Best Escorts Poems

red rooftops appear to glow in rainy-day haze
lost in memories of pre-war bliss
     she looks up to watch them bleed

pain is...

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The mighty 3rd to the north did steam,
Chasing a ghost not to be seen

Guard the landing your task assigned,
Quiet the day is to be benign

At...

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Beyond the skills of escorts
and the appeal of other playthings,
smolders the need of the soul
infused to best every man.
Twelve years have taken
the scars out of...

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Tall trees
on each side of
the deep wood's shadowed path
guide me out. . . my gallant
escorts.


Submitted Oct. 7, 2022
for Line Gauthier's Bitesize Poem No.53 Poetry Contest...

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Debutantes with secret lives of crimson
could drink and smoke much more than anyone,
dressed in ivory postbellum fashion
sable coats, charcoal tuxes by the ton.

In and out...

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"Nightstar"

As amber rays wane with their task done,
The melting of the rainbow, pleasing Mr. Sun,
Setting colours free across a canvas, blue,
To paint a new marvel,...

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She's tucked in bed of floral white
To mommy's hand, she holds on tight
No hunger pangs disrupt her night
In dreams she sees candied delight 

He finds...

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Diurnal, nature's early damsel,
donned in dew and vivid peach,
I am in need of dawning's candle;
humor me as I beseech.

Amidst thy gown I often ponder,
musing on...

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Spring tea,I'm invited
you are too ,'cause she's decided
underneath the willow tree
served a little after three
  baby bear and kitty cat
sit  right where they've...

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seagulls surf the wind
my escorts home
across the waves

                 ...

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"Freedom Sees - Part 2"

Platoon magic legion
Hammerheads
beautiful, graceful escorts
leading the way
hear their call, silently swishing
dorsal fins
cutting through the 
fall-out murky pall,
they need no 
blood and...

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Otto`s life is not
their British
sickular motto
Grue is his banner
left by his
blue-eyed Brit mom
left long by one of
those hated South
African Paki
His guilty pleasures
in Green Street have
no...

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When sunset bows amidst the hilltops,
My warble coos on fields;
And through the ever- glowing night
This womb of nest I keep,
Where flappers reel like tints of...

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A twelve year old boy, village-bred   and  very shy
Having but token familiarity with buses, routes and places
Escorts his mom’s mom,  very...

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Strategically placed when raised 
Upwards
By your masterful and well 
Practiced hand.
To mingle with ever changing 
Skylines 
That frown down with arrogant 
Scowls
Upon the indigenous populous...

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