Long Quickie Poems
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Kim (one of my BFF) brightened with inspiration, “Oooo! Send him a sexy pic!”
“I’m NOT going to sext a guy out of the BLUE,” I grumbled, indignantly.
Kim turned to her phone, “No, No, of COURSE not.” She said as she texted.
“Come on” she said, as she pulled me off my chair and out the door. We raced over, on foot, to my friend Bili’s house (two houses away). We entered without knocking (as usual) and ran upstairs.
Bili lay on her stomach on her unmade bed, fiddling with her phone, ankles up and crossed but she twisted up to attention when we came in.
“What should we do first?” She said, as if there were a million things to do.
They set upon me and had my regular clothes off in a heartbeat. Like all makeovers, this had a prelapsarian purity - the ritual stripping down to blankness before rebuilding.
They quickly went through about half of Bili’s closet - selecting just the right combination of trashy and classy clothes designed to seduce.
They finally settled on a black slip under an ivory peignoir, stockings with garters and black strappy heels.
Kim twisted my hair up into a loose “Gibson Girl.”
“Hold still,” Bili said, as she grasped my chin and expertly blended red, gold and black glittery eyeshadows followed by lip liner and gloss. “This is just a quickie job,” she reminded me.
I stared at this strange version of myself in the vanity.
Kim frowned and looking around, she spread a pink scarf over the desk light to give the room a rosy glow. They went into studio mode - posing me in various ways from coquettish to bored lounging - suggesting expressions and taking endless pictures with my phone.
Finally, they were satisfied and handed me my phone.
“Shall we go through them?” Bili asked
“Naah,” I said, “I’ll go through ‘em and pick one - or two.”
Later, at home, I looked through them - I looked SO different - and I had to admit - sexy even. But was that ME? I cringed, what if my mom saw these trashy, Kardashian-like photos somewhere?
I never sent them. I thought I’d have to explain it to my girls.
“HA!” They laughed, “We KNEW you’d never use ‘em” Bili said, as Kim shook her head “Nope.”
“It was fun though!” We all agreed.
.
.
.
NOTE: This is a pre-pandemic story from August 2019. I was 15 - the idea wasn’t to seduce this guy, it was to get his interest so he would ask me out . =]
Apple crumb and angel food cakes
Butterscotch banana shakes
Chili, Chinese, cheese, and chips
Doughnuts, deviled eggs and dips
Éclairs, English fish and chips
Fudge, fondue, fritters and French crepes
Guacamole, gumdrops, frosted grapes.
Hash browns, hot dogs, ham and honeyed scones
Italian food and ices, ice cream cones
Jelly rolls and jelly beans
Kish kabobs and Krispy kremes
Lemon pies, lasagna, luau barbecue
Mexican, mac and cheese, and spicy meatballs too
Nachos, noodles, nutty things
Oatmeal cookies, onion rings
Pizza, popcorn, party spreads
Quickie burgers and quick breads
Rum raisin ice cream, roasted meats
Spaghetti, shepherd’s pie, and sweets
Tacos, tuna, teriyaki,
Upside down cake. Are you hungry?
Veggie soups (though some are awful)
Waldorf salad, won tons, waffles
X-tra servings, Xmas treats
Yogurts sprinkled, yams baked sweet
Zucchini’s all that’s left to eat!
(for the new Anything Goes contest)
A is for Ant (and for ass, your dad is an example of an ass)
B is for Bee (and for b*stard, your dad is a bast*rd - first class)
C is for Chicken (and for a word I don’t want to say - but see K)
D is for Dog (and also for Dynamite - which I’d like to shove up your dad’s... see A)
E is for Eagle (and for egotistical effing... see K... and C)
F is for Frog (and for Fu*ker, which your dad’s been doing with someone who isn’t me)
G is for Giraffe (and for Git - your dad is a Git... and he has two faces)
H is for Horse (and for Hard Up - which your dad was... in too many places)
I is for Insect (and for Insolvent, which thanks to me, he’ll soon be, with just one legal shove)
J is for Jellyfish (and Judas. Your Dad’s a Judas... with a rash from his illicit love)
K is for Kitten (and for making some words sound worse - see C)
L is for Lion (and Lobster, a creature with claws that belongs at the bottom of the sea - hmmm...)
