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Best Poems Written by Jerry Bolton

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

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Heavenly Striptease

as I stand here and gaze
into the heavens
this dark, inky sky
ahhh . . .
now I see you my love
my bright, shining Gibbous Moon
the dark cloud
moved on into the night
showing the heavens my spirituality
for we are as one
whether you are a mere Crescent Moon
timidly showing
mere tantalizing part of you
we may only guess
what is hidden
in the darkness which is you
its as if you are having wicked fun
at my expense
time gives me the taste of
your delicious and tempting Half Moon
glow of iridescence revealing
more of yourself
although it seems the more you show
the more is hidden
you are playing me an exotic dance
befitting your lofty aspirations
an enticing, though half naked smile
I stand there
wishing the nights would flow faster
as each night
slowly evolves into the next one
you know I will
be there again and again
waiting
patiently waiting
for your final unveiling
and shows me
your patient lover
you in all your majestic glory
a huge, bright and lustrous
Full Moon rising
I almost sob

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Fix It For Me, Please

Take my Heart
Wring it until it bleeds
Send it to the "How To Live With People School"
And bring it back to me
Here is my Ego
I'll give it to you for repair
Stroke it and make it well
I'll take it back when you are done
I'm giving to you my Misplaced Smile
Teach it how to spread good cheer and laugh again
To be a jolly good fellow
Back on my face it goes with glee
Here, right here is my Rogue Persona
Clean it up, comb its hair
Work miracles with the scoundrel in me
Replace it and I thank you
Please try to do something with Cynical Self
Give it a good talking to
Make it understand the good in man
Of course I'll reclaim it when you're done
I gladly give to you my Paranoia
If only until you can talk some sense into it
He may be incorrigible
After you've done your best return him to me

I know I ask of you a lot
Just try to give it your best shot
The parts you take from me are mine,
Please separate pearls from the swine

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Blackbirds On a Wire

I stared intently at blackbirds on a wire
they were lined in a row
as though someone had painted them there
fascinated, I continued to gaze
hoping to identify which one would fly away first
knowing if one flew
the coop so to speak
the rest would follow because of some unknown
inner requirement
determined was I to single out the leader
of the flock
(do you call a group blackbirds a flock?
even if they are not flocking
but sitting?)
I dared not blink
but I knew that at some point in time I would have to
but I refused
the world stood still
there was no noise about
although I knew cars were passing by
concentration
intense concentration on that damn line of blackbirds
"Hey!"
startled I inadvertently turned to the sound
a woman
unknown to me
said
"When I fall in love and marry
I want to be studied with that
same intense consideration
hearing the sound of fluttering wings
I turned too late
the blackbirds were in the air

©June 29, 2017 / Jerry Pat Bolton

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A Plot of Ground

When the moon is blocked by gray clouds,
A lone woman visits the graves,
She wears a black dress like a shroud.

She speaks, but her words are not loud,
She whispers and calls them by name,
When the moon is blocked by gray clouds.

The deceased has grown to a crowd,
She speaks tenderly to the dead,
She wears a black dress like a shroud.

With the handgun she kept her vows,
As her victims entered her net,
When the moon is blocked by gray clouds,

They came strutting and oh, so proud,
And many more will find her web,
She wears a black dress like a shroud.

Her name is Danielle of the Marsh,
She hides her real name, Black Widow,
When the moon is blocked by gray clouds,
She wears a black dress like a shroud.

©December 18, 2016 / Jerry Pat Bolton

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Jukejoint

it is later than late
shadows simmer like a cold heart
the jukebox plays on
drinking and smoking
it is the jester’s time
den of iniquity
everyone here looking for a score
of some kind
danger lurks inside her faded blue eyes
she doesn’t frighten me 
music loud and reedy
a song I don’t know
out of touch
I’m an old country, old rock
kind of guy
blue eyes presses my leg with hers
panic time
jukejoint closes in fifteen minutes
we must choose between reality
and make-believe
I choose make-believe
and press back on her leg

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Steamy, Sultry Night In the Vieux Carre

walking slow, oh it could be called dancing
crowded with Bourbon Street night people
music filling the air, we stop every so often
wrapped arms around each other and swayed

firing up to the already hot-blood New Orleans
seems to affect all the out-of-town tourists and
the nights are specially made for physical reaction
big easy, sin city, whatever, a city of cool coitus

her willowy body pressed so close to mine
her face in my neck nuzzling and groping
I feel her eyelashes teasing, pleasing, my neck
we're fused together with lover's super glue

she broke away, her café au lait eyes dancing
as she tiptoed up to speak softly in my ear
in her intense and absolute Cajun accent
sha, we gon stay out heah on da street all night

lovely Denise didn't need to say anymore
I danced her back to her pad above Galatoire's 
and it wasn't just to get the grime off when 
we showered with plenty of soap and water

Details | Jerry Bolton Poem

A Day In the Life

dawning of a new day
or close of a day already spent
we feel an excitement 
matters not, matters not
we are but a passersby
we're here for an instant
 and we are gone for an eternity
if we think upon that thought
and let it die slow death
we rob thought of substance
we walk though the quiet forest road
a sense of quiet takes hold
to what used to make us sad
we pause on our journey
find a distorted cypress stump
we sit upon its roots
listening to nature's song
we don't know how we got here
don't know how long we'll stay
we enjoy the moment
we empty our mind
of what used to clutter it
it’s about sincerity
we put pettiness aside
we breathe in earth's perfume
listen to nature's voice
beauty surrounds is ours to behold
mists from slow-moving bayou
the aroma of pine
where salamanders dig
do we believe in God
at times such as this; yes we do

Details | Jerry Bolton Poem

After Hours Jazz

girl from Ipanema
soft and sweet
coming out of the speakers
wee hours of the morning
girl sitting beside me
on the bed
crying
she always cries to this song
ergo, that’s why I play it
still crying she takes my hand
places it where she likes it
takes the other one
places it where I like it
on her breast
softly I begin unbuttoning her blouse
she always wears a blouse
with buttons
it turns her on
I undo each one
as she cries listening to that girl
from Ipanema
soft sax
soft voice
soft and lovely
there’s no better way
to spend a night after bar-hoping

Details | Jerry Bolton Poem

Speak To Me

speak to me . . .
whisper softly cosmos notions
I'm not a flight
of the imagination
you're not deranged
you're the saucer for my cup
the wind to my back
you're my everything, my all
I am eternally yours
direct your dreams of me 
my dreams are pumped up
only for you
I dream extraterrestrial dreams
never fear
I will find you
for your gentle radiance
will guide me to you
ahhh . . .
we will finally
touch
look into each others eyes
and embrace

Details | Jerry Bolton Poem

Snake Charmer

we're wrapped in each others arms
sans clothing discarded our peculiars
I'm filled with testosterone she has lured
as would  a snake charmer robed
our fires supply our individual piaculars
seeking to find its concluding flameout
we clench, saliva kisses; they are our mettle
my chest pressed into her soft woman's pride
her tongue, searching, finding, teeth biting
her mouth to my thoughts conveyed
pleading to reach the destination as one
concerning the all-consuming fires down below
my quivering soul overflows with love
from my Goddess' devilishly kisses and nips
I hover o'er the suspended brink of bliss
her hands busy with reckless extravagance
fluttering, seeking my soul and my heart's core
enough! enough! I dissolve within myself
head held high bellowing with gasconade
sounds from her brought on by new sensations
and the collapsing corridors within her
the night is ours, love is rambunctious

©September 10, 2015 / Jerry Pat Bolton