Long Womanly Poems
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Like a tumbleweed aimlessly blowing in the wind
across infinitely open and wide prairie home companion land
(which wasteland famously epitomized by T.S. Elliot)
a barren vista ravages metaphorical landscape
of one measly mortal malcontent male
bumping and scraping along accursed habiliment
just barely avoiding and dodging diabolical demons
mercilessly and unrelentingly ready
to seduce this somewhat sanguine Simian
who finds himself amidst the pitfalls
of a tortured and twisted existence
racked with pinions describe bing
a demonic dragon filled dungeon
damp, dark, demented domains –
a veritable no man’s land
impossible to escape no matter how fast I -
as a foo fighter flee
from the fearful, fierce-some phantasmagoric forms
figments of my imagination seemingly real
tangible as bone and flesh
who haunt sacred crowded house of slumber
transmogrify me into a loathsome madman
ranting raving senseless gibberish and sic gobbledygook
perceived as metaphysically n philosophically insane
as soundgarden syllabification
from one womanly World Wide Web wayfarer
which virtual vagabond venerates vowels
and possesses means and tees to till verse
akin to a sorceress who waves a magic wand
to produce supreme sentences
weaves tantalizing terrific tweed topographic tundra’s
that this admirer of her artful and colorful poetic endeavors
prompts me to accompany my mindscape
as a thought-provoking troubadour
amidst the information super byways and highways
along winding labyrinths of critical thinking
or simply stepping o'er rolling stones
of silly rhymes without wing less reason
all the while giving subtle egress
into that chamber of secrets
long kept shut tight to maintain
that sure footed stance of solitude
whose only entities happened
to constitute trappings of literary lugubriousness
those tombs of largesse identified
as great works and masterpieces of literature
yet careful to avoid complete intimacy
lest that cherished solitude shattered
and a heart rent asunder
twin tower ring inferno imp perils of loss that provide
an understandable cautionary tale
to the author of this rambling missive
a most profoundly perceptive acute Ape man
touched to the quick with a bit of angel dust
aware that this agonized and angst riddled arboreal beast
contents himself with the confines of cyberspace!
Prentice Haines was the son of wealth,
the youngest of a brood of nine.
At sixteen he fled from Boston town
for the rugged life of western climes,
trapping fur took up his time.
Before a year passed he’d married a squaw,
his wife in fact, if not in law.
A daughter came quick, he named her Nell,
Bbt fate followed with darkness in store.
His wife Feathered Dove died of a fever
a year after sweet Nell was born,
but Prent had little time to mourn.
His daughter knew not that her ma was gone,
so Prent lived for her, Prent soldiered on.
Three years passed swiftly, one sunny noon
Pent and Nell walked into Sally’s case.
She gave them a smile, she always did,
then with sweet Nell did she play.
Sally was always in a happy way.
For four years since her husband died
she’d been running this place and getting by.
While Nell ran about, Prent said to Sal:
“I’m thinking of heading back east.
Time to think about schooling for Nell,
someone who womanly manners can teach.
And I suppose a new wife I should seek.”
Sally, she smiled, teeth white as pearls,
Aad said,”Not just in Boston can you find a girl.”
But Prent didn’t hear her, so lost in his mind,
Saying,”Yep, I think she will need a good school.
Being a half-breed will be troublesome enough,
can’t let her grow up just another fool.
Can’t fall short by my little jewel.
But Sally take my thanks, before I go,
for watching over her, while I trapped in the snow.”
She smiled sadly at that, then she explained:
“Watching Nelly was truly a pleasure.
She’s a wonderful girl, and I see clearly
why her father calls her his treasure.”
She bade them both good-bye forever.
At the station next day, early came
the long, hissing snake that was their train.
Across half the continent they went,
sweet Nell’s face glued to the window,
seeing prairie, farm, hills, and town
Aa along the tracks they’d go.
For Nell it really was quite a show.
And finally, the chugging train pulled on in,
blowing its great whistle at Boston’s station.
