Bistro Bijou

[UnderYourSpell]

I shall refrain from a *coffee spew* comment here, since obviously what I've seen of you bears that out quite nicely, you perfect gentleman. (he even loaned me bail money that night). Yet somehow, I have my suspicions about people who hang around places like this...



That is stellar. You should be very proud. And I'd second it - although carefully keeping my praise for your work at a necessary minimum, since I know how nervous that makes you.

...though a little reference in one of your blogs has inspired the little short story I'm busily banging on even now. ...



hearts to Anschul, and a few flowers.

Let me remind the Bistrovians that there's a tiny challenge here from a couple of days ago: write a self-portrait poem, in third person, from the point of view of someone who adores you, finds you fascinating and beautiful and worthy and a complete, lovable mystery.

And let me also mention that there are no wrong poetry answers in the Bistro. It all goes on the fridge.

ahem.

bj

I was going to do a bit of a slight cheat here and asked him to give me a list of things but as we are not talking at the moment I think I can whistle for that!

Cheeper modern ones: zippers. But if you want this guy to be up-market and tailor-made, then buttons definitely. And don't forget the cummerbund — that has to come off as well.

There should be a little button at the front for the loop on the cummerbund to hold it in the correct position

 

[UnderYourSpell]

My turn for confession. I absolutely detest rhyming slang. I've a friend from London that sprinkles it in his speech and and it drives me up a wall.

(I went back and editted that sentence. My spelling is British enough as is, but thinking of this topic just shoved me right into the British vernacular, slang and all. I've spent too much time over the years on British message boards. And this is of course why I can pick the proper manner of being ignorant and thus spinning up our resident Briton.)




Not gonna happen. Not only is it patently impossible for me to enter into the mindset of either of my gals, there is just no way that I could actually write down the sort of things they say about me. They're wonderfully delusional, and I love them both for it.

Though I did receive a poem from one of them two days ago, and, wow, it just floored me. I've written *ahem* a fair amount of poetry for the ladies in my time, but very, very rarely have I had any written for me. No wonder the ladies dig it so very much when I get my poet-stroll on. (even though it is usually awful, sentimental dreck)

Is this your way of saying 'taking the piss'? I do think that you Americans have a weird sense of humour sometimes if your television programmes are anything to go by .. I mean to say does anyone enjoy Monk or Psychic? What happened to the classic days of M.A.S.H?

 

[Anschul]

Is this your way of saying 'taking the piss'? I do think that you Americans have a weird sense of humour sometimes if your television programmes are anything to go by .. I mean to say does anyone enjoy Monk or Psychic? What happened to the classic days of M.A.S.H?

I'm not exactly sure what you're suggesting here, but in this American house, Monk (but not Psych) is a daily obsession, especially my seven-year-old daughter. She leaves the room right before the Kill takes place, then returns to solve the crime. Every time. She also relates to his OCD. She's not OCD, but does believe that there is a place for everything and everything in its place.

 

[UnderYourSpell]

I'm not exactly sure what you're suggesting here, but in this American house, Monk (but not Psych) is a daily obsession, especially my seven-year-old daughter. She leaves the room right before the Kill takes place, then returns to solve the crime. Every time. She also relates to his OCD. She's not OCD, but does believe that there is a place for everything and everything in its place.

I can well understand it appealing to a seven years old audience

 

[UnderYourSpell]

What the Bistro ladies should be wearing

http://i306.photobucket.com/albums/nn276/itsannier/A_bra_for_this_special_night_out.jpg

 

[Homburg]

Is this your way of saying 'taking the piss'?

Yup, pretty much.

 

[UnderYourSpell]

I have just submitted a dirty ditty lol

BTW I was going to put in an AV showing my legs but for some reason it comes up as art but it was taken with the same camera

 

[Homburg]

Some kind soul in here (Champy? Anschul?) posted something about mac and cheese with a nice bechamel sauce. Or something. I didn't pay too awful much attention, I must confess. Suddenly, however, I realised that I missed a golden oppurtunity. I have a guest that will be with us for some time this summer, and I am looking forward to that visit with emotions that would require poetry far exceeding my abilities to express.

And her favourite dish is mac and cheese. The good kind.

So, could I prevail upon the generous foodies inhabiting this lovely thread to provide some guidance on recipes for good mac and cheese? Or perhaps a link to a good recipe? It would be most appreciated.

