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Best Poems Written by Jerry Bolton

Below are the all-time best Jerry Bolton poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Jerry Bolton Poem

Yesterday's Musing

Some things come to you
when you are alone
with your thoughts
and the sun is setting through your window.

Like now.
I am with my thoughts
of yesterday.
She is small
fragile looking.
I am not.
She came to me for solace
. . . wanted more.

Said,
"I want you,"
covered my mouth with
sweeter than candy lips
trembling, goosebumps all over her
part worry, part want

"Please,
don't say you love me.
Just need me."
Licked my cheek with tenderness
found my
throat and then caressed a nipple
nipping it
almost too hard
moaning like cats purr
plying my body
with more than a zillion kisses.

Guided my hand inside her blouse
her pride
feminine pride
soft, oh so soft . . . breasts
hardening button nipple.

"Close your eyes,
let me lay hands on you."
Wind puffing through open window
cool on my fevered body
her
finger hot, sizzling to the touch
moving over and under and around
clefts and crevasses of me.

"Stand," she urged.
I did.
Pealed cotton jockeys
to my ankles
put finger on my chest
pushed me onto the bed
massaged my feet
remarkable
never knew about that erogenous zone
but
she did
shimmed up me like
a spider monkey up a tree
mouth claimed possession
then and there
for awhile
soft whimpers of her lust
sang a cappella
further up she inched
rose like an apparition
straddled her stallion for the night
rode
until the dawn of civilization broke
through the window.

Sometimes the past
comes alive
at the oddest moments.

Details | Jerry Bolton Poem

Obtuse Egg and Dull Seed

I see them everywhere I go,
Folks who just do not seem to know,
What life is really all about,
They just go on their prescribed route.

Life to these indecisive sloth's,
May as well be wearing loincloth.
Don't question them about the news,
They spout others jargon as true.

Original thought unlikely,
Its like talking to a TV.
They give a blank  look and discuss,
The high fares of the city bus.

"What about Iraq" you might ask,
He says, we should finish the task.
"But what about all the dead," we pose,
Oh, yes, that part I do oppose.

"Is America still racist?"
Oh, sure, it is an ugly cyst.
"But we have made so much progress,"
Yes, now racism is much less.

"Katrina, was it Bush's flaw?"
Sure, didn't you see what you saw?
"But doesn't the state share some blame?"
You damn right I think it’s a shame.

"What about the high price of gas?"
Price gauging from the ruling class.
"It isn't supply and demand?"
Oh, yes sure, now I understand.

"How is your job, doing all right?"
I am scaling corporate heights.
"Didn't I hear they will downsize?"
That's supposed to be a surprise.

"How are the wife and the children?"
They are all good even the twins.
"Someone said you got a divorce."
But everyone does in due course.

This man goes through life on the dull,
He has no gift to think and mull.
What he hears he thinks it is true,
He, like so many have no clue.

An ambivalent clown this man,
Everything he hears is his plan.
He is like a pale, docile weed,
From an obtuse egg and dull seed.

Details | Jerry Bolton Poem

Apostrophé

I can converse with you, apostrophé,
for you see we both plot to hide the key
ingredients in a relationship,
when you are used, certain letters are skipped.

There are times I feel I am in the dark,
like, when I get used to seeing your mark,
making a word not really a word, see,
just like I'm not who I'm supposed to be.

An inverted slant is all that you are,
you make a word obscene, give it a scar,
gullible patrons of the written word,
don't stop to think that you might be absurd.

Ah, but we are kinsman, that is a fact,
look at me, you only see the abstract.
I'm saying we are both fraudulent sluts,
subtracting our total, we are just mutts.

Rogues that we are, we're not unlike the rest,
giving the world something for them to guess.
You and your inverted slant, gives you style,
like you, I hide parts of me with a smile.

Details | Jerry Bolton Poem

We Have Some Time

Loveliness
caught me staring
vivid emerald eyes stared back
unblinking
asking the unasked
touching my soul
deeply
saying she understood
approved
of this visual tête-à-tête

Meandering stream
rippling surface current
beneath antediluvian oak
laden with vibrant green leaves
nature's awning
a blanket spread
impending lovers
cool gentle zephyr
unable
twin passion to impede

My trembling hand she took
to her breast
natural crimson lips touched
my bone dry mouth
lingered there
tasting of jasmine sachet
tentative tongue
scorched mine
set off
simultaneous sighs

We have some time
whispered mouth against my ear
hot against passion spent
tangled skirt
twisted pants strewn
hodgepodge
here and there
I knew not words
to answer

Old am I now
life lived did survive
never forgot
nameless girl
ancient oak
summer days of love
tender and good
jasmine smells
memory haunted by her words
We have some time

Details | Jerry Bolton Poem

A Cold and Pitiless Wind

A cold and pitiless wind moves among us,
A current of current rising from epochs old.
Can we sleep serenely and without fear when
Amid stirrings of horse's hoofs he smiles?
Beneath primordial moons deviously does plot,
Time is of no value, eternity has evolved.
Without the ticking sound of the life's clock,
Snorting Arabian steed's anxious for the fight.
Poised on every shore, peering into windows,
O, so stealthy, when at last the moon has hid.
And the tide washes up, deposits combatants,
They come, by air, luxury liner, banana boat.
By the soles of their feet, souls of their God,
Like residue from a growing, fanatical storm.
What blood moves through these warriors,
Which provokes bloodlust as easily as a smile?
He is there, over there, here too, right here,
Where the children are at play with yesterday's
Values, yesterday's view, yesterday's excitement?
When the tongue and eyes of the ancient ones
Speak softly, gazing upon the long awaited prize.
The thundering of million's of hoofs let loose,
Neighing a battle cry to the dead, silent old ones.
And we, well we go about our business of sanity,
Thinking we are good, we are clean, we laugh.
Calmly we do leave the doors and the windows
Ajar for our visitors who are now neighbors,
To finish the ancient martyr's settling of scores.

Details | Jerry Bolton Poem

Four Pieces

Carnival is here.
Crowds jam the street with laughter.
He plays solitaire

High above the street
A lonely window shines bright.
Love is sold tonight.

Sits by the window
In a smoky, crowded bar.
Life passes him by

Crumpled note on floor
Tells the story of love gone.
Time now for dying.