M is for Mouse (and for machete and for manhood... which gives me an idea)
N is for Newt (and Nymphomaniac - neither should work at IKEA)
O is for Owl (and Optimistic, well, he thought that he left me fulfilled)
P is for Penguin (and for Philandering, at which your daddy is skilled)
Q is for Quail (and for Quickie, the best that your daddy could do)
R is for Rabbit (and Rampant - and once I got that, how did we get you?)
S is for Snail (and for Slug, which describes both your dad and his di*k)
T is for Tiger (and Torrid, your dad was this with some Randy chick)
U is for Unicorn (and Underhand, your dad was this night and day)
V is for Vole (and also VD, hence the rash that was listed in J)
W is for Worm (and for Merchant Banker, thats rhyming slang for your father)
X is for Xerus (and X-rated gel, I bet he’ll work up quite a lather)
Y is for Yak (and for Yesterday’s News, which is all your dad turns out to be
Z is for Zebra (and for Zeees, that his Nympho is catching, asleep next to me)
*
[Xerus is a genus of African ground squirrel]
she pips in fear for lateness like her peers,
hauteur cloaked with reticence,
her-boo-boo-vague, though walled around and palpable
official Narcissist disguised in rude affronts
Bravado of naughtiness in candour yet tacit
“Free me to free me”, rants in melancholy
as ignorance upsets sorts of sort
Insensibility of differentiating as angels often tastes the gall
By routines of cataract long glare
Sends nostalgia down their spines
Though forgetting the milk and candies of supposed rivals
Doubling as friends in conning angst beggarly in their nature
Nagging and ganging a gang of gossipers
Finding Mutual grounds for their victims
Causing higgledypiggledy where there exist no war
For a suspected compromise of morals
Or a hunting taint of a past paints on Z walls
Where decorum is not a schoolmaster
As official time wastes in visits to motels at un-break break time
With holy bible at desk view to mask hypocrisy
First venerable “Etis” Migrants tasted buds of vinegary as noised by witnessing chauffeur
And guilt cautioned not her thigh with an avalanche of showy attire of a seductress
advertorials of “buried innocence” jagged in curved carbuncle front and back
Banging shoes in unending visits secreted in kitchen
double-faced, loud calls to clients for managerial gratitude
as empty office fill vacuums of fast quickie (sharp-sharp) appointments arranged or rearranged
Ill-mannered, bad-tempered not marriageable, never listen, never patient making enemies
Commandeering, verbose, self-conceited, presumptuous, stout and arrogant
Everyone’s ranting about this A.I.
They’re hopping mad but I can’t figure why
It’s just for the best
That things have progressed
I know it’s true… I’m a real modern guy
Tell me what’s wrong with machine written odes
That someone’s phone drafted in binary codes
It really don’t matter
If romantic patter
With no human touch, is just one of loads
I ain’t losing sleep like all of you sheep
Whingeing like somebody killed Miss Bo Peep
Synthetic emotion
Should cause no commotion
I’ve got other hobbies so I won’t weep
I enjoy painting pictures of winter
Take my time; when I paint I’m no sprinter
My techie mate Ricky
Just Samsungs a quickie…
Which will spew from his full colour printer
Went to the races where I placed a bet
Armed with the best tip I’d ever had yet
But my horse was beat
By some sneaky cheat
Who rode not a horse, but a high speed jet
Got a call from my agent and mentor
And she mentioned the novel I’d sent her
“We’ve read lots of those,
The one that we chose,
Is a book written by pressing ENTER.”
I now comprehend what I hadn’t seen
No point in poems writ by a machine
So please don’t mislead
By making me read
Poems, if penned by an iPhone fifteen
Florid banshees recoiled, neck and hankering sneer.
A succinctly exuberant suggestion when selective.
Came on, fell flat with laconic ornamentation.
A miniature jaunt, interment; glove comparted.
Pin-striped foxtails attuned tune maddening clairvoyants.
Precisely predisposed, wine-flavored latten tobaccos.
A wooden-tipped juxtaposition, stilling waisted.
Bygone midge nonguarded, slunk olive drabbing on bayou.
Thicken handkerchief lightly dabbing brow.
Darkness entrapment, fiat practice gymnastics.
Money management, coinage magnet, honored in mathematics.
Backflipping,
Backtracking,
Backpacking.
Super-Soaker moisture, quickie; quickly, socks on prickly.
