Last Edited Poems (1,141)

I'd kid myself - I have now a heart left to break?
(Seven days ago, that night and afternoon).
Your so cold, and do tonight, this heart forsake
With cruelty - (and I'm so glad I saw it soon); -
In too deep already, and on the make
(As now my heart does sink in bluest gloom); -
One night of passion - and then left all alone -
Other hearts I've met - though not a heart of stone.

Seven days ago - do I deceive myself?
You touched me deep inside - one night of passion.
Though now it seems you've left me on the shelf
Or is spite now in lovers back in fashion?
Oh well at least I won't feel all bereft
Even though (it seems) you took my cash in -
I'm just glad I never bought you sapphire
Not out of pocket too much, little liar.

Have you no heart? (Or what is left of it) -
Is it all you want - a one-night stand?
Well I'd go on and put my foot in it
Had you a heart (you say) that you command?
I ask why tomorrow - my worst critic
(Which is myself) my heart you reprimand.
Well, Ms what can I say? Now you've hurt me
Best look for love elsewhere now - well surely?



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Well here I go again, one more vignette
The subject to not everybody's taste;
Though never will I say that I regret
Things done a while back now, and in some haste.
Incidents like these my poems beget
The memories described my "happy place"
Well here I go again - another girl -
In my life's dross a bright and shining pearl.

It was New Year's Eve Nineteen Ninety Eight
We're going to party like Nineteen Ninety Nine
Five hours to go until midnight's date
(I was at a house party in summer time)
In Newtown* in terrace - it got late
(For both of us it seems too much red wine)
I got talking to this girl, her name was Tanya -
What happened next I now intend to tell ya.

What happened there a "comedy of Eros"
As was my plight - a victim of the goon**
I plunge forth in my verse not at a loss
To now explain what came next (and quite soon).
And over this whole subject I won't gloss
(And you may say now "go and get a room")
As lost amid her tresses, and in night veiled
I would find this larger lady now prevailed.

Invited to this party by a friend
I knew not anyone there on that night.
And well, these kind of things, how do they end?
Well often it would seem a f*ck or fight;-
For me the former (not he latter) - a God send
(Good reader I don't wish you to a'fright).
I got talking on that evening to a girl;-
In the backyard of this house the night unfurled.

And as I said before her name was Tanya
I knew her not quite from a bar of soap.
She invited me to sit and talk with her
In the backyard of this house - not to elope.
Now people at this party arriving were
(It seemed to me this girl was my main hope);-
We got talking, then she offered me a drink
From her goon bag*** - I had little time to think.

So there we were, the two of us in "private"
Nestled amidst the shady leaves of trees.
Though soon enough for us the night got late
As dark shadow fell upon this greenery.
I think that for our lives all is but Fate
(There's nothing we could do now seemingly).
The conversation we were having didn't lag;-
She offered me more wine from her goon bag.

The night wore on, we drank this cheap red wine
In plastic cups - t'was not too elegant;-
And after four or five we felt just fine
(As those about us now became irrelevant).
The look in her eyes told me t'was time
For some foreplay - and this is how it went;-
Seducing her - a lovely larger lady;-
And the look in her eyes said "now!" - not maybe.

Well that was how it was - we were divested
Of these our clothes - with opportunity.
A little time in foreplay was invested
And then her love she freely gave to me.
Beyond return now; things were uncontested
(We may as well have drown'd in a deep sea);-
As now upon this girl quite reubenesque
My fingers traced sweet lines of arabesque.

Her name was Tanya, and she had black hair
To midway down her back in swirling pitch.
As I recall that night I was down there
(Trying I suppose to relieve her itch).
Then gasping somewhat, now came up for air
(Like a victim of a spell cast by a witch).
Before I knew it, I was on top of her;-
Soon to those party guests we caused a stir.

I thought we were alone - how wrong I was!
As others at the house had now a hint.
In groups of two or three they came to watch
Me now with my ample bit of bint.
Why do these things happen? I say because
Of grog (perhaps) when to these depths we sink;-
In he old days I guess we'd cop a flogging
For this kind of semi-private dogging.****

"All's well that ends well" (so the Bard did say)
(And cameras not yet in a mobile phone).
So let me not a'fright you - or dismay -
(That night, for sure, we were not all alone).
Such things are surely part of a lover's Way
(Though after this we both felt quite undone).
I write this because I can - it's who I am;-
On that New Year's Day - we parted - thank you ma'am!



