Mistresses Poems

Naughty Day

The dawn's unfolding horizontally, a kaleidoscope of color, as morning's promises lap warmth in my ear, the sun's fiery rebirth, painting the horizon with brushstrokes of glory, reflected rays of light dancing across the world, awakening the senses, a crescendo of radiance, sublime and brilliant.

As the pyrography star beams caress my skin, I surrender to serenity's smooth touch, this unvest unfolding like a nudist precious gem, thy mistresses of day gazing upon the rising sun, their mellifluously singing sensual serenata, I drink in the crisp air, swaying to the rhythm of today’s sexy melody.

Loxodonta reduced

Loxodonta reduced 


There are no big elephants anymore near where I live
you might have one or two on the savannah, but the new
modern elephants are much smaller
nature made them smaller to avoid the big white hunter
the overly masculine type who has mistresses 
concealed but not too hidden, because if no one knows
why bother?
The smaller elephant has yet to get a proper name like
Loxodonta Africana has tiny tusks, not bigger than
bull's horn, feet too tiny to be made into an umbrella
holder, but it has adorable eyes, smooth skin, and smells
like a perfume shop.
Why should I care for the well-being, when so many 
like in Gaza have bombs thrown at them, killing children
as many as ten thousand who are not old enough 
to hate the dastardly tribe who have a hatred for any
one not like them
The Palestinians could have done as the tiny elephant
be docile to those who destroy their homes, look
picturesque when standing by the road begging for food
But no, they insist on getting their land back and 
as a result of this stubborn attitude, in a way they only 
have themselves to blame

Masquerading Ms

Mysterious Mumbo micron meanders most monochrome mornings
Merry Mickey monster makes mentionable mackerel marmalade
Michigans maleficent mayor maimed Mrs.Maryjane May Marlow
Mumbling meager monarch mumbles making Muncie memorable
Minute minions marched missing marshmallow marsh
Montana mistresses mixed millions, mincing megaphones
Marvelous misguided monkeys mimed minutemen,
Milly mistakenly met misogynist men making mincemeat
Marty’s munchable muffins mysteriously melted
Mystical memories mischievously met Merry Mickey
Missouri's mania maybe mystifying many Minnesotans
Moppish meanies mislaid miniscule Mississippi maps

The Mistresses

There comes a time in age of man 
When the earth waves goodbye to the sun 
A lonely tune, a final shun 
Twenty one hundred and twenty one 

Two mistresses at war 
Not counting the genuine 
When the raging goes that far
All angels make a whine 

For the union of the supreme 
Is as mighty as the sun 
The raging in extreme 
Throws the flame that does not shun 

Whether east or the west 
The southeast or the northwest 
Two mighty stones in contention 
Will cast the flame of annihilation

The atoms in agitation 
Will cast the beams of total unrest 
The mighty east and the clever west 
Will shed tear in sour regret

Special Services

A Portland man found himself in perpetual gloom
Invited a pretty gold digger up to his room
He paid her well for special services,
Asked her to be one of his mistresses
And learned later she swept him cleaner than a broom.

written January 24, 2022

The Intruder

Idlers, paved  paths with active energies, purloining,  feigning amity.

Dodgy &  concealing past immoral dregs  by comradely, waspish mien.

Obdurately empowered by this stranger plucked from their nocturnal fantasies    
 
Wanton mistresses of countless broken walls in desperation for time.

Unbridled intrusion cloaked in religiosity vexed by undefined arrogance.  



Oft, in pretext, manipulating, with energies stronger than the POPE.

Habits of a thuggish intervention foist on bewitched  “soul tie” 

Ill-beseeming nuances summoning this Stygian  to their unsealed brothels     

Obvious cliquish  vindictive venom  of  a barrage of past bed felon. 

Zestfully compelling, violently intrusive and surreptitiously preying.  

Ending the  farce,  Rapscallion  oozing  countless entries on the rotten hole.

Walk the Talk

cheat husband sleep talked
named mistresses all night long
saved by her sleep walk

5,7,5
4th placement
written 11/Jan/2021
Tania Kitchin sponsor
Senryu humorous or dark competition

I Know a Man With Six Legs

I know a man with six legs,
With a foot on all six,
But with only one mouth for all six,
He must be worried sick.

I know a man with six hands
And on those six hands, 
He has six fingers to put in six pies, 
No wonder he keeps getting sick.

I know a man with six eyes,
He needs all six, 
With six children,
Or he would be in a real fix,
Even without one of them getting sick.