's to the foodies

 

[unpredictablebijou]

I was going to do a bit of a slight cheat here and asked him to give me a list of things but as we are not talking at the moment I think I can whistle for that!

Well, you could always write a little piece about the fact that you're probably a bit hard to live with (as are we all) but definitely worth it...

*I shall just leave this a code to be cracked by our esteemed hostess.*

Aoooowwww 'ave mercy! Oive spent a total of 6 days in England, an' that were nearly twenty years ago. My experience with the accent is mostly from old movies where Wallace Beery is playing pirates on the coast...

Cheeper modern ones: zippers. But if you want this guy to be up-market and tailor-made, then buttons definitely. And don't forget the cummerbund — that has to come off as well.

Turns out he didn't need to take off the cummerbund.

ahem.

but thanks! This was all very helpful. The devil's in the details, as they say.

As to why Americans like Monk, well personally, I'm married to him.

I wish I were exaggerating.

bj

 

[Anschul]

Some kind soul in here (Champy? Anschul?) posted something about mac and cheese with a nice bechamel sauce. Or something. I didn't pay too awful much attention, I must confess. Suddenly, however, I realised that I missed a golden oppurtunity. I have a guest that will be with us for some time this summer, and I am looking forward to that visit with emotions that would require poetry far exceeding my abilities to express.

And her favourite dish is mac and cheese. The good kind.

So, could I prevail upon the generous foodies inhabiting this lovely thread to provide some guidance on recipes for good mac and cheese? Or perhaps a link to a good recipe? It would be most appreciated.

's to the foodies

A creamy macaroni and cheese recipe, made with Cheddar cheese sauce, cooked macaroni, and seasonings. Resist the temptation to add bread crumbs, as some recipes suggest.

INGREDIENTS:

* 5 cups cooked macaroni (8 ounces--half a pound uncooked)
* 4 tablespoons butter
* 4 tablespoons all-purpose flour
* 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt (not kosher semen)
* 1/8 teaspooon fine-ground white pepper or fresh-ground black pepper (white is better)
* 2 cups whole milk (don't use skim or reduced-fat milk for mac and cheese).
* 3/4 cup (plus a little more) shredded sharp Cheddar cheese (the sharper the better)
* paprika, optional (but not optional in mine)

PREPARATION:
* In a saucepan, melt the butter over medium-low heat.
* Stir the flour into the butter until the mixture is smooth and bubbly. Do not let the roux brown.
* Stir in salt.
* Gradually add the milk, stirring constantly.
* Continue to cook, stirring constantly, until the sauce thickens. (your classic Bechamel)
* Add 3/4 cup cheese and continue to cook and stir until all the cheese has melted.
* Combine the sauce and the cooked macaroni in a large mixing bowl until the pasta is completely coated.
* Pour the whole shebang into a glass baking dish, preferably square, about 9x9.
* Top with the "plus a little more" of the cheese, and sprinkle with paprika if you like.
* Bake in a preheated 350° oven for 20 minutes, or until hot and bubbly.
* Optional: I like to place it under a low broiler until the cheese browns and crisps up. But that's just me.
* Eat the whole thing yourself and don't share any. It's too damn good for company.

Serves 6.

Cheers.
Chefaroni and Cheese

 

[Anschul]

As to why Americans like Monk, well personally, I'm married to him.

I wish I were exaggerating.

bj

Oh dear, I AM sorry for you.

Hey, dinner tonight is an incredible veal piccata, per request (make sure Ange knows). Also on the menu, sauteed spinach and garlic in extremely expensive olive oil (or maybe in Olive Oyl), and linguine sauteed in garlic butter and lemon. If you haven't had pasta sauteed in lemon-garlic butter, you haven't lived.

I think white wine is in order.

BJ, I wrote something as you suggested, but looking back, I haven't found anyone else who responded to the challenge. I'm not usually one to go first (I love it when she goes first, then me).

 

[Homburg]

A creamy macaroni and cheese recipe, made with Cheddar cheese sauce, cooked macaroni, and seasonings. Resist the temptation to add bread crumbs, as some recipes suggest.