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I take up my guitar;- full of blue promise,-
As I remember you;- how much I miss;-
To find a chord,- (a favorite of mine);-
And strum down soft and think of first love's bliss.

As I work my way across the blues scale,-
Notes caress the air in sound's subtle veil;-
(In what was just before a hollow box);-
And maybe in the next world love won't fail?

I'm not drinking tonight;- my head is clear;-
When desire is gone,- there's neither love nor fear,-
(I used to drink alone most ev'ry night);-
To dream the dream of you;- when you were near.

Well,- love is true,- and love there still remains,-
In ashes now;- burnt by an old flame;-
(Caress of blues;- that now softly turns to jazz);-
I tell myself that first love's cut can heal again.

Many loves have come and gone;- yet there are none;-
That set as true in night as first love's sun;-
None I remember were as true as ours;-
My heart transported,- as my hand doth strum.

If tears were left,- then maybe I could cry;-
And lose my disappointment to the sky;-
(As jazz turns to blues,- then softly back again);-
If for just one night, you would now with me lie.

Though over time your memory doth fade;-
It's all I have;- the memories we made;-
As each new chord hangs softly in the air;-
This I recall;- as each blue note is played.



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The Robot wrote a poem - and got it wrong;-
(There was no feeling) - the algorithm,
The verse, and the meter (like a bad song)
Rang rough on the inner ear - unholy schism!
(T'was meant to tell how human hearts belong).
There was no passion; - music less its rhythm;-
Like Frankenstein; - Poetry without a Soul,-
Could not the inner light of people fool.

The boffins programmed a chip of silicone,
With fuzzy logic, and with mathematics;-
(And it's verse rang on the senses; - a weight of stone).
"Hooray" the scientists cried (in tones ecstatic)
"Now those who read this will feel less alone.
Who needs poets? - they're known to be erratic;-
We've got this thing down pat; - the Robot taught;-
And reduced all human love to ones and naughts."



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I met her by way of introduction
T'was introduction through a common friend.
Though clearly, her intent was my seduction
(He sent a man that he could recommend).
I found her door - I did not need directions
Friday night in the suburbs (at a loose end).
She opened her door, her glance a flash of fire
And in that glance, I saw her hot desire.

No one could deceive her, least could I
A destiny sweet lady in that look.
If only for one night now then I cry
I cry for both of us the years forsook.
To write this poem from my memory
(Another of my lovers in life's book).
She glanced for just a second, then she sighed
And invited to her flat I was inside.

From that flash of fire, that single glance
It seemed that I had known her all my life.
Her eyes spoke volumes, all of it romance
(Something that doesn't happen quite enough).
We drank red wine, like ruby in a glass
And from twin glasses made a lover's cup.
I'd say within the hour - or lesser still
We're romping on her eiderdown's soft quilt.

Her name was Sharon (a different girl this time)
Both twenty-six, and do what thou wilt.
I touched her hair brunette, it was sublime
That night a blessing, hours without guilt.
I scarce do justice to her in this rhyme
Words cannot describe our pleasure felt.
Our kindled energies were hot indeed
And joined in this night as one our need.

I must admit I like a girl with curves
And figures some describe as Rubenesque.
I hope to paint a picture with my words
(Although they are but an arabesque).
My poetry this purpose has now served
(A memoir best have something to confess).
What some call love, and others fornication
So Sharon please accept this dedication.

I send a kiss wherever she is now
And soon I'll send this poem to the ether.
This is my tribute and softly spoken vow
That finds its way thus unto many readers.
Maybe a spark in other hearts will sow
(These - my words - are without regrets either).
Sharon, if you read this, it's my homage
Our night's passion - is remembered on this page.




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For all who like tales of "Sex and the City"
Well here is another I wrote just for you;-
About a fine whore that I will call Kitty*
So read on, don't avert your eyes from view.
Good reader, I hope you find this poem witty;-
Do please read on without further ado;-
And my poesy can here resume with CS,
Now they have reCAPCHA with its safe finesse.

