chris for your blog yesterday
You have given hope to all women and that’s all I can say
Inspired By Chris D Aechner's Blog 15/02/2012
She is so typical
For most part difficult
I never really could grasp her in such way
She just wants me to some how stay
She comes to my man cave and makes me obey
Shy she was and now I am scared
In such way I almost cared
She thinks she can do everything for me I swear
She makes me guess everyday but I keep on believing
Because it is fun to give her a kiss, while she does not know when she is sleeping
She stresses out but I will tell her my love for her keeps deepening
So for the most part I just keep her close to make her smile and me
When I do things I do it for her it is always a key
Call me romantic or call me stupefied, but it makes her so, so, sooo, happy
From the time of creation
Adam was brainwashed into
Believing that he was the brainiac
Behind the Garden of Eden fictions
Women got tired of men carefree life styles
They laid back personality, they sanctions,
And Most of all they diminished sex drives
It’s too late now, it’s too late now
Too many wrongs, not enough rights
This world belongs to everyone
Not only Your average Tom, Dick and Harry
Men and women have lost respect for each other.
It’s no longer a man’s world theatrical standards
It's more of a mad, mad world with so much mental attitudes
“I was on first; “I was here first kind of society
Some of us are human hyenas that
take advantage in human suffering
Not so hard to believe… but it is the truth.
however, it is so hard to swallow
Someone mentioned to me quite recently
They noticed 90% of the comments I receive
For my poems here on the Soup are from the ladies
Must be damn well doing something right!!!
Now why do you think that is dear Soupers
I'm not aiming particularly at the fairer sex
Perhaps it's because I write with a bit of humour
Which seems to strike a cord with the fairer sex
Learned a long time ago you don't have to look like Brad Pitt
Or George Clooney or Robert Downey Jr.
To get the attention of the ladies
You just need to make them giggle till they wet themselves!
That sure made a lot of sense to me
As far back as I can remember, I've always loved the ladies
Can't imagine a world without them
It surely would only be half as beautiful!
Long live the ladies... olé!!!
© Jack Ellison 2014
Rest assured of pause
let's sit down,love and talk cause
mine is "you"
the world, the light
what? say you might?
sensual n beyond.....
cut the bull n ****!!!!
don't be rude if hard hit
will wrinkle someday
not pink and dry when sip
full of envy and angry sweat
what do u want?
"i don't know and i shan't?"
be the man and know
treacherous and torture
have me? or leave me? but hurry up and be sure
okay...okay...give me a...
stop....here come another.... a delightful friend
Dedicated to all of the guys who helped me to make the checklist - thanks!
The Empty Rib Slot
I think I might have
A perfect checklist
Highlights from men
Gathered now missed
Yes special highlights
Each man carried some
Now added to my checklist
For a guy having it all in one
This could be the key to find
The man I’m dreaming of
Not with bits and pieces
One filled full of love
A man made for me
No it would be not
I should fit perfectly
Into an empty rib slot
Let me share this list
With every one of you
Then decide for yourself
If it could possibly be true
My first check comes from
This guy with dreamy eyes
He deeply touched my soul
Way more than ever realized
He even had a special smile
That made you want to grin
No matter if life was down
He encouraged me to win
There was the big hugger
With squeezes oh so tight
He lifted me off the floor
Like if I was taking flight
He never did grow tired
Of giving me those hugs
I never had to ask for them
He always did it out of love
Then there was the dancer
He stayed light on his feet
He loved dancing with me
Carrying rhythm and a beat
Now of course on this list
There certainly has to be
That best friend I count on
Who can also count on me
I am even going to count
The good points of quality
Generated from my brothers
And even from my daddy
From them they all carry
A very good temperament
Always being so easy going
Not looking for an argument
When I am nestled in that slot
With a perfect feel of passion
All of his glory will then shine
As it eludes from my reflection
The most important one of all
He who shares a spiritual side
Being spiritually open with me
Not allowing his beliefs to hide
I know how this all may sound
Like a crazy thing that I’ve got
I want the man I fit snuggly with
When I match his empty rib slot
Florence McMillian (Flo)
THEY WERE AN INSPIRATION TO US ALL THEY WERE MIGHTY AND THEY WERE STRONG.