Prent knocked on the door to his parent’s house,
waiting until he heard some footsteps.
The door swung open, revealing the maid
so shocked that she looked pale as death.
She called out the name ‘Annabeth.’
A minute went by and his sister appeared,
oldest of the Haines children in years...
CONTINUES IN PART II.
You are standing there
Solid
Resolute
Unbending
Unmoved
By my womanly charm
Your eyes look straight ahead
Not taking in my curves
Not noticing the look in my eyes
The sun dancing in my raven hair
The shimmer of my cherry lips
Your hands are in your pockets
Safe
Guarded
Captive
Under your command
Not able to give away
The little tremor I would see
Should they be exposed
I've seen it happen before
When I'm close...
Your whole demeanor
Distant
Disdainful
Displeased
And I smile a slow smile
Knowing
What lies beneath
For I have seen the unguarded looks
Of burning passion
You send my way
When you think I’m not looking
As I walk towards you
I wonder
What horrible experience
Made you this way
Cautious
Guarded
Weak
I walk past you
Almost touching
Making sure I’m close enough
For you to smell the perfume
That has become my signature scent
An extravaganza of
Giddy floral scents
Orange blossom
Jasmine
And honey
ME
The scent of ME
I let it waft over you
And I turn around and watch
As you close your eyes
And breathe it in….deep
Unaware that I am watching you
Unaware that I see your stiff body relax
And lean into the scent
Captivated by your desire
You are trying
So hard
To close yourself up to me
I’m trying
So hard
To make you give in to me
Silently, I walk back up to you
I stand beside you
Quietly, gently
I place my hand on your bare arm
You flinch
As though touched by fire
I look up at you
And smile
An innocent little smile
An inviting smile
I see your eyes take me in
Focusing
Finally focusing on my eyes
Sending a silent message
A plea
To go gently
You are not made of steel
For a moment, I’m lost
And yet…I speak
Brazen
Bold
Beckoning
I know you want me….
That gives me strength
Sensing victory
Within my reach
I move up closer
On my tiptoes
My lips almost touching yours
Almost
And I whisper….
“Don’t be afraid….
I won't hurt you...
Give in…
Give in to me
Give in”…and the rest of my words are devoured
Along with my lips in your kiss
As you crush me up against you
Reserve falls to the flour
A crashing sound
That only I can hear
For it is enhanced by the sound
Of my frenetic heart beat
Pounding against my chest
Ecstasy
Urgency
Victory
VICTORY
“Give in
GIVE IN TO…..ME!”
Eileen Manassian Ghali
The Title of this Poem is the title of one of my favorite songs by the late great Michael Jackson…GIVE IN TO ME!
In Skagway town, eighteen ninety-eight
Lived a young man, Elliot McKay.
He worked with his father selling dry goods,
To the miners heading Klondike-way,
They made some good coin in a day.
Elliot he, like most younger men,
Had an eye for womanly curves.
His favorite worked in a house downtown,
With dark hair done up in curls,
A woman who’d ‘broadened’ his world.
At first it was cold, but that all changed quick,
And they soon were a regular thing.
She taught him skills a man needs to know,
Really took the boy under her wing,
And knew how to make his heart sing.
But his father said “Boy, don’t fool yourself,
That damned girl wants nothing but cash.
And many a man has found himself broke,
Chasing after a professional lass,
You better get over her fast!”
But Elliot continued, and went when he could
For weeks this went on, as before.
Until one day she asked to meet his kin,
Not the act of some common whore.
She must have loved him like never before!
They went to his house outside of town,
His lady fidgeting and tense,
Elliot knew she must be nervous,
To be meet disapproving parents,
He prayed that his dad would relent.
She entered the home and father went cold,
His face truly taken aback.
His jaw dropped and he said aloud,”Clarice!”
Then she shouted outside,”It’s Mack!”
A new figure stormed in from out back.
A man appeared, a gun in his hand,
Pushing before him Elliot’s mother.
