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Old 02-18-2015, 12:15 PM   #101
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Just came across this thread and its a marvelous find. Random samplings rewarded.

Write on!
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Old 02-20-2015, 10:07 AM   #102
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Business Lunch

She's as sparkly as the chromium
grille on Daddy's Bonneville
he let her drive to work today,
too hurried she was to take the bus,
getting ready for Mr. G
who said he'd take her to lunch
when all the girls in the steno pool
will notice his Paul Newman eyes
and executive voice that bellows,
"Hello, Melinda, ready for me?"

Ready or not, he orders them steak
with a bottle of Nouveau Beaujolais,
and after the waiter left, he whispers:
"Here's the church. Here's the steeple,
and here's how to open doors, Melinda,"
wrapping her fingers in his fingers,
the only white there a band of skin
missing a ring on an erstwhile Jesus.

Last edited by greenmountaineer : 02-27-2015 at 10:05 AM.
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Old 02-24-2015, 09:43 AM   #103
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Coffee Clatch with Mary Magdelene

......

Last edited by greenmountaineer : 07-05-2018 at 02:29 PM.
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Old 02-27-2015, 08:19 AM   #104
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Waiting For God at the Port Authority

Toe Jam who doesn't wear shoes in summer
forgot to say "I took a shower"
to the cops who called him disodorly
in the belly of a Greyhound bay
where after some shtick and a promise
to the judge, the bailiff, and steno

he will share his Wild Irish Rosie
and a loaf of day old Wonderbread
with Finny as thin as a praying mantis,
too frail to even say grace,
down at the Port Authority
where God is surely coming today.

Last edited by greenmountaineer : 02-27-2015 at 08:20 AM. Reason: pared down version of a prior submission
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Old 03-05-2015, 07:10 PM   #105
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Azadah Once Lived in the Bronx

Summer was hotter than lamb kebab,
but the snow and ice in Paktikā
are as cold as gunmetal casings
from the latest empty celebration,

but not as empty as Delaram was
on the bridge who jumped in the Gomal
after she removed her burqa
to reveal a sumptuous body.

Baitullah just sat there, drinking tea,
and swore "we'll kill them, Brother,
Insha'Allah," flicking horse shit
from his boots and pantaloons.

Azadah thanked Allah for Pine-Sol
entering-quote-the powder room.
She feels like she's going to puke
she says to herself in English

but squats instead and looks at the gap
between two knees as she rubs her thighs,
telling herself it's just to keep warm,
moving a finger, looking for love.

Last edited by greenmountaineer : 03-05-2015 at 07:45 PM. Reason: Edited version thanks to Ash who set me straight on proper female names in that part of the world
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Old 03-06-2015, 08:21 PM   #106
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Women as Enumeration

There has been described more or less
in art, in dogma, and history
woman as whore who has to survive
the collective unconscious of

war for the lovely Helen of Troy,
feet in Peking or Singapore,
the Pope's witches burned at the stake,

chadors in Saudi Arabia,
the cutting of cunt in Senegal,
and catwalk kinderwhore chic.

Last edited by greenmountaineer : 03-07-2015 at 05:26 AM.
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Old 03-07-2015, 07:06 PM   #107
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Pimp

The night spits out Big Daddy Slick,
living on the edge and liking it,
watching out for LA dick cars
when not asleep in no tell motels.

Heaven on earth is crystal meth
but hell is a brimstone fist
for fair-skinned Nancy from Iowa
still in the tub as the sun goes down

to give the appearance she's as clean
as rose colored farm girl cheeks
in the neon reflection of
Rooms by the Day or Week

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Old 03-08-2015, 05:38 AM   #108
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thankyou


it's so good to see you still creating - wonderful expressions of art.
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Old 03-08-2015, 05:51 AM   #109
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Quote:
Originally Posted by butters View Post
thankyou


it's so good to see you still creating - wonderful expressions of art.
Thanks. "Tsunamis of the heart/are gentle ones" great lines BTW.
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Old 03-13-2015, 11:06 AM   #110
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Mary on a Quay in Inishmór

just as her mother did before,
knits a sweater for Seamus at dawn,
three days gone she's pining for,
who fishes the deep sea for salmon,

a fresh one having washed ashore
inside the sleeve of a sweater once worn
by Malloy, betrothed to Brigid McCarthy
she'll offer half of the salmon to,

the other half Murphy down at his store
for, God willing, stinging nettle
she'll drink as a tea while knitting a sweater
at dawn tomorrow in Inishmór.