I therefore re-visit and expand my rapture
(Now that I know CS has security;-
https and now reCAPCHA;-
So I don't mind here, now writing for free).
I take some pleasure in writing now for ya,
Though why on these topics? - well, that is just me.
Writers a hint: protect your originality;-
When you post, copy poems to USB.

Well, there I'm again in a Sydney brothel;-
"We have three ladies," said the older Madam;-
"Why so few"? (I asked) "Well do now please tell";-
"Well" (she said) "My good man, it's past 4 am;-
"You're lucky we have three here - It's just as well;-
"For you're a fella who likes to choose 'em".
(So she asked them to come downstairs, that lot,
And the ladies were Kitty, Sue, and Margot).

Now Kitty stood there between two brunettes;-
Her hair was blonde (in a sunbleached kind of way),-
And as far as I could tell from her silhouette,-
She'd a figure just made for frolic and play.
She stepped out of shadow;- I saw better yet,
A buxom wench there in red lingerie.
"So what girl do you want"? (the Madam said);-
I told her 'twas Kitty whom I wanted to bed.

Well I told her Kitty, and so Kitty it was;-
(She turn'd on her heels, and I follow'd upstairs).
Why was I here? - I suppose just because,
I was lonely, h*rny, or caught unawares;-
(It's the same the world over;- no diff'rent in Oz;-
Sometimes an old bloke needs to banish his cares).
Where was this place I encountered my Kitty?
"T'was somewhere in the town they call "Sin City."**

The establishment was by no means expensive;-
The Madam was paid;- we got down to business,
'Midst cheap clapboard walls and posters suggestive;-
A victimless "crime" (as God is my witness;-
Consenting adults, by no means excessive);-
And the fact was, we both now enjoyed this.
(Unlike on the net, you can't really be scammed;-
Regardless, I write this: "Publish and be Damned").

Now Kitty's quite buxom (I've said that before);-
We lie on a cheap bed;- divested of clothes;-
She was a cheerful girl (I write on that score;-
Well society doesn't approve of those);-
Though none the less, we're winning the "war,"
With our "slap and tickle",- in s*xual throws.
Twenty-ninth September, two thousand fourteen;-
Was all this real?;- or was it just a dream?

Later, exhaustion on a rutted bed;-
With the lights dimmed low, for the final act;-
(I'm a single man, and I've never been wed,-
So where is the shame in what we enact?);-
And enact we did, (after our clothes we shed);-
Then a second occasion (that is a fact);-
About six months later;- that was my Kitty;-
I was gentle with her as I kissed her clitty.

Well, that is the story: I'll never turn down,
Occasions for love and "Sex in the City";-
In poesy quite factual, the truth I'll own;-
(And we both loved those acts;- me and my Kitty).
Well, such is the life when in lust we drown;-
(I'll not ask, evoke, or expect your pity).
I kiss'd her top, her middle, down to her feet;-
As we both enjoyed this s*xual heat.

So that was the case, (and I'm not too choosy);-
And that next hot time,- me she remembered.
On this second time,- me and my floozy;-
With passion and lust,- we both surrendered;-
(The repeat occasion was also a doozy;-
To the other girls me she recommended).
Well, such is my way;- you've another confession,
About myself, and the "oldest profession."



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I

It is universally known
(As a de facto theory)
That women judge a man
By his shoes.

(Or so they say) ; however;-
What would the reverse case be?

Are us men to make
Value judgements
About high stilettoes
Or a woman in moccasins?

No! I maintain it's her handbag
That shows her class
(Something elegant need not be expensive).

A tote bag
About the size
Between an A4 and A3
piece of paper.

If it is elegant
An imitation is OK,
(Provided it doesn't look like
A cheap knockoff).

Which of course would give
The game away.



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I bought a new guitar
I practice every day
I strum and meditate
I meditate and strum.

I think about all the
Things I've done
Mysterious music
Balm to my soul.

The window
Of insight -
A lover's return
Or someone new?

I am alone
Notes ripple in the air
I practice tunes
I heard growing up.

