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David Bose Poem
When Farmer Brown’s daughter grew busty,
The men pulling turnips grew lusty.
Brown then had to choose
Which shotgun to use
If one of those hands proved untrusty.
Copyright © David Bose | Year Posted 2016
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David Bose Poem
Off, Seamus marched with a swagger,
Yet, soon, he slowed, that sly lagger.
Then, not very far,
He snuck to a bar:
By noon, his march was a stagger.
March 17, 2017
Luck of the Irish Limerick Contest
Kim Merryman, Sponsor
Copyright © David Bose | Year Posted 2017
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David Bose Poem
Music lightens,
Lights all soften—
Dare she dance with you?
Up, she glances,
Cheeks flush ashen,
Slight nod “yes”, her chin.
Slight hand in yours,
To dance floor edge,
Coy and antsy eyes.
Just touch lithe waist,
She inches close,
Fragrance so divine!
Mere steps and sways,
Young breasts kiss chest,
Cheek finds silken hair …
Sweet music: flow;
Hold tight to her,
Keep this moment grand.
Copyright © David Bose | Year Posted 2016
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David Bose Poem
Blue melancholy stalks today
To wheedle me with sulking voice
But rather than to fall its prey
I instead resolve to rejoice
And celebrate this blessed life,
Obliging not this day’s brief plight
But honoring so little strife
Through years of gladness and delight.
October 21, 2016
Contest No. 226 any form-any theme with max of 12 lines
Brian Strand
Copyright © David Bose | Year Posted 2016
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David Bose Poem
In low tones we chatted
On the steps to her porch,
We talked of the decades
Since I’d carried her torch—
Of love we knew nothing
During young naïve years
Of kissing and fondling
‘Til I left her in tears,
For the navy enticed
With ships and adventure:
I sailed away keenly
Aware that I missed her,
Each ivory cloud roiling
I watched sculpt her face,
And the foam in ships’ wakes
Emulated her grace.
How her leer glowered down
With each floozy I’d bed;
Her glare did accost me
From the face that I wed.
But that marriage was fey,
On a short vine it died:
I had loved only once
So to find her I tried:
Thus we sat on those steps
Last night swapping stories,
We confessed of our lives,
Our failures and glories …
And the kiss that welled up
While lightning bugs popped,
Led haltingly bedside
Where our slack clothing dropped.
We then gripped and embraced
Through a torrent of mirth—
Time relented at last
And our love found rebirth.
October 22, 2016
1st place: Long Distance Love Contest/October 19, 2016
For 1st Place Only Poetry Contest
Laura Loo
Copyright © David Bose | Year Posted 2016
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David Bose Poem
that Friday feeling calls near noon
with thoughts of lager capped by foam
and dreams this work-day will end soon
which gives your mind a mood to roam
to favored joints, where with the guys
you joke, guffaw, and swig cold beer
until a soft glance meets your eyes,
inviting you to swagger near
and, with bravado, take a chance
to learn her name is Betty-Lou
and yes, indeed, she'd love to dance;
this precious, lovely dream-come-true
melts in your arms when music slows,
allowing hands to learn each curve
while floral scent enthralls your nose,
imbuing you with manly nerve
to hand-in-hand flee into night
where moon peeps down on newfound bliss
and giddy hearts take sudden flight
when lips approach to share a kiss
but garlic-breathing boss looms near,
you shake awake, return alive,
are bull's-eye of his nasal sneer:
"the weekend, Clown, don't start till five!"
Copyright © David Bose | Year Posted 2024
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David Bose Poem
On Pebble Beach's seventh green
I paused to watch an otter.
He dove, cavorted, spun around,
An acrobat on water.
Then lolling, drifting, eyeing me
He twitched brown nose and whiskers.
His thought, that moment, mirrored mine:
"He plays all day, that rascal."
Copyright © David Bose | Year Posted 2017
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David Bose Poem
Nostalgic glimpse of her just now,
Mere passing glance outside this store,
Her older face reminding how
We dated once in days of yore
When tight, we’d cling all through a dance
Or wallow in wet sultry kiss—
It floods my mind, our brief romance,
Those heady nights of passion’s bliss,
But lives diverge, we grew apart;
Our flame went out, a brief duet,
And now a wife controls my heart,
So on I walk, free from regret.
Copyright © David Bose | Year Posted 2017
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David Bose Poem
Mercedes greets Fridays with glee—
With girlfriends she drinks up a spree.
Boasts a dude in one bar,
“Though her name’s a fine car,
She’s merely a pickup to me.”
Copyright © David Bose | Year Posted 2017
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David Bose Poem
Deprived pilgrim wives ruminated
On ways to get hubbies elated:
After Thanksgiving chow
Ogling men hollered “wow!”
As wet-shirted women they rated.
Copyright © David Bose | Year Posted 2016
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