Prior version

Last edited by greenmountaineer : 03-15-2015 at 04:14 PM.
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Old 03-21-2015, 10:34 AM   #111
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Clem Magnusson, Private Dick

"Fuckin' A right!" said Clem
who doesn't know why he said it
after six fingers of Glenlivet
and two cans of tuna for breakfast.

Radio's tuned to four a.m.
farm reports up in the Poconos
as he puts on his Vincent DePaul
suit to stake out a storefront church,

"not my idea of heaven
at $30 bucks an hour"
on behalf of a minister's wife
whose upfront felt like pennies
out of her kitchen cookie jar.

Dicks love living on the edge
of naugahyde booths in all night diners
with steamy windows because Lordy! Lordy!
out walks Reverend Witherspoon

who kisses goodnight his honey
before he goes home to pretend
at least until the glossies
will make him shit the bed,

but Clem well, he's sitting there thinking
a couple a hours at 30 bucks per
ain't gonna get him Louise tonight,
but an invite for pie and coffee
at 5:00 a.m. maybe will.

Last edited by greenmountaineer : 10-04-2016 at 10:03 PM.
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Old 03-23-2015, 09:16 AM   #112
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Spinster

She puts on her favorite flannel shirt
the way your granny would put on a skirt
while Madge, her canary, watches the cat,
watching it back when she gets home from work.

Miss Jones is the high school vice principle
whose aging pudenda included tits
on an erstwhile hot body never pierced
with girly tattoos she wishes had been.

PRISCILLA, a tramp stamp, could have been inked
when Fleetwood Mac was singing to her,
but LOVE was left on the needle that night
in Seaside Heights when her skin was white

and pure as the sheets on her mother's bed
she thinks about as she turns off the gas
in her stocking feet since her muddy boots
are the only ones WELCOME on the mat.

Last edited by greenmountaineer : 03-23-2015 at 09:29 AM.
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Old 03-25-2015, 06:29 PM   #113
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For What Shall It Profit a Man

Maybe it's this after all:
not Monday morning's profit or loss,
rather you were the good camper
on a weekend in the forest,

dousing the fire before you left
your trash in a big plastic bag,
like the one the bum is dragging
who stops you to ask for a dollar

when starting your day in Manhattan
your dark side would like to douse on,
but you decide to ignore,
you with your hands in your pockets,

clenching the change from your Starbucks,
pretending to give the what for,
when suddenly the lights go off
on the way to your office war.

Last edited by greenmountaineer : 05-09-2015 at 09:20 PM.
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Old 03-27-2015, 04:01 PM   #114
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Surreal Poem Number W

This place has only three exits, sir: Madness, and Death.”
― René Daumal

Martyrs explode in Jerusalem
while men make love to a wall.

The Prophet makes war with a telephone
for those who will take the call

while Gil from the tribe of Tilapia
who swam upstream on holiday

gets a ring from his brother Adeeb
from his brook by the River Jordan

who tells Gil all about the fish-
mongers belly up in the Dead Sea

drifting against the current
that may reach the Sea of Galilee.

Last edited by greenmountaineer : 03-27-2015 at 04:05 PM.
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Old 03-31-2015, 07:24 PM   #115
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Carny Knowledge

Step right up to win, my Friend,
your gen-you-wine Toot n' calmin'.
Just one dollar, throw the ball.
Hit three down Osama Bin Ladens.

What, you say, is a Toot 'n calmin'?
Keeps you happy all day long.
You toot toot toot your Toot 'n calmin'
driving home from the office.

Even comes with a suction cup.
Bought them in the Holy Land,
visiting the pyramids.

But if you'd rather win tonight
a blue eyed trimmed beard bobble head
come right back at 10 pm
for one of my Dashboard Jesuses
I got from the bishop of Rome.

Last edited by greenmountaineer : 04-01-2015 at 06:36 PM.
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Old 04-05-2015, 07:26 AM   #116
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Three Meditations on the Sun

The first is this:
that the reported Garden
wasn't the center. It is the sun.

