Your huntress has the ears of an owl
over silent snow
Your huntress knows patience
and will not move
or count the clock by the moon
Your huntress sees
that sometimes the strongest marriage
means sleeping together
just out of touching distance
Your huntress tries to match
the tickings of your heart
so that she is constantly making love to you
Your huntress knows no limitations
kissing the devil's neck
stripping in heaven
One of my favorite dreams used to be to rehab a Victorian painted lady
But then a friend decided to do it.
She begged me to come over and help
I ended up spending two weeks there
Tearing down wallpaper, stripping wood,
Tearing down wallpaper, stripping wood
Tearing down wallpaper, stripping wood
Then we spent three more weeks
Rolling out new wallpaper and cutting it
Pasting wallpaper and hanging it
Rolling, cutting, hang hang hang
Tearing, stripping, rolling, cutting, pasting, hanging
We went room to room
Went weeks without eating
Tearing, stripping, rolling, cutting, pasting, hanging
Bathroom breaks were the only breaks we took
After we got her house finished
My dream dissipated
I never want to rehab a house, a trailer or a hut
I have already had my fill of rehabilitation.
My husband loves watching me strip
go on Jan, you can do it he urges
As each piece glides to the ground
my body quivers with delight
It’s so satisfying
slowly peeling off the layers
I eventually reach the climax
and let out scream of excitement
as the final piece of damp wallpaper falls to the floor
Poet's Notes ...We are having a new bathroom installed tomorrow – my hubby has removed the tiles whilst I have stripped off the old wallpaper
11/3/19
from the mountain's edge
tangerine tipped trees
aglow with the rise
of crimson skies
shine golden
i stand beneath
the dance of leaves
in the hues
of october's breeze
shivering
in its foggy breath
watching
as the trees
undress
stripping
layers of my soul
i fall
emotionless
bare
as death
piles
around me
in bloodless drops
i stand
in the pools
of its claret
bleeding myself dry
as i snap
like branches
through the weight
of life
My auntie acted on the stage
Her performance was in a cage
She dressed as a stripper
Then let men folk whip her
Her antics sure caused an outrage!
FICTION POEM
9/29/18
The moment of “Hair down! Let yourself go!”
Walked right up to her door,
And she fell back, onto her truth,
Fell back onto her floor,
Where she ripped her soft layer of fake from her chest,
Threw it onto the ground,
Then tore off her layers of doubt and regret,
And lay without making a sound,
And her pure, her ethical heart grew brave,
Her heart flew free in the breeze,
Her heart held tight to all of her yearn,
As she playfully rose on her knees,
Where she smiled, in red, a delectable smile,
To the man with the beautiful thoughts,
The man who turns up, every Monday,
For her privately run yoga course.
Long I hoarded my priceless treasure of silver
coins hidden from her unsuspecting glance,
this alloy of glittering metals was a curse;
I kept it guarded as gold in a greedy manner.
If the daintiest daisy is plucked to guess the other
lover's thought, I pull off the petals of this blue rose
to undo all the delusive images embellished in prose;
isn't truth a spring from which gushes only pure water?
Once lips are kissed, a sworn promise is forever sealed;
I forfeited mine by giving her less and receiving more,
selfish heart: your guilt is the palpable beat of my sad
regret stripping passion of feelings that no longer implore.
Other women's eyes with that pretty shade of light blue won't
be a strong attraction to me: yours never fades into any sunset.
dreaming of bright lights
the novice actress bares all. . .
in strip club neon
For the Picture Perfect Haiku #2 Poetry Contest of Skat
What our parents told us
About truth, love, and purpose
Is dripping saggy from a nail in the wall
Take my hand gypsy love
Banish my broken tongue
Make me love the day!
The fury of winter winds rip through the trees
Stripping away dead branches and scurrying the leaves.
It is a cleansing thing, this awesome, mighty wind
As it blows through the countryside again and again.
So like the Spirit of God in our lives
Is the final conclusion at which I arrive.
For does not the Spirit seek to blow clean
Those places within us, to all others unseen ?
So if we are wiling, He will have His way,
Delivering us from the self life every day.
But you must know, He will never stop there
For you will inherit from Him things He longs to share.
( Things from Him out into the lives of others)
Douglas L. Ace
Now me, now not,
a thought is always there.
My genes navigate on collapsing walls,
words, dark mind, broken dreams.
But thought is always there.
I hold on firmly to sounds,
voices, tongues,
the thought is always there.
Brain goes into a nameless friction,
of aimless voyage
I rediscover the myth and abandon the zone of thoughts.
Distance becomes a wailing music.
Sitting between the flesh and bones
I recognise the relic of a window.
Let us drop the years,
become timeless, empty and hollow.
Egocentric wind violates the lungs.
We cannot sing in praise of earth.
I walk through the body,
stripping to the bones, to find the seeds.
I refuse to pluck the flowers.
SATISH VERMA
How
dance
anglaise
in long lines-
turned into a square.
And
making
a basket-
with a dos a
dos.
Ekphrasis-The Barn Dance by Egedius.
As nation's strip in conquest's rung
withing small ranks, the same song sung
is stripping of all man's among
to dialogue yeah, provisions none!
Soul stripping as religious feign
is almost tempting man's remain
to give to God all self's contain,
yet strip a self of worthwhile claim.
How valid is my own complete
as charity I am humbled, beat ~
so trusting, yet injustice feat
continues on, the stripping's creed!
As even age strips times repeat,
I strip my faith in thee, replete
this stripping down of resource' meet,
not justifying, how ingrate!
Strip not my love, eternal beat ~
This drum that carries my defeat
is often sounding ~ often fleet
with score rebounding . . . never sweet!
Sleep with me under the afghan of stars
illuminary milk pouring out of heaven's jars
A storm of sliding satellites colliding can be ours
as we ribbon out our lives in whispered stories.
~Whisking up of ink in your eyes white peppered mint
while our breath entrances frost on the eve of night fall's wrist
We are still intangible, first here, but than a mist
as vagrant as sweet stars in their last glory.
Shoulders hug the trees with their limbs limp silhouette
while we strip translucent star capes to their bows with no regret
Moon beam pure explosions to beget and to beget
the light with which we pine for now in haste~
Sleep with me under the myriads of minds
which slept here before us and whispered in kind
We will be stardust ourselves you will find
as our wings of illusion unravel.
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