INGREDIENTS:

* 5 cups cooked macaroni (8 ounces--half a pound uncooked)
* 4 tablespoons butter
* 4 tablespoons all-purpose flour
* 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt (not kosher semen)
* 1/8 teaspooon fine-ground white pepper or fresh-ground black pepper (white is better)
* 2 cups whole milk (don't use skim or reduced-fat milk for mac and cheese).
* 3/4 cup (plus a little more) shredded sharp Cheddar cheese (the sharper the better)
* paprika, optional (but not optional in mine)

PREPARATION:
* In a saucepan, melt the butter over medium-low heat.
* Stir the flour into the butter until the mixture is smooth and bubbly. Do not let the roux brown.
* Stir in salt.
* Gradually add the milk, stirring constantly.
* Continue to cook, stirring constantly, until the sauce thickens. (your classic Bechamel)
* Add 3/4 cup cheese and continue to cook and stir until all the cheese has melted.
* Combine the sauce and the cooked macaroni in a large mixing bowl until the pasta is completely coated.
* Pour the whole shebang into a glass baking dish, preferably square, about 9x9.
* Top with the "plus a little more" of the cheese, and sprinkle with paprika if you like.
* Bake in a preheated 350° oven for 20 minutes, or until hot and bubbly.
* Optional: I like to place it under a low broiler until the cheese browns and crisps up. But that's just me.
* Eat the whole thing yourself and don't share any. It's too damn good for company.

Serves 6.

Cheers.
Chefaroni and Cheese

Chef, I thank you. I will have viv give this a shot in the next couple of weeks to make sure she can produce it.

Thanks!

 

[champagne1982]

<snip> BJ, I wrote something as you suggested, but looking back, I haven't found anyone else who responded to the challenge. I'm not usually one to go first (I love it when she goes first, then me).

Which challenge? Check a few pages back... A Portrait Of Feminine Fortitude

 

[unpredictablebijou]

http://i306.photobucket.com/albums/nn276/itsannier/A_bra_for_this_special_night_out.jpg

I prefer the hand-painted version of that. Fun to give AND receive.

Oh dear, I AM sorry for you.

Hey, dinner tonight is an incredible veal piccata, per request (make sure Ange knows). Also on the menu, sauteed spinach and garlic in extremely expensive olive oil (or maybe in Olive Oyl), and linguine sauteed in garlic butter and lemon. If you haven't had pasta sauteed in lemon-garlic butter, you haven't lived.

I think white wine is in order.

BJ, I wrote something as you suggested, but looking back, I haven't found anyone else who responded to the challenge. I'm not usually one to go first (I love it when she goes first, then me).

That is a nice way to do things...

Put a link to it as Champie did, doll. So sorry; I really, really MUST get to a new fridge. I'll do that this afternoon if the action stays to a dull roar around the shop. Last night I had those old academic-anxiety dreams all night, about how finals are next week and I'm pretty sure I went to class but I can't find any of my notes and I'm wayyyyyy behind...

So. I have genuine foodies now, and I need a good sommelier, obviously. My knowledge of wine is paltry compared to some folks here. Really, I'm just not a very good alcoholic. My friends tell me that a lot. I need to try harder.

Food is to Foodies as Wine is to - ?

Which challenge? Check a few pages back... A Portrait Of Feminine Fortitude

Graceful, gorgeous, as always. You are so my hero.


I have done that particular exercise before, rather routinely. Here is one from a while back, just so y'all don't feel all alone. And I'm going to get to the Fridge today, I mean it. FridgeS, since I have a TON of stuff laying around that needs to be displayed.

she has become a secret and difficult woman

her lovers are desperate,
lashed by her moods;
she has that laudanum look -
a dark gleam, dangerous. We are
afraid to touch her: she may

explode like spring earth
and cover us all in blood or blossoms.
She is drawn away
by strange tides; we watch

her pale arms slip out of reach.
She may swim back from madness
or she may carry us all into destruction,
into unmapped territory. She promises

nothing, offers candy in handfuls. This is not
a question of love; she is serpent heroin
a succubus, vines strangling the oak.
Yet like belladonna, taken sparely
she brings visions.

 

[Anschul]

Which challenge? Check a few pages back... A Portrait Of Feminine Fortitude

I'm sorry my dear. I just flat missed that page. Never, NEVER would I suggest that you are no one. Your words always move me. I believe that you are one of the superstars here, and never waste a word. I envy that.

Here's my first draft:

On the beach, tie-dyed blur
Romping on the sand with Ben,
Carefree and committed.
Clearly committable.
Rare.

Got me first with his voice,
Deep and rhythmic,
Rich and resonant,
Phone-sexy.
Spine-tingling.

I wish I had his freedom,
Moves through his world
Not seeing what he doesn't wish to see.
He sees injustice, insensitivity,
While missing dirty laundry.

