Short Torsos Poems

Have you ever done something till the cows come home
A thing comes to mind immediately, involves many moans
What are YOU thinking
Methinks I have an inkling
It involves two torsos and ignoring your iPhones...

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Slow Dance

Love curves at the
sway of your back and
whispers songs,
shoulder soft 
at my cheek.

Lips at my brow
as your scent thickens,
quickens within me,
knee to knee, 
my right hand in your left.

One two three;
one two.
until only our
torsos dance.


©Kathryn McL. Collins
June 14, 2012...

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Imagined pins and needles
Hobbling my swarth
Homes sweet hearth cradling your whim
The sound and safeness of home farmed hands
The vastness invites in colour hued
But shadow and soul will not conform
Stepping over limbless torsos of people falling to pieces
Devil shunned faces turn inwards
As outside stays outside...

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Heartbeats racing, taking flight
      while clinging tight in love’s embrace;
   moonbeams casting soft pale light
         as lovers lie there face to face.

Passions high as souls unite;
      the hot caress of flesh on flesh.
   Tangled torsos in the night
         while making love as bodies mesh.


February 9, 2019...

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A wash of words and
he’d got me
a brushstroke blue-jean greeting
‘hi, howareya’

Quivering in my
Static stilletoes
Uncomposed, all rhythm gone
‘um,fine thanks’

His curling smile-sneer
Lascivious lipped,
affection affected.
The ground shifted

I breathe in his effort scent,
and beer breath,
Pheromone filled
as cheap cologne

the movie in my mind
sees the handshake
as entwined torsos, arms, legs.
Then he moves on....

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I seldom take a book with me
more reading entertainment
watching others turn their
pages, body-language a literary
giveaway

the positioning of their heads
how torsos are tilted right or
left, perhaps Representative of 
one's politics – foreign occupation 
by written words
of another

one can't tell a book by its cover

but a whole lot revealed by the
measure of pages read...lack of
conversation
and how eyes
avert.......

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Do you remember way back, yester-year,
and far off times when life had just begun?
Of languid days, so free and debonair,
all by the pool with friends and having fun? 
Those happy thoughts of Sue and Kate and Clare,
their tummies tanned and torsos basking in the sun?
And me? Do I recall this bright and carefree dawn?
Oh no. You see, I wasn’t even born!

~

For nette onclaud's 'MOMENT IN ANOTHER TIME' Contest by Charles Clive.

...

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How many pieces? They disappeared. Where have they gone? Nobody knows. Wisdom isn't in a glorified turning pin. And nonetheless many hands many ingredients long time make a pie. Strengthen not an elastic band. It is quite smiley today and dilapidated becoming's of an overgrown frog in nappies will never shine a light of a torch upon a nest of iron clad fort of torsos. Hahahaha and now a field grins. Hahahaha koi carp in hats dancing tap dance. Xxxx constellation z...

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A thousand years ago
on a sorrel hill,
arms became wings.

We dream of the room,
the belt's snake sting
given for wrongs we have done.

Now we rise in dreams
to things never expected,
pluck the opalescent shell
of locust
from rain soaked oak.

There is no original sin.

We take the punishment
as our last: arms, legs,
torsos growing by the day--
summer's cool culvert
darkening our tongues,
fleshing a nakedness,
a first breast
appaloosaed in sun....

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