Here is a list of Poems ordered by Last Edited, posted by members. Read poetry, post your own poems or comments. Poems on these pages are copyrighted © by the authors who entered them. Click here to post a poem.
Brittany
Relationships at times have been sporadic
Either a feast or a famine it is true.
In betwixt times I have been nomadic
Without a home (it seems) to go back to.
So best to now write on before I've had it
As I am old and nothing much is new.
The next installment now chapter and verse
Her name? Brittany - and I have had worse.
In Banksia* there is a bordello
(I wish I could tell of maidens in a glade).
Less idyllic here, and its in a hollow
Off Princes Highway on the promenade.
No doubt since then "princes" more have followed
To repeat the bad example I have made.
Well life is lonely for the single man -
Sometimes you have to take just what you can.
To go on - I've said there is a knock shop**
With service that would lay a man down low.
Is it still there? well truly I know not
(All this happened so very long ago).
All types of girls - there have been a lot -
(I tell of the horizontal tango).
Well so it was - that's the reality -
For me no small thing or triviality.
I thus enshrine each circumstance in verse
(Not ev'ry girl I've been with was a whore).
Though maybe half - and maybe it's my curse
(Well its more moral than violence and war
Of which I'll speak not - for it is greatly worse
And something which we rightly should deplore) -
And I had not a partner to justify
This recreation of a single guy.
Her name was Brittany (well I have said that)
And I was twenty nine and fancy free.
(By now you prob'ly think I'm a love rat
Though It's more true I was just lonely).
I saw her in the foyer - there she sat
Half naked there in her lingerie.
In the half darkness where I met her eyes
A soft glance that held for me no lies.
About my age she was - her hair was blonde -
Her skin was white in the soft light aglow
(And some may say that things like this are wrong -
Although it happened many moons ago).
Celestial providence when I was young
Where creamy white her milky skin doth show.
Would fair Dianna*** show so wan her features?
With something fate once contrived to teach us.
© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved
Either a feast or a famine it is true.
In betwixt times I have been nomadic
Without a home (it seems) to go back to.
So best to now write on before I've had it
As I am old and nothing much is new.
The next installment now chapter and verse
Her name? Brittany - and I have had worse.
In Banksia* there is a bordello
(I wish I could tell of maidens in a glade).
Less idyllic here, and its in a hollow
Off Princes Highway on the promenade.
No doubt since then "princes" more have followed
To repeat the bad example I have made.
Well life is lonely for the single man -
Sometimes you have to take just what you can.
To go on - I've said there is a knock shop**
With service that would lay a man down low.
Is it still there? well truly I know not
(All this happened so very long ago).
All types of girls - there have been a lot -
(I tell of the horizontal tango).
Well so it was - that's the reality -
For me no small thing or triviality.
I thus enshrine each circumstance in verse
(Not ev'ry girl I've been with was a whore).
Though maybe half - and maybe it's my curse
(Well its more moral than violence and war
Of which I'll speak not - for it is greatly worse
And something which we rightly should deplore) -
And I had not a partner to justify
This recreation of a single guy.
Her name was Brittany (well I have said that)
And I was twenty nine and fancy free.
(By now you prob'ly think I'm a love rat
Though It's more true I was just lonely).
I saw her in the foyer - there she sat
Half naked there in her lingerie.
In the half darkness where I met her eyes
A soft glance that held for me no lies.
About my age she was - her hair was blonde -
Her skin was white in the soft light aglow
(And some may say that things like this are wrong -
Although it happened many moons ago).
Celestial providence when I was young
Where creamy white her milky skin doth show.
Would fair Dianna*** show so wan her features?
With something fate once contrived to teach us.
© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Dec 2016
About this poem:
* A Sydney suburb.** Australian slang
*** The Moon
Bali (Trip 2 - circa 1992)
My next trip to Bali - I was twenty-four
Going there again with a few mates.
We each had a room (like the time before)
I'll not bore you with flight details commonplace.
Returning on a holiday to score
Some p*ssy and drink till we're off our face.
We had spending money and a cheap airfare -
All I'll say suffice to say we got there.
Arriving on the beach in steamy Kuta
To watch a sunset dying in the west.
Sipping Bintang beer in a pool bar
(Memories I made there were the best).
Knowing that I was now from Sydney far
It was time to settle in and to get pissed.
To tie one on but not get truly rotten
The smells of Asia not quickly are forgotten.