Doesn't know how fine he is,
Except when he's not.
Blissfully unaware
But happy in his ignorance.
Maddening.

Drives me crazy
With carefreeness.
Bounces thru life unencumbered.
Hate that about him.
Envious.

Wants me naked.
Often and even when I'm not ready.
Wants me ready all the time.
Doesn't understand when I'm not.
Unreasonable?

 

[Homburg]

she has become a secret and difficult woman

her lovers are desperate,
lashed by her moods;
she has that laudanum look -
a dark gleam, dangerous. We are
afraid to touch her: she may

explode like spring earth
and cover us all in blood or blossoms.
She is drawn away
by strange tides; we watch

her pale arms slip out of reach.
She may swim back from madness
or she may carry us all into destruction,
into unmapped territory. She promises

nothing, offers candy in handfuls. This is not
a question of love; she is serpent heroin
a succubus, vines strangling the oak.
Yet like belladonna, taken sparely
she brings visions.

Good stuff. I especially enjoyed the image inherent to "she has that laudanum look".

 

[UnderYourSpell]

Well, you could always write a little piece about the fact that you're probably a bit hard to live with (as are we all) but definitely worth it...



Aoooowwww 'ave mercy! Oive spent a total of 6 days in England, an' that were nearly twenty years ago. My experience with the accent is mostly from old movies where Wallace Beery is playing pirates on the coast...



Turns out he didn't need to take off the cummerbund.

ahem.

but thanks! This was all very helpful. The devil's in the details, as they say.

As to why Americans like Monk, well personally, I'm married to him.

I wish I were exaggerating.

bj

Me hard to live with?!!! It was him snoring all night and keeping the whole street awake altho I suppose it just could be misconstrued when I mentioned that he should keep his mouth shut but his answer at 2am was wayyyyyyy beyond polite!!

 

[Angeline]

Oh dear, I AM sorry for you.

Hey, dinner tonight is an incredible veal piccata, per request (make sure Ange knows). Also on the menu, sauteed spinach and garlic in extremely expensive olive oil (or maybe in Olive Oyl), and linguine sauteed in garlic butter and lemon. If you haven't had pasta sauteed in lemon-garlic butter, you haven't lived.

I think white wine is in order.

BJ, I wrote something as you suggested, but looking back, I haven't found anyone else who responded to the challenge. I'm not usually one to go first (I love it when she goes first, then me).

Oh you! My favorite dinner, absolutely. (And I love pasta in lemon garlic butter--add some barely sauteed shrimp and it's a party!). Tonight I braised a small pork (ahem) loin in saurkraut (with grated apple and potato) with white wine and caraway seeds. Made a few dumplings with it too, and asparagus with buttered breadcrumbs. Good thing I worked out today.

 

[Homburg]

I just can't wrap my brain around it. They both see me in such a radically different light from how I see myself. I tried. I can't get Galahad and Edward Longshanks in the same piece. I can't get the conquering paladin and darkly charming blackguard. In their eyes, I carry my blazon bright and sing while slaying dragons, and then twirl my waxed moustache and lock them in a donjon for unthinkable tortures. I can't wish myself into two places at once, and can't write myself in opposing hues. In their eyes, I am shining light and disturbing darkness, I am laughter and tears. I make them gasp in pleasure and cry out in agony. I can't write it. I can only be it.

 

[champagne1982]

<snip>
Here's my first draft:

On the beach, tie-dyed blur
Romping on the sand with Ben,
Carefree and committed.
Clearly committable.
Rare.

I offer this commentary on the first strophe of your poem, Chefferman. I really like it and I find you've inspired me to share my process through your kind comments about my poetry. I hope you don't mind. This is just my way of thinking as I read and edit. Let me know if you hate it and I'll edit it gone from the thread. I love this first glimpse at who we're looking at. Now, let's analyze for content, repetition and interest.

On the beach, tie-dyed blur
Romping on the sand with Ben,
Carefree and committed.
Clearly committable.
Rare.

"On the beach" and "on the sand"; are both needed separated only with 3 words? Which is more important to the poem? I vote for the second since "tie-dyed blur" is a far more interesting image to open with.
Tie-dyed blur romps
on the beach with Ben,

Carefree is implied by the romping already going on, a possibly even better illustration could be drawn if we knew who/what Ben is. If a dog, then "tie-dyed blur and fur" or if a boy, "and son". If you don't like either, think about dropping the name completely.

