Short Motel Poems

An open umbrella
    
    blankets

two sleeping transients...

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Sightseeing all day 
daybreak on the go travel 
just to lay my head...

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A Midwestern small town
  Her lone tavern shut down 

The Motel 6 boarded up too
  We'll keep the light off for you...

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we when on the road
we had a load
me and some friends
we had the same blend
 on the hiway we had to shop
tho we had a lot
so we made a
MOTEL STOP...

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we was on the road
carry a load
take little time off
from our loft
on this trip we stop
to have a wine sip
than the feel ring our bell
so we stop at a
MOTEL...

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neon
vibrant colours
dance upon darkened skies
guiding light on the mother road
fading


This poem was inspired by my stay at the Blue Swallow Motel on Historic Route 66 in Tucumcari, NM....

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in skimpy short shorts
she marches into breakfast
no eyes go up

I had forgotten
the immodesty of youth
for two seconds

it’s a public place
another wears pajamas
and bedroom slippers...

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Oasis on sixty-six
beckons weary travelers.
One step off the chosen path.
Nostalgic flashback.


This poem was inspired by my stay at the Blue Swallow Motel on Historic Route 66 in Tucumcari, NM....

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yeah, right
there where the flower blossoms
and flags
where mustangs rove the prairie
and two nebulas lose their
virginity in a cheap motel
room where you are an
unsaddled bellhop
flogging a dead
idea....

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We are all suspended between heaven and hell
Which way are we headed only time will tell
If I were to guess
Should be scantily dressed
In case you're sweltering at the Devil's Motel...

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My weight is still plummeting, I'm happy as hell
Wasting away, to my fatness I say farewell
But it's the chance I take
For goodness sake
Young fillies will be bugging me for a night at my motel...

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We are all suspended between heaven and hell
Which way are we headed only time will tell
If I were to guess
Should be scantily dressed
In case you're sweltering at the Devil's Motel


© Jack Ellison 2015...

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I'm crying alone
on this soggy motel bed
you're the only thing floating around in my head.
Don't mind her, she's just a friend
I wanted to be with you
until the end.
Please take me back 
if you don't,
I might have a heartattack...

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high up in the trees
birds stare down poised to attack
black and white terror

great white shark circling
silent deadly predator...
need a bigger boat

in the Bates Motel
psycho killer qu'est-ce que c'est...
don't tell your mother...

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it's a motel room
sunrise, sunset, happy, orange sun
some such 
off the interstate
in
bum 
florida

my spasmodic hercules
I work pretty hard to make it a hercules,
anyway

with bulls & boars & eighty six
bras

and a bottle of evan williams
wine...

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a scattering of rice
    a few awkward toasts

  waves goodbye
    tin cans trailing
  
  just married sign
    upside down

  short drive to motel
    six, no a/c

  bedsprings creak
    soon fail

  glass shatters

  third marriage
    for both...

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the
face of
my wife was
as dark as the 
storm that raged and boomed 
outside the drab motel
room . I stood at the window 
observing the angry lightning,
thunder in my heart , knowing full well 
for both of us , this was the end of love .

...

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Ella Meant
(get her to the punnery)
By Franklin Price
1/3/2017

Ella meant to sing a song
In two part  harmony
Element of dance to add
Made Ella harm a knee

This poem of pun
Was quite home spun
I can no mo' tell
For if I did, I do not kid
Must hide in some motel...

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Flashing unto myself a photo advertising, his bates motel
Peering inside these eyes thinking, no, not the entire kingdom
Of hell shall escape what is coming, their way ? So save your breath....
Tell them Belial, exactly what you do know: perhaps they shall escape a fateful day....

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Portfolio Queenie
Silhouette of hope
Stoned on herself
Drunk with empty hope

Portfolio Queenie
Entitled she is
Admiring faces
Routine in the biz

Portfolio Queenie
Motel door ajar
Overdose of self
Never got to be a star

Portfolio Queenie
A filthy, empty shell
Dead doll face
No longer casts a spell...

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"You got a memory for faces, sugar?" How she stares! 
"I think so, yes." Her smile splits like the crack of doom. 
Peroxide pales her improbable pile. That beehive hair's 
like something Boris Karloff might exhume. 
"That's kinda fortunate, y'see, becuz there's
no freakin' mirror in your room."...

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These walls in a motel.
The stories they could tell.
If they could communicate,
wouldn’t that be great?
Who is doing it to whom?
The couples in each room.
The walls could describe their activity.
Walls don’t know the meaning of privacy.
Their descriptions of the erotic
would be terrific.
...

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Forced to give up everything when you died
I was no longer welcome at home
Barely ate, not a penny set aside
Forced to give up everything when you died
Had to leave all my belongings behind
Nowhere to go, from motel to shelter I roamed
Forced to give up everything when you died
I was no longer welcome at home...

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A futile and doomed love
May be worse than nothing,
For nothing is nonexistence --
No impact, no effect, no feeling;
But this drains emotion and motivation.
This is my talent buried in the earth,
A fey magnet for thoughts and hopes,
A roach motel for the soul;
Its synthetically sweet fumes beckon,
And enervate and kill....

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Those motel memories return.
The colored comic pages opened first
And water bubbling in an urn
And powdered coffee slaking my communion thirst.

Montana windswept plains outside.
Stark desolation’s existential rites within.
But earth I’ve trekked since then rolls wide:
And prayer, not newsprint, now assuages sin....

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