The first girl I met her name was Donna
(An Aussie girl from Broome as I remember)
And that first night I certainly got on her
(It's hot and dry in Bali in December).
By the pool at 3 am is where I saw her; -
I invited her into the balmy water;-
And now I'll tell you something really cool -
In two minutes we were at it in the pool!
The next night was quite different I tell you
A moon came up full wan wild and wicked; -
And having nothing better now to do
Went out again intending to get shickered.
Now by myself (not with the other crew)
The meal cart's cooking fires brightly flickered.
Next something now that I won't soon forget -
I think the chef put mushrooms in my omelet!
In half an hour I was feeling strange
And went into an expensive nightclub.
I lay upon a sofa on a stage
And watched the moon shower silver from above.
Now trapped in a bright psychedelic cage
My senses one by one had taken leave; -
The music they were playing - the Eurhythmics
I heard the gifted voice of Annie Lennox.
On the stereo, Annie sang her song "Why"
Why indeed? I ask now (taken deeper).
I looked into the silver moonlit sky
The trip upon me (and my will grows weaker).
Something strange now (like this poetry)
To wake now from a dream (but not the sleeper).
I stared transfixed at the black silhouette
Of palm trees edged in moonlight (stranger yet).
The next day I didn't feel so good
(I muttered curses underneath my breath).
I thought about it - and I really should
Have had police arrest that wicked chef.
If I could find him - then I surely would
Have told them all about his bad omelets.
I searched about in every street canteen -
But nowhere was the scoundrel to be seen.
Well not much more to add now - two more girls
Both were Indonesian and were prozzies*.
Just names on a list now - that is all -
(In Bali there are worse things than the mozzies**).
A strange holiday in a place tropical -
Tourists on the beach in skimpy cozzies***.
Eight days of sun, and then time to go home -
The weirdest holiday I've ever known.
© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved
Going there again with a few mates.
We each had a room (like the time before)
I'll not bore you with flight details commonplace.
Returning on a holiday to score
Some p*ssy and drink till we're off our face.
We had spending money and a cheap airfare -
All I'll say suffice to say we got there.
Arriving on the beach in steamy Kuta
To watch a sunset dying in the west.
Sipping Bintang beer in a pool bar
(Memories I made there were the best).
Knowing that I was now from Sydney far
It was time to settle in and to get pissed.
To tie one on but not get truly rotten
The smells of Asia not quickly are forgotten.
The first girl I met her name was Donna
(An Aussie girl from Broome as I remember)
And that first night I certainly got on her
(It's hot and dry in Bali in December).
By the pool at 3 am is where I saw her; -
I invited her into the balmy water;-
And now I'll tell you something really cool -
In two minutes we were at it in the pool!
The next night was quite different I tell you
A moon came up full wan wild and wicked; -
And having nothing better now to do
Went out again intending to get shickered.
Now by myself (not with the other crew)
The meal cart's cooking fires brightly flickered.
Next something now that I won't soon forget -
I think the chef put mushrooms in my omelet!
In half an hour I was feeling strange
And went into an expensive nightclub.
I lay upon a sofa on a stage
And watched the moon shower silver from above.
Now trapped in a bright psychedelic cage
My senses one by one had taken leave; -
The music they were playing - the Eurhythmics
I heard the gifted voice of Annie Lennox.
On the stereo, Annie sang her song "Why"
Why indeed? I ask now (taken deeper).
I looked into the silver moonlit sky
The trip upon me (and my will grows weaker).
Something strange now (like this poetry)
To wake now from a dream (but not the sleeper).
I stared transfixed at the black silhouette
Of palm trees edged in moonlight (stranger yet).
The next day I didn't feel so good
(I muttered curses underneath my breath).
I thought about it - and I really should
Have had police arrest that wicked chef.
If I could find him - then I surely would
Have told them all about his bad omelets.
I searched about in every street canteen -
But nowhere was the scoundrel to be seen.
Well not much more to add now - two more girls
Both were Indonesian and were prozzies*.
Just names on a list now - that is all -
(In Bali there are worse things than the mozzies**).
A strange holiday in a place tropical -
Tourists on the beach in skimpy cozzies***.
Eight days of sun, and then time to go home -
The weirdest holiday I've ever known.
© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Aug 2016
About this poem:
* prozzies English slang for prostitutes** mozzies Aussie slang for mosquitos
*** cozzies Aussie slang for swimming costumes
(One day I'll go back and give that chef a piece of my mind!).
Tipping the Velvet
There is a serpent Eve which crowns your wreath
If nothing there to hide then down below -
For something good I had to go beneath; -
Your mound of Venus and its moist furrow.
After I've finished you may feel replete -
Or beg for more - and moaning as you go;-
To push you close - and then over the brink -
Thoughts I now write down in this black ink.
With you girl at twilight your temple falls
Assailing now tonight your palace walls.
All Nature's strength in destiny now calls
Your moaning of contentment caterwauls.
Onto the coldest bathroom floor, we crawled
(Good reader you're the first that I have told)
She and me now - so strong then was our lust -
And lying spent now in a pile of dust.
So that is why I must now "tip the velvet"
(My first time with a girl in the Blue Mountains)
What's the point in life of having regret?
Regret runs in torrents down every fountain.
And I'd do anything to find her secret -
To hear her moan would surpass ev'ry doubt then;-
Velvet speckled stars on a dark backdrop -
The only pity is that we could not elope.
© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved
If nothing there to hide then down below -
For something good I had to go beneath; -
Your mound of Venus and its moist furrow.
After I've finished you may feel replete -
Or beg for more - and moaning as you go;-
To push you close - and then over the brink -
Thoughts I now write down in this black ink.
With you girl at twilight your temple falls
Assailing now tonight your palace walls.
All Nature's strength in destiny now calls
Your moaning of contentment caterwauls.
Onto the coldest bathroom floor, we crawled
(Good reader you're the first that I have told)
She and me now - so strong then was our lust -
And lying spent now in a pile of dust.
So that is why I must now "tip the velvet"
(My first time with a girl in the Blue Mountains)
What's the point in life of having regret?
Regret runs in torrents down every fountain.
And I'd do anything to find her secret -
To hear her moan would surpass ev'ry doubt then;-
Velvet speckled stars on a dark backdrop -
The only pity is that we could not elope.
© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Jul 2016
Post CommentTori
Not long after my encounter with Lorraine*
(At twenty-nine the loins are rather restless)
Two months, nineteen days later - the time frame
(I went to a bordello - I confess this).
Sometimes to go with a "girl on the game"
Is all I have (though they will never kiss)
'Cept for this poem - I will kiss and tell -
Another memory - and I may as well.
If ever you're in Sydney, near Rockdale**
And find yourself down by the Seven Ways
(It's not so far from where Cook*** once did sail
Though a fair bit has changed since those days).
This is where you may come to avail
Your self of some of the finest ladies -
Well, at any rate, most are rather sweet -
Go at night if you want to be discreet.
So there I was, I entered the bordello -
The fabric on the walls was finest silk.
On that night I was a restless fellow -
(As I suppose were many of my ilk).
I felt like a prince (somewhat like Othello
Was). I went there to seek affection's milk -
Exchange the money for this one hour's trade
To play at love - though only its charade.
The girls came out, I chose one - she was Tori
(Her working name was this at any rate).
She now forms the subject of my story -
Part of the fabric time has made my fate.
She'd be surprised to be in my poetry
Long ago on a double bed, she sate.
It didn't take so long though to disrobe
On a chair by the bed now were our clothes.
Her hair was black - in ringlets and in curls
With skin as pale as the moon - alabaster
And sweet unlike so many working girls
(Who think only about the money); now her
Soft body spoke of intimacy's Worlds
Two spirits joined in this time and place were.
Skin on skin - a type of electricity
Which I write of in my eccentricity.
I came to worship close to Venus' mount
I bow before my lady (now Goddess)
And seek to find creation by this fount
Where tenderness is in her hot caress.
To make this hour something that would count
(And worthy of a story to confess).
I bow before my lady - taste her sweet
Soon two souls in the dark are made complete.
The hour was gone and that hour gone too soon
From below I hear the madam ring her bell;-
And thus we must vacate our private room -
So broken now is intimacy's spell; -
Though for that hour we played a lover's tune.
You can guess the rest of what I do not tell
Now my poetry has paid its deference -
Another notch on the belt - experience.
So there you have it, now its bye bye pride
Another angel fallen in her grace.
Not someone I would choose to make my bride
(Though to be fair she had a pretty face).
