Best Porter Poems
Come meet two of my former patients;
A nursing home room they did share
Maggie was blind; Porter became her eyes
Finding, picking up, helping her
He was kind. Her mind had slipped - or had it?
"Porter, I lost my comb," said to mate
Frail as he was, under the bed he went
Crawling for Maggie - deliberate
Day in and day out he would meet her needs;
She contrived to keep him near her hand,
Porter this and Porter that - it did seem
Though they each understood the commands
The nurses would come to help as needed.
Then, on that moring when a stillness
Penetrated the room reverently
Quietly sitting slumped by her bed
No answer; no movement; just sitting there;
Porter dressed for his daily tasks,
He had fallen asleep when breathing ceased
He had given all that was asked
"Porter, Porter, help me," was softly heard
"Porter, Porter, please answer me,
Porter, Porter, where are you?" asked again.
"Porter's gone. He loved you, Maggie."
Categories:
porter, death, family, love,
Form:
Narrative
stout or
porter
porter
or stout
I’ll weep
myself to
to sleep
if I have
to be without
my heart is as heavy
as my burdens are old
and neither find solace
in that lager served cold
I need something bitter
not a pilsner, too yellow
reserve that lighter brew
for a that happier fellow
I hope you don’t think
my words are too terse
for airing my druthers
with a rhyme and verse
but I tell you this man
I will have to make bail
if you fill up my glass
with an India Pale Ale
a beer dark and thick
with velvety bubbles
is the only thing that
will stifle my troubles
so be fast on the draw
but slow with the pour
if I wanted more head
I would get me a whore
and if I haven’t been clear
let me leave you no doubt
if you are serving me beer
I’ll take a porter, or stout
Michael F. Lewis
5/12/2013
Written at Main Street Brewery
Pleasanton, California
Categories:
porter, drink,
Form:
Concrete
Resigned to my isolation,
stuck in stasis sure as death
Weary of my solitude
and pained to not be by myself.
I went out to find the crowd
for comfort and, for company.
In each face I saw allowed,
reflections of the prison of me.
Sharp and cutting as a knife,
it did cleave to the bone
each was trapped in his own life.
Even together; all are alone.
I returned to my cell
full of dread and, distress.
Each man creates his own hell;
mine - my lingering loneliness.
Categories:
porter, introspection, life, loss, sad,
Form:
Lyric
all these shades of blue
that i've passed through.
echoes from way back
reflect on days brand new.
oh! i have been
sky-blue falling
sea-blue diving
and Indigo
came so hard, you know
it made it seem
I was lost in dream
turquoise mountains
majesty above
the cobalt ground.
none ever lingered
too long and most
never held me down.
for with all the living
the taken and given
this big blue marble
just keeps spinnin' 'round
man! i sure could use
a guitar solo, right about here...
Categories:
porter, life,
Form:
Free verse
Memory of hot summer nights
sweat and sweetness
naked flesh dripping
streets sounds from open window
passion cracked like a whip
and we...
danced to a different beating
of two hearts set afire
and, it was cool
first time we danced
we found....
matching rhythms
we moved across a dance floor
as if we were
one spirit in two bodies
or one body
with two congruent minds
and later,in the room
at the top of the stairs
on a gifted brass bed,
just as on the dance floor
we moved together
as if my flow was the only
one you'd known
and your body was my own
and sweet jazz music
played on the radio
while you made love to me
as if you were the one who wrote
the diary of my desires
Categories:
porter, nostalgia, passion, romance, dance,
Form:
Free verse
Apricot nectar, I licked from her lips,
suckled the dew like honey
from melon ripe breast
and in time did savor
the heady heavenly flavor
of passion's fruit in all the rest
and night birds
beyond the window
...sang a new song.
Categories:
porter, nostalgia, passion, romance,
Form:
Free verse
I paid solemn visitation to the site
of The Unknown Girlfriend's Tomb
to give honor and pay respects
to romance slain
on the battlefield of love.
No wreath of tears did I lay there
I wore no black armband of regret
there was no mournful bugle call
silently did I salute
lovers lost,? ?who sacrificed all.
And in memory did I recount vividly
the ambushes,? ?skirmishes and attacks
in the bedrooms and the bars
and looked at my oft wounded heart
no longer bloodied but,? ?bearing scars?
My hand I laid upon the? ?cold hard stone
of memorial,? ?to every anonymous amour,
who by Cupid's lead arrows had been slain
and uttered the survivors thanks
for experience,? ?strength and wisdom gained.
Then walked home alone,? ?in the rain.
Categories:
porter, allegory, lost love
Form:
Free verse
! How I remember you
filled with youth, mischief and lust
We shared wicked, sinful days;
And, (Oh God!) those nights!
Categories:
porter, love, nostalgia, passion, romance,
Form:
Dodoitsu
Here in the land of blind dogs and
screeching pigs, I lay me down to rest.
Where predators prowl and scavengers growl,
We snuggle like baby carrion fowl
in a squalid, rotting, rancid, reeking nest.