I know a man with six legs,
Six feet, six hands,
Six fingers and six eyes,
And before you hit this story for six,
I can prove it is real and I don't feel sick.

He has six pair of shoes in his closet,
Six pair of trousers his wife has cut in two,
Six pair of glasses,
Each with one broken lens,
Courtesy of six mistresses.
I couldn't find six pair of gloves, 
But with six pies on his table he is wise not to wear them, 
As fluff on any of the six,
Could make him sick.

I was glad to note he did not order thirty-six more pies,
For his six children,
Or they would all be sick.

I just found out that this man with six of most things, 
Has an income in the six-figure bracket?
And now I feel sick.

Joymaking

Things matter not
to those joy making,
love's mistresses.
As hearts tame minds
joy is set.

Lythe lush laughs
glancing off walls
through home halls
going room to room
dismissing gloom.
Smiles that crease
one's lonely lips.

A waltz in time
that turns turns
dancing off eyes
with happy cries
filling empty hopes.

Few know how
to partake,
indulge just enough.
There will be always
more to make.



written 4/25/20 "Joy Of The Lord" Contest
Regina McIntosh

Power

Power is an intoxicating spice
Oily politicians line the public troughs with it
Wealthy corporations dress it up in lofty mission statements
Erotic mistresses ooze it to extract favors from lovers
Reformers inevitably glom onto it to achieve dubious ends

Ghosts

There's a ghost right in the corner
She seems to want to scream
Within many mistresses
She is never seen

Oh theses ghosts
Riding round my mind
Oh these ghostly ghosts
Leaving my life behind

Frozen is the time
Unsure where I am to go
Visions start to appear now
The ghosts will let her know

Oh these ghosts
Riding round my mind
Oh these ghostly ghosts
Leaving my life behind

Zig zagging the realms
We appear to weave
In these heart lines
I don't want to grieve

There's a ghost right in the corner
Shall I let her in the door
Or should I send her to the other realms
Wanting so much more

Oh these ghosts
Riding round my mind
Oh these ghostly ghosts
Leaving my life behind

Trump's Bad Week

Trump returned home, empty handed
while in Congress Cohen grandstanded,
recounting more malicious misdeeds,
as sycophants yell pro-Trump screeds;
Trump paid off mistresses, faked his wealth,
conducted illegal acts and obscured his health;
lied to German bankers cause he wanted team,
football gods blocked that particular dream;
Trump again contradicted intelligence minders
hoping our citizenry wore its bullsh** blinders;
while followers racist and nationalist incited,
how much longer before this man’s indicted?

The Lacemaker's Muse

"The Lacemaker’s Muse"



There in my heart
the Lacemaker spins a web
The Muse trapped 
in Halls of Mirrors
turning heads
Tired Bees Buzzing
Honey for Loving 
Time for sleep
Time for bed

Who is a muse?
Amuse a muse

She is in me
She is in you

A Lacemaker 
spinning her web

Who is a muse?
Amuse a muse

You are there somewhere
in Horizons of Forests 
a strange creature
hidden within
Mountains of Blue


(Lovejoy-Burton, August 2018)





“To be a muse is to be a wonder in someone else's eyes, flaws and all.” 
 L.H. Cosway, Still Life with Strings

“The loveliest Muse in the world does not feed her owner; these girls make fine mistresses but terrible wives” 
 Alfred de Vigny, Stello

“I am my own muse. I am the subject I know best. The subject I want to know better.” 
 Frida Kahlo

“Often the inspiration to write music comes from the voices in your head. You’re not crazy. Just be thankful they are not making you rescue people in 20-degree weather at 2:30 in the morning in the forest.” 
Shannon L. Alder

Seasons

Summer times; and winter season:
Lovely time and everything happening,
Blue skies and warm mornings,
Beautiful trees and green grasses
Frozen lakes and dim appearances:
Nothing but fogs and mirages

Last month went fishing with my nephew 
Last week went sailing with a few,
I guess nobody likes the oceans
Runner aways and out casts,
What a blue season:
Rainy forecast and mixed up emotions
Took days to settle;
And i was assisted by natives.

From wannabe to being sting by bees 
Honeycombs and bee traps:
Sisters with beautiful garments but dreadful spirits,
No sweetness; no wine
Just dreamless-dreams,
O what happened to the mistresses!

Boys growing up 
From summer to autumn:
The trees that once had its leaves;
Now how they departed,
Early growth but premature death
World war: man throwing tantrums!

Iwould Wish

I would wish all pretty mistresses avoid my house
And only imaginary ones to appear in my balcony

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