Short Billet Poems

There once was a young man named Lane
who literally was insane
	he wrote a billet-doux
	using words of voodoo
not knowing it meant to enflame!...

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two wrinkled faces
                                        found a crinkled billet doux 
                                         smiled with crinkling eyes...

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Today’s the day, I guess you knew,
To send your love a billet-doux;*
But if he doesn’t, too, or won’t,
Then send to him a billet-don’t.

*love letter (pronounced bill-ee-doo)...

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Sleep denies me her laps.


Waking up
I cry for your arms;

The quiet hours ‘re
Your winged messengers
                    for me;
Your loneliness
My billet daux * for you

Let us worship seclusion,
The new Venus.


*billetdaux-love letter...

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a wall I am about to face
I do not tag with hatred
should I take the plane
to bring to a billet 
what is that and with cans
in my valise I will travel
will they let me take the plane
to deface the wall in Sabadell
the love in me to stay i may be left in in airport
in those day of terror 
and what to expect from an old lady
but a cuddle or two...

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Amour,

A little letter for you,
And a few words to state the sweet obvious.

Keep the love I write of folded up in paper,
Our origami correspondence, if you will.
Swallows, ravens, cranes and swans,
Enough for an aviary of everything you ever need to know.
Un-caged, un-clipped, unending,
Free to the parchment blue.

Mon amant comme un oiseau,
My lover like the sky. 

I remain yours....

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Just a little missive, a note, a billet doux,
words scratched out on paper, strictly entre nous.
No literary masterpiece, not even clever prose,
just words strung together, but they're the ones I chose
to let you know my feelings and the depth of my affection
please accept them unadorned, without any circumspection.
When used with neither thought nor care, designed to misconstrue,
three little words, seven letters, four vowels, implicitly, I love you!...

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I soar through the sky,
Peek at its peak,
Wriggle through the deep,
Yet no pick for rest.

I’m a tramp on the earth,
Scouring all the lands-
For a place befitting.

Many wonder at my quest
And say, an end is debatable.

The thirst of my search-
Found no room for refill,
Not a hole for overflow.

Although, I sneak into buildings
With my pillow in mind,
Still, not a billet-
To adore the night for.

So, in my entire hunt,
None is like my treasure trove....

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