Monthly Archives: June 2019

IN EVENING’S BREEZE

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A beautiful poem.

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In evening’s breeze You come to me
Caressing my face with tenderness
Cooling the passions that none can see

From all earth’s pain I would be free
And all of my soul’s heaviness
In evening’s breeze You come to me

I sit beside the willow tree
For You to fill my emptiness
Cooling the passions that none can see

I wondered if truly I could be
Given light in my distress
In evening’s breeze You came to me

My soul was healed, together we
Entwined our hearts forever blessed
In evening’s breeze You came to me
Cooling the passions that none can see

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The Skin On My Feet

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The skin
On my feet
Has toughened with age.
Is it a sin
To think on the soft skin
Of the feet
Of young women
With whom I engage?

It can not be so
For to write a rhyme
Is no crime
And a girl’s feet are a fine
Sight at night,
With their legs bare
To the caressing air.
Although, having removed the stiletto
Shoe, I know
That girls have tough skin too.

A Young Lady Whose Name Is Samantha

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A young lady whose name is Samantha
Works as an erotic dancer.
This I happen to know
And my friend, Bishop Joe
Says she’s a bit of a chancer . . .

When A Young Man Named Paul

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When a young man named Paul
Said, “all women for me fall”,
A girl called Miss White
Said, “I wish you good night”,
And left that young man named Paul.

Loneliness Is Tripping Over A Stranger’s Shoe

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Loneliness is tripping over a stranger’s shoe
At dawn
As the forlorn
Light breaks through
And thinking,
“We did a lot of drinking,
And I don’t know whether your name is Flaire
Or Claire.
Perhaps I should care?
At any rate
You filled an empty space,
But now I want you out of my place”.
And the emptiness yawns
As with previous dawns.

The Agency

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Beautiful women
For your pleasure.
You may browse at your leisure.
There will be no sinning
For we
Only offer company,
But, what goes on behind closed doors . . .
We break no laws
But, discerning gentleman will understand
that money may command
a girlfriend
For the night
If the price is right,
But we must both pretend . . .
You do understand that we
Only provide company . . .

I Know A Young Man Named Rex

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I know a young man named Rex
Who’s poems are extremely complex.
He writes them in latin
Whilst dressed in pink satin,
And all the girls love Rex!

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I know a young man named Rex
Who’s poems are extremely complex.
He writes them in latin
Whilst dressed in pink satin,
Which does his poor readers vex!