Elliot had seen his likeness before,
It was the felon Bloody Jack Carruthers,
He knew it could be no other.
Jack said,”Now, now, we meet again,
McKay, the man who survived,
When our gang fell down in Monterey,
Shot up back in seventy-five!
Our loot you had on your ride!”
“And now I see how you spent it all,
And made it pay out in droves,
While I rotted away in sweltering cells
Far down south in old Mexico,
Imagining how this would all go!”
“You see this girl here, she is in my pay,
Since I heard that your son took a shine.
She played the damn fool, acted in love,
Until he’d bought into her lies.
And she led me here where I did find…”
“That a dirty skunk, yellow as can be
Built his home on the blood of my friends!
And all because this pretty young girl,
Your stupid, young son could bend.
Now then, prepare for your end…”
CONCLUDES IN PART II.
Petrified Soul
A walk in a cemetery. Living in the past, but tales
I love the past. It’s not a fairy tale
Feel. Past lives. Death feels from the ages of life
Beautiful, nice, gorgeous moments, times
Cold feeling, almost freezing, around old stones and graves
Here live souls on stones, monumental names, strict signs
Remember the past. Because. Remembering the past. The life
Old monuments, milestones of life and development. Loved on
The past. Good to live here. The present is dirty.
All around the world. Need to find crystal. Saving me from my past life
There are light stones. Remembered names. All in the cemetery
This cemetery is my inspiration. Loved the tours there. A dream home
Thank you, past! Remembered people! I love you! I am a student of yours
Thank you, Wembley! Thank you, Kingsbury! This cemetery is the land of the past
I love. Great Thanks! The fantasy lives in your history, send the present life
I stay here. I died here. I want to be here, an invisible stone. The hologram love
Not me. I know. There lives a lady.
She lived here two hundred years ago.
Amazing. Tall. Attractive. Air creature. Tale
Long white dress. Marble white skin. White long face. Black shiny short hair
A womanly beauty. Long legs. I respect. I love this ideal. She lives in a statue
I know where. A stone angel. Can you see? No, you can’t. I know this lady
She is a stone. Her soul is a statue. A ghost, a shadow in my life.
She needs love. Always following me in the cemetery. The secret desire
I remember her from a dream. She just watched me in the cemetery
I loved her. She is dead. In Hungary. Why follow me? Why? She needs to kill.
She wants to digest my life. I know. I will die. I never returned her love. She is suffering
Followed me from Budapest to London. Died many years ago. Hmm. Perfect empress
She died. Her love lives. Sharp blade. Wants kill. Waiting. In the graveyard
Fearing. In my heart. I don’t go there. I feel her desire for revenge. She was a pure heart
Perfect personality. Guardian angel. I love her. Waiting for me in the cemetery, her statue
Always
I can't delete her
From my life
She is a stone
Coded love
The killer
I loved you, Elisabeth
Love
In bloody heart
Mine
Petrified Soul
The Sundress, As A Marital Aid
By Rick Rucker
Before we begin, I am a “little” weird,
In case you have not “heared,”
When my Lover wears her mini sundress,
Her bare skin, I cannot wait to caress,
Her womanly delights, just out of view,
My lust for her, she does renew!
The enticing expanse of her bare back,
The gossamer-thin fabric accents the curves that she does not lack!
When she has it on, and we are walking,
I am nearly incapable of talking,
As any woman will tell you that you ask,
No man can begin to multitask!
I have on my mind just one thing,
An activity that makes me want to sing!
Walking behind her, I can see,
The sensual goddess in front of me,
Of her, I have no favorite part,
All of her does over-speed my Heart!
As I watch her stroll along,
I am reminded of “Pretty Woman,” the song,
She makes me so proud that I could shout,
Then sing, and dance about!
If other men knew what I have waiting,
When she and I get home, it is me they would be hating!
She has found the secret to a happy life,
This woman whom I have asked to be my wife,
She can do such things to me,
My senses so overloaded, that I can hardly see,
We are lucky that what she does cannot be put in a pill,
Our country’s production would come to a standstill!