In this poem, there's nowhere left to hide -
(Just the circumstance of that time and place)
Sometimes - it seems - we're searching for that light -
My loneliness was banish'd on that night.
© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved
(At twenty-nine the loins are rather restless)
Two months, nineteen days later - the time frame
(I went to a bordello - I confess this).
Sometimes to go with a "girl on the game"
Is all I have (though they will never kiss)
'Cept for this poem - I will kiss and tell -
Another memory - and I may as well.
If ever you're in Sydney, near Rockdale**
And find yourself down by the Seven Ways
(It's not so far from where Cook*** once did sail
Though a fair bit has changed since those days).
This is where you may come to avail
Your self of some of the finest ladies -
Well, at any rate, most are rather sweet -
Go at night if you want to be discreet.
So there I was, I entered the bordello -
The fabric on the walls was finest silk.
On that night I was a restless fellow -
(As I suppose were many of my ilk).
I felt like a prince (somewhat like Othello
Was). I went there to seek affection's milk -
Exchange the money for this one hour's trade
To play at love - though only its charade.
The girls came out, I chose one - she was Tori
(Her working name was this at any rate).
She now forms the subject of my story -
Part of the fabric time has made my fate.
She'd be surprised to be in my poetry
Long ago on a double bed, she sate.
It didn't take so long though to disrobe
On a chair by the bed now were our clothes.
Her hair was black - in ringlets and in curls
With skin as pale as the moon - alabaster
And sweet unlike so many working girls
(Who think only about the money); now her
Soft body spoke of intimacy's Worlds
Two spirits joined in this time and place were.
Skin on skin - a type of electricity
Which I write of in my eccentricity.
I came to worship close to Venus' mount
I bow before my lady (now Goddess)
And seek to find creation by this fount
Where tenderness is in her hot caress.
To make this hour something that would count
(And worthy of a story to confess).
I bow before my lady - taste her sweet
Soon two souls in the dark are made complete.
The hour was gone and that hour gone too soon
From below I hear the madam ring her bell;-
And thus we must vacate our private room -
So broken now is intimacy's spell; -
Though for that hour we played a lover's tune.
You can guess the rest of what I do not tell
Now my poetry has paid its deference -
Another notch on the belt - experience.
So there you have it, now its bye bye pride
Another angel fallen in her grace.
Not someone I would choose to make my bride
(Though to be fair she had a pretty face).
In this poem, there's nowhere left to hide -
(Just the circumstance of that time and place)
Sometimes - it seems - we're searching for that light -
My loneliness was banish'd on that night.
© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Nov 2016
About this poem:
* See my earlier poem "Residential School Fun."** Inner SW Sydney suburb.
*** Captain Cook (who discovered Australia for the British in 1770).
As a matter of fact
Yes, I am something of a scoundrel
Though I have been forced
To be one
Through nature
And circumstance.
Through early grinding poverty
And a childhood
That would rip out your heart.
I am Virgo -
My ruler Mercury
Number 14 my birth date
(That's 5 in Numerology)
I am a gambler
Because of my nature
And of necessity
I am a gambler
For money.
I am a gambler
For love.
Money comes and goes
In a flash
And goes
And comes again
Women
They've been many.
(They seem to come and go also).
This is Mercury operating again
(Through conjunction with Venus I suspect).
I have only loved twice
The first time wrung
The last drop of blood out of my heart
When we broke up.
The second time much later
(More like domesticity)
Genuine affection nonetheless
For eight years of contentment
Which ended for reasons
Which I will not describe here.
I've never cheated
In these relationships
Now I am much older
Women still fascinate me.
Will I ever find "the one"?
Maybe it's third time lucky?
Who knows?
I have my faults
We all have our faults.
I make no apology
For what I am.
My poetry anthology
Describes my life
For what it is*
© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved
Though I have been forced
To be one
Through nature
And circumstance.
Through early grinding poverty
And a childhood
That would rip out your heart.
I am Virgo -
My ruler Mercury
Number 14 my birth date
(That's 5 in Numerology)
I am a gambler
Because of my nature
And of necessity
I am a gambler
For money.
I am a gambler
For love.
Money comes and goes
In a flash
And goes
And comes again
Women
They've been many.
(They seem to come and go also).
This is Mercury operating again
(Through conjunction with Venus I suspect).
I have only loved twice
The first time wrung
The last drop of blood out of my heart
When we broke up.
