PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

...a Mother

She walks by

All hips and careless glances.

Brilliant brown locks of hair falling over eyes

That seem to talk to heaven.

Curves devilishly subtle

So that you have to blink to take her all in.

Impossible to do at one glance

She licks her lips,

Shopping for minute rice,

Or Uncle Ben's,

In a million and one supermarkets.

Who would have thought something as tedious

As everyday chores could be sexy?

Her legs casually crossed at the ankles,

While she compares prices

And nickels and dimes

Spill from her pocketbook.

You bend to help her gather them up,

And she smiles a dazzling white smile,

Grateful for some help

On a Friday night,

While her car idles,

And her kids wait for dinner.



2:30 PM; 8-25-2002



--



...the Actress

Step out.

Toes painted racy; red.

Heel touches the asphalt

Gone soft in the sultry heat.

Her blond mane curling

Around a heart shaped face

She was drawn,

Perfect.

Gawking you watch..

Her thighs, sheathed in black;

Muscles rippling as she

Steps out.

She blinks feline green eyes

As the cameras pop and flash,

A Million pictures to go on everyday covers

Like Glamour magazine.

Black Versace clings to her

All thin, and lithe,

Starving;

For attention.

She gives a little speech,

Thanking you; everyone

For their support,

Before waving vaguely,

And

Sashaying down the aisle,

Into comforting darkness,

Away from the prying eyes

of her adoring fans.



2:25 AM 8-28-02



-



...the Erin

Sylphite, long limbs

Tone taut with sinewy muscle

Fiery red curls a cascade

Rioting down her top-cream back

Sun baked with cinnamony freckles



She scales the live oak bough

cat-like and agile

Her short moss-like garment

Riding up her thighs

Laughter, soft as light, erupts

from her lips.

Breaking the camouflaged silence.

Eyes -- greener than the erin

Who created her -- turn toward you

Getting you all lost in them.



1:15 am 2-04-02





-



...a Raven

She is raven

Hair thick, black and glossy,

arrow straight down her back

She keeps time in conquests,

Marking the calendar in seduction

And in the hunt.

Eventually, always, in the win

-- Opposite the pray --

To her husky, whiskey culled voice;

Erotic tinged words and gestures.



She is serene in the solitude

That she has created for herself

Through flirtations and love affairs

Coating her person in a slip-case

of polish and sophistication.

That she wasn't aware existed,

growing up; grubby and in pig-tails

Happy and wild in a floursack dress.

Both kind and careless

Child exuding from everything breath.



Now she is grown

With an expensive collection of

dustcatchers and pairs of thirty-five hundred

dollar Italian shoes.

Reckless with the pleasures of skin

grating sweaty skin

So far away from the girl

And the happiness there.



1:27 am 2-18-04



--



...a Debutante



Spider-wrapped in raw silk

Champagne colored and smelling of

Tangerine with a vague, subtle whisper of ginger.

She sits, sipping a white wine.

A few hundred dollar vintage,

bought and paid for by one not her own

Her demeanor is regal;

She sits upright, shoulders femininely rounded;

Masculinely squared.

Her dark, sleek hair pulled up

Twisted tight leaving her ebon face in striking profile.



With half an ear she listens

To polished voices of the upper echelon

Chit and laugh.

To occasional warm praise of her success; her party.

Congratulatory gossips frequent her presence,

one of honor,

to wish her luck

with her marriage

and

to her fortune,

good breeding

and happiness.

As the wife of someone of standing

and greatness.



Her heart thunders in her chest --

Is it fear, excitement, expectation? --

Leaving her feeling

Somewhat weak and dizzy



She offers polite, sunny,

but unapproachable "thank you's"

Her thoughts else-where

On the man who, even now,

Commits adultery in

the pretty powder room she decorated;

On the dainty chaise she chose in hope.



2-25-04; 7:45 pm