Half of our population, would die very soon,
The men would take a bunch of the pills, then swoon!
Luckily, I do not have to take that pill,
I have her next to me to thrill,
I give her a red, red Rose,
She gives me cause to curl my toes!
Removing her sundress is an art,
As I do it, exploring each newly-exposed part!
It must not be done it too fast,
I want this ceremony to last!
In fact, in a day, I may remove it from her several times,
As this really “rings my chimes!”
As I told you, I may be strange,
But this part of the day, I would not change!
If your lover wears a sexy sundress,
She is wearing it for you, I would guess,
Tell her you would be happy to help her take it off,
If you are lucky, your clothes she may help You doff!
If your love life is a little staid,
Help her buy a sundress as a marital aid!
Inland Empire Prairie Corn Garden of the West Land of Lincoln Mile After Magnificent Mile; Right Here. Right Now at the bottom upside down State sovereignty, national union Hoosier sunshine Hospitality Indian land The Crossroads of America Restart Your Engines Land of the Rolling Prairie in the Tall Corn Hawkeye did not see the clause to cede Our liberties we prize and our rights we will maintain Life Changing; Fields of Opportunity * * * wheat America's Bread Basket Home of Beautiful Women Simply Wonderful bought from under the people of the wind as big as you think To the stars through difficulties The Dark and Bloody Ground bluegrass hemp tobacco corn-cracker Unbridled Spirit United we stand, divided we fall Let us be grateful to God Sugar Child of the Mississippi Creole Holland of America bayou pelican Land of Louis the first slaves 3 cents an acre was a worthless desert native burial mounds Fall in love with all over again Come as you are. Leave Different Union, justice and confidence Pine tree lumber Vacationland they are our relatives/allies strong land People of the First Light It Must Be ; The Way Life Should Be I lead Monumental oyster land of big river and geese traded for monies Old Line Manly deeds, womanly words Seize the Day Off More Than You Can Imagine America in Miniature
Anna Belle 1619 (Part One)
She set out to Jamestown in 1619
She's a Nordic ship on the sea
She's purple in shades in streams
She bathes in the Caribbean breeze
She needs no bard's flattery
No barroom cajolery
Only God with His love sets her free
Along the Levant coast, Aqaba, and Red Sea
My Shulamite who longs for me
She whispers softly, a euphony
Her chestnut flowing glory
Cascades oh womanly
And shaded for only me to see
A music-box dancer
Flawless she prances
Her beauty captured in Renaissance fancy
Reciting "I do"
My bride in June
My beloved in truth
As we walk together towards God
Anna Belle MMVI (Part Two)
Streetlights lead the way from home
Into the distance I drift and and I doze
Off to sleep where I meet Anna
On the coastal retreat out on the veranda
I hand her a poem and it reads:
Anna Belle
You have a lover's light
It is a beacon to this traveler's eye
You are grace and life
A sunburst shining Christ
Luminosity on this day which God has made
I m-i-s-s-i-s-s-I miss your kiss
When you're away
She sighs, what a look in her eyes
I desire to know as she ponders each line
In her heart unfurling more woes
A cascading of tears and hopes
Holding hands, we share our dreams
Of a journey together, the valleys the peaks
Our eyes meet, we momentarily hesitate
Then univocally say "You are my soul mate"
Goodbye Anna Belle (Part Three)
Preacher by day, poet by night
This hero's weakness is iron pyrite
A ship among ships
I sail on by moon eclipsed
No stars or astrolabe
To navigate me me towards my babe
The captain of the Eternity
Has set course and ushered me out to sea
With memories of her and dreams of home
I seek the shore in the sad poem
As I roam and comb Rome
I see faces from pages I've written in tome
Familiar, I see her everywhere
In the euphemistic flower and cascading hair
I ponder the thought of all thoughts
Why did Jesus endure the path and the cross
Out of love, a love that leads step by step
Through a mystery of enigmatic depths
I say my goodbye in this melancholy ode
I mourn, but not as one with no hope
Dress properly
Behave womanly
Walk nicely
Straight and not crooked
Eat wifely
But never too much
Thin ones are always preferred
Laugh courteously
Don't laugh out loud
How dare you speak so much
A **** or what?!