Here you need to decide if the diametrically opposed alliteration is important or would you rather have clarity, besides the hard c is repeated in the next line. Perhaps a different word order so that the repeated root words are a clearer mirror:
Committed and careful,
carelessly committable.
Rare.

The final product is:

Tie-dyed blur romps
on the beach,
Committed and careful,
carelessly committable.
Rare.

 

[Anschul]

I offer this commentary on the first strophe of your poem, Chefferman. I really like it and I find you've inspired me to share my process through your kind comments about my poetry. I hope you don't mind. This is just my way of thinking as I read and edit. Let me know if you hate it and I'll edit it gone from the thread. I love this first glimpse at who we're looking at. Now, let's analyze for content, repetition and interest.

On the beach, tie-dyed blur
Romping on the sand with Ben,
Carefree and committed.
Clearly committable.
Rare.

"On the beach" and "on the sand"; are both needed separated only with 3 words? Which is more important to the poem? I vote for the second since "tie-dyed blur" is a far more interesting image to open with.
Tie-dyed blur romps
on the beach with Ben,

Carefree is implied by the romping already going on, a possibly even better illustration could be drawn if we knew who/what Ben is. If a dog, then "tie-dyed blur and fur" or if a boy, "and son". If you don't like either, think about dropping the name completely.

Here you need to decide if the diametrically opposed alliteration is important or would you rather have clarity, besides the hard c is repeated in the next line. Perhaps a different word order so that the repeated root words are a clearer mirror:
Committed and careful,
carelessly committable.
Rare.

The final product is:

Tie-dyed blur romps
on the beach,
Committed and careful,
carelessly committable.
Rare.

xoxoxoxo

 

[unpredictablebijou]

Another Bistro Fridge

*whew* Okay, Here's the latest fridge, hardware contributed by the lovely Angeline...

Here ya go. We can stick your poem on there first.

http://static.howstuffworks.com/gif/productImages/4/1/00000102041-KitchenAidKSRS25CNSidebysideRefridgerator-large.jpeg

I think I wrote this poem for Boo's Bar and Grill, I'm not sure. I found it when I was reading through my poems from 2006.

feet do belong on the furniture

Sit down and set down all your carryin' ons,
don't face the outer world until you've sorted out
your thoughts and wallet contents, luggage
is too much to bear. There's coffee or whiskey
to slake your thirsty soul and for some, poetry
rests on a shelf over there. Grab a few and kick
off your shoes then curl up on your chair,
someone will be along shortly to delight or annoy
you back into reality, but for now, feet do belong

on the furniture.​

It seems happy here.

Dharma Life

Bob Dylan and Middle English
reign on this love supreme.
Poetry slides down walls, rolls
in cookpots. Words simmer.
Strophes and stanzas bubble.
We harmonize in cantos.

I look at my knee, pick up
a scabbed rhyme dropped
from my stony past,
and press on another phrase.

He brings me music.
He brings me books.
Kerouac speaks in his voice,
Dharma is lionized with smiles.
Mouths sing metaphors.

We're two wacked out intellectuals,
he laughs, then reads
from some medieval text.

I feel lazy like a sunflower, swayed
and dark eyed, lifted from the storm,
brighter with poetry alive in hips, legs,
fingers searching the bristly texture
of his sweet face.


We haven't sung any Emily/Texas yet, but we sang San Francisco Blues once.

God of Man
speaks through Abraham's
leaves while dreams
dance amongst toadstools
and Maya turns
the World Illusion

The true believers
rise to greet
the wan sun
while staid faithful
kneel to pray

Sun rises on
the right and
falls to darkness
on the left

Illusions spin as
I stare to
the chill North

I know well,
Faith is weakness

But I believe

"Fight and/or Fuck"

You will see it my way.
I won't see it yours.
You will bend.
No, I am not wrong!
Maybe a little,
but nowhere important.
And you are so wrong here.
No, I do not always say that!
Why do you always bring that up?
How do you remember these things?
Why the hell?
God, you're hot when you're angry.
The colour in your cheeks
The flash in your eyes
The set to your shoulders
It's a little warm in here
Circle to the left.
Put her between me and the bed
One little push
Just like that
Pants in the way
Fuck, I want you
Oh, yeah, just like that.
Oh yeah.
God, yes.
Hold those wrists down
Harder
Faster
Beg for it
Just like that
Oh!

