brotherhood buried both beloved, bestowed us bred ~ a Basque bloodline
Basque-born Maurice Ravel
a musique-impressionist truth-to-tell
Influenced by Claude Debussey
versatile & with fluency
Dear Santa
I’m writing early this year
Especially after the debacle of last year
You delivered the sexy underwear and the two-day hotel break to my wife
What the hell were you thinking
Does my wife look like she can get into a size ten
You useless fat bastard
Two days I had to suffer the wife parading herself
It was psychological torture
Swear to god, if I could’ve got my hands on you
Still swithering on suing your fat ass
This year I’m going to lay it on the line
Deliver it to the wrong address
Your Ho ho ho, will be, Oh oh oh
Do I make myself clear
Now listen up
Face pack and support tights
They go to the wife
Basque and French knickers, hotel included
To the lover
Don’t make me go back to that hotel with the wife
Or, I swear, you’ll be wearing those reindeers
Do you need a reminder
Have you got it now
Oh, and merry Christmas.
Not an academic
Poet
Not a tenement
Poet
Not a beat or a blues
or a church Poet
Not a famous or infamous
or celebrity Poet
Not an Irish or Basque
or Welsh Poet
Not a formal
Poet
Not a casual
Poet
Not the kind that takes
to the stage Poet
Not a tenured or membered
or club Poet
Not a for profit or glory
or fame Poet
… just a Poet
(The County Line: April, 2024)
God answers
a Spaniard, a Moor
men who seek Him in prayers
the Bible makes it clear, in many layers
he father of the original bearer
O friar, O my brother
the son of Anai
God answers
its Basque origins,
it was a medieval Basque
Catalunya with Arabic elements
Frans Xavier Messerschmidt
Basque busts he often did depict
Famed for his'heads&faces'
often with distorted grimaces
New dentist, he’s called Mister Payne
His image is fixed in my brain
He wore fuzzy green socks
Pink suspenders and crocs
I’m hoping I’ll see him again!
I ogled him from the black chair
His quirky clothes sure made me stare
A red latex G-string
Hardly covered a thing
The rest of his body was bare!
He polished and checked all my teeth
And revealed his first name was Keith
He admired MY gold crocs
Lace basque and red socks
We’re dating tonight on the heath!
Fuzzy socks and crocs Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Francine Roberts
06/10/21
As Santa was wearing a mask,
he spilled all the wine from his flask -
he muttered and swore,
'This Covid's a bore...
I've ruined the lace on my basque.'
written 6th December for Carolyn's Santa's Covid contest
My uncle's got a tiny winky
I'm telling you its truly dinky
So he gulps down blue pills
Which result in big thrills
Poor auntie says he's turned quite kinky!
Now auntie wears a basque and lace thong
From flaccid soon his todger grows long
No quick roll in the hay
They're like rabbits all day -
The effect of two pills is so strong!
Make Me Laugh with Some Humor - Any Form - New Poems Poetry Contest
Both limericks 9,9,6,6,9 syllables
Sponsored by Tania Kitchin
11/23/20
Seen wearing his wife’s silken gown
O’Keef’s soon the talk of the town
In her basque and pink bra
He looked like a p orn star
His wife gave him a dressing down
He admits’ I’m into cross dressing
And this is my way of confessing
You’re the same size as me
I wear your clothes for free -
My desires I’m no longer suppressing!
03/24/20
I am a bunch of English
I am a bunch of Welsh
I am a bunch of German
I am some Irish and Scottish
I am some Mexican
I am some Spanish
I am a dose of French
What is Baltic and Basque anyways?
Yeah, a salt shake of that for good fortune
And a teeny a dent little bit of black
Thanks mom!
Young Emily sat gazing at a door, that with careful strokes was painted..
a starry, but moonless night.
In wandering dreams of far away lands, nameless artist unacquainted,
she wond'red what lay beyond the door held tight.
Her knees, now drawn together, gently touched beneath her chin,
were clasped by all ten fingers,
cloaked in silky smooth skin.
Just then did the door utter softly, three words from four worldly tongues...
in Mandarin, Hindi, Gaelic, and Greek, as if from heroes long dead and unsung...
Though Emily sat listening to each word that was spoken,
she understood not even one,
languages left old, yet unbroken,
from under a forgotten Sun.
Like a great bard the door, in even older languages said aloud.
In Tamil, Persian, Hebrew, Irish, and Basque...
As if finally by fate the three words "Please open me" were endowed...
Emily, now standing, said...
"You needed only to ask".
When I traveled to the region of Basque,
I met a girl of whom sex I did ask
She said, “Yeah, sure mister,
If it includes my sister.”
So I told her, “Sure, I can multitask.”
There is a place I know
that the locals call jellybean row
the drunk dance in the street
there is no animosity, nobody is a foe
the wind whips and curls around the battery
more complimentary then flattery
people see it as an adventure
rather then inherent danger
the car absent path of intoxication
arms entwined and shameless flirtation
a pint in hand and family on my shoulder
greasy fish, fit for mastication
as I step off the boat in aux basque
I need not wear my mask
for I am on the rock
where love is felt when no one talks
Glimmers of light blanket my face
Drenching me with care.
Showered lightly with stardust
My universe, my chair.
Raising my hands to the sky
A simple prayer to ask.
Let a golden rain bathe
Those who sit and basque.
Free-falling particles
of love to make us feel.
Sorrow turning into joy
A blissful nightfall heal.
Looking up to the night
Totally in awe.
Like waking up to the sun
The same kind of thaw.
Kristen Bruni
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