Sloped incline, inside Mount Saint Helens' Slip 'n Slide.
I am a cat, at home I’m Ollie
But fellow cats know real name
“Intrepid Vic”, I dig that, golly
Grey tiger, finest at his game
I am the boss around here
Them humans lacking any wit
In house of mine they live, oh dear
We take up space in even split
They’re sort of fun to be around
I’m free to roam, eat and sleep
They give me hugs, but I may frown
No mucho fondling or I leap!
There’s plenty do around the castle
Lick milk, meow and preen myself
To tug on curtain’s bushy tassel
And jump to kitchens’ highest shelf
To scratch the pole, chase own tail
Lay on keyboard when daddy writes
And have a drink without fail
I love the dripping faucet pipes
This cat hates bathing with a passion
The tongue is all you need, capeeche?
A counter walk is still in fashion
As diet of livers and the fish
Be engine to the cat-drawn carriage
Kids want to have for their doll
I play good sport, so I can manage
Paw dinner meat and have a ball!
To walk around, rubbing lightly
Against the people and the turfs
Affection? Nay, we rather rightly
Stake claim to lands, you naive serfs
The backyard run is fun and game
Chase birds and squirrels sans result
Stop screaming your approval, dame
I brought you mouse, not insult!
The fight with neighbors’ cat is tricky
We hate each other, what a schmuck
And stray feline escapes the quickie
Love interest gone, I’m out of luck
Then watch TV about tabbies
High time to purr enjoying snack
Dive into fishbowl acting grabby
Ascend the tree for doggie pack
Kids drive me crazy with a laser
I drive them nuts by hiding mum
Love being family’s hell-raiser
At times I’m meek but never dumb
A blade of grass to treat a sickness
Do know exactly what I need
And have that fur to show for slickness
“Meow the kitties!” is my creed
To plan a day some quiet time
I need in total solitude
Slink into curve ball for bedtime
Wake humans early for my food
This life’s intense and full of peril
And so much fun, it’s cats’ delight
Plans for tomorrow? They are feral
I have to sleep on them tonight
© 2022
Lily White was in the mood for sweets
Walking the streets
Came across pastry treats
Modern Royals pull out a dessert spread
Enough that armies could be fed
Magpie this Magpie that
Oh mag pies get Lily White fat
Picking up one in the first half
Modern Royals snickered with a laugh
Preparing Lily White to be a wife
Since this was a get Ritchie
Pitch me
Quickie plan
Evening up excited the fans
Until Kane went double dipping
Hoping for a newspaper clipping
Lily White deserved tipping
Making all the hats removed
An action gentlemanly and smooth
While the wolves needed a tasting of wine
Burnley was chosen to dine
A casual meeting
Level competing
Less than fifteen to go Wolves put the score into the show
But before the curtain dropped
A piece of wood got hot
Penalty was assessed
Goal awarded to Clarets a success
Draw was written into the book
Climatic ending was a good hook
Mr. Bourne who had a mouth
Met with the citizens who reminded him to get out
Public’s two pences were heard
Mr. Bourne’s cherries curled
Showing some respect
They let him have one avoiding the train wreck
Tomorrow is another day
Peaceful play
That is recorded winner in every way
LIGHTED IN SPIRALS
Rewrite the stars,
Strip the firmaments,
Empty the stacks of rain
as the world moves slow mo'
in a spherical spirals of clouds.
Let brightness confine darkness
till the days are profitably used-up,
Then nights can steal day's glory;
Spin us all for the quickie,
Let destinies actualize speedily,
Then the world can only be ours
as we ravel in universe lighted spirals.
Did you think no one can rewrite the stars?
The answer lies in the belly of imagination.
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Copyright©April 25th,2021.
#OnTheSpotPoetry????
#PoetKing #poetryinmotion #poetrychallenge #PoetSkills #poetsofinstagram
Translucent mauve and purple on a strict medusian mission
In rhythmic undulation bubble-shaped to thwart suspicion.
Together they are swarming as they quiver with ambition.
They hide away the feelers – meant to help radar evasion
Infesting seas and oceans. It’s the jellyfish invasion!
------------------------------------------------------------------
Paul Callus ~ 22 nd June 2014
Contest: Five Lines (A Quickie)
Sponsor: Skat A
Placed: 5th