The second is when the sun comes up,
except that it stays where it is,
or so we say it does,

however much it spins
as do the planets therein
around more spinning pin prick suns
in spinning boundless galaxies.
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Old 04-05-2015, 07:45 AM   #117
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this takes the reader from the one central point, to a wider pov, then zooms even farther out - but manages to do so without making the statement 'there is no god'. rather, imo, it leaves it entirely open: beyond the galaxies, what then? it doesn't challenge the idea of god, though it renders 'religion' as just a small spot from which some men began an understanding of our universe. the great unknown. the more we understand it, the more we realise how much more we don't know.
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William Dement (the father of sleep medicine) said:
"Dreaming permits each and every one of us to be quietly and safely insane every night of our lives."


Last edited by butters : 04-05-2015 at 02:06 PM.
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Old 04-05-2015, 01:47 PM   #118
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Quote:
Originally Posted by butters View Post
this takes the reader from the one cetral point, to a wider pov, then zooms even farther out - but manages to do so without making the statement 'there is no god'. rather, imo, it leaves it entirely open: beyond the galaxies, what then? it doesn't challenge the idea of god, though it renders 'religion' as just a small spot from which some men began an understanding of our universe. the great unknown. the more we understand it, the more we realise how much more we don't know.
Very perceptive, butters. This is a common theme for me, although like a "pin prick sun" among countless others, I act as though I'm the center of the universe(LOL).
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Old 04-14-2015, 06:32 PM   #119
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Duke Fails at Confessional Poetry

Maybe it's time to write that poem,
how I felt after she left,
she who forgot her toothbrush.

I think her name was Dawn.
But it's not about her.
The angst in my troubled soul remains

as if it t'were the cruelest month,
pouring cats and dogs,
but it's not about rain, cats or the dog

Suzanne my next door neighbor's walking
by my window six in the morning
on the other side of the street

pouring green-blue in my psyche
as she did one day last summer
sunbathing in her bikini,

taut and tan in her backyard
when she ran back into her house
in the green summer blue of my soul.

Last edited by greenmountaineer : 04-14-2015 at 07:54 PM.
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Old 04-14-2015, 08:38 PM   #120
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I feel like such an f'ing poser compared to you!
I really like it!


Quote:
Originally Posted by greenmountaineer View Post
Maybe it's time to write that poem,
how I felt after she left,
she who forgot her toothbrush.

I think her name was Dawn.
But it's not about her.
The angst in my troubled soul remains

as if it t'were the cruelest month,
pouring cats and dogs,
but it's not about rain, cats or the dog

Suzanne my next door neighbor's walking
by my window six in the morning
on the other side of the street

pouring green-blue in my psyche
as she did one day last summer
sunbathing in her bikini,

taut and tan in her backyard
when she ran back into her house
in the green summer blue of my soul.
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Old 04-14-2015, 10:05 PM   #121
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Quote:
Originally Posted by legerdemer View Post
I feel like such an f'ing poser compared to you!
I really like it!
I think a lot of us feel the same.
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Old 04-15-2015, 06:38 AM   #122
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Quote:
Originally Posted by legerdemer View Post
I feel like such an f'ing poser compared to you!
I really like it!
Quote:
Originally Posted by Tristesse2 View Post
I think a lot of us feel the same.
Thank you both. Tess: "Duke," of course is parody and can't compare to the complexity of Walter in "Walter and the Naiad."

https://www.literotica.com/p/walter-and-the-naiad

I hope some newcomers click on the link to read erotic poetry at its finest.
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Old 04-16-2015, 07:28 PM   #123
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The Mikveh

Although it was a gross of eggs deep
as in the Book of Jeremiah,
the mikveh was unadorned,
layered with plain white tile
the men refused to heat,
but the Rosh Yeshiva was insistent
that they keep it clean.

Ten days after her niddah,
Rina was pleased she no longer bled
while she bathed in the less than tepid water,
and oh, how she wanted her Peter
to sing tonight like Solomon did.

She listens to the tick-tock clock
next to the porcelain basin
used to clean cooking utensils
the men forgot to clean again

and tries to recite her 3:00 pm prayers
but stares instead at the second hand
stick figure Sisyphus pushing his rock
uphill. Ticktock, ticktock, ticktock.

Original version:

http://forum.literotica.com/showpost...9&postcount=78

Last edited by greenmountaineer : 04-16-2015 at 09:00 PM.
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Old 04-17-2015, 08:12 AM   #124
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most enjoyable

I had found reference to this thread in a comment on another and enjoy the writings immensely. Thank you!
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Old 04-17-2015, 09:00 AM   #125
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I had found reference to this thread in a comment on another and enjoy the writings immensely. Thank you!
Thank you also. I'm glad you've enjoyed it.
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