Last Edited Elegy Poems (1,148)

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."



© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved

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.




© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved

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."



© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved




















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.



© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved

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*




© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved

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.




© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved

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

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

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