So
much
better

StruggleFuck

You never seem to like it
When I force you to your knees.
But through it all, you seem to know
It's me you have to please.

You fight and choke and holler
When my cock goes in your mouth,
Complain and bitch and argue
When my hands start moving south.

Sometimes I just can't figure
Why you keep on fighting so,
When all you really have to do
Is stop and tell me "No!"

You wiggle when I tie you up,
It makes me pause, and yet,
My fingers, in your pussy lips
Still come back, soaking wet!

The struggle always wearies me,
I need a coke and rum!
The only reason it's worthwhile,
Is watching, when you come!

- Rhymesmith​

Random Instant Bistro Poetry Challenge in honor of Mating Season:
write a poem with the title or the theme "FIGHT OR FUCK"


fight , fight, fight
that seems to be all I fucking do
fighting my instincts about you
that wonderful something new

fight, fight, fight
that seems to be all I fucking do
fighting my reasons with you
you haven't got a clue

fight, fight, fight
that seems to be all I fucking do
I fight with you
and with you

all fighting and not enough fucking
no wonder I'm depressed and stressed
fighting with you and you
and me too

well fuck reason
and fuck passion
and fuck love
and fuck you
and fuck you too

fuck, fuck, fuck
I'm done fighting with you

the star falling from the sky
spinning round and round
until she is lost and confused

falling fast
landing hard
shattered

she is in a foreign land
and gathering who she is
surrounded by all that is new

she picks up what she cant live without
and begins to explore
eyes wide

she is in awe of this land
and in awe of what she has discovered within her pieces
she begins to meld them together she finds that she is new too

it takes time to get to know this self
it is confusing
it is difficult

but she is getting used to being lost
and accepts it as part of who she is
the lost star

Flat tire changer,
furniture rearranger,
taker-out of trash,
non-cleaner of splash,
champion snorer,
chick-movie abhorer,
love of my life,
idenitifes with Barney Fife.

One for my beloved. lol.

Said the unhappy wife
of her unemployed husband,
"Who else would they choose
when a good worker was canned?"


- Rhymesmith

Okay, New Bistro poetry challenge, a Same Title Challenge (I've always wanted to do an STC)

Words that Rhyme with Husband


She got fed up with the sloth
Of her slob of a husband.
So she dumped all his stuff
At the corner by the bus stand.

I know, I know...weak.

It wasn't until she was wed
And chained to the sink and the bed
That she found that a husband
Demanded sex and be damned
And one way or other be fed

OK one last try, before I have to leave again.

(of course I had a better idea AFTER I posted!)

Rhymes with husband -

When young Winnifred took her a spouse.
Everyone said that he was a louse,
They did not understand
That her randy husband
Took her in every room in the house!

-Rhymesmith

Everybody's a winner at the Bistro.

And that title can be figurative too.

Here's mine, just a little off the cuff noodle.

Words that Rhyme with Husband

You rhyme with acrobat
defying my death and swinging
with every mood and shift.
You rhyme with angel
raising wings over me
when I need shade or salvation
You are an impossibility
a rhyme with orange and silver
a division by zero.
that you've stayed
defies logic, but
I pray in gratitude, light
incense for that
little daily miracle
of your continued faith.

bj

Twas on the good ship Venus
By god you should have seen us
The figurehead was a maid in bed
Sucking the captain's ....... oops run out of letters (rummage rummage)

We lightweight halogens combine.
You more weighty minerals?
Well, you take your time.

Today we're sliding off to school,
Upon a winter's day.
For the ground is very slippery
As we hurry on our way.
We like to leave our little slides,
Where others have to come,
So pensioners on their daily walks,
Will fall upon their bums!

Hey, Life?
I know that we
haven't been the best
of friends lately,
and I've been pretty down on you.
But, well, you've been
real exciting the past few days,
and, wow, I'm grateful.

I'm a little tired though,
and my emotions are worn
pretty
thin.
So can I just have this?
Can I enjoy this? Please?

I know I'm not
usually allowed to have
anything
good in my life
come easy,
but,
maybe,
just this once,
you can let me just have one.

See, I need this.
I need to not fail at this.
This is the hardest thing I've ever done,
and I'm as scared
as I think I've ever been.

So, please,
I've been paying for this
for a long time.
Please, just let me have it.

For at least a little while.
I'll do the work
on my own to
handle the long-term.

Thanks, really. I'm
not used to saying that.