I am astounded that I
Can play most songs
After not picking up a guitar
In over twenty years*




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Another tryst, I'll now commit to verse
(To be specific, 'twas a double tryst
Not a threesome;- well maybe that is worse
'Twas two encounters;- I now consult my list)
It seems that fleeting love, it is my curse
About a week apart, and do I miss
Her? No - not as such; though it would be nice
To see her again, and make a double thrice.

How did it start? You ask me?;- so I'll tell
I'll "kiss and tell" (although not be specific)
(I must protect her name;- and mine as well
In stories that I tell you, quite terrific).
So I'll "cut to the chase", and no more dwell
On beginnings (lest they are soporific)
As many times before, 'twas in a pub,-
Where I first met Victoria* - my "love".

About eight months ago now, to the day
I was feeling bored, and wandering around
Then fate befalls two lovers; - that's fate's way
(It was not so far from my local town).
So in this pub;- in the beer garden's shade
"Twas where I saw her (now love lost and found)
The pub, as I recall, was in Leumeah**
And in that pub, last summer, I did see her.

Well, she sat there, in the garden, sweet enough
Now by herself, and toying with her drink.
You've guessed correct: I like a "bit of rough"
(Of a pickup line, I now must quickly think)
Or perhaps lose this hot blonde "piece of fluff"
(As last Summer's afternoon, the sun did sink)
She sat alone, in high surpassing beauty
And all I wanted now,- was that she see me.

I think I now remarked upon the heat,
(In that Summer, it was in fact, December).
On hearing this, she asked me - (did entreat)
That is to say, to sit down there, and join her.
(Well, I must say, an easy way to meet,
And that's about as best as I remember).
I asked her name; she told me: "Victoria"
(And in bed, I'd soon be exploring her).

Well soon we'd both had quite a few cold beers
(The two of us 'cross the table "tete a tete")
Blonde and beautiful, aged 'bout thirty years
She asked for my phone number (then made me wait)
Then Victoria was gone, (though made it clear)
That next week she'd be calling me her mate
Well, I don't think I've ever hung on the phone
In quite this way, to be with her - alone.

Then, in a few days (and true to her word)
Did call me (on a weekday afternoon)
And like the cat does pounce upon a bird
I answered her (quite in a lover's swoon).
She mentioned a coffee shop (this I heard)
(Well naturally, I got to there quite soon).
After coffee, walking back, in the twilight
To her townhouse - where we found our delight.

In the middle of a heatwave, on her bed
(The mercury, I swear, was over forty)
A fiery Sun, with resignation, set
And we were plunged in shadow - for our "naughty,"
My tongue would soon explore her shades of red
(No more looks of pride now high and haughty)
In desperation, tearing off our clothes
Where it would stop now - only heaven knows.

In the corner of her room now, a small fan
Did stir the air, to wage a losing war
And I say this: (as sure as I'm a man)
That I have never had a better whore.
Why do I say "whore"? was this - in fact - the plan?
(Well do read on, and you shall know the score)
When after, out of bed, we both did climb;-
Then she told me, that she had come,- five times!

And after that, she went and made some coffee
Too soon we parted, (well that is how it goes);-
Though, not before, she'd asked me for some money;-
(To help with rising rent, as Sydney grows).
She worked as a whore;- this she now told me;-
('Twas in fact in a brothel, that I know).
I'd had a win on the races, recently;-
So I gave her five hundred dollars- see?

The next time,- ('twas about a week later,
The next weekend),- in her bed, there - I was:
(And another five hundred dollars, for her favor;-
She wasn't shy to ask me now because,
She'd asked me once already, now, before).
Well such is this short story (which I close)
By saying:- "thanks for fast woman, and faster horses;-
The stars above;- and their strange celestial forces".

I've had too many women
Drunken too much booze
Been lost inside the city
With too much choice to choose.

I've tried too much of this
And done too much of that
Slept around, got on the piss
And been with alley cats.

Gambled, fought, and brawled
(Although I am a lover)
My younger years were wild and lost
My passion a hot smother.

Ambition hard has been a vice
My feelings have been token
Now my souls as cold as ice
For my heart has been broken.




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