The swoosh-swoosh dress, hips dalliance, smooth hardwood.
He’d like to take her out for a spin, but she’s not letting anyone in.
She can nearly feel the polish under cosseted soles; an angel.
His eyes don’t leave her side; he can dream of milky wings.
The tempo picks her up, lets her go, never drops her; he might.
His intent, palms around her waist, a pick-me-up, a whirlwind.
Without a care, even he won’t dare slide his shoes nextdoor.
She’s breathless, hair like a waterfall, graceful, frenetic.
He wants to put her in a pumpkin shell, make her his wife.
She goes it alone, on tiptoe, hands become rain clouds.
The tempest tightens his heart and abdomen; she’s his.
The knot he feels is quickly untied by her “bye, bye.”
He looks for her in the lot, in the moonlight-fantastic; glass.
Her reflection is best on the ballroom floor; he’s floored.
He can’t touch her fragility, not allowed a whiff of her perfume.
She flies high and higher; he shields his eyes; clouds brighten.
He hears her swoosh-swoosh; at long last, rose-scented petrichor.
He can’t accept her departure; she is the warmth of Summer.
He feels a tap on his shoulder; hopeful; alas, lights turned off.
Categories:
nextdoor, dance, longing,
Form: Narrative
I am weary of all of the nonsense that surrounds me day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute.
I am not going to identify myself as belonging to one group or another, or all of them altogether. You are not my father, my doctor, my God, or the Census Bureau!
I am important to my mother, my brother, my sister, a cousin or two, and my nextdoor neighbor when she needs help changing out the cat litter.
I am a poet. I am putting pen to paper.
I am uncovering the words I need to perhaps comprehend the nonsense that surrounds me day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute.
Categories:
nextdoor, nonsense,
Form: Narrative
I was sleeping, probably snoring.
around three one morning,
Awakened by knock at my door.
Well I sleep in the floor.
I wasn't sure it worthwhile,
So I laid there awhile
Slowly rolled out of bed,
Looked out the window instead.
Without my glasses,
Its like looking through molasses,
I couldn't see,
who was calling on me.
I found my glasses, moving like molasses,
I went to the door to see,
My visitor at three.'
I'm a bit surly, when awakened early,
My mood wasn't the best,
I wasn't expecting a guest.
One hand in a drawer, I opened the door
He said,"Excuse me, sir,
You're a he, not a her
A lady gave me this address."
So I began to press.
I said, "As you can tell,
I'm a male", Then, I made it clear
that no lady was living here.
Before I finished, his desire must have diminished
He just turned, walked the stairs from my porch
I was scorched.
What I was going to say,
before he rudely walked away,
He might want to check nextdoor
He might've scored
I closed the door scratching my head
Went back to bed.
I really need to get another dog,
Mine was sleeping like a log.
4/5/23
Categories:
nextdoor, humor,
Form: Narrative
Night breathes with sound almost unheard:
dog echoing distant dog;
the wisp of wind through nextdoor chimes;
the steady beating of your heart,
like soft rain, water to my dreams.
Categories:
nextdoor, dream, love, senses,
Form: Free verse
Standing by the window as it rains
Drenching the ground and filling the drains
Croacking frogs in adjacent plains
Scuttling pupils in muddy grey pants
My widow neighbour with her little kid
Walking down along the gravel road
A plastic bag covering her head
Smiling at me but she looked sad
The boy speeding with a green wheelbarrow
Rushing for the bridge before it overflow
The girl standing akimbo nextdoor
As if a ritual to make it rain more
They where cuddling as they go
My uncle the other I guess was a whore
These two where elusive as a riddle
Why when raining they go for the jungle
Categories:
nextdoor, perspective,
Form: Rhyme
The Carnivores Next Door
rate the worth and pleasure
of their morning
by the number of shattered lives
they return home dragging
at times there’s broad smiles
and load boasting
gathered friends
who lend to the barbarism
their congenial
conspiratorial toasting
revelling in the blood and sinews
of the fallen
avoiding non-biodegradable packing
and energy absorbing refrigeration
artificial colours
and chemical preservation
the carnivores next door
eating their conservation
Categories:
nextdoor, food, humor,
Form: Light Verse