On my back in bed
with a book to read
while being gently mauled -
she digs into my breast.
The delicate skin breaks
under her needle pricks
red stains suffuse nightdress
while she purrs and kneads.
Expressing her content
to have me trapped at last
not moving round the house
ignoring her embrace.
Almond Tree and Prisoners
As a child, I lived near a farm, a farm that was
next door to a prison camp. Russian prisoners
marched up and down trying to keep warm
It was January with much frost, the year 1945
I thought of this today on my walk past my
An almond tree that is situated so well that it catches
most of the westerly sun, yet hidden behind
a Holm oak protected by Nordic wind blasts.
My tree is already flowering, and it has pink petals
shivers a bit dressed in a delicate nightdress.
The Russians had to wait longer for their spring
When it came, it was a false one; they were sent
home and put in prison camps for surrendering
to the enemy. For some, winter is endless.
A Candy Storefront window, a passerby pauses briefly at the array of heart-shaped enwrapped in velvet reds, filled with sweet treats like years before. The same tricks deployed as the byway take point passing a park. Then a heaven-sent gift the gentle walker, drifts a spun floater being a dove's solitaire wing. A hand reaches down and gathers it up in mental discourse. In brevity breathes deeply, and exhales soothingly. Contented, the gentle walker heads back to town, where an empty crimson velour box is bought, he makes one more stop before heading back home with a frozen smile. Amidst the expected backdrop scene where two fluted glasses filled with Dom Perignon Champagne atop a white-silk-covered small round table that graces two silver candle holders, pre-lit. The significant other donning a maroon single-piece nightdress is presented a box. He sits as she opens the box and oddly looks. As he explains his day's escapade freed him from the rigamarole being rhetorical, he lastly gifts her with a smaller box. She opens built-up with a hint of suspense that shreds away to tears. She looks up to the penitent soul while holding a solitaire diamond ring.
When night has come like a thief in the night
blowing winds of fierce by a blinding light
When the moon's nightdress is a billowed glance
in the same dark sky where the stars have danced
When your broken sleep is far too steep
and your much too tired for arms to keep
When the only glow flows through a lamp
and your sheets are damp as a soggy stamp,
It is time to raise your eyes and pray
and hope He meets you, in mid-way !
In the pitch black darkness of the night,
Not one idea, no, not even one in sight.
And who am I then, out to impress?
Such cold, needless and useless stress..
Lost in pages of an unfeeling thesaurus?
At midnight, is but a dank lonely forest.
No, I am not here, the world to impress,
Then, why hot tears on my nightdress?
Why pen poetry about birds and spring?
Because, the glory of mankind is my thing!
2/12/2023
Note.: Blues Poems are one of the most popular forms of American
poetry,with African-American roots.
It takes on darker themes such as loss, struggle, sex or despair..
While seeminingly negative, blues talks about overcoming struggles
with a strong mind and spirit!
If only I could gorge in your lavender scent,
Or fondly nestle in your warm, loving embrace.
Understand that “I love you” is really meant
Let me gaze and wonder the beauty of your face.
A wan moonlight summer beam shines on your body,
I sit near a window pondering about love.
Your flimsy nightdress is anything but gaudy.
I hear your sighs whisper to the stars high above.
Elation squeeze my poor heart, how can I depart
And leave you all alone without my dearest care.
You are the epitome of love in my heart,
I could dance on summer waves all so soft and flair.
Summertime is long, winter seems so far away.
So stay with me, my beauty, let's not lose one day.
22 May 2021
Summer love sonnet Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: John Hamilton
Placed 2
Stood in a nightdress shivering and cold
Feeling unwell fearful and old
Window ajar net curtains blowing
Windy outside whistling and howling
Conifer to pear trees standing tall
Weather so dreadful they possibly may fall
Concerned and frightened closely observing
Peeking through the gap very unnerving
Darkness turns to light morning time arises
Not slept a wink conditions now minimized
Sleepy and lethargic functioning on zero energy
Searching for that something looking for a remedy
Reflecting on matters trying not to dwell
Lived to tell the tale safely and well
Always remember stay calm and do not panic
It is what it is yet felt so manic
A rainbow of hope, in my hand I do hold.
That paints the room in prism colors, in God's hues,
so humble yet bold.
Your heart that appreciates me, enables me to write.
Positive comments blessing many a somber night.