Speak politely if you have to
Else don't open that mouth of yours
But do smile here and there
Nobody likes a depressed woman
Wear clothes that hide your breasts
It should be sufficiently hidden
Don't wear them tight
The curves are appealing
Don't wear them loose
They hang like fruits
Wear them according to the occasion
No need to be a rebel now
Listen to the elderly
Obey them at all times
Be a homely wife
Gel with everybody
Respect his wishes
Please him as much as you can
How dare you argue?!
The **** within you refuses to die or what?
Come take a dip in the holy river
Wash away your sins
Get purified
Not like that!
Wear decent clothes
Before plunging in front of everybody
Don't wear white
It is transparent and cracks
Wear full clothes
But wear them dark
Don't wear black
It sticks and attracts
Get up before everybody
Sleep after everybody is asleep
Eat after you have taken care of others
Take an early bath
You don't want to stink
Pray before eating
Pray with devotion
Be patient you dervish!
The food isn't going anywhere
Come and join the party
Become beautiful before attending
Always wear that smile on you
Accompany him. Don't leave him hanging.
Even to the bar
But don't you dare drink!
Drunkards are men only
It doesn't suit a women
Of any age
How sad she is widowed...
But why isn't she wearing white?!
A **** or what?
How dare she wear those colorful clothes?
It hasn't even been a year since he breathed his last
Such a caring husband! It's a pity.
And just look at her
Flaunting her happiness like that!
Doesn't his death bother her
No! Cried out the ***
He was an acid between my thighs
It was a pointless death for him
A moment of victory for me
Trust me. I'm a woman. We are born to battle.
And they never hear our soulful cries.
"But still, like air, I'll rise."
Guess she is a rebel after all.
To the most Heavenly of YOUR Angels, “LENORE ELLEN”
C / O my Higher Power, the Supreme Almighty Being; “GOD”
North-East-South-West : Present-Past-Future : Up-Down : Left-Right
1 FOREVER-ETERNITY LANE , HEAVEN
11111nth
MY DEAREST, BELOVED LENORE : “Nubbies” : I miss YOU so much.
I hear YOUR Sultry voice, see YOUR Angelic face, feel YOUR Delicate touch.
I smell YOUR Womanly Fragrance : Caress and brush YOUR long Auburn hair.
I see YOUR sexy wiggle as YOU go walking by, in YOUR Silky naked skin so fair
I see YOUR smiling Rosa lips : Hypnotized by YOUR beckoning Green Eyes.
My Heartbeats’ every second, is Dedicated to YOU : You dry the Tears of “CRIES”
I know I should have written sooner,but the language of “GLORY “ I do not Know
I was afraid that the earthly words for Happiness and LOVE : to GOD I could not
Show
Many years I’ve asked myself What did our Heavenly Father say
about “WOODSTOCK”
YOUR Greeneyed Soul is with HIM: When I get to “PEARLY GATE” I do not see a
lock
Thank YOU GOD: what a Hell it would be, I could never see My Heartbeat, My
LOVE
LENORE== Never again hear HER POETRY, never again know HER sweet LOVE
I shall write again :(SOON : to YOU in Heaven) to me forever long, August 25 at
noon
OUR ANNIVERSARY
With every Heartbeat, Every Breath of Life, waiting to be with YOU again
"Nubbies" LOVE FOREVER and ETERNITY YOUR Husband
Harry D.Johnson
In LOVING MEMORY of LENORE ELLEN ADAMS JOHNSON
November 4 , 1951--- August 25 , 1971
Dedicated to My Mentor: CAROL BROWN
Dedicated to My POETIC LOVE: Jill Martin