I owe you one.
-Roy. "

Umm.... I think I missed something... but:

Laugh and live, love, forgive
Eat and drink as well.
Hurts recall, tears will fall,
Like me, under your spell.

Not great, but heartfelt.

"In a dream"

I was playing with hair
it was dark, soft, and curly
there was laughter, smiles, and love
easy and bright

I was playing with fire
it was hot, intense, and dangerous
there was intrigue, mystery, and curiosity
bright and intense

I was playing with her
it was deep, pasionate, and sublime
there was discovery, liberation, and a new hunger
intense and dark



"Icy fire"


We spent all night fucking
giving each other as much pleasure as we
dared
keeping our voices low
and our hearts high
oh
that
night
filled with candle light
soft snow
beautiful ice
and our warm kisses
the smoldering heat
the warmpth of our hearts
blending together
oh to remember that night
when memory is all I have on this night
now that we have set things right



"all things undone"

The love I wasn't looking for
I was longing for
I was needing
I was oblivious to,then
I was open to, then
I was enveloped in, then
I was torn over
I was astounded by
I was stripped by

then I was
stripped of
astounded and
torn
enveloped in sorrow left
open but empty
oblivious of what I was
needing and knowing only
longing and
looking for your love

sensual omnipotent silken skin
soothing impotent sexual themes
chablis sultry sweetness
spilling trickling into open thighs
nectar for the questing tongue,
clitoris engorging cleansing
~~~~~~~sighs~~~~~

Salivate, salutations, all of this is salvation
Pretty pink perfect Barbie, smart because you want to be
Brush your hair, hide the secrets
Be your own imitation
Imagination, conversation, agitation, animation
Destroy what you’ve built up
Pretty perfect Barbie, smart because you want to be
Read your books, avoid the looks
You smile when you turn around
I am lost, but I am found
Pretty perfect look at me
See beyond what you see
Salutations, talk to me
Tell me what you want to be
Perfect if you want to be
Tell me what you want to be
Brush your teeth
Do you know what these eyes hold
An image of you so bold
As perfect as you want to be
Look at me, see beyond what you see
Think about it
Crave around it
Smile when you see the real me
Perfect, I know you are more than what I see
Is this meant to be
If not set me free, even though you claim no hold on me
Salivate, salutations, all of this is salvation.

You tie me up in your words
not even giving me the satisfaction of the rope burns
You beat down my spirit
with out leaving a single mark
You rape my dreams
with out even touching me

I escape you in my mind
but from your words I can not hide

Every pleasure seems to have been stripped away
the memories of such fading fast
and with out them I do not know
how long I shall last

The warmth has been pulled out of the day
The taste gone from the wine
The jokes lost
The ambitions a far way gone

I search and I search
and the novelty of life is a stop gap
That keeps me here for one more day
I am worn thin,
who I am is stretching over too much time

The fire is fading from my eyes
but its not really that much of a surprise
I scramble to replace my significance
yet as the days tick by it melts away
What was it again?
I knew it only yesterday

Who was I again?
The fake stripped away to discover the good
The good stripped away to discover the evil
The evil stripped away to discover the strength
The strength stripped away to discover a vulnerability
that I can not hide from those passerbys

The moment I wait for is not what it used to be
what ever happened to you and me

You that used to wrap me in love
You that used to fill me with hope
You that used to count on my dreams
You have changed and so have I
Can we survive until a day when I can know you again?
Do I have the patience?
Do you have the will?
What will become of this?
Only time can tell

I have been blessed with proximity.
I have never looked off into the middle distance and lost myself in fervent wishes that I was There.
I have never known Fear as a song in the back of my mind, not just a cursory flutter before the shield of aggression cloaks my heart.
I have never felt vulnerable, my emotional underbelly rolled skyward to the circling wolves of whimsical Fate.
Alien feelings, invading the fortress of I, making me wonder and question from whence they came, and why my balance has dissappeared.

She calls.
I smile.
It balances out.


NOTE: This is a ramble, not a poem.

I did mean submitting on the general forum but I can put it in here first if you like

Not what nature intended, but I
crave after just one taste
this darkness fills my soul with need
willing to beg
and offer my all
'till drugged with anticipation
the high it brings begins again.
this wonderland
this heaven.

A Portrait Of Feminine Fortitude

research spread before eyes that blink
away weariness (she will have no weakness
put her to bed) comes before immersion
in language of ECG and sonic echoes
in a deeper vein uncertainty limits