Where the death-stench and fat flies
fill greenish yellow bruised sad skies
and, necrophilia is a spectator sport;
We contendly feast on fresh slaughter beast
then wrapped in entrails, we dance and cavort.
Oh lovely stink! Oh delightful decay!
Where air is vile and water is gritty,
we make meery sport with mangled dead
while you cower, at night, in your bed
putting your hope in the walls of your city.
Out here we fantasize your horrified eyes
and agonized cries, as we watch neath the moon.
Lazy and fattened; would your flesh be sweet?
Oh how we could feast on your blood and meat.
We're planning to come visit your city real soon.
I'd wager, the children are quite tender.
Categories:
porter, death, fantasy, fear,
Form:
Rhyme
Hold me like you'll never let go;
love me, each time, as if the first.
Shake me and quake me, slake my thirst
Quench this fire-My desire.
Love me each time, as if the first;
relearn my flesh, again, anew.
Discover new ways to excite me;
uncover passion's mystery.
Shake me and quake me; slake my thirst.
Give me nectar; let me drink deep-
'til I am filled and satisfied.
I promise I will fill you too.
Quench this fire-My desire;
leave me exhausted, limp, and drained.
Then renew urge, with tender tease.
'til urgency arouse once more!
Categories:
porter, passion, me, me,
Form:
Romanticism
Oh dear delight! My sweet coquette.
Enticing smiles; your glance flirtatious
rouses in me, dispositions salacious.
Sometimes my fret- sometimes my pet;
oh so tantalizing the way you tease
transform blase' to beguiling mystery
which fires my fervor with pleasing ease.
Comely countenance; aspect gracious
All ardorous attentions you do invite;
Oh sweet coquette! My dear delight.
Categories:
porter, passion, romance, sweet, sweet,
Form:
Dat gal done gone an lef me? '?lone
went t'town wit huh red shoes on.
Hi' ole heels,dress on tight
Powda and paint,sum'in ain't right
They's som kine of problum I caint explain
I believes sum main done turnt her hed
stayin out late,alw ays rais'in sayin
gotta take uh baf, fo' she get in bed
So I follered huh one night to see
Lemme tell ya I seent real good
Dat woman spose'd to be lovin me,
Sportin ah nuthah main, in yonder wood
ME, I tries to be uh good main
work ever day; try t' serve da lord
My woman wanna ride in Cadillacs
Alls I own is uh beat down Ford
Ever night she cum home sweatin
ev'n tho the weather been steady cool
I'll make a flea uh wrestlin jacket
fo I let huh make me uh fool.
Bag packed, gwine to da railroad track
catch me uh train to eny'where good
If'n ya wanna fine dat woman I lef behine
Dig down deep, in yonder wood.
Categories:
porter, black-african amerwoman, night, me,
Form:
Narrative
Blues
are cutting me like a knife
all the way down
down to my soul
somebody please play some rock? '?n?' ?roll
maybe if i can get up and,? ?bop and stroll
it might be balm
for these blues
cutting me like a knife
like a mill-wheel grinding me
Blues
wear me down
i am ground up like fine meal
won't somebody throw down some jazz
something smooth-melodic,? ?to help me heal
cause i can not deal
with blues,? ?like a mill-wheel turning
turning to grind me down
every note pierces my heart with pain
change the music but refrain
from the same.? ?play ska,? ?gospel or reggae
rap or metal to chase my blues away
except country of course with its repeat
of loss,? ?despondency and defeat
that pierce my heart,? ?pierce my heart,? ?as if a pike
cause the stories told are so much like
the Blues
Categories:
porter, sadme, me,
Form:
Free verse
the music is sweating in the room
strings and reeds bump and grind
slow-dragging dancers entwine
oh the fruit is ripe upon the vine
and the wine of love and laughter
a mingled vintage- joy and tears
now are drunk down to the dregs
then another round is poured
urgency prowls the crowd's periphery
everybody waiting for... nobody knows
but we'll pitch a fit when it gets here
some might even shed some clothes
desire is straining in the room
lust sniffs around like an old hound
trying to catch the scent,
purposed to pick up the trail
hunting money, hunting magic
hunting comfort, hunting tail
sweaty music sound still coming down
where are soft arms that hold tight
warm lips to lie that it's all right?
night turns like a page in a book
the guitar player throws out a hook
and sweating music command us look
for when the morning shall come
Categories:
porter, black african american, music,
Form:
Lyric
Oh I love to dance but,? ?I am no great dancer
And,? ?i love romance but,? ?I'm not a take a chancer.
Give me a steady beat and,? ?I'll still hit the floor,
?'?cause I'm the only one I ever boogie for
But romance is dance designed exclusively for two?'
Skittish at the risks involved?; ?its a step I no longer do.
Now,? ?I have been a lover and a fighter but,? ?it's been
many long years gone since I engaged in a fight
And loving I do only from a distance but,? ?I have
always been a poet,? ?so most of all,? ?I sit and write.
Categories:
porter, introspection, life, on writing
Form: