I awakened to your symphony of
trees’ foliage gently blowing,
and twilight’s lure of the moon.
This morn the birds of songs trill,
delights the retired couples beneath
a candy striped awning.
Grand Dame August,
with your regalness that doesn’t wane,
please do not part.
The children need more time in
their freedom in your sunshine
kissed days at the parks, pools,
and beaches.
I cannot bear your leaving,
you are the queen of summer,
your sunsets melt on my toes,
as I lie on Fire Island’s smooth sands.
The seabirds’ sorrow in their flight,
as soon comes the wooing of
the cool September eventides. ~
Dame
Woman, the card, the gold, the diamond, the winner
Be, be my life, my fortune, the saver, the goal of my life
I need a chance. I know my life. Please, forgive this
Forgive this life
Woman, woman. The perfect. The only. The only one
Give, give. Give your life. Let it be mine. Melt my heart
I need your hand. You took my life. Please, understand it
Love this life
Woman, woman, I am yours. Just. I love you. Life you
Be my saviour, be life, be the hope of my life. The desire
I need your, I need your life. I don’t understand mine
Teach me the love
Dame, dame! Drive! Drive!! Drive, drive my life. Your love
You are my last chance. But eternal hope, truth, and real love
I need you. I must kneel in front of you. Please! Touch!
Be saviour! And give love!
The man in the elevator farted,
He mocked us, not knowing sharts departed.
The stench was like a salmon left to rot—
Provoking our anger was all he sought.
Trapped in the foul-smelling elevator,
He begged a shirt from a sneering waiter.
Refused, a dame gave four menstrual pads—
He wore them proud, a banner for the lads.
Another kind woman gave him a skirt,
Still, that skirt got stained with a little squirt.
He would have claimed Scottish, had we not known—
We wish good toilet manners he’d have shown.
Searching the smoking ruins
of Notre-Dame cathedral,
on the Paris Île de la Cité,
one of the finest examples medieval
of French Gothic architecture,
with flying buttresses, rib vault, immense bells,
enormous colourful rose windows
all of which went through hell
during the fearful fire of 2019,
and the No Bell Prize winner was seen to have been
mangled through the proverbial wringer
as, when looking for Quasimodo,
they found a dead ringer.
This Dame no longer believes in luck
even my existence doesn’t make it real
I’m the spitting image of prosperity
still she doesn’t believe.. not at all
sitting here wishing for another time
another day another melancholy face
what turned your brandy bitter
what turned all those dreams sober
eyes that would always roll the dice
that inner light has become so dim
an ace card thrown one too many times
whenever you recite a hard luck rhyme
but you gotta feel it in your bones
As Sinatra said ‘Luck be a lady tonight.’
Even in the nude –
Imogene Bertha Gertrude –
Bad vibes today, dude
Someone had called him the Dame Tamer.
Rugged good looks made him no shamer.
Alone, he wore a pink rose
and a gold ring through his nose.
His close friends knew him as a flamer.
when with much anguish
you will find what you do wish
in liter languish
head had hit the roof
up Trump always sure to goof
need burden of proof
Trump would play a game
why me would anyone blame
disturbed by a dame
Got my cigar, got my guitar
My thinking spot is never far
On the bench, sunset in view
The western sky is painted you
In colors of the pastel type
My love for you reveals no hype
I fingerpick a favorite song
This one is Bluebird, it's not too long
Just long enough for me to play
And send the melody out your way
From start to finish a solid line
Extends from these heartstrings of mine
And when the sun and tune are done
The mountains echo, "you're the one"
She stood on the ironing board frame
Where waves of clothes she’d tame
She surfed on thoughts high
Inside the barrel green room a dame
Landing on the blue waves she did fly!
14.7.22
A LImerick Poem
A crying shame
To fetch oneself a crying name
From regularized dirty game
Choosing to not be The Tame,
Forgetting where from we came
Good and Evil treating as same;
The soul damning for fame
And oneself ceaselessly blame
The Once – Pretty, Shriveled Dame
Having chosen to be the Spiritual Lame
To paradise laying not a claim.
En route avec le Seigneur on l'a suit
Aucun regret
Parmis la forêt
Mes pionniers
Vous avez bien trouvés
Lesson d'amour
Au secours
Apprendre à partagé
Vous avez bien semés
Dieu retrouve en moi
Choix de sa foix
Au temps du respect
Une jeunesse imparfaite
Mon Dieu je te demande pardon
Merci de vos leçons
Plus de souffrance
Viens on danse
Tu te rapproche
Au fait des roches
Du village petit
L'épiphanie
Out on a calm day, wind would gust she didn’t know
She was in distress when it swirled up her kimono.
December 2, 2021
Contest : Your Funniest Couplet Ever
Sponsor : L Milton Hankins
On a summer day I saw a pretty dame
bathing in the warm waves of the beach's tub.
She tanned her skin to adorn her slim frame,
massaging its softness with each gentle rub.
From that distance, she exuded sweet fragrance
stemming from the refining of her radiance.
Sensual movements from lips, hips, curves, legs and hands
made me fantasize as I relished each moment.
My love-struck eyes gazed at the rhythmic movement
of this scantily clad model for all lands.
After a sunbath, she tied her pristine towel,
then with a fixed look, she gazed straight at me.
'Hello, the adventurous gentleman,' said she.
'You sure look gay, hale, hearty and swell.'
Shyly my fears of rejection loomed large,
whilst my love dreams turned out to be a mirage.
if my voice could breath sweet melody
and loom across the ancient sea
shall crimson lips breath thy last goodbye
northern winds shall carry sweet reply
unto a gloomy grave thus thine fled
the Norwegian Theresa I vow to wed
and thou I be in dreadful loneliness
leap from the ocean tide in hopelessness
many the days thy face appears
hidden in a moist and misty veil
'tis my love that shall prevail
and thou thyself myself doth cheer
I watched the wounded night fade
twilight's sky turn to jade
a jeweled crown the day renown
for of my pilgrimage have settled down
thou my spirit wonders forth
from the Viking cities of the north
unto the seven seas of mythology
remaining true without apology
a sultan’s palace and the throne
what sorrow brings to sail alone
and turn my eyes unto the south
journeying to the Nile's mouth
for; lo what changes time can bring
and hear thine heavenly voice but sing
what incantation life may bring, yet, I care not
this beleaguerment 'twas what I sought
and caught the twilight while yet aflame
calling Theresa, Theresa my Norwegian dame
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