Best After Hours Poems
AFTER HOURS
Dudes in duds broken down brims
cocked and bent creases in trousers
when thugs were gents
People with attitude women too
demeanor and outfits like
Ebony's front pages
Dudes in duds broken down brims
Money on backs eyes watching
the eye's of watchers
Entrances and exits.
Wink or nod jazz in smoky
rooms groomed and manicured.
sashay across the room stepping off in
Bally's shoes shined no scuff
after hours.
high profile.. Dudes in duds
broken down brims.
Men creating temporary illusions
Clean to the bone
deliberate sashay tempo exaggerated
tempting and teasing pleasing the eye
karat's on fingers scents linger
Exquisite cologne clean to the bone
faded edges -role playing no script
Dudes in duds
Broken down brims cocked and bent.
Attitude in threads
We wait to be called in that back room
Where they'd spit "Gangsta Wit".
before videos
Was dudes in duds with sweet tongues
making their points in after hour joints.
Live and direct we upstarts
learning our parts we'd sit
internalizing gangsta wit
like understudies to a movie script
In after hours joints........... delighted...
Midnight boom town streets have this allure
imagining an uncanny venture
eavesdrop veil surround but dark as coal
how I love my after hours stroll
Secret worlds unfold their impish plot
mesmerised entanglement a tiered whatnot
black crush velvet sky we must extol
how I love my after hours stroll
Gilt fantasies that float across each lane way
fluorescent gremlin from some ghostly parking bay
gust on salt ice pier might buttonhole
how I love my after hours stroll
Snow clad mall whistler gaffe prone
while wandering the ink hue urban zone
a chapter lift and snatch from begging bowl
how I love my after hours stroll
Traffic signals stellar stoic stance
heartbeat of nocturnal moonlight dance
frozen digit signage reeks of twinkling North Pole
how I love my after hours stroll
After Hours
After hours-
After the final checkout-
After the library's final close-
Forever is too long- for a poets repose-
Go ye there, Emily-
In this line -And not that one-
Not with regular mortals-
Inclined to caskets or crypts to die-
Yet abscond ye there-
Through a clandestine portal-
And forever- on library shelves lie-
And one minute- before the library opens-
May ye creep ‘cross the library floor-
Then right turn and left turn-
Along those corridors-
And return ye then- that borrowed pen-
Then sleep on those shelves again-
The monkeys called together all
Of the animals in the zoo.
There are tigers, giraffes, lions,
Lizards, zebras and rhinos too.
They have an enormous party
After the people have gone home.
This happens every single night
When the animals are on their own.
The tigers love chocolate ice cream,
Lizards always play with the skunk,
rhinos dance the waltz and tango,
While the monkeys always get drunk.
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
And, so, with the dawn
of a new night, we met
for song and dancing.
Stars are made for wishing...
while suns are dear sources
of life.
my favorite time
just sitting and watching you
prepare for your day
a routine that's never old
outfit on , unwrapped for night
After hours, Maud, ginger cat,
Goes through O in fence:
No nonsense.
Goes to roundabout,
And sits there on still car.
Becomes calm...
Tail around,
She does not study her environment.
She is like a totem as she waits for silver dawn.
3/20/2015
midnight at the oasis
a short stroll
on cool dewy grass
The night the wind...blew
The sky turned grey from blue
As birds felt free fond of a feeling
Their feathers often knew
To such a night I give a smile
Flowers dance for a while
Before the moon illuminates
The sun descends in style
The soil combs it's grassy hair
A chlorophylic perm is rare
Sly, smooth, and still the night owl sits
With sober eyes that stare
Simplistic stars sign autographs
With scientific math
Teaching the souls that see them shine
A constellations' path
Behind the light the dark stood still
Upon a hallow hill
Delighted with the dawn of dreams
And memories to fill
As birds felt free fond of a feeling
Their feathers often knew
The sky turned grey from blue
The night the wind...blew
Deftly you travel,
Be it ice or air,
Through atmospheric panels,
And liquid guard rails,
Days with no beginning,
Seasons with no end,
From the moment you began skating,
To the second I turned my head,
Own eyes lock indefinitely,
You leave your arms outstretched,
While mine entwine instinctively,
My callousness leaves you disheartened,
So you break our gaze,
And I return to my blindness,
Yet even as I'm cold-blooded I require a heating brace,
A signal, a spark from a single smile's brilliance,
For without water surely I will wither,
Without air surely I will suffocate,
And without sustenance surely I will suffer,
But without warmth I will be forced to abdicate,
My irreplaceable sight,
And my ability to write.
When the sun makes the hills its grave
And the moon comes out to play
I sit and reflect on what happened that day
That week
Or even that year
Then the clouds sweep me up
And wipe my tears
I jump on the sky
And swing from the stars
I pull on the moon
And dance on mars
And it is every night
When I’m feeling sad
That the sky reminds me that it’s not so bad.
Deep in the night
I lay awake, alone-
Thinking of your touch as light-
Tempted to pick up my phone
Craving you by my side
To keep me warm;
Wrapped in your hide:
Sheltered during the storm
Your hands are cold
But lips are hot against mine;
Chin hair on my cheeks that you hold,
While cracking smiles and laughs sounding fine
after the show or play
come this way
there's places
you can meet a new faces
where they hump
and bump
all thur mdnight hours
you get a funky
lover showers
LETS PARTY AFTER HOURS
It is now eventide at the museum,
Myriad masterworks line the walls,
Elated crowds no longer pressing,
In rapt thrall of beauty and color!
Art awaits once more being beheld,
On a night of porcelain moonlight.
Written on 10/30/2021
For: BITE SIZE POEM no25 Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Line Gauthier