THEY FOUGHT FOR EQUALITY AND FOR JUSTICE THEY PUT GOD FIRST IN EVERYTHING.
THEY STOOD UP FOR WHAT THEY BELIEVED IN THEY DIDN'T TAKE NO FOR AN ANSWER.
I SEE THEM AS MIGHTY MEN AND WOMEN WOULD NOT TAKE A BACK SEAT.
ONE MINUTE THEY WERE HERE BREATHING THE AIR OF LIFE THEY NEXT MINUTE THEY ARE TOUCHING THE GROUND ASLEEP IN THEIR COFFINS.
FOR IF THERE WERE NO WASHINGTON THERE WOULD NO LINCOLN, NO TEDDY,NO FDR, NO JFK, NO CLINTON.
IT WAS SUSAN B. ANTHONY WHO PAVED THE WAY FOR WOMEN SUCH AS GERALDINE FERRARO, NANCY PELOSI AND SO MANY OTHERS.
SHE PROVED THAT A WOMAN IS MORE THAN JUST A CHILDBEARER AND A MAID.
IF THERE WAS NO NAT TURNER THERE WOULD BE NO FREDERICK DOUGLASS, NO MARTIN LUTHER KING, NO MALCOLM X THEY WOULD BE NO OBAMA.
THEIR LEAGACY LIVES ON IN THE LEADERS WHO ARE IN THE MAKING INSPIRING US TO BE ALL WE CAN BE AND IF WE FOLLOW OUR DREAMS WE CAN GO ANYWHERE.
Think of the most beautiful woman
You've ever laid your eyes upon
And the feeling of passion it stirred inside
Men have felt since the very first dawn
Only speaking from personal experience
But I'm sure most men would agree
Nothing's as exciting than this loving vision
Of a gorgeous woman, guaranteed
A primordial instinct takes over our soul
Our thoughts are clouded with lust
Of making love on a warm summer's eve
Her face the moonlight does brush
A scene of passion takes over our mind
This fantasy her vision evokes
The feeling of two bodies in perfect rhythm
Sounds of love emit from our throats
Think of the most beautiful woman
You've ever laid your eyes upon
And the feeling of passion it stirred inside
Men have felt since the very first dawn
© Jack Ellison 2015
Don't ask me how it happened; I have no clear recollection. I have always had this brazen habit of coming right out and directly asking for whatever I want; I always figured "no!" was the only worst possible outcome, aside from a good cussing, perhaps. Either or both I can handle.
My best friend, who had invited me to this event, wasn't even a speaker; she was just present for class credit and I had nothing better to do so I happily joined her. Her professor was the director, or MC, of the night's festivities and proceedings and Jill introduced us soon after we entered the banquet hall and before the speaking commenced.
I also have this horrid habit of mentioning that I am an artist to anyone of any importance or significance whatsoever, hoping to sound gallant and impressive. I can only surmise that Jill's teacher asked me what kind of artist I was, and I must have boldly stated, with an air of haughty confidence no doubt, that I was a de facto grand poet of the ages. I was only 19 at the time and thought I was Poe! My style was sloppy and unrefined, but I didn't know it yet.
Given that this was a "Women's Studies" organization and all guest speakers that night were, obviously, going to be female, I don't know how I convinced, finagled, schemed, bulled, or mechanized my way into making myself an impromptu speaker as well that evening. It was an "anything goes" type platform, from women reading poetry to short stories, to essays or presenting artwork. I was, I kid you not, the first male to EVER be a speaker at this "Women's Studies" gathering.
Having committed many of my poems to memory, I just quickly jotted down four or five particular favorites, and when it was my time to speak, impertinently stepped right up to the platform, adjusted the microphone, and recited my horrible poetry to a group of...I'm not sure if "feminists" is quite the word for which I am searching. Let's just say that if Gloria Steinem or Gertrude Stein had been in the audience, I might have been yanked off the podium. So there I was, babbling about, having basically crashed this Feminist rally. That I wasn't mauled or had my eyes scratched out can only be attributed to luck, progressive-thinking, guardian Angels or plain ol' polite courtesy. In retrospect, I blanch at the thought of my shameless, unabashed audacity.
I would love to know whether any more males ever took part in anymore of their events, but I guess I'll never know and can only hope that little bit of history I made that night remains intact. True story.
Mineral Baths Saratoga Springs NY
She covers her private
parts at the bath house.
Mineral water fills a tub,
She feels cold until
an old Women hands
her heated sheets...
now, her skin covered.
Brought her clips to lift
her auburn hair.
The sheets cooled as the
tub, now filled.
A stray cat
peers into the window...
purrs, kissing glass.
The old Women
removes the sheet, takes
the hand of a young lady
as she carefully
steps into aged porcelain.
surround her skin.
A soft pillow for her head...
Now, relax. . . she tells herself,
dreaming of the
cat kissing glass. . .
alone, at last.
Nancy Duci Denofio
He followed a dream to Havana, Cuba –
amid communism and embargo.
A beautiful country this Cuba is,
and the women are soft on the eyes.
There are whores, yes,
there are whores aplenty,
but not like the ones in Gomorrah.
I’ve been there before,
and witnessed drag-Queens offering hand jobs.
A sad place this Gomorrah is,
and miserable people are those wanna-be’s.
He owns the streets, those streets the Spaniards trod,
where women break their necks when he goes by.
Eyes, like a lion’s, measured the prospects –
zooming in on the most vulnerable.
His feet paint his story deep in concrete Havana.
The rum washed out shame and caution from his steps,
but moderation keeps thoughts in check.
Those rapt minds in Gomorrah
forced tongues to lie regarding the plights of Havana.
This is his city, his Havana;
a place where life is regulated
and the unlikely steer clear of happening
An amazing group of gorgeous ladies
Call Poetry Soup their 'getaway from reality' home
Where their fantasies take flight
Where the chores, the kiddies, the trials of the day
Are brushed aside for a while
Allowing their creative minds to soar
Forgetting the washing, the dishes, the endless meals
With creative thoughts, thoughts of love
A perfect match, a getaway to some romantic isle
With the man of their dreams
The most current 'hottie' in Hollywood
Or maybe even their husband
Don't get me wrong, we men of the Soup don't mind
As long as you sweet ladies allow us to have our turn
I wont't name my favourite ladies
But you surely know who you are
I'm not very good at hiding my affections
So all you ladies of the Soup
I hereby send you some passionate kisses
Some warm snuggly hugs
But most of all dear ladies of the Soup
I send you my overwhelming passionate love
For making my everyday a whole lot brighter
© Jack Ellison 2013
He said, "You spend all day in bed with your women, and not one you have married. I think they could use a break. Your brother wishes to starve the people. If you were to be King what would you do?" "The army is week with loneliness." The second son said, as he pulled his wenches close. "I will let them take all the women they want." "So you will rape the women?" the King asked. "Are women not a vessel to be used in that way?" the second son spoke with mocking in his voice. The King sighed, for this was another son he mislead. "My son," the King spoke again, "I love you as much as a king could love a son but I love my people more. You shall not be King." Anger filled the second son And rising his fist up high, he spat, "When you die I will have reign and the guards will take every woman, even if it is before her time." So with his toys in tow he stormed out the room” The wizard stopped and looked me in the eyes, “have you heard this one before my child?” “No,” I answered back, eager to hear what the King will do. “Very well,” He said as he went on. The King called onto his third son; hopping he will bring what the other two could not. The King’s third son was short and small; with children as servants so he could feel very tall. "My king," the third son said, ‘what is so important that you must drag me from my chambers were I sleep?" ‘My son,’ The King went on, ‘your brothers wish to starve and rape my people. If you were king what would you do?" The third son raised a hand to his chin; thinking hard. "The army is all to tall," he began, "I shall take the children from their homes and have them trained as solders do." "You wish to brainwash children to do the evils not even men should so?" With a coy smile the third son said, "Precisely, my King, if it pleases you." "My son,"
I found this old poem while helping to clean out a house that was vacant. I hope you
don't mind that I didn't write it but it was too awesome not to post. Enjoy--------
What Do You See
What do you see, nurses? What do you see?
