Invisible notches in bedposts.
Do neighbours see ghosts
Enter and depart?
They leave not their heart
Behind.
Yet he does find
Invisible notches.
Indelible blotches
Which, from time to time,
Plague his mind.
On my way to the pub,
I look at the empty sky
Above,
And think
On drink,
And love
But there is only this winter sky
Above,
And the awaiting fire
I
So desire,
In the pub
an extremely talented young lady named Joan
Composed a poem about the men she’s known.
Its well over 100 verses in length,
So one can not but admire the strength,
Of that active young lady named Joan.
When a masochist named Paul
Sprayed graffiti on a wall,
And a girl called Lou
Spanked him with her shoe,
He graffitied the other wall!
A linger
Of fingers,
(Of her’s, on his).
She has no ring.
Yet imagination is
A thing
Not to be believed.
Was he
Deceived
By fingers
That lingered
Maybe,
Longer, than was strictly
Necessary?
When a young lady named Claire
Said, “we should stop this affair!”,
I looked at her quizzically
And said, “please, remind me,
When did we start an affair!”.
When,
At a little after 5 am
I awake.
I think it late.
“Can you hear the birds?”,
You said.
Alone, in my bed,
I remember your words,
So much unsaid
By a girl who
I scarcely knew,
For a night is not long.
Yet, you took me far beyond
Sin, with the beauty of birdsong.
A most beautiful young dancer
Called me a wicked old chancer.
But when she received my present,
She suddenly turned quite pleasant.
And quickly I did romance her!
Entranced, he watched the dance,
As the girl
Did whirl,
Her feet
Kicking up the dust
Of poets, and dancers,
And other chancers,
Who you may meet
And pass, on the street
Without a second glance.
And the age-old dance
Goes on,
But the dust
Of those long gone
Is not disturbed
By a young woman’s dancing feet
Sinful delight
At night
As she, petite
And slim,
Slides in,
Next to him.
Then, beneath the sheet,
Her pleasure she does take,
For a while,
With a smile,
And partake
Of Chocolate cake.