The second time much later
(More like domesticity)
Genuine affection nonetheless
For eight years of contentment
Which ended for reasons
Which I will not describe here.
I've never cheated
In these relationships
Now I am much older
Women still fascinate me.
Will I ever find "the one"?
Maybe it's third time lucky?
Who knows?
I have my faults
We all have our faults.
I make no apology
For what I am.
My poetry anthology
Describes my life
For what it is*
© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Nov 2016
About this poem:
* " Such is life".......So said Ned Kelly - (famous Australian Bush Ranger)The Wounded Narcissist
In the pride of his knowledge,- he soared too high;-
His wings of wax and paper come undone;-
He plummets down now;- from that same blue sky;-
(And I am cow'd as Icurus' son).
Who feels the mortal damage to his pride;-
(And so I write of how I've come undone);-
The splitting and the splitting;- of wounds that run so deep;-
As sentimental tears course down his cheeks.
© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved
His wings of wax and paper come undone;-
He plummets down now;- from that same blue sky;-
(And I am cow'd as Icurus' son).
Who feels the mortal damage to his pride;-
(And so I write of how I've come undone);-
The splitting and the splitting;- of wounds that run so deep;-
As sentimental tears course down his cheeks.
© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Sep 2017
About this poem:
A slight reworking of the Icarus myth.A Stranger's Eyes
I walk along the street
And I'm blue and lonely.
My childhood hurts this love
For my one and only.
Searching other's eyes
For love's deep abyss.
The ocean in my soul
Drowns in a stranger's kiss.
I'm lost without a woman
Directionless and vain.
I seek what is not common
In this world of pain.
Oh for a stranger's eyes
To then return that glance.
The ocean in her soul
Cries for a lost romance.
© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved
And I'm blue and lonely.
My childhood hurts this love
For my one and only.
Searching other's eyes
For love's deep abyss.
The ocean in my soul
Drowns in a stranger's kiss.
I'm lost without a woman
Directionless and vain.
I seek what is not common
In this world of pain.
Oh for a stranger's eyes
To then return that glance.
The ocean in her soul
Cries for a lost romance.
© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Sep 2016
Post CommentWhat Can I Say?
I've given myself to many women,
Although I am not cheap.
My heart is hard, from life common,
(Although I still can weep).
I'm damaged from my childhood,
(That black emotional sin).
Every day I stay alive,
Is a day I win.
And I don't fully know myself,
(But then again - who does?)
I'm scared sometimes to show my heart,
(Wounded from a lack of love).
I spend most days writing here,
In silent introspection.
I know one day, I'll heal myself,
And find a new direction.
Maybe it's my nature,
And maybe it's my curse;-
To see the beauty,
In most women;-
For better,
Or for worse.
© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved
Although I am not cheap.
My heart is hard, from life common,
(Although I still can weep).
I'm damaged from my childhood,
(That black emotional sin).
Every day I stay alive,
Is a day I win.
And I don't fully know myself,
(But then again - who does?)
I'm scared sometimes to show my heart,
(Wounded from a lack of love).
I spend most days writing here,
In silent introspection.
I know one day, I'll heal myself,
And find a new direction.
Maybe it's my nature,
And maybe it's my curse;-
To see the beauty,
In most women;-
For better,
Or for worse.
© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Aug 2017
About this poem:
I felt very lonely this evening, so I just thought that I would write this...In My Heart
In my heart, in my past lives
I must have been a female; -
(Not that I would be one now, -
And all that would entail).
It just feels right, when I see
A pretty pair of eyes;-
To drown in her deep ocean, -
Would come as no surprise.
© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved
I must have been a female; -
(Not that I would be one now, -
And all that would entail).
It just feels right, when I see
A pretty pair of eyes;-
To drown in her deep ocean, -
Would come as no surprise.
© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Apr 2017
About this poem:
Reincarnation...How I feel sometimes...The Unity of everything...Souls recognizing each other;...A subject for Meditation...Tears From a Red Rose
The red rose is touched by dew :-
Tears from a red rose
Blood from her womb
So few will know.
Known by so few
Tears from a red rose
So few will know.
Blood from her womb
Tears from a red rose
So few will know.
© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved
Tears from a red rose
Blood from her womb
So few will know.
Known by so few
Tears from a red rose
So few will know.
Blood from her womb
Tears from a red rose
So few will know.
© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Feb 2017
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