What are you thinking when your looking at me?
A crabby old women, not very wise.
Uncertain of habit, with faraway eyes.
Who dribbles her food and makes no reply.
When you say with your loud voice, "I do wish you'd try."
Who seems not to notice the things that you do,
and forever is losing a sock or a shoe.
Who unresisting or not lets you do as you will.
When bathing and feeding, the long day to fill.
Is that what your thinking, is that what you see?
Then open your eyes nurse, your not looking at me.
I'll tell you who I am as I sit here so still.
As I drink at your bidding, as I sit at your will.
I'm a small child of 10 with a father and mother.
Brothers and sisters who love one another.
A young girl of 16 with wings on her feet.
Dreaming that soon now a lover she'll meet.
A bride soon at 20. my heart gives a leap.
Remembering the vows I primised to keep.
At 25 now I have young of my own.
Who need me to build a secure happy home.
A women of 30, my young now grow fast.
Bound to each other with ties that should last.
At 40 my young sons near grown will be gone.
But my man stays beside me to see I don't mourn.
At 50 once more babies play round my knee.
Again we know children, my loved one and me.
Dark days are upon me, my husband is dead.
I look to the future and shudder with dread.
For my young ones are busy rearing young of their own.
And I think of the years and the love that I've known.
I'm an old women now and nature is cruel.
It's her jest to make old age look like a fool.
The body it crumbles, grace and vigor depart.
There now is a stone where I once had a heart.
But inside this old carcass a young girl still dwells.
And now and again my battered heart swells.
I remember the joys, I remember the pain.
And I'm loving and loving life over again.
I think of the years, all the few--gone to fast.
And accept the stark fact that nothing can last.
So open your eyes nurses, open and see.
Not a crabby old women, look closer, see ME.
This poem was found among the effects of a patient who died at the Oxford
University Geriatric Service in England. Author is unknown.
Hey guys, thank you for reading this. Ok it has come to my attention from poets who are my
genuine friends that some uncouth people on here are gossiping about me; saying
I'm "preying" on (soup women). You know who you are!! I don't have to call names!! R U guys serious?
Number one I am single, I flirt, Number two everyone knows there has been several,
relationships formed here on the soup and yet they say I can't flirt or find love, instead they
say I am "preying " on women.
So I offer a challenge my soup family; Any woman who feels I "preyed" on her...leave
a "comment" for this letter for all the soup to see. If I have asked any woman for money
etc. (that I did not know and who aren't in my friends circle) please leave comment.
It is time to pull the cat out of the bag. No need for any more gossiping. So you people
that accuse me of this, WHERE ARE ALL THESE WOMEN AT?
Let's ask some of my personal friends, Carolyn Devonshire, Laura McKenzie, Amy Green,
Audrey Carey. These women I consider friends, real friends, and all these women are
respected on the soup.
Because I'm an inmate, I can't find love? A good woman? I am a part of this site, I can't
get to know a woman on here? Collaborate on poetry w/ a woman? Remember family, I
collaborated with some of these people who are gossiping and we wrote some beautiful
poems. You people doing this know who you are and your lying is catching up to you...lol
I come home next year soup family. I've served my sentence for a crime I did not
commit. So I'm not entitled to friendship and love??? Let me know. Love you guys
Jimmy M. Anderson