tender moments shared with few
who stand behind the chair
and watch research spread
beneath the head at rest
on folded arms

my favorite time of day

Off come the shoes
the hard days work has been done
off comes the bra
I have pleased society today
off comes the amulets
in my home i need not their protection
off comes the rings
I belong to no one
off comes the shirt
no one to impress here
off comes the jeans
I need not hide anymore
off comes the panties
for fun is not too far away
but the socks can stay
they amuse me so
and are for me
and me alone

While looking at your photograph
I cannot help but think
do you have some problems
when facing food and drink
A fancy piece of facial hair
that covers all your mouth
could have the great misfortune
to drip your soup down south.
Now wanting to be friendly
I'll post a peg or two
so when you aim your Guinness
the froth will slide right through

You have no love of me
your understanding is achedemic
at best
you look through your practiced eyes
you see the tears
you see the miserary
you see the torment
but can you see the sun
could you possibly understand the sweet sorrow
of my many shades

For I know
my face is flawed
too much stress
my flesh is heavy
not enough will power
my jeans are dirty
not enough pride
could it possibly cross your mind
that I am comfortable
in my own skin

For
I am capable of greatness
why would I cobble that
I am capable of great tenderness
why would I stifle that
I am intelligent
why would I risk that

What I feel is real
be it deeper or higher
I came not to change who I am
for I finnaly found her
and love her
I came not to control what I cant
life will always happen
I came to learn what I can understand
to find what my heart desires

can you see me with eyes of love
can you see me with eyes of trust
can you see me as me
because only then can you help me

Here's my first draft:

On the beach, tie-dyed blur
Romping on the sand with Ben,
Carefree and committed.
Clearly committable.
Rare.

Got me first with his voice,
Deep and rhythmic,
Rich and resonant,
Phone-sexy.
Spine-tingling.

I wish I had his freedom,
Moves through his world
Not seeing what he doesn't wish to see.
He sees injustice, insensitivity,
While missing dirty laundry.

Doesn't know how fine he is,
Except when he's not.
Blissfully unaware
But happy in his ignorance.
Maddening.

Drives me crazy
With carefreeness.
Bounces thru life unencumbered.
Hate that about him.
Envious.

Wants me naked.
Often and even when I'm not ready.
Wants me ready all the time.
Doesn't understand when I'm not.
Unreasonable?

I just can't wrap my brain around it. They both see me in such a radically different light from how I see myself. I tried. I can't get Galahad and Edward Longshanks in the same piece. I can't get the conquering paladin and darkly charming blackguard. In their eyes, I carry my blazon bright and sing while slaying dragons, and then twirl my waxed moustache and lock them in a donjon for unthinkable tortures. I can't wish myself into two places at once, and can't write myself in opposing hues. In their eyes, I am shining light and disturbing darkness, I am laughter and tears. I make them gasp in pleasure and cry out in agony. I can't write it. I can only be it.

 

[unpredictablebijou]

Man, that was some work. I really need to keep up with that stuff.

I actually added two new fridges. I also tweaked a few other links in the first Bistro post. You're all quite thoroughly immortalized now.

*off to finish this hot story. I can't leave these two like that... it's too frustrating.*

bj

 

[Homburg]

My first thought was "Oh geeze, she put my stuff up there " followed immediately by "Holy shit, there's some really good stuff being posted in this thread."

Once again, bijou, sweet Mystery Woman, thank you so much for getting this thing rolling. It continues to be a bright spot in my day each time I click on it. And how could it not be a bright spot with such luminous personas dotting its' pages?

's to all y'all (feeling Southern at the moment)

 

[unpredictablebijou]

My first thought was "Oh geeze, she put my stuff up there " followed immediately by "Holy shit, there's some really good stuff being posted in this thread."

Once again, bijou, sweet Mystery Woman, thank you so much for getting this thing rolling. It continues to be a bright spot in my day each time I click on it. And how could it not be a bright spot with such luminous personas dotting its' pages?

's to all y'all (feeling Southern at the moment)

There are a lot of very talented people hanging around in here. It's the Algonquin, for sure, just like I said way back at the beginning. So nice to see the predictions form themselves into reality. And what lovely fridges we have these days!

It was a hoot going back through the thread on a poetry hunt. You people are quite routinely outta control, I notice. I like that about you.

off for dinner. All this talk of fridges has worked up my appetite.

The story's finished too. Woot!

Walking in gratitude,
bj