My cat listening to music with great intent.
Her feline calico head, to the left, soulfully bent.
Who cannot just desire to write, catching these joyful
moments in time?
So eternally grateful, of all our souls entwined.
Fresh chocolate chip cookies,on a shiny plate.
A tall glass of iced milk, my culinary fate.
And the Hawaiian print nightdress caresses my waiting skin.
Luxurious jungle gardenia lotion,I want to swim in.
Such simple things make the world one of gratitude.
And that, my dear rainbow poets,is not a platitude!
~Tribute~
Love to those who really have my made my life a joy!
Getting to know you, via poems or Soupmail...awesome
beings you are! Merci, Panagiota
May 29, 2020
11:30 PST
Poem #1,305
This is the tale of Betty Vautour
Who took on a lover at age forty-four.
Stormed out of the house
With soft-spoken curse,
In nightdress and slippers,
Cosmetics and purse.
What was she thinking? I'll never know.
Into the arms of a drunkard named Joe,
A no-good-for-nuthin,
Unemployable bum,
Who'd wash down a six pack
With Seven Seas rum.
And Darrell, poor Darrell, truck driver by trade,
Delivering milk for the money he made.
All for his family,
Betty and kids,
Keeping them clothed,
And food in the fridge.
When he asked her why, she did not hesitate.
"There's only so much baloney I'll take.
With you, there was no
Matrimonial bliss.
I got tired of watching
Friends cuddle and kiss."
On her nightdress candlelight flickers
While underneath she wears blue knickers
Grandpa recalls Kentucky
The last time he got lucky
Grandma just rolls her eyes and snickers
AP: 3rd place 2025, Honorable Mention 2025
From when we leave the womb, said Freud (or Jung),
until the day we die, life's one long try
to climb back in. That cold air hits our lungs
with such a shock, we cannot help but cry.
Her name was Pina. She could twirl her skirt
impressively. One evening, home alone,
twirling her nylon nightdress, unalert,
she caught the flames. That fireplace was a zone
forbidden her, but how could she resist
the warmth and light the gaping chasm offered?
The fabric wrinkled, melted, shriveled, hissed
and bunched between her thighs. She must have suffered.
A young, bewildered altar boy back then,
I watched her mother rage and rail and rave,
unhinged by grief. It took six burly men
to hold her back from leaping in the grave.
Do I know what to pack – that answer is never
Depends on my mood and also the weather
Two pairs of jeans and three summer dresses
A new skort but I won’t wear it she confesses
Nightdress and socks and four t shirt tops
If I run out of clothes I’ll go to the shops
Sandals and shoes and my trusty old slippers
Mustn’t forget to take my new pairs of knickers
Wash bag and toothbrush and cream for my face
Gosh I’m surprised there was room in my case
Jan Allison
8th August 2014
Almond Tree and Prisoners
As a child I lived near a farm a farm that was
next door to a prison camp. Russian prisoners
marched up and down trying to keep warm
it was January with much frost, year of 1945
I thought of this today on my walk passed my
almond tree that is situated so good it catches
most of the westerly sun, yet hidden behind
a Holm oak protected by Nordic wind blasts.
My tree is already flowering, it has pink petals
shivers a bit dressed in a delicate nightdress.
The Russians had to wait longer for their spring
when it came, it was false one, they were sent
home and put in prison camps for surrendering
to the enemy. For some the winter is endless.
Here is what happened to King Mear,
He didn't know what to wear!
He wore his nightdress to the party,
And his coat to bed!
Oh, poor King Mear!
Interment
I sat by the window trying to catch sunbeam, when a man
in a black suit, that hung loose on his skinny frame, walked
past and I saw him disappear where the sandy road ends
and the olive grove begins. For reason unknown to me he
cried, tears rolled to the lane like a broken pearl necklace
I sat by the window trying to catch a sunbeam when he
returned pulling a an open coffin with a solid handle and four
suitcase wheels; in it a woman, in her best nightdress sat,
darning wooly socks. The man looked at me shrugged his
scraggy shoulders as to say: a wife´s work is never done.
I sat by the window, had caught a tiny sunbeam held in
my hand when the black suited returned pulling the same
coffin, its lid was held in place by ropes. I opened my
hand released the trapped sunbeam, the vista of grief
vanished and the day was bright and sunny.
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